Howdy, y’all! One of the things my daddy did as I was growing up (along with cowboying, driving truck, and construction) was owning a honky-tonk. I would get to come in after school, sit at the bar (where my momma tended bar) and hang out, do my homework, and if I was lucky, get a dance or two from Daddy.
Sitting there, I learned a lot about cowboys, the women they cast their eyes on, and the lines they used (and lord, didn’t that sound slick as all get out – it’s like watching a figure skater going ‘I’m fixin’ to jump’. This was the writer’s, ‘I’m fixin’ to give you a list and then promo a book’, which okay, I totally am.)
First though, I have to tell y’all my very favorite story about the honky-tonk. When I was a teenager, my momma’s daddy, Pappy, came to visit. He’d lived in my hometown when he was a young man, had picked cotton, and then had moved off to Kansas City. At this point, Momma wheeled him in, was introducing him around and this amazing, neat old man turned around, real slow, and blinked. Then he smiled and it was like the sun had risen, right there over the bar, and he said, “Harry? Harry, is that you?”
And my Pappy looked up and said, “Lawrence?”
They had picked cotton together fifty years earlier.
Fifty years and there they were, together, laughing, joyous in this tiny old bar, two old men reminiscing and telling stories on each other. It’s one of my soul-memories, one of the things I pull out to tell myself on gray days.
Cowboy Pick-Up Lines
Hey girl, watch this.
Nice boots, wanna fuck?
Got eight seconds?
Got any Texan in you? Want some?
Wanna put a pinch of me between your cheek and gum?
Ain’t no rodeo clown that can keep me off you, baby.
You and your friend interested in some team roping?
Wanna watch me unload my six shooter?
Oh, baby, that’s not a pistol. I’m damn happy to see you.
Them calves of yours could use some ropin’.
Wanna go to your place and break some furniture?
I just got back from fishin’. Wanna see my rod?
You raise a lot of chickens, girl, because you’re damn good at raising cock.
You’re hotter than asphalt on a summer day.
You’re hotter than a tin roof in August.
You know how they say everything’s bigger in Texas? Want proof?
Wanna see my scars?
You’re finer than a frog hair split four ways.
Here’s my card, call if you need a buck.
Honey, that’s a nice set of legs. What time do they open?
Ropes, spurs, leather, gloves… Yes, ma’am.
What has 142 teeth and holds back the wildest ride ever? (motions to zipper fly)
I’ll fall for you like a blind roofer.
Do you believe in love at first sight? You want I should walk by again?
You lost, ma’am? Heaven’s a ways away from here.
And especially for the m/m lovers:
Oh, baby, when I’m around you I can’t think straight.
The opening chapter to my new release, Mr. Unlucky, happens in a bar very much based on the club my daddy owned back in the mid-Eighties. These days he bounces at a much bigger bar on Friday and Saturday nights and he swears he wouldn’t go back to being owner for love or money.
I’m not sure I believe him.
I do have an ebook copy of Mr. Unlucky for a commenter. Tell me about your favorite pick up line, and I’ll let Julia pick someone randomly.
Mr. Unlucky: One Horse Town, Book One
Cowboy Bodie might be unlucky in love, having lost not one but two fiancées in his life. When he meets Addie, though, he knows he’s found a special girl, and he thinks he might be willing to take one more chance with his wounded heart.
Addie has been in war-torn parts of the world and is on the rebound from a bad relationship. When she comes home to East Texas, all she wants is to relax and enjoy life for a bit. Then she sees Bodie, and she thinks he’s the hottest thing she’s ever cast her eyes on. She’s willing to put in the time and effort to convince Bodie that his luck has changed.
Between Bodie’s past, Addie’s ex, and the meddling of an entire small town, Bodie and Addie have a lot to work through if they want to go from just friends with benefits to something more serious. Can Mr. Unlucky and Miss Good Times find a way to make it work?
She turned her attention back to Mr. Hot, Stoic and Drinking. He was in here every Wednesday night, just like clockwork. Maddie had informed her Wednesday was when the cowboy wandered into town, did his feed store shopping and his weekly beer run, then stopped to have two longnecks at the bar before heading back to his twelve-hundred-acre ranch to work some of the finest Beefmaster cattle in Morris county.
Did that make her obsessed?
Nah. Hell, she was a photographer and investigative reporter still, right? In the time she’d been back in town, she’d found out everything any girl could want to know about what Bodie Reaver had been doing since she’d left—that he would be thirty two in January and was as yet unmarried, and that he had become something of a local legend.
The poor guy had lost two fiancées in the last twelve years. The first one had died in some kind of car accident back when she was at the end of high school, and the other had succumbed to cancer some three years ago. The rumors swirled around him like smoke; he was a black widower, a witch, cursed, or just the unluckiest guy on earth.
She didn’t believe any of the above, and even if she did, Addie thought Bodie was hot as hell. She was also bored to tears hiding out at her sister’s house in this tiny East Texas town and looking for something to do while she took pictures, lived off her savings and helped exercise horses. Why not him? She stood up and sidled over to his stool.
“Did you know frowning that deep will give you wrinkles?”
Bodie started a little, then turned to glance behind him before looking back at her and raising one almost-black brow. “You talkin’ to me, honey?”
“I most definitely am.” He was long and lean, with leather-tanned skin and bright blue eyes. Hoo, yeah. She was so talking to him.
His frown shifted into a smile, which gave him even better lines. “Well, then, I got to tell you, no one has cared about my lines in years.” Those pretty blue eyes were checking her out, though, making her blood pump faster.
“Too bad. That sounds like an incredible waste of one hell of a mouth.” Why pretend to be shy? Addie knew being the retiring type was not one of her failings, so to force it now would be silly.
The smile lines got deeper, the expression reaching his eyes. Gracious. That was lethal.
“Thank you, ma’am. Whatcha drinkin’?”
“Shiner,” she said, and winked. “I’m back in Texas. Might as well have the good beer.”
From Guatamala to Ghana, Moscow to Mozambique. She’d been and done it all. Now she wanted home and spring and bluebonnets and hot cowboys in her bed.
“Cool. Another Shiner for the lady, Carl.”
Carl, a skinny old cowboy with a three-inch lift in his left boot, nodded, staring at her with wide eyes. Obviously, he expected her to drop dead on the spot from talking to Bodie. When she didn’t, he grinned, the look pure shit-dipped evil. “Lord, that ain’t no lady. That’s Chris and Brandt’s youngest girl, Addison.”
Oh, she hated to be called by that name. She rolled her eyes, rubbed the bridge of her nose with her middle finger, then turned back to Bodie.
“Addie. Thanks for the beer, cowboy.” She let herself look, obvious and slow, admiring all the way along.
“Not a problem. Have a sit.” He motioned at the stool next to him, and she wasted no time plopping down.
“So, tell me something odd about yourself. Something I couldn’t guess.”
“I like cotton candy.” He grinned again before taking a swallow of his beer, his tanned throat working in an addictive way. “What about you?”
“I’m a wildcat in bed.” She winked, flirting outrageously. “Oh, wait. That’s not something you couldn’t guess, right?”
He laughed out loud when Carl choked behind the bar, sputtering hard. “I could figure that, yeah.”
Addie grinned. “Excellent powers of observation. Spectacular.”
“Well, I try, honey. It’s been awhile since anyone was so honest about it, I reckon.”
“Honesty is the best policy.” She waited for a heartbeat. “Like for instance, I think you’re incredibly hot. Are you as good with your hands as you seem?”
He didn’t even blink. “I’m pretty handy. In fact, I make my living with them.”
“Yeah? I’m a photographer. What do you do?” She knew that, of course, but a man sure liked to be asked. Stroking wasn’t only for below the buckle. Everyone knew Running Water Ranch, because having a profitable outfit made a man small-town famous. Hell, her dads sold hay to him.
“Ranching. Cattle and horses. Had goats for a bit, but they were too smart.” He winked. “Always climbing and getting out of fences.”
“I grew up on a ranch. Live on one now, as a matter of fact. What’s your position on dancing?”
“I rub belt buckles pretty well. Two-step. Waltz. I ain’t so good at the modern flail.”
God, he was adorable. Unflappable. Edible.
Addie couldn’t help her grin. “The modern flail. I like that.”
There was a fine line between slut and eager, hopefully she was still straddling it.
“Well, that’s what I look like when I try it.” Laughing, he flapped his hands like wings. “You want to try me out before buying in, we can throw a dollar in the jukebox, play some George.”
“Oh, cowboy, I can totally try you out.” She dug a dollar out of her purse. “It’s so much nicer than just starting out with nice boots, wanna fuck?”