Humbling Her Cowboy (Miller Brothers 0f Texas Book 1) Read online

  She was nervous, she had to admit. What she was making was limited by the pots and pans that were available in the little kitchen. She had a pot, a pan, a large skillet with high sides, and a couple of utensils. Sure, they were all battered, and she might have seen rust in the bottom of one, but it wasn’t like she could invest in a good set, considering that she didn’t normally have a kitchen to cook in at all.

  So, she was making cabbage, rice, tostones, and grilled chicken breast. It wasn’t the nicest thing that she could make, not by a wide margin, but that was all right. She had a feeling that Solomon would be able to tell how hard she tried anyway.

  She finished cutting up the cabbage then put butter, salt and pepper into the bottom of the skillet and put it on low. She needed it to soften up a wee bit first before cranking the heat up, and she wasn’t sure if the cracked lid was going to let too much steam and water out.

  Oh well, it was the best she could do. She had learned to be skilled at being resourceful and using what was available to her.

  Next was the rice, which was easy enough. She’d splurged, however, and gotten a little lemon and some lime juice to squeeze in for flavor.

  She felt so blessed as she focused on the meal. Too lucky to keep everything to herself, so once everything was set on the stovetop, she turned to Tawny.

  “Hey, do you think it would be taking advantage of Solomon’s kindness if we invited a few of our friends over for this dinner? It feels wrong that we’re sitting here all pretty while our friends are slumming it out there.”

  Tawny sat up from where she had been working in a math workbook that Frenchie had lucked out in finding at the thrift shop. “Dude, the guy who made sure you and me were set up here would definitely be all about you feeding the masses.”

  “Are you sure?” Frenchie studied her friend’s face. The worst of her swelling was gone, but there were still deep yellow and green patches around her cheekbones and chin. She was going to need a tooth capped too, like she could ever afford that. “I don’t want to seem ungrateful or like I’m using him.”

  “My girl, Frenchie, you are literally homeless and he’s, like, a mega bagillionaire. He’s not gonna care if you invite over other less fortunate folk to come and enjoy all this food you cooked.”

  “Well… all right. Maybe I’ll call him—”

  “Girl, why are you bugging? Aren’t you the one who told me to take every opportunity I can?”

  Frenchie wrinkled her nose. “I definitely didn’t teach you that. Some opportunities aren’t worth the risk, or have too much of a history of—”

  “Gosh, okay fine, Mom. You taught me to always take advantage of every opportunity that wasn’t a risk to myself and others. So, I don’t know about you, but I’m going to go to the community center and invite a few people over for dinner. Except Ricky and Nancy. We don’t need a fight starting.”

  “No, we definitely do not.” She paled at the thought of those particular people arriving. They were aggressive, to say the least, and she was pretty sure that they both had some pretty serious mental illnesses that were going completely untreated. Not that uncommon a thing in the older homeless folk. Especially considering that so many of them were veterans with PTSD. “All right, go, but if this goes sideways, I will totally throw you under the bus.”

  “Hah! Fair enough.”

  She took a minute to get up, and Frenchie couldn’t help but feel a bit of worry as Tawny went to the door, but she told herself that she needed to calm down. They were both going to have to go back to the real world sometime, and she wouldn’t be able to mother hen the young girl while she was out in the wild.

  “See ya in a bit,” Tawny said and headed out the door.

  Frenchie nodded and turned back to the stove. She was tempted once more to call Solomon, but he was such a busy person and she didn’t want to be annoying. She just hoped that Tawny was right.

  Because, for some ridiculous reason that she couldn’t quite say, she wanted to make him happy. At least for an hour or so. He had done so much for her and Tawny, and even though she couldn’t understand why, she was still immensely grateful.

  Because the change really was ridiculous. For the first time in weeks, her hands weren’t chapped and every finger didn’t have a hangnail. And as for her nails, they no longer were the flimsy, cracked messed they had been. In fact, they were almost solid and hard, something she’d resigned herself to never have again.

  Every time she caught herself in the mirror, she saw that her cheeks were fuller and the dark circles under her eyes were a little less prominent. She had filled out so much for just one week, and she felt like her muscles were finally back again—even if she knew that probably wasn’t physically possible.

  Sleeping on a real bed did wonders for her; her spine didn’t ache all the time and she wasn’t constantly fighting off headaches or migraines. It was wonderful, it really was.

  So maybe it wasn’t so weird for her to want to make a really nice meal for the guy that had provided it all.

  She was deep in thought as she cooked. Goodness, she must seem so stupid to him. She hadn’t even graduated high school, and he was probably an ivy league graduate. He was the heir to a huge fortune and business, and she was… well, she was just Frenchie.

  She didn’t have too much time to get caught up in all of her inadequacies because then there was a knock on her door. She looked beside her to see that Tawny had left the hotel room key right where they usually kept it, so it could be her, or it could be anyone.

  Carefully, she crept to the door and sure enough, it was Tawny with three others. She was surprised that the young girl had managed to rouse up a trio so late in the evening. Usually once the sun went down, everyone was off trying to find somewhere to sleep or get into a shelter in time.

  She opened the door and greeted them to come in. She wasn’t super close with them because they were too young for her crowd, but she’d helped all of them at one point or another.

  There was Casey, who had been kicked out by his parents at the ripe old age of thirteen when they found out that he wasn’t their little girl. There was Alitza, whose father had been deported while her mother was in the hospital being treated for cancer. Unfortunately, her mother never made it, leaving Alitza on her own. Finally, there was another one that Frenchie knew almost nothing about. He was a really tall guy with dark, dark skin and long dreads. He didn’t speak at all, as far as she knew.

  “Hey all, the meal will start soon. I did manage to buy drinks too.” Sure, they were all the ninety-nine cent, off-brand two liters, but soda was a pretty rare treat for all of them.

  She could practically hear their stomachs growling as they filed in, eyes wide. Clearly, they all had questions, but none of them asked how she or Tawny had managed to end up in such a nice suite. That was probably for the best. If they were doing anything illegal, the three young ones would at least have plausible deniability that they didn’t know better. Besides, she knew what they assumed, and she didn’t feel like it was worth it to dispel them of the notion.

  She knew that some might be insulted by that, but she wasn’t. Heck, she had thought the same thing at first, before Solomon had turned her down. And occasionally, if she thought too long about it, she would wonder if that was the case again.

  Old habits were hard to break, it seemed.

  She busied herself with cooking, but as she did, part of her began to wonder again if he had only turned her down because he didn’t find her attractive. But that couldn’t be the case, because he clearly did. Sometimes, the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, was so intense that she had to continue pretending that she was oblivious to his stare.

  Ugh, she was a mess. This was all so confusing. She just needed to concentrate on dinner.

  So that was exactly what she did, a low conversation starting with the four youngsters behind her. She could tell that they weren’t being quite their usual selves, but she couldn’t blame them for being a little te
nse. Even the offering of a free meal from one of their own was still a cause for slight suspicion.

  But that was all right too, they could be suspicious on full stomachs.

  Everything finished and she turned the tiny burners on the kitchenette stove onto low. Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long before there was another knock on the door and, sure enough, it was Solomon.

  “Hey there,” she said, smiling despite herself when she saw him.

  “Hey,” he answered, grinning just as much. He looked good, dressed in a black T-shirt and fitted blue jeans. She noticed that he was wearing cowboy boots, and they looked like they were actually used instead of being some sort of fashion statement. It was a really good look for him, all clean-cut and striking. With his high cheekbones and intense stare, he almost looked like the cover of a romance novel.

  Minus the long, flowing hair and open shirt front.

  “So apparently I am incapable of making a normal amount of chili. I made far too much.”

  “Oh, well that works out.” She stood to the side, allowing him in. “Because we have company.”

  “Company?” he asked, striding in with a very heavy and very expensive looking slow cooker. It was clearly one of those super fancy ones that even came with a travel bag to keep it warm without scorching a table or car seat. Frenchie remembered her mother really lusting after one the last Christmas that they had as a family, but of course they couldn’t afford that.

  “Yes. I hope you don’t mind. This is Casey, Alitza and, uh…”

  “This is Alabama,” Tawny said helpfully, gesturing to her friend. “He doesn’t talk, but that’s where he’s from, so that’s what we call him.”

  “I see. And all you young ones are…”

  “Homeless?” Tawny said with a laugh. “Yessiree bob.”

  His face did that thing again, the expression he made whenever he didn’t like what he was hearing but felt like he couldn’t emote it without being rude. “I see. Well, let’s get this meal going, shall we?”

  “Sounds good to me,” she said with a grin, going to the stove and starting to put things on plates. She knew that the kids wouldn’t be comfortable serving themselves, caught up between the desire to eat as much as possible but also not being greedy and eating too much. The point of the meal wasn’t to stress them out, so she had no problem handling it.

  And to her surprise, Solomon went right into asking people what they wanted to drink and filling up the cheap cups from the little kitchenette. None of the cups matched, of course, but none of the kids were really in a position to care.

  Not too long later, they were all sitting in a semicircle on the floor. There was a table in the room, but there were only two chairs, and it would be weird if two of them sat there while everybody else was on the floor. Solomon really had made a truly absurd amount of chili, but for some reason that tickled her all the way through.

  But then she took a bite of it and she went from tickled right on up to ecstatic.

  The chili was delicious. Mind-blowingly so. There was a sort of smokiness to it, and it was so rich. She eagerly took another bite, completely forgetting about her cabbage, rice and chicken breast.

  “Is there… is there big chunks of meat in here?” Tawny asked loudly due to her excitement, her mouth crammed full of food.

  Frenchie would have reprimanded her about manners, but she understood. She absolutely understood. The chili was that good.

  “Normally I use braised beef in it, but I didn’t have enough time so I used some of the pulled pork we always keep on hand. It’s basically Sterling’s favorite food and he eats it in about a million different ways. I browned the burger in lamb’s fat too for flavor.”

  Tawny stared at him with wide eyes. “Wow, even your chili is a bagillionaire.”

  “What?”

  Frenchie cleared her throat and handed her empty cup to Solomon. “Could I have a refill of the off-brand doctor, please?”

  It worked, thankfully, and he seemed quite distracted. “Of course.”

  While his back was turned, she gave Tawny a look to behave, but she just giggled impishly around her mouthful of the delicious food.

  “Eat your cabbage,” Frenchie said finally.

  “Sure, as soon as you do.”

  “I don’t know why you don’t want to eat it,” Solomon said when he turned back. “This cabbage is delicious. And I don’t even like cabbage.”

  “That’s because most people just boil it until it’s flavorless mush,” Alitza said quietly.

  “Well, I can’t claim that I’m an expert in cooking it either, but good to know.”

  He was handling it so well. Maybe it was rude for Frenchie to be so surprised, but she couldn’t help it. She was beginning to realize that maybe Tawny wasn’t entirely correct that inviting three people wasn’t a big deal—it was essentially throwing Solomon right into the thick of her world. A lot of people could look at older homeless folk and blame them for the situation that they were in, but it was hard to blame a child or teenager for being out on the street. After all, weren’t parents and relatives supposed to protect them?

  In Frenchie’s experience, it hardly ever worked out that way.

  As the meal went on, tongues went looser, and bellies got fuller. It was wonderful, and she felt all of them getting along.

  “Oh, by the way, the cops over on the south side are getting really strict with the loitering stuff. Try not to be out and about during school hours or too late after dark. They picked up Imani last week, and as far as I know, they’re hauling her home,” Alitza said.

  “Good luck with that,” Tawny said with a snort. “Imani can get out of handcuffs faster than anyone I know. I put my money on her giving them the slip in a day.”

  “That’d be… what, the third time she’s done that?” Casey said.

  “Fourth.”

  “I take it Imani is a runaway?” Solomon asked.

  For a moment Frenchie was worried that he was about to say something judgmental, but instead he just waited patiently for an answer.

  “Yeah, she is,” Casey answered cautiously.

  “If she doesn’t want to go to her home to the point that she’s escaping custody, why don’t they help her find a foster family? Or an alternate living situation?”

  “Because she’s from New York. They don’t have emancipation there so she’s basically the property of her parents. They’ve been investigated by CPS, but unfortunately they can’t do a lot about emotional abuse when all they have is a teenage girl’s word.”

  Solomon frowned. “That doesn’t sound right.”

  “And yet, that’s how it is,” Tawny said with a shrug. “She’s only got another two years and then she’ll age out. She’ll be fine.”

  Casey sighed.

  “Anyways,” Tawny continued. “Did anyone see that the rich people department store is closing? They’re having some mega sale, but I’ve still found a bunch of stuff in the dumpster out back.”

  “Really?” Alitza said.

  “Yeah, they’re throwing things out like crazy. There’s some holes or snags on them, but I got a dress, a sweater, and a new bra.”

  “I’ll have to check that out.”

  Frenchie noted some of their tips as they all exchanged information. Although she didn’t need it at the moment, she wasn’t going to be sitting cushy forever. In fact, she only had a week left.

  The conversation continued until Alitza burped then let out a happy laugh. “Man, I feel like I won’t have to eat for ages now. I am chock full of beans.”

  “I want that on record, because I’ll put money on you complaining about being hungry tomorrow.”

  “You don’t have any money, Casey.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Well, I might not have money, but I can tell you that I heard the megachurch by the old community center just got a massive donation of food from some charity drive, from the parochial schools they ship all their rich kids off to.”

  “No.” Tawny’s voice cu
t through the air, stopping the conversation right in its tracks.

  “What do you mean, no?” Casey asked, laughing awkwardly. Everyone could sense that the air had changed and the young woman was sitting there, tensed like she was expecting an attack.

  “I mean no. Don’t go there. Don’t go anywhere near there. Don’t even look at it. It’s not safe.”

  Sure, Tawny was a teenager and sometimes they could overexaggerate, but she knew that tone. She’d used it herself, in moments that she liked to bury in her memory to never look at again.

  “Is there a reason why you’re saying that, Tawny?” Frenchie asked.

  “I…I…” Suddenly her face was in her hands and she was crying, big, wracking sobs that shook her entire frame. It was entirely unnerving, because she hadn’t cried through the entire process, and before she knew it, Frenchie was up on her feet and moving to the girl, pulling her into her embrace.

  “It’s okay. We’re right here. Just breathe for me, honey, breathe.”

  “I-I can’t.”

  Frenchie had been around traumatized folks enough to know a panic attack when it was setting in. They were terrible things, cloying and filling the brain with thoughts that they were going to die.

  “Yes, you can. Listen to my voice, okay? You’re safe. You’re with friends. Now in your head, I want you to list four things that you can see. Three things that you can feel. Two things that you can hear. One thing you can smell. Do that for me, okay? And breathe in and out the whole while.”

  The girl was as stiff as a board in Frenchie’s grasp, but she could feel the young dancer’s breathing slow down, backing away from that precipice bit by bit until she was only crying and not about to hyperventilate.

  “Tha-that place is how I got messed up,” she blurted out to the completely quiet room.

  But Frenchie’s stomach just about dropped out of her body.

  “How do you mean, Tawn-tawn?”

  “I was having a really bad streak of busking, just no one was shelling out, and I didn’t want to dip into my savings. I’m so close to getting out of here, ya know?

  “So I went there because I heard about the new fancy food center that they got. Nice stuff, stuff we don’t normally get. And protein, lots of it. But when I went in, it was pretty late, and there was only one worker there. A guy. He said he was supposed to bring food to the door since it was late, but he made an exception for me because he could tell I was a good one.”