Tex Times Ten

She waved at him, and he jerked his head at her in a “hello” motion. Then she lifted a bidding paddle—prettily painted fans just for this occasion—and waved it merrily at him.

He groaned. Surely she didn’t intend to carry out her threat of being a mole bidder. This was not going according to plan. He was supposed to feel liberated and free of his brothers’ teasing. And he was proving to Malfunction Junction and everyone else that he wasn’t an intimacy-phobe.

And there sat Cissy, looking like cool ice cream in a diamond-glazed dish.

What if she won him?

He would look sillier than he did right now. Everybody knew that Cissy was the cause of his ankle sprain, which was all it had turned out to be. His brothers would guffaw and ask what he was going to break while she collected her winnings—him.

Before the auctioneer could get rolling, Tex very pointedly shook his head at Cissy.

She nodded in return, her head bobbing with determination and a big grin on her face.

He shook his head more fiercely. And gave her the no-no-no finger.

In response, she waved her fan madly.

“Well, would you look at that anxious lady in the stands?” the auctioneer called over the microphone. “She’s just determined to start the bidding! What say we open at fifty dollars for this handsome cowboy? Look him over, girls. You’ll not see such chaps as these too often!”

Since he wasn’t wearing chaps, Tex figured the auctioneer was referring to some portion of his anatomy. Taking a deep breath, he watched as the fans one by one moved to the quick-fire droning of the auctioneer’s voice.

Up, up, up went his price.

Cissy’s fan flicked with confidence.

Tex’s breath hung in his chest. Surely she wasn’t really trying to win him! She had no money; she’d said so herself.

The bid reached four hundred dollars, and his brothers were slack-jawed in the stands. Tex’s face burned with humiliation.

“Give us a pose, cowboy!” a female called from the stands.

A pose? “Oh, come on,” Tex muttered, failing to see why he should. But the audience applauded, and he decided to give them what they wanted.

He popped his arm muscles, which thanks to the short-sleeve-T-shirt Mimi had suggested, worked nicely to show off his biceps.

The ladies applauded. See? he told Cissy mentally. They notice me. Women like me, even if you don’t.

He bent slightly at the knee and leaned forward, curling his arm so that he displayed his shoulder and forearm muscles.

The women clapped harder. “More!” someone yelled.

Emboldened, he turned around, showed the audience his backside, held his arms out to the side, and tightly flexed every muscle in his body.

The response was thunderous. With a sheepish grin, he turned back around, done with his antics.

Cissy’s fan gestured wildly.

And then it seemed the arena got quiet. Buzzing hummed in Tex’s ears as the auctioneer pointed to a few more fan-holding women. Tex thought maybe the lovely, dress-wearing Cissy had put her fan into her lap.

He had to admit, it wouldn’t be the worst thing that ever happened to him if she won him. The woman was right sexy for a good girl. If good girls were his thing, which they weren’t.

He liked his women saucy. Minx-y. A little on the bad-girl side.

Sort of the Cissy he thought he knew from their barn encounter, before he’d found out she was newly widowed and had a mess of kids and went to church and took care of her elderly grandma.

A man couldn’t poach on a gal like that, even if she did work for Marvella.

“Sold!” the auctioneer cried. “For five hundred dollars to that lady right over there!”

Chapter Four

Cissy wasn’t prepared for Marvella to purchase Tex. Her heart sank. Poor Tex! His face crumbled.

She felt responsible. Enthusiastically doing her mole-bidding thing and driving up his price, she had been determined to show that she didn’t care that he’d soon have a night with another woman.

It shouldn’t have mattered to her, but now Marvella had her fingers in the pie. Tex wouldn’t enjoy being Marvella’s purchase, not at all. When she walked over to claim Tex, Cissy’s skin crawled. “Wait a minute!” Cissy called out. “Marvella, can I talk to you?”

Hopping out of the stands, she went over to her boss.

“What, Cissy?” Marvella asked.

“I don’t think you want to buy him,” Cissy said. Tex’s eyes were on her, watching her like a hawk. “He’s damaged goods,” she explained.

“Damaged goods?” Marvella turned to stare at the cowboy. “He’s already won two rodeos for me. And he just showed us everything except his—”

“Yes, I realize that,” Cissy said hurriedly. “And it all looked fine, on the surface. But I thought you already had a cowboy for the rodeo.”

“My cowboy just came down with a bad case of running fever. He’s running to Nevada, away from his ex-wife and child-support payments. This one will do better,” she said with a greedy smile at Tex. “I hadn’t expected him to fall into my hands.”

“I’d pick the one over there,” Cissy said softly. “Do you recognize him? He’s the son of a retired Dallas Cowboy. And he’s all the rage on the circuit. I was reading his biography in the pamphlet. He’s not a has-been like this one,” she said with an apologetic glance at Tex.

“I heard that!” he exclaimed. “I am not a has-been!”

She got closer to Marvella, who was looking the younger rodeo rider over with a keen eye. “Tex hurt his ankle a couple of weeks ago,” Cissy said. “And his back. He just doesn’t want anyone to know he’s flimsy right now. Real worn down.”

Marvella’s head turned toward the auctioneer. “Now that I’ve inspected the goods up close, I rescind my bid.”

And she swept away.

Tex glared at Cissy.

“Hey, I’m trying to save you,” she said.

“Due to an unforeseen turn of events,” the auctioneer said, “our bidder changed her mind. Does the previous bidder still want this fine cowboy gentleman? If you want to pay the former price, he’s yours.”

A cheer went up from the stands, and ten women ran over to Tex, throwing themselves at him for hugs. Her rivals from the new salon in Union Junction. They were covering his face with lipstick kisses and he seemed much happier, Cissy noticed. The opportunistic louse! Well, they could have the intimacy-stunted cowboy. And his moral imperative. Plus his nicely fitting jeans and tight muscles. He wasn’t that much of a prize.

“Well, I guess you’re sold again, then, son,” the auctioneer said. “Ten for the price of one. What a lucky guy!”