Big Bad Cowboy

by Carly Bloom

  The waver in Alice’s voice and the red splotches creeping up her neck said she very much approved of Travis Blake’s hammering skills.

  The three of them walked up the sidewalk to the reading garden behind the library. Sure enough, Miss Mills sat as stiff as a board in a folding chair next to the gazebo, holding a nail up to Travis.

  Maggie cleared her throat. It was time to broach the subject of the visit. “Alice, I’m a little surprised that Travis is here. Petal Pushers has a landscaping contract with the city—”

  Alice smiled and patted Maggie’s arm. “And they still do. Travis offered to build the gazebo and install the play equipment for free.”

  Cue gag reflex.

  “I got some teenagers to help him because he was planning to do it all himself. Can you believe that?”

  That aggravating, bull-headed man.

  “He has touched up the landscaping a bit, though. You know, just in the places where it needed it,” Alice added.

  Maggie bit her tongue. The landscaping did not need any touching up. She went by regularly. And as for the Saint Travis act—ha! He was trying to worm his way into getting the city’s contract for the following year. Which would include the parks, the courthouse lawn, city hall, the public pool…

  “Well, we’d love to help,” Maggie said with a forced smile. Because she could work for free, too, damn it.

  “We would?” Claire asked.

  “Absolutely. I just need to find a hammer.”

  “You’re not going to kill him, are you?”

  “I’m not planning on it. Accidents do happen, though.”

  “Oh, look! Bubba and JD are here, too.”

  “Goodie,” Maggie said.

  Ping.

  A text! Claire raised an eyebrow. “Is it him?”

  “I don’t know.” Maggie clawed her way to her back pocket, spinning around like a dog chasing its tail.

  “Who?” Alice asked.

  “A guy Maggie is sexting.”

  Alice stopped in her tracks. “That kind of thing goes on in Big Verde?”

  “It goes on everywhere,” Maggie said. “But we’re not sexting. That’s ridiculous.” She looked at her phone and almost dropped it.

  You’ve been wearing those panties long enough. Take them off.

  “Well?” Claire asked.

  “We’re sexting.”

  Alice tried to sneak a peek at the phone.

  “Alice, can I get in the library for a minute? I need to use the restroom.”

  Because good girls removed their panties when the Big Bad Wolf told them to.

  * * *

  Ping.

  Travis grinned. That was fast. “Hold on a minute,” he said to Miss Mills, who held up a nail.

  He’d told Little Red Riding Hood to take off her panties. The red ones she’d supposedly worn to the job site this morning. The ones he’d been thinking about all day.

  He looked at his phone under Miss Mills’s watchful gaze.

  They’re off.

  He laughed. Who knew if she’d really done it? She might not even own a pair of red panties. For all he knew, Maggie had worn boxer shorts under her jeans at work today. No matter. He didn’t care what kind of underwear she wore. It was what was in them that turned him on.

  Henry yanked on his shirt. “Guess who’s here, Uncle Travis.”

  “Just a minute.” He needed a few seconds to think of a response.

  “You young people and your phones,” Miss Mills said.

  “Uncle Travis—”

  “Hush, Henry.”

  “Is it a woman texting you, Travis?” Miss Mills asked. “I swear you’re blushing beneath that beard.”

  Could a guy not sext without commentary from an old spinster lady and a five-year-old?

  “If it’s a woman, she’s a hussy. Young ladies shouldn’t make overtures.”

  “Don’t be jealous, Miss Mills.”

  Miss Mills huffed and fanned her face with a copy of Ladies’ Daily Devotions. Travis grinned and added, “You can’t keep me all to yourself.”

  Miss Mills stopped fanning momentarily. “Why, I never—”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “Travis Blake! You should be ashamed of yourself for talking to a Christian woman this way.”

  “It makes your day,” Travis said. “Now if you’ll just give me a moment to respond to this hussy, I’ll get back to hammering your nails in a jiffy.”

  Miss Mills fluttered her Ladies’ Daily Devotions, but her cheeks were pink, and one corner of her mouth curled up. She daintily poked a hairpin back in her bun while looking at Travis over her horn-rimmed glasses.

  “Uncle Travis—”

  “One sec, Henry.”

  The thought of Maggie without her panties, eagerly awaiting instructions, made it hard to think. But he needed to type something.

  “Hi, Maggie,” Henry shouted.

  Travis nearly dropped his phone. There stood Maggie and Claire, chatting with Bubba and JD. He quickly stuffed his phone back in his pocket and took a nail from Miss Mills to look busy. He poised the hammer and pretended not to see Maggie approaching in his peripheral vision.

  “Hi, Henry. Are you working hard?”

  That voice. Goddamn, it was sexy.

  “Yes, very,” Henry said, even though he was stuffing a cupcake in his face.

  “And what about Uncle Travis? Is he working hard?”

  “Nah, he’s just hammering.”

  “It looks hard from where I’m standing,” Maggie said.

  Travis missed the nail and smashed his thumb. “Jesus Christ,” he said, sticking it in his mouth.

  “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, Travis,” Miss Mills said. “And pay attention to what you’re doing.”

  Travis glanced at Maggie, who was grinning from ear to ear. He took in the rest of her appearance—tousled blond hair, big brown eyes—and his heart seized. Why did she have such an effect on him?

  Because she’s Little Red Riding Hood and you know the kind of effect you have on her.

  Inexplicably, Henry threw his arms around Maggie’s knees and hugged her.

  “Let go, Henry,” Travis said. “You’re going to make Maggie fall.”

  Henry didn’t let go. If anything, he hugged Maggie tighter.

  “You’re going to get chocolate on Maggie’s pants.”

  “Oh, it’s okay. These pants are already ruined,” Maggie said.

  She turned around, taking Henry with her, and gave Travis a truly spectacular view of her ass. It was covered in mud.

  “Have you been rolling around in a pigpen, Miss Mackey?”

  “Practically,” she said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  And that’s when he saw it. A small triangle of red lacy fabric poking out of her pocket.

  She’d taken her panties off. Her tiny red panties. The ones she’d worn just for him.

  She saw him looking, and her face lit up like a fuse. She quickly poked the bit of fabric back in her pocket. “Allergies are awful this time of year. I carry a hankie.”

  If there was a person less likely to carry a red lacy hankie than Maggie Mackey, Travis couldn’t think of one. Of course, he also wouldn’t have bet on red lacy panties. He cleared his throat and tried to act clueless.

  “Anyway,” Maggie said. “I just came down here to—”

  “Rip me a new one?”

  Maggie’s eyes grew round as she feigned innocence. “To help with the gazebo, of course. Do you have an extra hammer?”

  Those big brown eyes lined with thick, long lashes looked straight at him. His stomach did something—it felt like a flip but maybe it was a flop—as she crossed her arms and stuck out her hip.

  “You’re a good girl, Maggie Mackey.”

  The last time he’d said that, she’d been bent over a table.

  “Petal Pushers takes care of the library, you know,” Maggie said. “It’s our account.”

  Ah. That’s why she was here.
r />   “Good for you.”

  “Not interested in sharing it.”

  “Not asking you to.”

  She sure was cute when she was defensive, territorial, and pissed as hell.

  “Come on, Uncle Travis. What do you want to nail next?”

  Travis grinned. He knew exactly what he wanted to nail next. And it must have shown on his face because Maggie’s eyes widened, and her cheeks turned pink. She fluttered her eyelashes like a prissy pants. “Well, I never—”

  “That makes you and Miss Mills,” Travis said with a grin.

  And yes, you have.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It had gotten dark over an hour ago. Maggie stretched, feeling every vertebra in her back pop, and watched Travis load his tools into his truck. “Need help with anything?”

  “Nope. I got this.”

  I got this. If Travis had a motto, that would be it. And as much as Maggie wanted to believe he’d taken on the gazebo to steal her business, it just didn’t feel that way. Travis might be a Blake, but in his case, the apple had fallen from the tree and rolled far, far away.

  “I’m waiting on Claire anyway. Have you seen her?”

  Travis scooped Henry up and put him on his shoulders. “I wouldn’t wait around if I were you.” He nodded to the parking lot between the library and the Green Giant Burger Spot, where a pickup and horse trailer was parked.

  It was right beneath a streetlight, and Maggie could clearly see the silhouette of a man leaning against the trailer with one foot kicked back on a tire and one arm wrapped securely around Claire’s waist.

  “Who’s that?” Travis asked.

  “If I’m not mistaken, that’s Ford Jarvis,” Maggie said in amazement. Why hadn’t Claire told her she was hanging out with Ford? “He’s a bit of a legend around here. Reclusive cowboy born in the wrong era. He’s a throwback to the days of trail rides and chuckwagons.”

  Hardly Claire’s type.

  “Did he go to school with us?” Travis asked.

  This was the first time Travis had acknowledged they’d gone to school together. Did he remember her? She swallowed the lump of disappointment. She kind of liked the idea of him not remembering her as Mighty Mack from high school. If she was honest with herself, that was a big part of her attraction for the Big Bad Wolf. Well, that and a few other things…

  “No. He’s from…” Maggie thought for a while. She had no idea where Ford was from. “He just showed up. Ranchers hire him when they need work that can only be done on horseback.”

  Travis perked up. “He’s one of the Rancho Canada Verde cowboys?”

  The cowboys who worked for Gerome Kowalski, Claire’s daddy, worked cattle on horseback, not with ATVs or helicopters like other big ranches.

  “I don’t think he’s a full-time employee. Claire says he comes in to help with roundups, but he travels all over Texas doing contract cowboying.”

  “Wow,” Travis said, wide-eyed like a little boy. Maggie couldn’t help but grin when he added, “Cool.”

  “Have you ever been on a horse, Travis?”

  Travis frowned. “Just because I wasn’t born in Big Verde doesn’t mean I’ve never been on a horse.”

  “Just so you know, I was born and raised here, and I’ve never been on a horse,” she said. “I didn’t mean anything by it. How many horses do you have?”

  “We don’t got no horses,” Henry said.

  “We don’t have any horses,” Travis corrected.

  Henry, still perched on Travis’s shoulders, yanked on one of his ears. “That’s what I said.”

  Travis winced, but didn’t do what Maggie would have done, which was put the little toot down.

  “I had a horse as a kid,” Travis said. His eyes turned wistful. “For one glorious summer.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “My dad lost him in a bet,” Travis said with a shrug.

  “Oh, Travis. I’m so sorry…”

  He smiled. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago. And thanks for your help tonight. I guess Henry and I need to get going.”

  He hoisted Henry off his shoulders and plopped him into his car seat. Henry started to struggle and whine immediately. “I don’t want to be buckled in! It huuuurts. I can’t breathe! I can’t move!”

  Travis grunted and struggled to keep Henry in the car seat. “You’re moving just fine. Settle down.”

  “No!” Henry yelled. Then he kicked the headrest of the seat in front of him.

  Travis let go and rubbed his temples while Henry appeared to melt and slide halfway out of the seat. “I’m all out of tricks, kid. With Maggie standing right here, it’s not like I can hold you upside down by your ankles.”

  Henry responded by jerking his body into a rigid imitation of one of the two-by-fours in the bed of Travis’s truck. From jelly to rigor mortis in under two seconds. It would be hard to get him strapped in like that, and Maggie was beginning to see the logic in hanging him upside down.

  “I want to ride up front like a big boy.”

  “You can’t,” Travis snapped.

  Maggie had an idea. “Henry, do you like basketball?” He was wearing a San Antonio Spurs jersey, so it was a pretty safe bet.

  “Yeah. Do you?”

  “Of course! And the Spurs are playing tonight. First game of the season. It’s on television. I bet you can still catch it if you hurry and get in your car seat.”

  “That’s right,” Travis said, giving her a look of utter gratitude as Henry resumed a normal posture and allowed himself to be buckled in.

  “Can we watch it with Maggie?”

  Whoa. She hadn’t seen that coming. Surely Travis wouldn’t want to.

  “It’s fine with me,” Travis said.

  Maggie’s stomach began fluttering. It was annoying.

  “I’m sorry,” Travis said. “Awkward.”

  “No! It’s fine. Really.” Was it? Her hands were sweaty.

  “Okay. I’ll bring the leftover tamales to snack on. What’s your address?”

  They were meeting at her place? And why did he need her address when they were neighbors? Who did he think had been leaving him the slightly salty notes on his gate—the ones she may, or may not, possibly be regretting right about now?

  “Are you sure it’s okay?” Travis asked, probably sensing her hesitation because she was doing some serious hesitating. “JD said something about meeting you and Bubba at Tony’s. I don’t want to keep you from that.”

  She tried to organize her facial features into some semblance of normal as she pondered possible strategies. Yes, I already had plans. Sorry. Bye. Ignore the note on the gate where I threatened to summon the Chupavaca to drain your cattle of blood.

  “We kind of invited ourselves over,” Travis continued. “We’ll understand.”

  Maggie looked at Henry. If you had to stick a label on him, it would say, PERSON LEAST LIKELY TO UNDERSTAND. How could she rescind an invitation to a five-year-old? “I’d love to have you both. I live at Honey’s place. On Peacock Road.”

  Oh Lord. Watching it dawn on Travis’s face—you’re the crazy lady who’s been threatening me—was both painful and hilarious. Maggie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She fluttered her eyelashes and waved her fingers. “Howdy, neighbor.”

  Travis looked at her like she’d just smashed an ax through a door and said, Here’s Johnny!

  He was about to back out. Maybe he’d fake a sudden onset of stomach cramps. That’s what she would do.

  “Let’s go!” Henry said. He’d clearly run out of patience. “Let’s go to Maggie’s now.”

  Travis rubbed his beard as if trying to decide which one of them was scarier: her or Henry. “You sure you want us to come over?”

  “Yes. Don’t make me beg. It’s weird.”

  Travis raised a single eyebrow in a way that made her tummy flutter again. Like maybe he’d like to make her beg. She pretended to be interested in her feet, so he wouldn’t see the blush creeping up her cheeks.

/>   “I’m going to stop at my house and put Henry in his pajamas first,” he said. “Then we’ll be right over.”

  Nothing like mentioning a five-year-old in his pajamas to vanquish the sexual tension. If there had even been any.

  “I’m not tired! And I’m not wearing pajamas.”

  “Really?” Maggie asked. “I’m going to wear mine.”

  Travis raised the other eyebrow, and Maggie’s cheeks heated up again.

  “They’re Spurs pajamas,” she said. Just in case he was imagining something else. Something sheer. Or lacy. Or…He wasn’t thinking that, Mackey. Stop it.

  Travis grinned. Dammit. That dimple on the left side just plain did it for her.

  “I have Spurs pajamas, too!” Henry shouted. Like it was literally his job to keep her from having inappropriate thoughts.

  “Good. You wear yours and I’ll wear mine.”

  Henry clapped his hands.

  “If you’re not wearing Spurs pajamas when we get there, Henry is going to have a royal fit. And I’ll be a bit disappointed myself.”

  “I’m a woman of my word,” Maggie said, watching Travis climb behind the wheel of his truck.

  “I don’t doubt it,” Travis said. Then he rolled down his window and stuck a GO SPURS GO flag on top of his truck.

  Well, hell. She was in trouble.

  * * *

  The headlights illuminated the Happy Trails’ gate and the note flapping in the breeze.

  I live at Honey’s place, she’d said. She had to know about the notes. There was no way Maggie’s crazy grandmother was keeping all the cow rage to herself. Maybe Maggie thought it was funny. Travis felt like an idiot.

  He got out of the truck and yanked the note off the gate.

  FIX YOUR FENCE OR I’LL SUMMON THE CHUPAVACA.

  He tried not to smile, which should have been easy, considering how he felt. But he had to give the old lady her due—this was funny. According to Mexican folklore, the Chupacabra was a mythical creature who sucked the blood out of cabras, or goats. Travis had never heard of such a thing until he’d moved in Big Verde, where at least once a year, the local newspaper featured stories about Chupacabra sightings, usually next to pictures of dead goats who’d most likely fallen victim to mountain lions. It caused a lot of chatter at the Corner Café, where farmers and ranchers laughed it off before going home and making sure their shotguns were loaded.