Free Love Drunk Cowboy by Carolyn Brown Page A

third ring. “Hello?”
    “Is this Austin Lanier?”
    “It is. Who is this?”
    “Your lawyer. I will be about thirty minutes late. Is that a problem?”
    “No, sir. That’s fine,” she said.
    “Then I will see you at ten thirty. Good-bye, Miss Lanier.”
    She didn’t even have time to say good-bye before the line went dead. She put the receiver back on the base and turned around. Rye had cleaned up the egg mess, tossed the paper towels in the trash, and was sitting at the table.
    “That was the lawyer. He’ll be here at ten thirty instead of ten. He sure was curt. It’s been at least twenty years since I’ve dyed Easter eggs so I’m not so sure I remember how.”
    “All lawyers are like that, so don’t worry about it. Dying eggs is like riding a bike. It’ll all come back to you.” He had come so close to kissing her that it was scary. A kiss that quick would scare her right back to Tulsa for sure. He had to remember to take things slow. Sure, he had the hots for her but maybe she didn’t feel the same way. After all, he was pure country and she was a city girl.
    “It is coming back to me right along with the smell. Haven’t they figured out a way to make it where you don’t have to use vinegar?” She put an egg in a wire holder and held it down in the purple dye.
    “Granny said that this kind works better because it sets it better.”
    “She never was one much for change. This one has color. Now what?”
    “Decals or glitter or paint pens. Decorate to your heart’s desire.”
    She picked up a decal of a butterfly and read the directions. She held a wet cloth against the decal and counted to ten using the one-Mississippi method and then gently peeled the paper away to show a lovely yellow and hot pink butterfly.
    “I hope a little girl finds this one.”
    “If she doesn’t, I bet a little boy will peel it and cram the whole thing in his mouth. They have contests among themselves to see who can eat the most boiled eggs. That’s something you can’t do with plastic eggs.”
    One second he couldn’t talk; the next his mouth flapped like laundry hanging on the line on a windy day. Austin would think he was the dumbest old redneck cowboy she’d ever met up with if he didn’t get it together any better than that.
    “Do they really have an egg eating contest?” She dipped the next one into pink dye and affixed a white bunny decal to the side. “I’d forgotten how much fun this is.”
    “Not a sanctioned egg eating contest. They don’t get a prize for it but it happens every year. Granny thought it was a hoot. Their mommas would have a hissy if they knew, but they hide over behind the stage and lay bets as to who can eat the most in three minutes.”
    “How do you know so much about it?”
    “I watch. One of Kent’s boys has won the past two years with more than ten eggs. And that’s after a big Easter dinner.”
    “Good Lord. Ten eggs! Does it make him sick?”
    “I don’t know what happens when he gets home.”
    He picked up the wire holder and sunk an egg down into the yellow dye after he’d drawn a smiley face on the side with the wax crayon. He brought it out and set it on the drying rack for a few seconds and then outlined the smiley face in bright orange with a fine tipped paint pen.
    “So you raise cattle, take care of a bunch of mean old rodeo bulls, and you are an artist to boot. I’m impressed,” she said.
    “Enough to sell me this place after you get through taking out Granny’s personal things?”
    She cut her eyes around at him. “Is that what this is all about? Buttering me up to steal the place out from under me?”
    “No, this is about Easter eggs. I’m real good at buttering women up though if that will work.”
    “I bet you are and no, it will not work.”
    “Can’t blame a man for trying. We’d better work faster if we want to get these finished before your lawyer gets here. Granny said he was the fanciest thing in Wichita Falls in his three-piece suits,