Home with the Cowboy

by Mary Sue Jackson

  And she would have time to do her own art, which she didn’t have at her current job, he was certain. He’d heard Willa talking to her boss about potentially working close to sixty hours a week. How could she stay with a job that would lead to burnout so quickly?

  Daniel hadn’t spoken to Willa since she’d left, but the next night, he decided to bite the bullet and text her. He also might’ve wanted to show her what she was missing.

  Smiling, he took a photo of Bobby sleeping along with a photo of the drawing Daniel had made earlier with Bobby’s help. It was nothing special, just stick figures, but it was stick figures that represented Willa, Daniel, and Bobby. Together, as a family.

  Bobby misses you, he texted. He wanted to show you a drawing he did (I might’ve helped a little).

  Daniel waited for her response. She finally texted back a few minutes later with, I miss him so much. Tell him I’ll call tomorrow!

  Nothing about the drawing, and nothing about missing Daniel. Well, that just meant Daniel would have to play dirty. He’d get this little miss back into Texas even if it killed him.

  He called the diner the next morning. “Hey, Sarah,” he said when the diner owner picked up on the line. “What are your thoughts on helping me start an art center?”

  “Are you drunk?” was her bland response.

  “Nope. Just thinking of a way to get Willa back, that’s all.”

  “Oh! Well, then. That sounds like a mighty clever way to lure her back. Why you calling me, though? I’m hardly the person with money or connections.”

  “Maybe not, but you’re the smartest person in town.”

  He heard Sarah chuckle. “Save the flattery for your little lady. Of course I’ll help you. Just tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.”

  Daniel spent the morning making plans, calling people, and researching everything he could think of. He knew he was neglecting his farm—something he could only afford for a few hours because while planting could wait a day, his animals certainly couldn’t fend for themselves—but he didn’t care.

  He was going to do everything in his power to get Willa back.

  Thirty-Two

  Willa wasn’t sure how she was still standing, she was so tired. From the moment she’d come into work on that first Monday, Grayson had been running her ragged. There simply weren’t enough hours in the day to accomplish everything he wanted done.

  In her first two months on the job, Willa had catalogued over one hundred pieces of art, had created a brand-new marketing campaign for the gallery’s next opening, and had put together test versions of the gallery’s website for Grayson to look over.

  Willa had known she was signing up for a job that would involve a lot of work, but she hadn’t realized it would be this crazy. She got to work at seven in the morning and didn’t get home until close to eight or nine o’clock at night. She only had time to eat dinner, shower, and collapse into bed.

  “Have you sent the invitations for the opening to the printer?” said Grayson. “We have to have those mailed out by Monday.”

  “Yes, I just sent the order over. I’ll pick them up on my way home.”

  “Good. Then you can stuff them at your place. Or better yet, come in on Saturday to do it here.”

  Willa didn’t say anything to that suggestion. If she was going to work on the weekends, she was at the very least going to do it from home. Sighing silently, she forced herself to focus on the graphics she was working on for the gallery’s opening.

  Willa was forced to work through her lunch, only stopping for five minutes to wolf down a protein bar and Gatorade, before getting ready for the afternoon’s meeting. She didn’t know what satanic person scheduled a meeting on a Friday afternoon. Probably Grayson himself, she thought sourly.

  What are you complaining about? she told herself. This is your dream job. You’re getting paid to do what you love! So what if the hours are long? It’ll be worth it.

  That was what Willa told herself when she got a text from Grayson at midnight, asking her about the invitations (which she had picked up, as she had told him). She told herself it was worth it when Grayson had her pick up his coffee order every morning, or when Grayson rejected all of her logo designs and told her to come up with something better.

  Willa spent that Saturday at home stuffing envelopes with the invitations. It wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined spending her weekend, especially now that she was back in New York. She’d hoped to get that drink with Ashley, but Ashley was apparently as busy as Willa.

  After spending six hours stuffing and sealing envelopes, Willa’s hands were as tired as her brain. She never wanted to look at another envelope again. Worst of all, she wasn’t done: she still had to print off all of the address labels and stick them on, not to mention putting a stamp on each one.

  Willa got up to make herself another pot of coffee. As she poured creamer into her mug, she couldn’t help thinking about the last cup of coffee she’d had at Daniel’s house. She’d gotten used to his crappy coffee, she thought with a sad smile. When she’d gotten her usual gourmet coffee at her favorite coffee shop here in New York, she’d almost missed the taste of Daniel’s brew.

  Willa felt a pang in her heart. She didn’t just miss Daniel’s terrible coffee—she missed him, and she missed Bobby. She missed getting up in the morning and seeing both of their faces.

  Despite it being New York, her apartment felt so quiet without anyone else living with her. The sounds from the street below didn’t count, either. She kept listening for Bobby calling out her name, or Daniel telling her that dinner was ready.

  She kept waking up from dreams where she was kissing Daniel, where he picked her up in his arms again, carried her, and laid her on his bed, as he covered her body. Those dreams were the most painful, and Willa would wake up frustrated and ridiculously turned on.

  That night, Willa had just finished her bath when she got a text from Daniel. Her heart sped up, even though she told herself she was being ridiculous.

  She smiled through sudden tears as she looked at the photo of a sleeping Bobby that Daniel had sent with the text. Then she was laughing through her tears when she saw the terrible drawing he’d made.

  “I’m just tired,” she told herself, unsettled by her own tears. “Tired and overworked. Besides, Daniel made it clear that we were over, and I told him a hundred times why I wasn’t staying. Move on already, Willa.”

  “Keep it down over there!” yelled Willa’s neighbor through the wall.

  Willa jumped, blushing when she realized that someone had heard her talking to herself, and then yelled back, “Stop listening at the wall, then!”

  Never let it be said that New York isn’t an interesting place, she thought wryly.

  On Monday, she brought the large box of finished invitations to work so they could be mailed from the building’s mailroom.

  “Are those the invitations?” Grayson entered Willa’s office and picked up the few extra invitations she’d had made but hadn’t stuffed.

  “Yep, and they’re all ready to be mailed.”

  She looked up to see Grayson frowning at the invitations. “Were all of them like this?” He held one up to her.

  Willa frowned. “Yes . . .?”

  “You should’ve let me look at them. You’ll have to get them reprinted. This isn’t the right shade of blue.”

  Willa let out a startled laugh, sure that Grayson was joking. When she saw that he wasn’t, she gaped at him. “I spent all day Saturday stuffing those invitations and addressing them.”

  “So? I told you to make sure the blue was the right blue, and you didn’t.” Grayson tossed the invitation back into the box. “Get them reprinted and mailed out by the end of today.”

  Willa sat down heavily in her office chair. After the shock wore off, she felt anger rising, and she was greatly tempted to kick a hole in the wall. Maybe she could throw her laptop—and that stupid box of invites—at Grayson’s head. Reprint them all? He was insane. She�
��d have to redo all of the envelopes, too, she realized in dismay.

  Ten hours’ worth of work, down the drain. She already had so much to do today, too. She couldn’t afford to redo this stupid project.

  Her phone buzzed: another text from Daniel. When she opened the message, she couldn’t help a smile despite her sour mood.

  Bobby’s third birthday is coming up. I need your help thinking of party ideas.

  Then, a second text: I hope you can come for the party.

  Bobby’s birthday was in a month, wasn’t it? The thought of not being there for his third birthday tore at her heart.

  But most of all, she realized in a flash of clarity that she didn’t just want to go back for Bobby’s birthday. She wanted to go back because she loved Daniel.

  She loved him. She’d tried to deny it for so long because she’d been terrified of letting her heart get involved. She’d convinced herself that she wasn’t meant to live in Texas because she hadn’t felt accepted there as a child and teenager.

  But she wasn’t a kid anymore. She was a grown woman, and she’d made friends—and had fallen in love—in the place she’d least expected.

  Willa suddenly remembered the words Uncle James had told her that first day she’d met him. Home is where the heart is. Heart is where home is.

  Her home was in Texas—with Daniel, and with Bobby, too.

  She didn’t need this stupid job. She’d only clung onto it because she’d been convinced she’d needed it. What the hell had she been thinking?

  Taking the box of invitations with her, she went straight to Grayson’s office. He glared at her as she came into his office without knocking.

  “What are you—?”

  Willa tossed the box of invitations onto his desk. “You know what? If you want these reprinted, you can do it yourself. I’m done here. I’m done being your slave. It’s not worth the money, which isn’t even that much here in New York. And you know what I’ve realized? I don’t love New York. I don’t need it. And I don’t need this job.”

  Grayson stared up at her before his eyes narrowed. “Is that so? Then you’re fired, and I’ll be sure to let every gallery in the city know that you’re insane.”

  Willa smiled brightly. “Go for it. I’m going back to Texas.”

  Gathering her things, Willa sailed out without a backward glance. She started laughing as she stood outside Sensation, thinking about her next move. Then she remembered that she hadn’t answered Daniel’s text.

  She dug out her phone. I’ll be there, was her reply. She thought about telling him that she was coming back for good, but she decided she’d rather surprise him. Time to make a phone call. She dialed the number from memory.

  “Hey, Sarah,” she said when the diner owner picked up, “I need your help.”

  Thirty-Three

  Daniel stood back and surveyed the results that all of his and so many other people’s hard work had created. The Robert Gunn, Sr. Art Center had once been an old warehouse that Daniel, Sarah, Uncle James, and a number of other folks had worked to convert into the art center Daniel had envisioned.

  The warehouse, once abandoned and nothing but an eyesore, had brand-new windows, a fresh coat of paint, a new roof, and actual flowers planted in front next to the art center’s sign. Seeing his little brother’s name always sent a wave of emotion through Daniel, but never more so than today, when the art center would be open to the public.

  “You did an amazing job here,” said Sarah. “No matter what happens, you’ve done another great thing for this town. Your family would be very proud.”

  Daniel heard Bobby’s laughter off to one side and smiled. Uncle James was currently babysitting as Daniel went over the last few details before the opening that evening.

  “Did you get those paintbrushes unboxed?” he said suddenly. “The Yellow Room didn’t have any brushes in it.”

  Sarah, efficient as ever whether she was running a diner or something else, had an answer ready. “I didn’t, but let’s go do it now.”

  As Sarah and Daniel walked past Bobby and Uncle James, Sarah shot Daniel’s uncle a warm smile. Apparently, the two of them were now “going steady.” Daniel teased his uncle every other day about it, but Uncle James took it good-naturedly.

  Seeing the art center made Daniel confident that when Willa came next month for Bobby’s third birthday party and saw the art center for herself, she’d never want to leave again. And if he could tell her how much he loved her and wanted her to stay . . .

  Inside the Yellow Room—one wall aptly painted a bright, sunny yellow—Daniel opened a box of brushes and began to place them in containers.

  “Looks like they mixed oil brushes with watercolor. You’ll want to keep those separate,” said Sarah.

  Daniel shot her a grateful smile. “Some artist I am,” he joked. “They all look the same to me.”

  As they worked, Sarah kept looking over at Daniel when she thought he wasn’t watching.

  “What do you keep staring at me for?” he said in exasperation. “Is there something on my face?”

  “Nah. And who says I’m looking at you?” Sarah flipped her gray braid over her shoulder and resumed putting brushes in their places.

  Daniel harrumphed. Sarah had been edgy and out of sorts since this morning. Had something happened between her and Uncle James? But a few minutes ago, she’d smiled at Uncle James like there was nothing wrong, so that couldn’t be it.

  Daniel shook his head inwardly. He wasn’t stupid enough to pry into this woman’s business. If she wanted to tell him, she would. She could keep her own counsel, otherwise.

  Although the art center had given Daniel something to focus on, it hadn’t eased the ache he felt inside for Willa. Instead, it had only intensified the feeling: every brush, every pot of paint, every pad of paper ordered had made him think of her. Although they texted and sometimes video-phoned for Bobby’s sake, they hadn’t talked one-on-one in ages.

  Daniel wanted to know everything she was doing in New York. He had no idea how her job was going, beyond one text that had mentioned she was tired and going to bed early. Was her job everything she’d hoped for? Had she made new friends since going back? Even worse, had she met someone else already?

  The thought of another man kissing Willa made Daniel’s blood boil. She was his, dammit, and he wasn’t going to give her up without a fight—no matter if this other man was imaginary or not.

  Daniel had been so caught up in thoughts of Willa a few days ago that he’d made the impulsive decision to fly to New York with Bobby to see her next week. He needed to make sure she was okay—at least, that was what he told himself. He could use Bobby as an excuse, of course. And he knew Willa would be happy to see the little boy, no matter what happened.

  “There y’all are,” said Uncle James. Bobby followed him into the Yellow Room. “Are y’all still messing with supplies? People won’t be countin’ paintbrushes tonight.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Shows what you know. Besides, everything needs to be put away some time. Might as well be now.”

  Bobby found a box of pipe cleaners that Daniel had just opened, and before anyone could stop him, the toddler had dumped the box onto the floor. Pipe cleaners rolled about in all directions, and Bobby laughed as he began to toss pipe cleaners around the room.

  “Bobby, buddy, what are you doing?” said Daniel with a sigh. He crouched down to clean up the mess, as always hating disorder and chaos, when something inside him told him to leave it.

  Daniel had always stuck by the rules, had always kept his life orderly and organized. And what had it brought him? Nothing but unhappiness. His stubbornness had driven Willa away.

  “It’s a bug!” said Bobby as he handed a green pipe cleaner to Daniel. “A big one.”

  Daniel decided to make a bug out of pipe cleaners for Bobby right then, which Bobby loved.

  Daniel knew now that a little mess in life didn’t hurt anyone. Sometimes, it was just a part of life, and you just had to em
brace it.

  “You’ve done an amazing job,” said Uncle James later that day. He slapped Daniel on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you, son. And I know your parents would be, too.”

  “Do you want me blubbering like a baby right now?” joked Daniel, even as he surreptitiously dashed a tear from his eye.

  “You and me both. When I heard of this scheme of yours, I thought you were insane, but what did I know? You really pulled it off.” Uncle James smiled and shook his head. “I know I’ve been hard on you these past few months, haranguing you about the little lady.” He sighed. “I’m sorry she didn’t stay, but you’ll find someone else. You’re a good man, and a good woman will see that.”

  Daniel decided this wasn’t the time to tell his uncle that he’d bought a plane ticket to New York, or that he had no intention of finding another woman to replace Willa. Willa was irreplaceable. She was the woman he would love until his dying day.

  Thirty-Four

  Willa smiled as she approached the Robert Gunn, Sr. Art Center, her heart pounding with excitement. Sarah had told Willa all about what Daniel had done, and Willa was in complete awe of his accomplishment as she took in her surroundings.

  “Daniel got this idea into his head, and he wouldn’t stop until it was done,” Sarah had said when Willa had called her. “And I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t for you, my dear.”

  Willa didn’t deserve such a huge gesture, but it only made her fall further in love with Daniel. He was the most amazing, generous man she’d ever met. She only hoped he’d give her a second chance. Just because Sarah had said that he’d done it for Willa didn’t mean that was the case. The art center was for the entire town to use and enjoy, just like Daniel’s donation to the rec center.

  “It’s now or never,” she muttered as she entered the newly refurbished building. The crowd inside was already huge, but it didn’t take long for familiar faces to spot Willa.