A Cowboy State of Mind

by Jennie Marts

  Logan shrugged. “You’re good. Take the day. Looks like this need is more pressing.”

  “Thanks, Logan. I’ll most likely call you later for a ride back to the diner. I left my truck there. And Bryn’s car is broken down on the side of the road.”

  “I saw it when I drove into town. What’s wrong with it?”

  “Not sure. Figured I’d take a look at it, then get you to help me tow it back here if I need to work on it.”

  “I’m good with that. Call me when you’re ready. Anything I can do to help now? Either of you want a lift to the farm?”

  “We’re good,” Bryn said.

  “You sure?” Zane asked her. “I can manage the rest of the way on my own.”

  She raised one eyebrow. Zane’s lips curved into a grin as he turned back to Logan. “We’re good. Thanks though. I’ll call you later.”

  “Good save,” she told Zane, then waved to Logan. “Thanks for the offer. We’ll see you later.”

  Twenty minutes later, they ambled up the driveway of Bryn’s farm. An old yellow two-story farmhouse with a wide front porch sat on one side of the drive, and a large barn with faded red paint sat on the other. Two nice-sized corrals flanked either side of the barn, and chickens roamed inside the fence surrounding a small chicken coop. A couple of outbuildings sat beyond the barn, but both looked like they hadn’t been used in some time.

  The farm was a little worse for wear, and Zane saw several things in need of repair, but he could see Bryn’s touch in the cheery blue pillows on the porch swing and the array of colorful pots spilling over with flowers on the steps. She had a neat fenced-in garden next to her house, but her grass looked like it could use mowing. A couple dozen head of cattle filled the corral and the pasture beyond, and one let out a low moo, almost as if welcoming Bryn home.

  “You got a place to keep this horse?”

  “Oh sure. This farm is a little run-down, but I’ve got plenty of room. My grandpa used to have tons of animals. That barn has six stalls on either side. It could hold a dozen horses.”

  “That’s good. You know, in case you decide to rescue any more damaged horses.”

  “Hmmm,” she said, a wicked gleam lighting her eyes, then she let out a chuckle. “I’m just kidding. I think I’ll have my hands full enough with just this one…two.” She jogged ahead to pull open the big barn door.

  Zane led the horse inside and down the middle of the alleyway of the barn. The air was cooler inside and smelled of cedar and the hay stacked up in the two far stalls. The rest of the area was well maintained—the empty stalls had been swept out and tools hung neatly from racks next to the door leading to the corral. The door stood open to a tack room that sat in one corner of the barn, and a couple of farm cats stretched out in the ray of sunshine coming in from a hole in the front of the barn.

  He tied the lead rope to the post of one of the stalls. “You’ve got a good space in here. Except for that hole in the side of the wall.”

  “Yeah, that last big windstorm we got picked up this wagon I use in my garden and flung it into the barn there. It about scared me to death, the sound of it was deafening. The wagon was okay, bent one of the wheels a little, but it knocked that hole in the wall, and I just haven’t gotten around to fixing it yet.” She glanced up at the hole. It was a good twenty feet off the ground. “It’s not so much fixing it that’s the problem. It’s where the hole is. To tell you the truth, I’m a little afraid of heights. Well, more than a little. I’m terrified of heights, so I haven’t convinced myself to climb a ladder to fix it. I was eventually gonna get around to asking Logan to help me with it.”

  “I could help you. Wouldn’t take much to patch it enough to keep the rain out.” A couple of black rubber tubs sat in one of the stalls. Zane pulled them out, then filled a bucket with water from the spigot next to the tack room and poured it into one of the tubs. “You want to grab some of that hay?” he asked, curtailing any discussion about her letting him fix the hole. “We can give her a little something to eat while we look her over and get her brushed.”

  “Sure. Although I can’t imagine she’s still hungry. I swear we stopped ten times on the way here for her to eat some grass.” Bryn laughed as she grabbed a portion of a hay bale that had already been split open and placed it in the other tub. The horse bent to sniff the straw, then pulled a portion loose to munch between her teeth. “Not that I’m judging. I’ve been known to put away half a pan of mac and cheese on a bad night.” She offered Zane a sheepish grin. “Or a good night, depending on the quality of the mac and cheese and who I’m eating it with.”

  “Makes sense.” He turned back to the horse. Makes sense? That didn’t make sense at all. He floundered, having no idea how else to respond to what might possibly be a flirty invitation to eat pasta with her. He could have gone with something about how carbs look great on her hips… No, probably not. Maybe say he could be the mac to her cheese? His face flamed at the dorky responses.

  What he really wanted to say was that he liked her, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t offer the stability of a comfort food like mac and cheese. He was more like buffalo wings with extra sriracha sauce—they might be good while you’re eating them, but they only cause you pain later. Best to keep focused on the horse. “She’s going to eat a heck of a lot more than that. We can give her some hay for now, then let her out into the pasture later. I’ll stop in at the feed store when I head back to town and get her some oats.”

  “You don’t have to—” she started to say, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.

  “You already told me your bank balance is hovering around six dollars, and one bag of good horse feed will run close to fourteen, so just let me get it. You’re boarding the horse and providing the hay, the least I can do is buy some oats and pick her up some vitamins.”

  Bryn let out a sigh. “Okay. But I’d like to come along to see what you get. My grandpa used to have horses when I was growing up, so I know how to ride and probably just enough about them to be dangerous, but I don’t know anything about their daily feed and care.”

  “I can help you with that.” He gestured to the tack room. “You got some brushes in there? Maybe a curry comb? I’d like to clean her up a little, and we can check her for sores and injuries while we’re brushing her. Plus it’s a good way to bond with her.”

  Bryn disappeared into the tack room and came out with a handful of brushes and curry combs. She held them out to Zane. “Take your pick.”

  He took a curry comb, leaving a softer brush for Bryn. “I’m not sure if she’s been groomed before, so we can take it slow and get her used to it. She’s doing pretty well with us so far, but I don’t want to spook her. I’ll give her a little time to get accustomed to the brush before I try to check her feet. I can already tell her hooves are in terrible shape. Why don’t you start, and I’ll see if I can find a hoof pick and some nippers?”

  Bryn nodded before turning back to the mare. “Help yourself. The horse tack is on the north wall. Grandpa always kept his tools organized, so you should be able to find what you need.”

  She was right. Her grandfather had kept an organized tack room, and Zane easily found a hoof pick, a rasp, and a nice pair of nippers. He walked out of the tack room, his concentration on the task of taking care of the horse’s hooves. He looked up as he drew closer, then stopped, his heart jerking in his chest.

  The ray of sunlight had moved and shone down perfectly on Bryn as she brushed the mare. She looked like an angel as the light gleamed across her blond hair.

  But the thoughts Zane was having were anything but angelic. They were bordering on downright sinful as he watched her, mesmerized by her movements. Her body was voluptuous, with the kind of curves a man dreamed of skimming his hands over, but also graceful and elegant as she gently ran the brush across the horse’s back. Something tightened in his chest as he watched her, and he let out a hard sigh. “
Damn, but you are beautiful.”

  Bryn paused, her hand midstroke, her body tense, and she turned her head slightly toward him.

  Criminy. Had he said that out loud? He held his breath as he waited for her reaction.

  A long, painful second later, her shoulders relaxed, and she nodded at the horse. “Yes, she is beautiful. I can’t believe someone would just throw her away.”

  He let out his breath. Did she really think he’d meant the horse? Should he remedy the situation by saying he was actually talking about her? Or would that just make the awkward moment worse?

  Before he had a chance to say anything, Bryn turned and pointed the brush at him. “You know, that’s not a bad name for this girl. Maybe not Beautiful, but what about Bella? Or just Beauty? Oh, I like that. It’s like the character in the story.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You mean the one who falls in love with a beast?”

  “Yes, that one. I love that story.” She smiled dreamily and clutched the brush to her chest. “It was complicated but still so simple. It got to the heart of every great love story and focused on how when you love someone, you see more than just what’s on the outside.”

  “Yeah, but that’s all it was—just a story. A fairy tale. In real life, most people like that pretty exterior, and they don’t really want to see the sullied mess that’s on the inside.”

  She offered him a thoughtful look. “That seems pretty cynical. I think there are plenty of people who can handle a little mess and can look past the beast on the outside.”

  “Maybe,” he said, lifting his shoulder but not breaking eye contact. “But sometimes there’s a beast on the inside too.”

  The horse stamped her front foot and let out a whinny, and Bryn took a step back, breaking the connection. “I think Beauty disagrees with you.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time a horse had an opinion contrary to mine.”

  Bryn chuckled as she eased closer and resumed her gentle brushing. “No, I can bet not.”

  Zane set the tools on the ground and picked up the curry comb. He stepped in next to her and carefully drew the comb along the horse’s neck, working his hand in slow circular motions as he loosened the dirt and inspected her coat for cuts and injuries. The horse leaned her neck toward him. “She seems to like being groomed, so my guess is someone must have taken care of her at some point.”

  “I agree, but it must have been a long time ago, because she doesn’t seem to have been cared for recently.” She pointed out a few places on the horse’s skin where she’d found minor wounds.

  They worked in easy unison, gently grooming the horse, but Zane noticed every time her hand crept close to his or her fingers brushed his skin, his skin warmed as his blood pumped hot through his veins. It had been so long since a woman affected him this way. He kept telling himself Bryn wasn’t important, but his body proved that lie to be false.

  She was important. No matter how much he told himself she didn’t matter, that she was just another pretty girl, he knew he was kidding himself. Bryn was so much more—she was funny and smart and didn’t take the crap he continuously dished out. And they shared the same connection to animals—that soul-deep bond and the need to rescue and protect the ones who couldn’t protect themselves.

  But the heat on his skin had nothing to do with the way she loved animals and a hell of a lot more to do with the animal inside him—and the carnal things he imagined doing with and to her.

  Hockey stats. The weather. Grandma’s secret to a great piecrust. He tried to think of something to talk about to keep his mind off the thoughts he was having about her—about pulling her down into the hay and running his hands along her body. “So what did you mean earlier when I told you those guys were con men, and you said it wouldn’t be the first time you’d been taken in by one of those?”

  Her hand stilled on the horse’s back. “I didn’t really mean for you to hear that.”

  “Well, I did. So what happened?”

  She shrugged. “I’m embarrassed to tell you. I was an idiot and did something stupid.”

  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve done my share of stupid.”

  “Not like this. I thought I was helping someone, and they took advantage of me.”

  “You do have a tendency to take in strays.”

  “Yeah, well, this stray turned out to be a snake. And bringing a snake into your bed almost guarantees you’ll get bit.”

  His chest constricted, and the muscles across his back tightened. He damn sure didn’t want to think about someone else taking up space in Bryn’s bed, especially someone who’d hurt her. He wanted to swear—hell, he wanted to kick the boards of the stall in—but he kept his tone even, knowing his temper wouldn’t instill the trust she needed to tell him more. “You mean it was someone you were dating?”

  “You could say that. We didn’t really date as much as collided into each other. Then he said he needed a place to crash, just for a few days, and I let him stay. A few days turned into a few weeks, then a month. He helped me around the farm, and I thought he was helping me with the sale of a few cattle, but really he was just helping himself to the profits. And to my grandfather’s truck, which he took off in after he cleaned out my bank account.”

  “Did you tell the police? Or file a report at the bank? Did they catch the guy?”

  “No.” She kept her gaze trained on the horse, her hand moving in a steady circle. “Because I didn’t tell the police. Or the bank.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “I told you: I was embarrassed and humiliated. And it was my own fault for trusting him. Plus, it was a friend of mine who worked at the bank who gave him my money, and she’s a single mom, so if I filed a complaint, she could lose her job.”

  “Yeah, but you lost your money.”

  She shrugged again. “Believe me, that part wasn’t a great loss. And neither was the truck. It probably broke down before he made it to Texas or Montana or whatever rodeo he was chasing next. It was losing the beef profits and my grandfather’s prized champion rodeo buckle that really hurt. Although the buckle wasn’t worth much either. Not to anyone but our family. I doubt he could even pawn the thing.”

  His hands tightened into fists. Who could do that to someone like Bryn? All she ever did was help others. “So he was a rodeo chaser?”

  “Yep. Although when he stuck around here for that month last fall, I thought he might have settled. I thought it was because of me, but apparently he must have just seen the sucker sign plastered across my forehead.” She let out a low sigh, and her chin dropped to her chest.

  He hated that someone had made her feel less about herself and had taken that light from her eyes, even for a moment. She seemed so sad, so discouraged—his heart hurt just looking at her. He reached for her and pulled her into his arms. The smell of her hair surrounded him and his knees threatened to buckle at the intoxicating feeling of her body warm against his. He tipped his head and pressed his lips against her ear. “Trying to find the good in people doesn’t make you a sucker. It just makes you kindhearted.”

  She held tightly to him as she let out a breath, a tremble barely evident in her voice. “Well, it sure makes me feel like a fool.” She straightened, pushing away from him and forcing her shoulders back as she drew herself up to her full height and stared him straight in the eye. “Enough of that feeling sorry for myself nonsense—this kind heart is tired of getting stomped on. I’m done dating slick cowboys and trying to rescue men who don’t want to be saved. I’m sticking to rescuing horses and three-legged dogs, and dating guys who are nice and safe, who have regular jobs and boring routines. I’ll take slow and steady monotony over crazy collision heartbreak any day.”

  Before Zane could answer or find a way to get her back into his arms, the sound of an engine drew their attention. A white pickup pulled up to the barn door, and a tall man stepped o
ut and waved. Looked like Mr. Nice and Safe had just arrived.

  Chapter 4

  Make that Doctor Nice and Safe.

  The bed of the truck was affixed with a white vet box, and the man unfastened the side compartment to grab a box of supplies.

  The passenger door opened, and a ten-year-old girl wearing a pink T-shirt, cut-off jean shorts, and a pair of cowboy boots with purple tops climbed from the cab. Her blond hair was long and pulled away from her face with some kind of braid that twisted across the side of her head.

  A grin the size of Texas broke out on her face as she caught sight of Zane. “Hey, Zane,” she called, loping toward him and throwing her arms around his middle. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  Between the ragged scar and the scowl he usually wore, most kids were scared of him—or at least curious, like the ones in the diner that morning. He’d heard their not-so-quiet whispers about what happened to that man’s face and seen the way they cowered behind their mothers at the grocery store. But not Mandy Tate. Zane wasn’t sure that girl was afraid of anything, let alone a scarred up bastard like himself. He’d seen her pick up a snake, cuddle a pig, and dust herself off to get right back on a horse that had thrown her. She was a fighter, that one.

  She’d only been a bitty thing the first time he met her, but she’d crawled right into his lap, oblivious to his imperfections. “Hey, kid,” he said, ruffling her hair. “How’d you do on that spelling test last week?”

  “Awesome,” she told him. “I got a hundred percent—spelled every word right.”

  “Even neutral?”

  “Even N-E-U-T-R-A-L, neutral.”

  “Nice work.” He held up his hand for a high five, and she gave it a smack.

  “Apparently, you need to help her with her spelling words every week,” the tall man said, as he sauntered toward them. “Hey, Zane. Do you hire out as a tutor?”