Love is Blonde by Sky Taylor

Zooming past the motley longhorn steer planted in a foot of freshly fallen snow, Jim Cougar's booted foot almost slipped off the gas pedal as his feather-headed passenger blurted out, "Oh look at the spotted cow! Poor thing. Why she's going to freeze her tootsies off in the snow."

Jim regained his footing as he sent a puzzled look over the deft, yet beautiful lady as he silently wondered if there was a brain lodged somewhere beneath the thick curtain of blonde hair. She had been rambling since they had departed the airport about half an hour ago and it didn't appear that she was going to stop anytime soon. She wasn't going to stop talking until she was six feet under - perhaps, not even then.

Bikini Beach - the person who had named her should be shot before sunrise. Who in their right mind would name a baby girl, Bikini? Nonetheless, Bikini was fully equipped with all the desirable body parts - parts that could fry a man's sane senses for she was a beauty....on the outside, that is. Probably looked like dynamite in a bikini, too. But unfortunately, someone had forgotten to pack her brains when she was born, Jim prattled through his racing thoughts.

The fact that his mother had secured a total nut-bag to add the designing touches to his new ranch house had not come as a shock. He could kick himself for allowing her to do this to him - again, at that. Obviously, the arrangement wasn't going to work out, but since Ms. Bikini Beach had traveled over 2,000 miles to get here, he just couldn't pack her on the next flight out.

If only his mother didn't have such high aspirations of becoming a grandmother, he went on to rake though his thoughts. She was continually trying to hook him up with 'wife material' and almost always there were rents in the fabric. And in the case of Bikini, there were holes as big as Dallas.

She garnered his full attention when she touched his right hand covered in the thick leather glove as she asked, "Do you think that she will be okay? She looked like an old cow. And it's terribly chilly outside. Perhaps we should go talk with her owner and see about getting her some shelter?"

Jim drew his rugged lips to one side, then drawled, "I assure you, Bikini, that the.... cow will be fine. In fact, I know the owner and there's a nice warm barn on that piece of property. I'm sure the cow will find its way there at feeding time."

Although he should have set her straight on the gender of the cow in question, he decided otherwise. No need to fuel the conversation.

"I see," Bikini eased out, her perfectly arched brows knitted as if in deep thought. "Perhaps she is only cooling her tootsies because she got new shoes."

"Huh?"

"New shoes," she eased out, withdrawing her touch from Jim. "I imagine that it hurts a lot when they pound on the shoes."

Everything suddenly clarified as he explained, "Cows don't get shoes, Bikini."

"What? They don't?"

"No. Only horses," he assured.

"I see," she said, still appearing deep in thought. "Horseshoes - oh yes," she continued with drawn brows. "Never heard of cowshoes. Poor horse tootsies. That has to ache."

"No, the horseshoes don't hurt their tootsies one little bit," Jim blurted out impatiently, blushing a bit in the process. Tootsies? Where the devil did that come from? The silly bean-headed girl - that's where!
"I see." Then, "I'm so glad to hear that," she told him. "I suppose that I don't know much about ranch life. Nope. Decorating is my forte. Tell me, Mr. Cougar-"

"Jim, just call me Jim," he told her, the turn off to the ranch in sight.

"Okay, Jim," she smiled, her face seeming to light up against the bright backdrop of snow - an almost blinding display, he silently surmised as he studied her unruly mop of blonde hair. She continued, "I wanted to ask you which of the two do you prefer - Pablo or Thomas?"

Jim ran a gloved hand over his face and told her, "I don't know what the devil you're talking about, Bikini."

"Why two of the most famous painters of all times, Jim. Pablo Picasso and Thomas Kinkade," she clarified, appearing a bit appalled that he didn't know beans about art.

"I suppose that I'm more of a Rockwell sort of guy," he managed to deflect. She was dead-on about his artsy knowledge. In the short time since he'd know Bikini, he'd be willing to bet a fresh George Washington that it would take her two hours to prepare for a ride; an hour to pick out the horse and another hour to coordinate the saddle with the saddle blanket.

"I see. You're sentimental," she decided, suddenly digging around in her oversized leopard-skin handbag which looked totally fake to Jim's curious gaze. He suddenly imagined a fake animal hide flapping off the end of the feather bed Bikini was certain to pick out for the master suite. Yes, his mother was going to die a very slow death, he went on to decide.

And when Bikini drew out the stick of red lipstick and began applying it to her lips, he became a bit too preoccupied in the process and would have run off the road if not for Bikini's shrill scream.

With the truck rectified, he delivered a brief apology, then gave the road his full attention.

Jim enjoyed the ten-seconds of silence that followed, then Bikini asked, "Will I be seeing much of your dear mother at the ranch? She's such a sweet thing. We hit it off almost instantly at the designer show."

"She's a sweet old thing alright," he mocked, Bikini nodding her head as she smiled at him like some wide-eyed possum. Then, "Hate to burst your balloon, but mom lives about an hour's drive from my ranch. However, I imagine that she'll find time to pop in at least once while you're here during the next couple of months."

"My first assignment at that! And I can't wait to get started!"

First assignment? As Jim entered the gates of the ranch, he could picture his newly constructed ranch house being Bikini-Graffitied! By the time she left, he would have a pink kitchen with flamingo wall coverings and all the cowhands would be dressed in lace. Lovely, he mocked as he pulled into the circle-drive.

"Oh my - what an enchanting house!" Bikini bubbled, unhooking her seatbelt and bolting out of the truck before Jim had time to do the gentlemanly thing and open her door.

He sat locked in a daze as she practically danced around in front yard, kicking up snow, her face lit with a beautiful red smile. The vision was almost surreal - like someone had dropped a 'tail-less' mermaid into his front yard by mistake. And her darn giddy attitude was rubbing off on him because he found himself smiling and not wanting to.

As soon as he exited the truck, she ran to him and collected his gloved hand, then led him anxiously towards the house.

"Come on, Jim! I can't wait to see the inside of her," Bikini told him in an excited tone. "I assume that there is heat in there?" she asked for assurance, Jim thinking that the effects of the snow had worked to cool her jets a bit. She was accustomed to balmy weather and this must be quite a change to her. Then again, she appeared to be fully adaptable he decided as he peered into her inquisitive looking face.

"It's hot as a pistol inside the ranch house," he assured. In fact, the beautiful Bikini was beginning to make him feel quite the same.

"Goody! Now hurry, Jim!" she pressed, leading him along now through the mounds of snow. Then, "Can we build a fire? Your mom made mention that you had several fireplaces scattered throughout the house."

"Not sure if we can, Bikini," he told her as they made their way carefully to the porch, Bikini losing her balance at one point and sliding into his arms.

"Steady there," he advised, holding onto her tightly. There was no way that she was going to be able to manage her way up the slippery steps, he went on to speculate.

His assumption was correct, for every step she took up, she took two steps back. The stiff winds of winter raking into Jim's back spurred him to collect her in his strong arms and carry her up the steps.

Bikini wrapped her arms around his neck and delivered an enchanting smile, Jim suddenly struggling with his sane senses as he managed to place her onto steady ground once they reached the front door.

"I feel just like a new bride - or I did until you put me down, Jim," she laughed. "I thought for a moment that you might carry me over the threshold."

"About that fire you wanted," he managed, trying to steer the conversation in another direction as he was already mentally congested, thoughts of his mother's intentions once again circling his mind. "There's not any wood near-by that won't smoke up the place. Perhaps I can locate some dead mesquite and pecan wood later in the week and we'll build a nice fire."

"I thought that all wood was the same," she offhandedly told him, her eyes running over the house again. "Nice bones," she eased out, deep in thought.

"Pardon?"

Bikini twirled towards him and repeated, "Nice bones. Your house - it has nice bones. It's a designer term," she clarified to his confused looking face.

He mumbled under his breath, then went to open the door as Bikini asked him, "What are your favorite colors, Jim?"

Her question taking him by surprise, he looked into her face and noted once again just how beautiful she was; those cornflower blue eyes, those freshly painted ruby red lips all framed perfectly with the mop of shiny blonde hair that could not be ignored.

Foolishly he answered, "Ruby red and cornflower blue."

"Hum, I would have never guessed," Bikini mused, appearing thoughtful as Jim mentally kicked himself. "You know, most people hire a decorator because they really don't know what they want. It's probably against all the codes of designing, but I feel that the customer's input can really throw things for a loop. Take your cornflower blue and ruby red colors. Jim, I assure you that they will clash. They simply do not go together."

"I assure you that they do," he begged to differ, returning his attention to the door as he jiggled with the lock. What the devil was wrong with it? He'd never experienced problems with it before.

"Well, I disagree," she insisted as she watched him. "Look, why don't give me full control of one room of the house and if you don't like what you see, then we'll work together. I think the project will go off more smoothly if I considered the house as my own - and if I decorate it accordingly. Okay with you?"

Jim flung open the door, unprepared for her request. Or was it a challenge? Nonetheless, he was darn-sure that he didn't want to give her permission to personally self-destruct his new home. He peered into her face to tell her such as he told her, "Sounds like a great idea to me. I suggest that you tackle my bedroom first?"

Jim spent the next week sleeping in one of the naked guest rooms, Bikini down the hall as she snoozed comfortably in the new bed which she had ordered day's prior - although what she had ordered, he had no idea. Unfortunately, she had refused him entry to the room until all the loose ends were tied up - assuring him she would be finished no later than this evening.

Breakfast had become one of his favorite meals of the day, Bikini settling in at the table in a flimsy red robe hemmed in fur which was guaranteed to shed daily. He'd been teased more than once by a cowhand when they had spied shreds of red fur adhered to his black cowboy hat.

Men. They loved the ladies, yet they also found folly in teasing one another about such.

Bikini was all gab this morning, promising him that the room was almost too perfect. Jim had no idea what the woman had done to the place but he had a wild idea that it involved the colors ruby red and cornflower blue.

She must have placed a spell onto him for the remainder of the day he spent peering into the motley faces of the herd of winter-clad cattle, imagining Bikini all nestled snug in the bed of the master bedroom with him laying contentedly beside her. After this, how could he possibly take up sleeping there? No doubt, she'd managed to scar his thoughts - in a good way, he supposed.

He supposed?

Oh yeah. No doubt about that. And when the day's work had ended, he had informed Bikini that he wanted to give her full run of the house - to decorate it to her liking. And no, he didn't want to see what she had created behind his bedroom door. No need to spoil the magic for he was getting far too attached to Ms. Bikini. What if his bedroom turned out to be the disaster that he expected? No - best to give her the benefit of the doubt. Why spoil a perfectly good fantasy?

Although delighted, she begged to differ with his decision as she warned him that he may not prefer her code of decor. Even so, Jim won out - or at least he assumed that he had won out. After their consultation, he was suddenly confined to mud room leading off from the kitchen, Bikini insisting that the house be shrouded in mystery until the unveiling.

Jim was as nervous as a bat without a cave as he leaned on the fencepost. Almost two months now since Bikini's arrival at the ranch and somewhere along the cornflower blue and ruby red hues of the day and evening, he'd fallen head over heels in love with her as winter had sifted into spring.

What about his master bed which was probably draped in fake animal skins? What about the kitchen which was probably surrounded by pink flamingos? And what was wrong with a little lace on the cowboys, he tried to reason, feeling like an idiot in the process as he was allowing his thoughts to go a bit too far.

However, at this point he didn't give a hang what the inside of his house looked like for he knew that without Bikini the inside of his heart would be in shambles.

And what about her? Just how did she feel about him?

He would have to be an idiot to have missed the flirtatious glances she had sent his way over morning breakfast. And she had been quite daring with those big boobies of hers, leaning against him as she had shown him design photos from magazines - photos that had faded into nothingness as he enjoyed her closeness - from those ample boobies to her sweet cologne.

"Ready Jim?" Bikini yelled out from the back door, her face lit with a ruby-red smile.

Jim straightened, then staggered a bit as his knees grew weak and he closed the distance between them amid the growing dusk.

"Oh, I can't wait for you to see what I've done to your home! I hope that you love it-"

Bikini gasped as he drew her to him, his warm breath washing over her face as he drawled, "I know what you've done to my heart, that's for certain. I've often wondered if you have any idea."

Her eyes fluttered, then closed as she drew his lips to her own and after a brief, meaningful kiss she told him, "I've waited two months for this. I knew from the moment that I met you but I wasn't sure just what it was you felt-"

He quickly reassured her with a kiss that they would discuss for many years to come and when he pulled away, he looked into her face and softly eased out, "If that doesn't say 'I love you' then nothing will. Bikini, I don't know what you've done to the inside of my house, but the inside of my heart has been turned upside down. Frankly, I don't care what you've done to the house - because if I have anything to say about it, you're going to be taking up permanent residence here."

"Uh hum," she smiled, her lashes fanning over her face as her lips lit with a smile. "By the way, your mother loved it-"

"Mother?"

"Yes, she's dropped by several times, in fact. We-we both thought it best if we didn't mention it," she quickly defended, looking a bit shy in the process over the bold decision. "She-she insisted on having a nursery in the house."

Nursery? Why, a perfectly good idea, he suddenly reasoned. Mother. Why he'd almost forgotten about the sweet old girl. He supposed that he owed her big-time for sending Bikini his way. What was the ancient saying - something about Mother knowing best?

"As long as you love it, that's all that counts," he assured with a smile as he dusted her forehead with a light kiss.

"I love you - I know that," Bikini admitted, suddenly shy again.

Jim almost fantasized that he had died and gone to heaven, for surely this was an angel he was holding in his rugged arms. He knew that he loved her - that she was his everything. As for the house, there was one room that he was certain to love above all others, that being the bedroom.

Expecting feathers, fake animal hides and lace, he entered his castle with his true love only to be entranced with rich woods, soft leather, warm hues and finely-woven rugs. It was like opening another door - a door into the future, his future, her future, their future.

No doubt, he decided amid his humbling span of silence as he admired the handiwork of his true love. Love is definitely cornflower blue; love is ruby red - and love is blonde.....