A Cowboy State of Mind

by Jennie Marts

  Rosalee filled Bryn’s arms with bird food, toys, a mini birdbath, and an industrial-size container of millet sprays. The idea of having the lovebirds was growing on her. They were so cute, and she loved the notion that they mated for life.

  She hoisted the box of bird baggage into the house, wistfully wondering if her lovebird life mate was somewhere pining for her.

  * * *

  That night, Bryn found herself pulling up in front of Zane’s house. She hadn’t planned to drive there. It was almost as if the car had driven itself. So it was really the car’s fault. Yeah, and the car had also neatly packed a to-go carton with a piece of Zane’s favorite pie. She tried to convince herself she was only there to tell him thank you for fixing the vehicle. She’d had a good shift at the diner that afternoon and had enough tip money to offer to pay for at least part of the alternator.

  Everything in her was screaming to pull away, keep driving, go home, and eat the lemon meringue pie herself. No good would come from this. A nice guy had asked her out. All she had to do was say yes. So what the hell was she doing sitting in front of Zane Taylor’s house, and why couldn’t she stop thinking about that last kiss? She turned off the engine and got out before she lost her nerve. She’d never been to Zane’s house before. But she’d always known where he lived—in a small rundown house on the outskirts of town, just a few blocks down from the Dairy Queen.

  It was dusk, but Bryn could tell someone, she was sure it was Zane, had been recently working on the upkeep of the house. It looked better than it had in years. The lawn was still patchy but had been freshly mowed—she could still smell the fresh-cut grass. The front screen door had been replaced, and the siding wore a fresh coat of blue paint. She could hear the noise of the television and what sounded like a hockey game through the open windows.

  Letting out her breath, she clutched the pie container as she walked up the porch steps and knocked on the front door. She heard the volume lower, then jumped as the door jerked open, and she came face-to-face with Zane. She didn’t know what she’d expected—a look of surprise or maybe one of his rare smiles that he got when something really tickled him—but it wasn’t the angry scowl on his face.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Um, well, I…” She took a step back, her breath catching in her throat. What the hell was she doing here? And had she really expected Zane to go all giddy with joy at her unannounced visit? “I just stopped by because I wanted to tell you how great my car was running and to say thanks again for fixing it.”

  “You could’ve called. Or just sent a text.” He looked different. He had on gym shorts, an old faded T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off, and running shoes. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him in anything but cowboy boots. And instead of his usual Stetson, he wore a blue-and-red Summit hockey cap turned backward.

  “I know. But I wanted to stop by.” I wanted to see you. “And I had a good day at the diner today and wanted to offer to help pay for the car parts.”

  “I don’t want your money.” He pulled the door shut behind him and took her arm to guide her away from the house and toward her vehicle. “Look, I was glad to fix your car. But I don’t need you to stop by my house. My dad’s not really up for visitors.”

  His dad, or him?

  “Sorry. You’re right. Of course. I should have called.”

  He took off his cap, scrubbed a hand through his hair, then jammed it back on and huffed out a breath. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just not used to having unexpected company.”

  She stared down at his feet. “I’m not used to seeing you in sneakers. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear tennis shoes before.” Wow. That was a random reply. But at least it might get them off the subject of her awkward, spontaneous arrival.

  He shrugged. “I went for a run earlier.”

  Her eyes widened. “You run?”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her obvious incredulity. “Yes. I run. And not just when someone’s chasing me.” He offered her the smallest hint of a wry grin, and for the first time since she’d driven up, the tightness in her chest eased. “I picked up the habit when I was in the military, and I guess it stuck. I like it. And it helps to relieve stress.”

  “Do you have something you’re stressed about?”

  He glanced back at the house and shrugged again. His eyes were sad as he turned back, but he didn’t look at her. Instead, he seemed to look over her shoulder, at something in the distance. He cleared his throat. “You want to walk down to the Dairy Queen? Get some ice cream or something?”

  She was definitely interested in the “or something.” She thrust out the paper bag containing the takeout container. “Actually, I brought you some pie. It’s lemon meringue.”

  Another smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “That’s my favorite.”

  “I know.”

  She took a step closer, the pull of him like a magnet drawing her in. Something about him seemed different. In these clothes, this setting, he seemed younger, more vulnerable. And all she wanted to do was wrap her arms around his waist and hold him to her.

  His shoulders relaxed, and he leaned in to her—just the slightest movement, but she felt it. Felt the nearness of him in the way her skin tingled and the sudden shortness of her breath. She wanted to reach out, to touch him, even if it was just to rest a hand on his arm or press her fingers to his chest. Or press her body against his and climb him like a tree.

  Whoa. Okay, maybe that went a little too far. But seriously, she’d never seen him dressed like this, with so much skin and so freaking darn many muscles on display. His body was like an unexplored playground and she was suddenly ready for recess.

  “Hey, boy,” Birch’s deep voice bellowed from inside the house. “You better get in here. The game’s back on.”

  Like a rubber band snapping back into place, the tenseness returned to Zane’s body, and he took a step away from her as the scowl settled back on his face. “I should probably go.”

  “Of course.” The moment was lost, and now she didn’t know what to say, how to act. A second ago, she was ready to offer him a hug or throw him down behind her car and jump him, but now she just felt self-conscious and uncomfortable, like she was pushing herself on someone who kept pushing her away. She stared at his shoes again, trying to think of something more to say. “The horses are looking good. If you want to come out and see them tomorrow. Brody said Beauty is putting on weight.”

  “Good. I’m glad the horse is doing well. I’ll try to make it out, but I’ve got a lot of stuff going on.” He avoided her eye as he stared at a spot on the sidewalk. A crop of dandelions sprouted through the crack, their cheerful yellow color in contrast to the stinging barbs on their leaves.

  “Oh, yeah. No problem.” She stared at the dandelions too, feeling as if Zane’s words stung like the sharp points of the weed. Was she pushing herself on him, inserting herself into his life like this dandelion was pushing through the crack in the hard concrete? Did he imagine her as the same kind of nuisance one felt with a dandelion? They were a nice color, but no one wanted them in their yard, and seeing them only caused annoyance.

  “So I heard Brody asked you out,” Zane said, still staring at the sidewalk.

  She glanced up. “How’d you hear that?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. He was out at Logan’s this afternoon checking on one of the calves. He must have mentioned it.”

  Did she detect a trace of jealousy in his voice? Did she want there to be? “He didn’t really ask me out. Not like on a date or anything. He just asked me to go to Taco Tuesday with him.”

  “Sounds like a date to me.” He scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Although if he were going to ask you out, it seems like he’d treat you to something better than tacos at the Creed. Their Mexican food leaves something to be desired.”

  “It’s not about the food. It
’s about the company you’re keeping.”

  He shrugged as if the company she kept was none of his concern. “So what’d you say?”

  “I haven’t said anything yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. Why? Do you think I should go out with him?” Gah. Why did she ask that? Was she hoping he’d jump in and tell her not to go? To go out with him instead?

  “You’re a grown woman. You can go out with whoever you want.”

  Apparently not. Because the guy she really wanted to go out with was standing in front of her acting like a grade-A ass. She pushed her shoulders back. This was why she wanted to date someone nice, someone without a giant chip resting on his shoulder. Zane always seemed mad at the world, where Brody seemed to stay positive in spite of what the world had thrown at him. Why was she even wasting her time here, sweating through her shirt with nerves, when she could be hanging out with a perfectly nice guy? She should have taken Brody a piece of pie.

  She’d show Zane she didn’t give two hoots about him. “Maybe I will then.”

  He finally looked up. Staring into her eyes, his face betrayed no emotion. “I think you should.”

  She swallowed, fighting not to take a step back. It felt as if he’d punched her in the stomach. Acid seemed to bubble and swirl in her gut as bile rose to her throat. What had she been expecting? For him to beg her not to go and profess his undying love? Yeah right.

  “Fine,” she said, narrowing her eyes as she held his stare. “I will.”

  “Fine. Do it.”

  “Fine.” He wanted to call her bluff? She’d show him. She pulled out her phone and tapped Brody’s number. He answered on the first ring. “Hey, Brody. This is Bryn. Is your offer still good for taking me out to Taco Tuesday?”

  “Of course,” he said.

  “Then I’m in. It sounds like fun.”

  “Great. Pick you up at your place around six tomorrow night?”

  “Six o’clock sounds perfect,” she said, her gaze drilling into Zane’s. “See you then.” She jabbed the screen to disconnect the call and stuffed the phone back into her pocket.

  “Sounds like you’ve got yourself a date,” Zane said, his expression still a hard blank.

  “Sounds like I do.” She turned and yanked open her car door. “I’ll see you around, Zane. Enjoy the pie.” She slid into her car and started the engine, tearing away from his house before he saw the stupid tears welling in her eyes.

  * * *

  Zane slammed through the front door and swore as he caught his toe on the edge of the sofa.

  “Watch your language,” Birch scolded. “And sit down. You’re missing the game. The other team just got a penalty, and we’ve still got a minute and a half on this power play.”

  Zane rolled his eyes at the hypocritical reprimand. His dad swore like a sailor. He tossed the bag onto the coffee table and slumped into the ratty recliner across from his dad. The collie had been waiting for him by the door and now sank down onto the floor by his feet. She rested her head on the top of his shoe.

  “Was that little gal the one that waits tables down at the diner? Callahan’s granddaughter?” Birch asked.

  Zane grunted his concurrence.

  “What’d she want?”

  “I did some work on her car, and she just stopped by to tell me thanks.”

  “What kind of work?”

  “Switched out the alternator.”

  “Did you clean the battery terminals and posts before you installed it?”

  Zane sighed. “Course I did.”

  “Did you balance the fan and pulley?”

  “Yes, Dad,” he snapped. “I know how to install an alternator.”

  Birch held up his hands in surrender. “All right. Geez, calm down. I just asked a simple question.” He pointed to the coffee table. “So what’s in the bag?”

  “She brought me a piece of pie to say thank you.”

  “I figured it was something like that. Can’t imagine a pretty girl like her being interested in an ugly mutt like you.”

  An inky darkness settled into his gut. He couldn’t imagine what Bryn would see in an ugly mutt like him either. He pushed the container toward his father—the thought of eating it now causing his stomach to roil—then sank farther into the chair and turned his focus to the game. “You can have it,” he muttered. “I’m not hungry anyway.”

  * * *

  The next night, Bryn leaned into the bathroom mirror as she stroked on a last dab of mascara and applied a smear of shimmery pink lip gloss. That was about the extent of her makeup expertise. She took a step back and studied her reflection. Not bad. She’d chosen a simple black skirt, some low wedge sandals, and a soft pink button- up blouse for her “date” with Brody tonight. She knew it wasn’t really a date. No matter what Zane said. It was just Taco Tuesday at the Creed, just a casual dinner out.

  She’d embarrassed herself in front of Zane the night before. He’d called her bluff, but she’d show him. She was determined to have fun tonight. And why wouldn’t she? Brody was a terrific guy. They got along great, and he always made her laugh. Plus he was crazy cute. He was just the kind of guy she was looking for—nice, cute, sweet, funny. Did she already mention nice?

  Stop it. Nice was a good thing. Just the kind of thing she wanted. Not dangerous or pulse-pounding, but there was still something to be said for steady and dependable.

  She let out a sigh, then forced her lips into a smile. Tonight will be fun. She glanced at the clock—still close to an hour before Brody would pick her up. Time to throw in a load of laundry and take some sugar cubes out to the horses.

  Turning from the sink, her heart jumped to her throat as she heard a noise coming from the kitchen. It sounded like bootheels on the hardwood floor.

  Someone was in her house.

  Chapter 10

  Bryn tensed, her muscles tight as she strained to hear another movement. Glancing around the bathroom, she searched for a weapon, something she could use to protect herself. Her choices were limited unless the burglar was averse to having his hair conditioned or his nails painted. She patted her pocket for her cell phone to call the police. Shoot—she’d left it lying on the counter in the kitchen.

  Poking her head out the door, she spied the ironing board set up in the spare bedroom and the iron sitting on top of it. It had been her grandmother’s, so it was the old style and still had some heft to it. It wasn’t the greatest weapon choice, but it was better than the colander she’d tried to save Zane with the other day.

  She snuck across the hall, grabbed it, then crept slowly down the hallway, the iron held tightly in her hand. Who would break into her house? Although “breaking in” was a bit of a stretch, since she didn’t often lock her doors. And even Otis, the goat, knew how to sneak his way in. But as pesky as that goat was, he didn’t usually wear boots, and she was sure she’d heard bootheels walking across the floor.

  But what could they possibly want? It wasn’t like she had a lot of valuables—no new electronics or fancy jewelry. She did have a laptop, but she was frugal with her money and hardly ever purchased anything new. Hence why she was facing down an intruder with a twenty-year-old iron.

  A sudden thought sent ice through her veins. Could it be one of the guys she bought the horse from? Raleigh? Or had Gator come back to make good on his promise of getting her to do what he wanted or to try to take the horse back? Or worse, to try to take her?

  She’d shut all the dogs in her bedroom before getting in the shower, since the hair dryer tended to scare Lucky. Now she wondered if she shouldn’t let them out. Not that a three-legged mutt and a half-starved mama dog with five puppies in tow would do much to protect her. But maybe their fierce barking might scare an intruder off before she had to face them down.

  Deciding against riling them, best to let sleeping dogs lie and all that
, she gripped the iron tighter as she cautiously leaned out of the hallway and peered around the corner.

  In the kitchen, the refrigerator door was open and a man was leaning into it. All she could see were jean-clad legs and large male boots, and both were scuffed with red dirt. What kind of burglar robs the fridge?

  Apparently a hungry one. But maybe this could work in her favor. Maybe she could get the jump on him while he was distracted with searching for the bologna. She crept closer, then froze as the fridge door slowly shut.

  She tensed, ready to attack, the iron held high as the man came into view.

  “Holy shit, Buck,” she said, lowering the iron and pressing her free hand to her chest as she spied the familiar face of her brother, a slice of cold pizza hanging from his mouth. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  “Sorry, Sis. I didn’t know you were home. I was looking for something to eat.”

  “Looks like you found something.”

  He tore a bite off the crust and talked while he chewed. “Good pizza.”

  She set the iron on the kitchen counter, then stepped forward to give him a hug. Holding him close, her emotions warred with thoughts of how glad she was to see him and know he was okay and wondering what he wanted this time. “What are you doing here?”

  He pushed back his hat and leaned his hips casually against the counter. “Can’t a guy come home just to visit his favorite sister?”

  “I’m your only sister,” she said, ignoring the trademark Bucky charm that he often used to get him out of scrapes or uncomfortable situations. “And you’re evading the question.”

  “Geez, lighten up, Sis. I’m just passing through on my way to a rodeo in Fort Collins. Stopped in to say hi. I thought you’d be glad to see me.”

  Another warning bell went off in her head. Her little brother knew how to play her like a fiddle, employing a tactic he often used of trying to make her feel like she was the one who was wrong or being too sensitive. Unfortunately, his tactics too often worked.

  “Of course I’m glad to see you,” she assured him. And she was. She’d spent way too many nights praying over the well-being of her brother. He lived a crazy life of chasing rodeos and climbing onto pissed-off eighteen- hundred-pound bulls. But he looked good. A little skinny and in need of a haircut, but still, he looked good.