Page 38 of A Baby for the Texas Cowboy
Yah, he was done with trying to be reasonable with his brother.
“This is rural Texas. Big trucks. Lots of speed. And half the population is hauling livestock in trailers. They wouldn’t even feel the bump if they cut Tinsley off and knocked her bike under their wheels. Would you let Catalina race off down a highway with nothing but a helmet and leather between her and the highway?”
August looked pale under his tan.
Point to me.
Except he, too, felt a little sick at the image he’d drawn.
“Damn, and I’ve been accused of being too creative with my imagery.” August shuddered and drank another swallow of coffee like it was spiked.
“So truck or SUV?” Anders demanded. “Because I’m pulling the trigger on one for her today, soon as a dealership opens.”
“I’ll get her a company truck to use. That will go down easier.” August picked up one of the last cases and slid it into the back of the nearly full truck bed.
“To hell with easy. I’ll buy my wife a truck, not you.”
“Not your wife.”
“Yet,” Anders stated.
“I know you always had a thing for Tinsley,” August said softly, but to Anders, his brother sounded patronizing.
Anders hadn’t weighed in when August and Cat were dancing around each other like boxers this past spring. His brother could give him the same respect and keep his mouth shut.
“So did nearly every bull rider on the circuit,” Anders recalled resentfully, not that he could blame them, but he didn’t want his baby’s mom to have a line of cowboys around the tasting room’s block while he was away for weeks at a time.
His stomach felt like it had thudded into his boots.
Was that even going to work anymore? The AEBR tour usually was four or five weekends in a row and then there would be a one-week bye, which was when he would often head to the ranch to help out. But if he did that, Tinsley would be on her own for a month with only a brief reappearance from him.
August pulled off his work gloves and stood on his tiptoes and stretched his arms up before bending over and placing his palms flat on the cement floor of the winery.
“So you’re into yoga now,” Anders taunted.
“I can’t take jibes like that from a grown-ass man who stood on a medicine ball for over an hour, watching the game last night. Those are for lifting, not standing on.”
“It’s how I practice balance,” Anders said. “So, is there a uniform for Verflucht like a long skirt and blouse or a pantsuit?”
The uniform for Cowboy Wolf Whiskey had been a short denim skirt, a tight cropped graphic T, Stetson and cowboy boots. Tinsley had rocked it. All the girls had been fun and pretty, but Tinsley had just shone brighter than the sun.
August laughed. “Please, please, please say that to her face so I can record her reaction. Then I’ll play if for the baby when she’s a teenager, and you’re trying to lay down the law about clothing.”
Anders flipped his brother off. “I’m just wondering.”
“Well don’t. Tinsley is honest, hardworking, focused, creative, smart, and I don’t want you pissing her off.”
“I’m not. I’m buying her a truck or an SUV,” Anders said.
He wanted Tinsley to marry him. He wanted her to live at the house so she’d have family around. He wanted her to have a safe vehicle. A safe home.
Was that really being controlling?
And should she be lifting cases of wine? He needed to call the doctor.
“Get her the truck.” August grinned. “Saves me a pile of cash. Just make sure to stencil Verflucht on it so you keep your head and other more pertinent parts of your anatomy, because I don’t want to have to bail my tasting room and brand manager out of jail after she righteously disembowels you.”
Chapter Eleven
