It's All About That Cowboy

by Carly Bloom

  Jessica smiled. Hope could make Mavis act silly. A person hadn’t lived until they’d seen Mavis jump out from behind a chair in a power pantsuit, wielding a light-up laser gun.

  And she could be fierce. Like when she’d stood between an angry landlord and Jessica’s mom, who’d already paid the rent, no matter what the landlord said.

  Their little family had mattered to Mavis Long, and she had mattered to them.

  Dang it. The tears started up again.

  The service was over, and people were lining up to pay their respects to the family, so Jessica went to the back of the alcove to wait it out. She’d leave as soon as she thought she could get away without having to talk to anybody.

  Mavis’s only son, Senator Wade Long, who’d once been the sheriff of Verde County, stood on the front row accepting condolences. Jessica shivered and ran her hands up and down her arms. She’d known he would be here, but she was nothing to him. He wouldn’t recognize her, and even if he did, what could he do?

  Wade Long was the reason she and her mom had been forced to leave Big Verde. Her mom had been pregnant with Wade’s baby. Pregnant with Hope.

  Back then, Wade had his sights on the Texas Legislature, and although he and his wife were well on their way to divorce, he couldn’t have his constituents knowing he’d fathered a child with an undocumented immigrant.

  To this day, as far as Jessica knew, nobody had ever found out. Well, almost nobody. Mavis Long had discovered the secret.

  Jessica sniffed and willed a new tide of tears away. She’d never forget opening the door of their sparse little apartment in Houston to see Mavis Long standing there, hair perfectly coifed, demanding to see her only grandchild. She’d only wanted to know if Hope’s financial needs were being met. She hadn’t intended to have a relationship with her…to be a grandma.

  But one look at chubby little two-year-old Hope had melted Mavis’s resolve. She’d lost a bit of her stiff-spined composure at the sight of Hope’s sweet almond-shaped eyes, and she’d lost 100 percent of her heart.

  Jessica hadn’t known her hardworking mom was undocumented. Not until Wade Long had threatened to have her deported if she ever told a soul. He ordered her to leave Big Verde and never come back.

  Nothing had ever been the same again. Ever since that day, Jessica had lived her life with the fear that her world could dissolve at any minute. And she’d never dared to dream of coming home to Big Verde. Not if there was even the slightest chance that Wade would make good on his threat and her mom would be deported.

  But now her mom was dead. And Mavis was too. Wade Long couldn’t do anything to her family. But Jessica’s hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

  A short blond woman came zigzagging through the crowd. She was heading Jessica’s way, face lit up by a smile.

  “Jessica! Hi!”

  It was Maggie Mackey. Jessica had always liked her. She’d been a tomboy who didn’t care what people thought. Jessica had cared what everybody thought, so she had admired Maggie’s attitude.

  There was a ring on her finger. Who had she married?

  Dang it. She was already falling into the small-town pattern of wondering about other people’s business.

  “What are you doing here?” Maggie had always gotten straight to the point. No polite chitchat for her. “How long are you staying?”

  “Not long. I’m just here for Mavis’s funeral.”

  Maggie cocked an eyebrow but didn’t question her further. “I hope you’re coming to the reception. It’s at the Methodist Church Fellowship Hall. Everyone would love to see you.”

  “Oh, I don’t know—”

  Leaving Big Verde had been traumatic. It had taken years to get over it. Why rekindle old relationships? She was heading back to Houston—where nobody knew or cared about your business—on Monday. Houston had never been much of a home, but the anonymity it allowed was good for keeping secrets.

  “Well?” Maggie asked, hands on hips. “Are you coming or not?”

  “Of course she’s coming,” Casey said.

  Where had he come from? And why wasn’t he up at the line with the rest of the family? Casey was acting as if he was afraid to let her out of his sight. Strange behavior for a man who’d never once tried to find her after she’d left Big Verde.

  “Look who’s hovering about,” Maggie said with a grin.

  Was Casey blushing? Her own cheeks felt a bit warm. Holy crap, was she blushing? She thought she’d prepared for the inevitable reunion with Casey. She’d spent the last four days fortifying her emotional shields, but all it took to decimate them was a smile and a slight blush from Sheriff Long.

  Heck, her shields had disintegrated as soon as she’d heard his voice when he pulled her over.

  “There’s a little too much schmoozing going on over there with my uncle,” Casey said, nodding at the Good Senator. Jessica could barely contain a shiver of disgust, and Casey’s slight sneer indicated he didn’t exactly have warm, fuzzy feelings for the man either.

  “He’s not your uncle,” Maggie said.

  Casey shrugged. “He’s older than me. He’s a relative. He’s not my grandfather. That makes him an uncle.”

  “He’s your great-aunt’s son,” Maggie argued. “And that makes him your second cousin once removed. Or maybe it’s your first cousin twice removed…” She furrowed her brow. “You know what? Why don’t you just refer to him as your uncle.”

  Or they could all just refer to him as the anti-Christ and be done with it.

  Casey put his hand at the small of Jessica’s back and gave a gentle nudge. It sent thrills up and down her spine, but as they exited the funeral home, she still had every intention of heading down the sidewalk to her car.

  So why was she crossing the street toward the Methodist Church Fellowship Hall?

  Ten minutes later she sat at a folding table, picking at macaroni salad and trying to look small so nobody would talk to her. She kept an eye on Casey while he worked the room. It was so weird to see him patting backs, shaking hands, asking about cattle and crops. She’d seen Wade Long do the very same thing. But unlike Wade, Casey seemed genuinely interested in the folks he talked to.

  He was keeping an eye on her too. As if he was afraid to look away for too long. Why? He’d seduced her. And then tossed her aside. Just like a Long, her mom had said.

  Jessica hadn’t wanted to believe that Casey was like that. But then he’d ignored her letters. Never tried to find her. She thought she’d worked through it and didn’t care anymore.

  She was wrong though. She cared.

  Casey finished chatting with an older gentleman and then came and sat down beside her. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s an election year.”

  Jessica nodded. The last year she’d spent in Big Verde had been an election year too, and Wade Long had been in full politician mode. Unlike previous elections, he’d had a challenger. He’d left no hand unshaken and no funeral unattended. There hadn’t been any room for even a hint of a scandal, much less a pregnant undocumented immigrant.

  Casey poked at a blob of what looked like Jell-O with fruit and nuts in it. It jiggled obscenely. “I prefer the funerals on your side of town,” he said. “Food’s better.”

  Jessica stiffened. “What do you mean on my side of town?”

  Casey put a paper napkin in his lap and glanced at her, shooting a spark of electricity right through her body with those blue eyes. “The Catholic side.”

  Okay. Well, it was true that Jessica had grown up in the neighborhood adjacent to the Catholic church. And that most of the people in that neighborhood were Catholic.

  Casey curled his lip at the Jell-O on his plate. “As far as funeral foods go, the Catholics win hands down.”

  Jessica looked at the blob of mayonnaise and macaroni dangling on her fork. He had a point. A funeral in her neighborhood had meant barbacoa tacos, trays of enchiladas, Spanish rice, and big, steaming pots of beans made by the Catholic Daughters.

  “With the Lutherans and the
Baptists, you might get some sausage and whatnot,” Casey continued. “But Methodists are going to torture you to death with tiny little sandwiches filled with vegetables and things they call salads that are mostly Jell-O. Also, they put marshmallows where they don’t belong, and they have a weird thing for mayonnaise.”

  Jessica grinned. She and Casey had always gotten a kick out of observing and commenting on the habits of Big Verde’s social circles. It was so easy to fall into those habits. “And what’s with that punch?” she asked. “Why is Methodist punch always green?”

  “This is fancy punch,” Casey said. “It’s got sherbet in it.”

  He brought the tiny crystal cup up to his lips, holding up his pinky as he did so, and took a dainty sip. And then he suddenly jerked forward, spilling the rest all over his tie.

  A little boy had grabbed his arm. “Casey!”

  Casey remained completely calm. “Hey there, Dalton.”

  A woman was right behind the child, apologizing. “I’m so sorry. Dalton, get down.”

  Jessica smiled at Dalton, and when he smiled back, she realized she was looking into a little face that shone just as bright as Hope’s. Like Hope, the child had Down syndrome.

  “I hate this tie,” Casey said. “He did me a favor.”

  Then he picked Dalton up and set him on his lap. “Marissa, do you remember Jessica?”

  “Marissa Mayes?” Jessica asked. “Oh my goodness! Hi!”

  “Of course I remember!” Marissa squealed. “I recognized you as soon as you walked into the chapel. And I’m Marissa Reed now. I married Bobby.”

  Bobby Reed had been the high school quarterback, and Marissa had been a cheerleader with Jessica. It warmed her heart to know they’d gotten married and were still together. “How is Bobby?”

  “He’s doing great. Wait until he hears you’re back in town!”

  Jessica wasn’t going to be around long enough to socialize, but she didn’t bother saying so. It would be nice, though, to catch up with old friends.

  “Is Dalton yours?”

  “Sure is,” Marissa said proudly.

  “He’s a handsome young man,” Jessica said, and Marissa beamed even more.

  “What brings you to Big V?” Marissa asked. “Surely not Miss Mavis’s funeral?”

  Casey looked at Jessica intently, as if that was the burning question of the day.

  “I’m here for the funeral,” Jessica said simply, knowing that her answer only added to the confusion.

  As she looked at Marissa’s curious face, ten million different stories suddenly crashed into her brain—fun stories—and surprisingly, she wanted to rehash them all. Remember that time we toilet-papered Coach Reiner’s house? Remember when I helped you sneak into Bobby’s bedroom window but we picked the wrong one and you ended up staring at his mom in her nightgown?

  “JD!” Marissa shouted, earning glares from a nearby table of elderlies. “JD, come see who’s here!”

  Marissa’s older brother, JD Mayes, strolled through the crowd with his plate of jiggly food. And even though they were indoors, he wore his signature white Stetson. Some things never changed.

  JD’s eyes widened at the sight of her. “Jess!”

  He rushed over and gave her a warm hug.

  Hubba-hubba. The cowboy still had it. He’d taken Jessica for many spins around the dance floor back in the day. They’d even held hands once in the movie theater. But that was as far as it had gone, because Jessica had only had eyes for one cowboy: Casey Long.

  * * *

  It felt like a high school reunion, watching JD, Marissa, and Jessica talk about old times. Casey couldn’t help but grin. Jessica had been a good student—class valedictorian—and a cheerleader. Casey had been more of a troublemaker. Only two things had mattered to him: Jess and bull riding. Other than that, it had been all speeding tickets, underage drinking, disrespect for authority (he still had that issue if the authority hadn’t earned it), and a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas. His crooked uncle had taken care of the speeding tickets and the underage drinking—all fixed with a wave of the magic Long wand. But the only thing that could get him to say yes, sir or no, ma’am to assholes was the threat of not being able to rodeo.

  Jess had seen something in him that no one else had. She’d gotten him to pay more attention to his grades, even though he hadn’t planned on going to college. He’d wanted to make her proud; to be the kind of boy she wouldn’t be ashamed of. She’d been an angel, and as he listened to her chat with Dalton about his toy tractors, he figured she probably still was.

  “Hey, Earth to Casey,” JD said, giving him an elbow.

  He’d been daydreaming. “Sorry. What was that?”

  “I just told Jess about the charity rodeo tomorrow. She says she can’t make it, but I think all she needs is a little encouragement. Dalton, here, is doing his part…”

  Dalton put his hands together like he was praying, and with his tongue poking out from where his two front teeth should be, he said, “Pwease.”

  Jess laughed, and it flowed through Casey’s chest like a bubbling brook.

  Anything that would keep Jess in Big Verde longer was a good thing. He was dying to question her, to find out why she and her mom had left Big Verde in such haste. Had her mother hated him that much? “Yeah, you should come to the rodeo, Jess. JD and I are competing in the team roping—”

  “Wait,” Jess interrupted. “On the same team?”

  JD laughed. “Yeah, we’re the current Tri-County champs, believe it or not.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Jess said.

  Casey was pretty sure that the last time Jess had seen him and JD together, JD had had him in a headlock while Mr. Preston, the principal, had been shouting at them to break it up.

  “We kick ass,” Casey said. JD gave him a fist bump, and then Dalton insisted on fist bumping everyone within his immediate reach while muttering kick ass.

  “Thanks so much,” Marissa said with an eye roll.

  JD gave a small salute with a wink.

  “You don’t ride bulls anymore?” Jessica asked.

  Casey flinched. Painful subject. “I suffered an injury a while back.”

  Exactly twelve years ago when I got on a bull not caring whether I lived or died because the girl I loved left without saying a word.

  “Damn near died,” JD said.

  Jessica’s eyes widened, and she reached out with her hand to…touch his face? He wouldn’t know, because she yanked it back just as quickly. His skin yearned for the feel of her fingertips, and he fought the urge to lean toward her.

  “But you’re okay, now, right?”

  His brain struggled to make out what she’d said. JD lifted the brim of his hat and raised an eyebrow in question. Are you going to answer her?

  Casey cleared his throat. “Yeah. My back kinks up occasionally. I just don’t care to be thrown and rolled by a fifteen-hundred-pound asshole bull again. Broke a few bones.”

  Seven, to be exact.

  “Asshole bull!” Dalton shouted with glee.

  “Dalton, that’s football talk. We don’t say asshole unless there’s a game’s on,” Marissa chided.

  “Hey, Dalton, why don’t you tell Jess about Hope House? Maybe she’ll want to come to the rodeo if you do.”

  Jessica’s head snapped up, eyes wide as saucers. “Hope House? What’s that?”

  Why did Jess look so curious? Or was it sad? Or maybe it was happy. Her mercurial eyes seemed to display every single emotion on the spectrum.

  “Hope House is fun,” Dalton said.

  “It’s a place where special kids and adults get to hang out,” Casey said. “They do all sorts of stuff. They train for the Special Olympics, and we even teach a few of them how to rodeo.”

  “Dalton is a mutton buster,” Marissa said, referring to the children’s rodeo activity of clinging to the back of a running sheep like your life depended on it.

  “Who started Hope House?” Jess asked.

  “A
unt Mavis,” Casey said. “It’s one of the reasons so many folks have turned out to honor her. She was a great woman. Gruff on the outside, maybe, but a heart of gold.”

  Chapter Five

  The lobby of the Village Château was cool and calm. The heavy dark furniture Jessica remembered from the last time she’d been here—the graduation party thrown for Casey by the Longs—was gone. Now it was muted neutral tones and local Hill Country art.

  She took the stairs to the second floor where their suite was. With the exception of the grand ballroom, which still sported thick, brocade carpeting, sparkling chandeliers, and a gigantic, ornate fireplace, the general air of the establishment was way less formal. It was really nice. Comfortable. And the aromas wafting up from the Château’s restaurant were divine. Her stomach growled. Gelatin salads could carry a girl only so far.

  She walked down the hall to room 204 and started to insert her key. But the door jerked open before she had a chance.

  “I got my head under the water,” Hope squealed. Then she threw her arms around Jessica.

  “Good for you! See? I told you it was no big deal.”

  With Hope attached, Jessica entered the room to find Carmen lying on the bed, blue hair still wet, looking utterly exhausted. “Oh, it was a big deal, all right,” Carmen said.

  “And I went down the slide!” Hope said. “I went all the way under.”

  Hope had an irrational fear of getting her face wet. Ride a roller coaster? No problem. Trampoline? You bet. Blow bubbles in the water? Not so much. So, this was big news.

  “Maybe I should let Carmen take you swimming more often.”

  Carmen lifted her head. “Maybe Carmen wouldn’t survive that.”

  Ha! Carmen could look as pitiful as she wanted, but she and Hope were thick as thieves. They both loved to cook. They both loved to eat. And they neither one cared what anybody thought.

  “Hey,” Jessica said, sitting on the bed. “Thanks. You know there aren’t many people I trust to watch Hope. In fact, I think there might just be, you know, the one people.”

  Carmen grinned slightly and narrowed her eyes. “Yeah. You owe me.”