Story 2 of the 30 day writing challenge!
Cabana Cowboy
“Hey, Wes.”
He looked up from his task finding brother, Charles, walking with a crippled gait.
Poor guy got bucked off more stallions than he could count. Damn near killed
him last time.
“Yeah,” he
grunted as he heaved the saddle over the fence post.
“Did you
fence in the steer?”
“Sure did.”
“And are the
pigs fed?”
He looked
over Violet and lifted his eyebrows. “Yeah.”
“And the
chickens?”
“Yeah, Charles.
I did it all. Like I always do,” he said curtly. He removed his hat and wiped
his forehead with a red bandana.
He rocked
on his heels with a tight lip. “You need a break.”
He disappeared
into the barn to finish bailing the hay from the loft. This wasn’t the right
time for a brotherly lecture. “You know. I hear Jamaica is nice this time of
year,” he called as Weston climbed the ladder to the loft.
“It’s the
same temperature here as it is there.”
“I think
you should check it out. Lay on the beach. Drink a…”
“If you
think it’s so fantastic, why don’t you go?” he barked. Walking to the edge he
peered down at Charles.
He shrugged
stuffing his hands in his jean pockets. “Well, I would but Julia might find
that strange.”
Julia
Murphy. The ever-adorable red head that stole his heart, stepped on it and left
it out to pasture. He hadn’t heard that name for six months and it still did
damage to him. He tossed a hay bail to the barn floor, nearly hitting his
brother. “Don’t take it out on me,” he
said sidestepping.
“Why are we
having this conversation? She’s the one that left, remember?”
“I thought
you might want to know she’s getting hitched.” He smiled a yellowed grin from
too many years of chewing tobacco.
He blinked
and narrowed his eyes. “Hitched?”
“Yeah, you
know. Hitched, married, hog tied to some…”
“I know what you mean, Charles.” He sat on the
edge of the loft suddenly losing his gusto. Who the hell was she marrying?
Probably that schmuck from the city she was caught with. “Who cares?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Because,
brother. You love her. You haven’t stopped working your ass off for months
trying to avoid the fact that you pushed her away.”
“Me?” He
stood and climbed down the ladder. “She’s the one that ran off with that city
slicker.”
Charles sucked
his teeth looking at the hay bail. Something was up.
He grabbed
his shoulder. “Spill it.”
***
Steel drums
and the smell of the salt seawater was enough to make him vomit. He saddled up
at the bar and ordered a beer and whiskey. Bikini clad women carried on across
from him. He pulled his hat over his eyes and swigged his beer in silence. The
sooner he could find Julia, the sooner he could get back to Texas. The
bartender poured his shot.
“What’s
that?” He pointed to the glass. “I ordered whiskey.”
“Nah, mon.
No whiskey here, only true Jamaican rum. Make every-ting irie.”
“I what?”
He pushed
the drink to him. “Drink.”
He grunted
washing back the liquid, cringing so hard it almost came up.
“See irie.”
He scowled
chugging his chaser. “Do you know where I can find the Murphy wedding?”
“Ah, Miss
Murphy. Redhead, right? Nice…” He held his hands in front of his chest like he
was holding two melons. He almost pummeled the Rastafarian across the bar.
“Where are
they?”
“They down
the beach, mon. Cabana party.” He pointed in their direction.
To stubborn
to remove his ostrich skin Tommy Lama’s he trudged through the sand. Why did
people come here?
He heard
her laughter before he saw her. It was unmistakable. She hopped out from a
cabana surrounded by friends. Her auburn hair piled atop her head with a flower
tucked behind her ear. He caught his breath, now sweating profusely. She looked
beautiful. She turned and made eye contact not missing the only cowboy standing
in the middle of the beach. Her lips formed an “O”. He closed the gap between
them.
“It’s you,”
she said.
“Hey.” He
was at a loss for words. He made it all this way and had no idea what to say.
He wanted to kiss her cherry lips and take her away somewhere where no one
would find them. Make up for lost time.
“What are
you doing here?” She looked back over her sarong-covered shoulder.
“Who are
you looking for? Is he here?” his gaze narrowed.
She propped
a hand on her hip. “You’re still blaming him? God, Weston. I thought we went
over this. James was just a friend. Is this what you came down here to do?
Check up on me?”
“Hey,
ladies! The strippers here!” he looked up and saw a crowd of women storming
toward him. “Wow, Julia. You went all out!
How did you find a Cowboy stripper all the way in Jamaica?” the pudgy
curly haired woman asked touching his Stetson Western covered abs.
“Um, he’s
not a…”
“Come on
Cooowwwboooy...dance!” Several ladies surrounded him, rubbing up against him.
He clenched his fists as Julia’s mouth curved in amusement.
“I am not a
strip…”
“Show the
bride your moves, stud!” The pudgy one pulled him into the cabana.
“Marie?”
His eyebrows shot up when he saw an almost identical red head lounging in a
chair.
“Weston?”
Julia’s older and engaged sister
stood. Her skimpy green bikini accenting her, well…what the Rastafarian meant.
“A little out of your element don’t you think, cowboy?” She laughed looking at
his wranglers and boots.
He removed
his hat, running a hand on his neck. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I thought...”
She smiled
knowingly and patted his shoulder on her way out of the cabana. “Go easy on
her, Wes. Come on, Sharon. Let’s leave these two alone.”
Sharon’s
mouth dropped open as she turned to leave. “Oh…You’re not a…” He thinned his
lips and shook his head. “Too bad,” she said as Marie pulled her away.
He tossed
his hat on the recliner when Julia said behind him, “So what are you doing
here, really?”
“I don’t
know.”
“Wes.
Please. I can’t do this again.” She sat on the edge of the lounger, digging her
toes into the sand.
He sat
across from her and caged in her knees with his. “Julia, I…” Her face met his
and her baby blue eyes pleaded with him. Her freckles more pronounced from
being in the sun. Gorgeous. “What’s
the deal with James?”
He needed
to hear it from her one more time. That James wasn’t in her life like he had
been with Julia. Just thinking about another man getting their mitts on her
flamed his jealousy sky-high.
But Charles had been wrong. She wasn’t in
Jamaica to marry him. This was for Marie’s wedding. Maybe they set him up. I’m gonna kill, Charles!
“What is
there to tell? He is just a friend. I told you that.”
Is? “So your still friends with that
guy?” He straightened.
“Oh god,
Wes. Seriously, you need to stop. We work together so of course we would still be
friends.”
“I don’t
trust him,” he muttered.
She stood
over him as she sighed. “And you don’t trust me either.” A tear slipped from
her cheek as she brushed his face with her hand. “And that’s why we’re not
together, Wes.” She gazed for a minute, waiting for him to say something. His
heart shattered knowing he still loved Julia and wanted to be with her, but
until he could trust her fully…there wouldn’t be a relationship. He still
didn’t understand why he struggled with trusting people. “Are you going to say
anything?” She crossed her arms.
He thinned
his lips. “I…”
“Hey,
Julia!” a male voice interrupted. Wes looked up and found James holding two
fruity concoctions with little umbrellas. He was wearing some ridiculous island
beach shorts and no shirt. Rage seeped into his chest.
“You came
here with him?” Wes stood squeezing his fists at his sides.
Her mouth
dropped open, offended by his seething statement. “I needed a date to my
sister’s wedding and you were conveniently unavailable.” She took the drink
from James’ hand and exited the cabana. “Come on, James.”
Her words
cut like a knife in his side as he stood watching her walk out of his life
again. But she was right. He was unavailable. To everyone, not just her.
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