Big Bad Cowboy

by Carly Bloom

  But what he’d meant was, I thought you’d left me.

  “Over my dead body,” Travis said. “You’re not going to foster care.”

  But where would he go? It wasn’t like Henry could stay with him. Hopefully the social worker would turn up someone soon. Or maybe Scott would get out of prison, straighten out his life, and take being a dad seriously.

  And maybe pigs would fly.

  * * *

  Maggie sat in her Jeep seething with rage. She’d just witnessed some jerk holding a poor child upside down at the Pump ’n’ Go. She’d been about ready to jump out and do something when an older couple had pulled up and handled it.

  She should have been more proactive—maybe gotten his license plate number—but she’d been struck dumb by the ridiculous scene. If she ever ran into that idiot, she’d give him a piece of her mind. But she hadn’t recognized him, which meant he was probably just passing through Big Verde.

  Still shaking, she pulled out of the Pump ’n’ Go and headed north on Main Street. It was Friday, so every storefront bore bright green messages in shoe polish cheering on the Big Verde Giants in tonight’s game against the Sweet Home Beavers.

  FEE FI FO FUM!

  KEEP THOSE BEAVERS ON THE RUN!

  There were other cheers about the Sweet Home Beavers—it was just too easy—but most weren’t appropriate for storefront windows. The Big Verde pep squad usually managed to sneak in an oldie but goodie, though, and she smiled to see Mr. Chavez seated in front of a checkerboard in the Rite Aid drugstore window with LICK THE BEAVERS! scrawled above his head. Every single person in Big Verde got the reference, but since they’d all been feigning innocence since their own pep rally days, nobody could admit it.

  As Maggie passed her alma mater, Big Verde High, the Jeep vibrated with the powerful cadence of the school fight song. The pep rally was in full swing. When the song ended, the entire stadium would yell Ho ho ho, Big Verde! It was a take on the Jolly Green Giant jingle and was totally lost on the current generation, but they used it anyway because tradition was important.

  Maggie drove on by. It wasn’t that she minded reliving what were certainly not her glory days; she just had a meeting at Annabelle’s. And she was determined to talk Anna out of splitting the contract between Petal Pushers and Travis Blake.

  Her phone buzzed on the seat next to her. She was the only car on Main Street, so she risked a glance with her heart in her throat and her spine on fire, because the wolf hadn’t texted back yet, and it had been a full week.

  Ugh. It was her mother. And it was long. She’d read it later.

  She imagined the wolf receiving her texts. He hadn’t seemed like a jerk, so why hadn’t he at least responded with a No, thank you? How could he just leave her hanging like this?

  Maybe he’d figured out who she was. He wasn’t from Big Verde, but he knew Annabelle, didn’t he? What if Annabelle had teased him about dancing with her? She could just hear it…Saw you dancing with poor little Maggie Mackey. Bless her heart, Big Verde High didn’t know whether to name her FFA Queen or FFA King. So sweet of you to give her some attention.

  The road turned curvy as soon as she passed the Big Verde city limit, and her cares automatically lightened. Nature did that for her. It was one of the reasons she spent so much time working outdoors even though she had a landscape architect degree and could basically have a desk job.

  She rolled her window down. Perfect autumn day for the Hill Country. Clear blue skies and eighty-five degrees for a high. Her ears popped as she gained a little altitude, and the landscape changed slowly from scrub brush and cactus to juniper and cedar. The highest hill was her destination, and she could see the road switchbacking up its side in the distance.

  When she drove over the cattle guard, a cloud of dust met her, stirred up by the truck ahead. It went left at the fork, and so did she, continuing to eat its dust all the way up to the top of the hill, where the house was still under construction.

  Three trucks were already parked beneath a giant live oak, and the one she’d been following pulled up under a big cottonwood, leaving absolutely no space for her in the shade. Leave it to a bunch of men to try and squeeze her out. She parked next to a pile of gorgeous white rock she assumed would go on the outside of the house and jumped down from the Jeep with Pop on her heels.

  Two of the trucks bore L&M Construction emblems. One belonged to JD, the other to Bubba. They were partners. She spotted JD’s white Stetson right away.

  With her plans in hand, she strode with confidence toward the group of men. JD wore a starched white shirt and a pair of Wranglers with perfect creases pressed into each long leg—his Sunday attire. Trying to impress Annabelle? It seemed to be working. Anna had plastered herself to his arm.

  Bubba smiled and waved. “Hey there, Mighty Mack.”

  JD tilted his hat and nodded, then pulled it all the way down to “hiding” mode. Annabelle projected her usual beauty queen smile, looking at Maggie as if she were a stray puppy she’d love to take in if only it didn’t have fleas. Her right boob was displaced by JD’s biceps, rising out of the hot pink scoop neck sweater. Not fair. Anna had enough cleavage without the help of JD’s biceps.

  Because he was a good doggie, Pop jumped up on Annabelle’s legs. She squealed and gave a delicate kick that Pop artfully dodged. “Do you have to take that dreadful little dog with you everywhere?”

  Maggie wanted to offer Pop a high-five, which was one of his very best tricks. “Sorry.” She pointed at Anna. “Pop, show some love!”

  That was another one of Pop’s tricks. Show some love meant lick person on face and Pop happily obliged, jumping up to give Anna some tongue when she bent over to brush the dirt off her jeans.

  “Oh!” Annabelle said, scrunching up her face. “Get away from me!” She stood and delivered a sizzling glare to Maggie. I’ll get you and your little dog, too.

  Bubba scooped Pop up into a football hold while JD walked over to Maggie. “She’s your client,” he said in her ear.

  He was right. Being in Annabelle’s presence turned Maggie into a thirteen-year-old. “I’ll have those jeans cleaned for you.”

  “Don’t bother,” Anna said. She’d already lost interest and was headed toward the dark truck Maggie had followed to the house. Its driver had finally gotten out, and Maggie gasped when he turned around. It was the jerk from the Pump ’n’ Go! And even though she didn’t think he’d seen her, his stunned, slack-jawed expression suggested he recognized her, too.

  Chapter Ten

  Travis couldn’t believe it. The mask had not done as good a job of concealing his identity as he’d thought. Little Red Riding Hood had shown up at his job site—why?—and recognized him immediately. He’d been thinking of ways to respond to her texts the entire ride here, and now she was right in front of him, looking seriously pissed off.

  He stood like a deer in the headlights, glued to the spot as Maggie stomped her way toward him with those adorable eyebrows drawn into a menacing scowl. She pushed the sleeves of her sweatshirt up like she was heading for the center of the ring, and his heart nearly burst through his chest. Not only was it responding to what it perceived as a pint-sized, but potent, threat, but something stupid located in the part of the brain housing primal instincts screamed, That’s my girl.

  “I recognize you,” she said, stating the obvious.

  That voice. He wanted to pick her up and spin her around, maybe push her up against the side of his truck and kiss her senseless, but he remained where he was, entirely paralyzed, while Ms. Hood went around him to peer into his truck. He couldn’t help but notice her perky breasts responding to the enthusiastic stomping. And he wasn’t entirely paralyzed. One part of him had definitely moved.

  “It’s good to see you again,” he said as she breezed by. Little Red Riding Hood had practically mowed down Annabelle on her way to his truck, but now Anna was also standing there staring at the two of them and looking every bit as confused as he felt.

  Litt
le Red Riding Hood seemed interested in Henry, and damn near poked her head through the window of his truck. Luckily, Henry was sound asleep. “Listen,” Travis tried again. “I’ve been out of town. I was going to answer—”

  “Is this child okay?”

  “What?” He looked at Anna, but she just gestured with her finger near her ear in a circular motion while mouthing loco.

  “Is he okay,” Maggie repeated, very slowly, as if Travis had a comprehension problem.

  “Of course he’s okay. He’s sleeping. The window’s rolled down. What’s your problem?”

  His exhilaration over seeing her had journeyed from excitement to confusion and had settled at irritation. Maybe Anna was right. It figured that his one and only hookup in months had been with a crazy person.

  “Are you sure?” She opened the door.

  “Please don’t wake him. You have no idea what you’re doing.”

  He’d kept his voice nice and calm, as if he were talking to someone on a ledge. He didn’t want to make any sudden moves that might cause her to screech or anything else that might rouse Henry. Travis felt bad enough about bringing a child to the meeting—it wasn’t professional—and the last thing he needed was a huge fit that would make Anna reconsider her decision.

  “Well, a few minutes ago he was hanging upside down over the asphalt.”

  She’d seen him at the Pump ’n’ Go? Did she know he was the wolf?

  “I hope he hasn’t had a seizure or something,” she added.

  She said that last part without much conviction, as by now JD and Bubba were also standing around—with dumbass grins—and she seemed to notice she was the only one freaking out.

  “He wouldn’t get in his car seat,” Travis said, even though it was none of anybody’s business. “I had to calm him—”

  “That is not how you calm a child down.”

  She had no idea who he was. She just thought he was some sort of—

  “People who abuse children might think it’s calming,” she continued. “But nobody else does.”

  Child abuser. Great. Not a good time to suggest a date, then. Plus, he was kind of getting pissed at Ms. Hood.

  “I’m sure Travis isn’t a child abuser,” JD said.

  “Thanks, JD.”

  Maggie’s mouth dropped open like she had a steel ball attached to her chin. “Travis?” she sputtered. “Travis Blake?”

  Travis stuck his hand out, but he couldn’t muster a pleasant expression. “Did you follow me from the Pump ’n’ Go all the way out here just to harass me?”

  Maggie jutted out her chin, frowned, and grabbed his hand with surprising force. “I’m Maggie,” she said, giving his hand one vicious pump.

  “Don’t hurt yourself,” he said.

  She yanked her hand back and glowered at him. “I did not follow you. I’m here on business.”

  “I explained it in my e-mail,” Annabelle said. “Petal Pushers is doing the design, you’re just doing the labor.”

  “But Petal Pushers is Mary Margaret Mackey’s business,” Travis said. Alarms went off in his head. He gulped and looked at Little Red Riding Hood. “I take it you’re Mary Margaret?”

  She stared angrily with her arms crossed, tapping a toe in disgust. “Only if you’re my mother.”

  Travis’s head spun. This couldn’t get any worse. Mary Margaret Mackey thought he was a child abuser and had no idea he was the Big Bad Wolf she’d recently had very filthy and satisfying sex with in a shed.

  Beneath Maggie’s heated and somewhat quizzical gaze, he muttered, “I guess we’ll be working together.”

  She stared at him even harder. Holy shit, did she recognize him as the wolf? This probably wouldn’t be a good time for that to happen. She was glaring at him intently. Putting two and two together? He’d been clean shaven the night of the gala. Now he was scruffy with a starter beard, and she’d never seen the upper half of his face. She averted her eyes.

  Henry chose that moment to wake up and contribute to the conversation. He muttered a few unintelligible words before his dull eyes settled on Travis. “I just peed my pants.”

  He hadn’t even been home to change clothes before being thrust into a meeting over a bid award he didn’t fully understand, only to be accused of child abuse, and now he had a kid with wet pants. He opened the truck door. A dark stain was spreading across Henry’s lap, probably soaking the car seat.

  Henry was already unbuckling the harness. Travis lifted him out, holding him at arm’s length.

  “I imagine that seat liner comes out,” Maggie said, looking at the car seat, which was soaked. “Just throw it in the washing machine. Do you have a towel for when it’s time to buckle him back in?”

  “I’m not getting back in that car seat,” Henry said, crossing his arms. “You can’t make me.”

  Maggie raised her eyebrows, then glanced at Travis and those big brown eyes—like mood rings—clearly said, Okay, I get it. She smiled and shrugged.

  Henry moved on to the next item on his agenda. “I’m hungry.”

  Travis set him down.

  “Goodness, you’re dirty, too,” Maggie said, taking in Henry’s appearance.

  “We’ve been camping for a week,” Travis said.

  “That must be why you smell like a campfire.”

  “I’m always dirty,” Henry said. “And I’m always hungry.”

  Travis glared at Henry. He was laying it on pretty thick—probably hoping Maggie had a candy bar.

  “You can have a banana,” Travis said.

  “I don’t want a banana.”

  Of course he didn’t. “Granola bar?”

  “Nope.”

  Maggie reached into the bag hanging off her shoulder. “I have a bag of chips—”

  “Thank you,” Travis said. “But we’re trying to eat better, right, Henry?”

  “I want what she has.”

  So did Travis, but it was doubtful they were thinking about the same thing. Maggie waited, arm in the bag, for him to give her permission to hand over the chips. He nodded. “Fine,” he said. “Thanks.”

  “You’ve got a naked kid,” JD said.

  “What?”

  Henry had stripped to his underwear in record time. “I’m all wet.”

  “Wait a minute there, Henry—”

  “Anyone have an extra shirt?” Maggie asked, just as the undies hit the ankles.

  Nobody did.

  Travis had a bag of camping clothes, but unfortunately it had rained last night. Everything in their tent had gotten wet.

  Henry kicked the underwear off and stood there, butt naked. “I’m cold.”

  “Aw, hell.” Self-consciously, Travis pulled his T-shirt over his head, eliciting a whistle from Bubba.

  Travis ignored Bubba and slipped the shirt on Henry’s skinny little frame. It dragged the ground, but it would keep Henry from getting chilled and cover his willy. This scene couldn’t get any weirder. He was at a business meeting and both he and Henry were partially naked. Bubba and JD looked entirely too amused.

  “Ooh, nice ink,” Annabelle said. Her eyes took their time tracing the dragon tattoo that went from his shoulder to his biceps. His face heated up as she gazed at the falcon spanning the width of his chest, and he really became uncomfortable when she dropped her eyes to the rattlesnake coiled on his lower abdomen. He turned slightly, feeling stupidly modest.

  Maggie tilted her head as if watching Henry inhale chips, but she was doing an obvious bit of peripheral peeking. He was damn glad he’d kept his shirt on in the shed.

  “I have a tattoo,” Bubba said.

  “That hula girl quit dancing a long time ago,” JD said. “Keep your shirt on.”

  Bubba faked a sad frown. “She’s still got some sway, bruh.”

  “That’s just jiggle,” JD replied.

  Anna had finished her site survey of Travis’s body. “I’m done with Tweedledee and Tweedledum here,” she said, waving a hand at JD and Bubba. “Now it’s time to talk landscaping.�
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  * * *

  This was insane. Maggie had come ready to protect her turf with actual facts and figures—she absolutely could match Travis Blake’s bid on the labor and do a better job with more equipment and a crew—but it was all she could do to yank single-syllable words out of the vocabulary soup threatening to explode through her ears.

  Him bad. Me good.

  “Do you think you can work that little bit out between the two of you?” Anna asked.

  Little bit of what? What had Anna been saying? While Maggie had been trying to form a sentence in the presence of a half-naked male centerfold covered in tattoos that dipped down into his low-riding jeans, Anna had been blathering on about something involving her and the said half-naked male centerfold.

  She remembered Claire’s description of Travis Blake in high school and thought, Quiet skinny bookworm in glasses, my ass.

  “We can work it out,” Travis said. “No problem.”

  Work what out? Also, he looked like he worked out plenty.

  She leaned on the newly installed granite bar and pretended to know what they were talking about. “Sure. No problem.” Maybe we can work it out naked.

  What was she doing? Ever since her night with the wolf, she’d been—for lack of a better word—horny. She shook her head and focused on why she was here. “Anna, I’d like to discuss the contract in private if you don’t mind.”

  “We don’t need to discuss anything in private. You two are a team. You do know how to collaborate, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course. And I’m pleased you like my plans. But splitting the contract seems unnecessary. I can match Mr. Blake’s—”