Big Bad Cowboy

by Carly Bloom

  “You went off to A&M, didn’t you?”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “LinkedIn,” he said. “Every time I tried to solicit business in town, I was told Petal Pushers had the account. I got curious. Had to scope out my competition.”

  “Stalker. And yeah, I did an internship at a landscape architect firm after graduation—”

  “Vector.”

  She paused. “Seriously. You’re a stalker. Anyway, it was a lot of sitting around behind a desk. I hated it. I decided to make a go of it here. I prefer sunshine to desks.”

  “Sunshine looks good on you.”

  She wasn’t super adept at picking up social signals, but was that a flirtatious statement? It sounded like it. But what if she was wrong, and her ears were glowing for no reason at all? Travis was unbelievably hot, and surely, he knew that. What would he be flirting with her for? It hadn’t been half an hour since he said, Sure you’re not a guy?

  Lord knew Travis wasn’t the kid he’d been in high school—that skinny, short boy who’d helped her clean up the cow patty mess…Although when she looked in those blue eyes behind the lenses of his glasses, it was obvious at least part of him was still that sweet boy.

  “I recognized you as soon as I saw you tonight,” she blurted.

  Travis sat up and inhaled sharply, as if bracing himself for an onslaught of high school memories. “I was going to tell you,” he stuttered. “I wasn’t sure you’d recognized me with the beard, and I thought maybe it was best to just not say anything. It’s kind of embarrassing, isn’t it?”

  “High school is supposed to be embarrassing,” she said. “It was the glasses that gave you away.”

  “High school?”

  “Ho Ho Ho Green Giants!” She winced. That had come out of nowhere with comedic timing.

  Travis stared at her as if she were performance art. Maybe she was. “Do you recognize me?” she asked.

  He frowned at her. “Is this a trick question?”

  “Aw, you don’t, do you? Does a cow patty cleanup outside a locker ring a bell?”

  Travis looked beyond confused. His blue eyes searched hers, and she did her best to look like fourteen-year-old Maggie, which wasn’t nearly as difficult as it should have been. Then his eyes widened, and a huge grin broke out on his face. “I do remember you! I knew we’d gone to school together, but you were a couple of years behind me. And I really didn’t have any friends…”

  He blushed, and it broke her heart.

  “Anyway, you were the Future Farmers of America girl that hung out with all the redneck boys.”

  “I think that’s what it says beneath my unfortunate yearbook photo.”

  “You had a nickname. What was it?” He rubbed his beard.

  “Mighty Mack,” she said. “And I’m trying really hard to outgrow it.”

  His eyes left hers and traveled down her face to the rest of her, and even though she was wearing what amounted to a blanket with a zipper, his voice deepened, and he said, “Oh, I’d say you’ve outgrown it. There is nothing remotely childish about you, Maggie Mackey.”

  Maggie could swear her ears were bathing the room in a rosy glow.

  Travis’s eyes worked their way back up to her lips, where they settled, making Maggie’s heart pound in her chest. “I recognize you,” he whispered.

  All he’d said was that he recognized her. But it felt as if he’d said, You’re mine.

  Maggie cleared her throat. “I never said thank you for helping me that day.”

  Travis moved closer. They were practically nose to nose. His lips smelled like cocoa. They’d probably taste like it, too, but Maggie didn’t have the guts. Instead, she kissed him sweetly on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he whispered. Then he gave her a feathery soft kiss on the lips.

  He did taste like cocoa. Maggie didn’t want him to pull away, so she parted her lips in invitation, and Travis accepted. With a quiet groan that nearly caused Maggie to come undone, Travis slipped his tongue between her lips. There was nothing feathery soft about the kiss now. His hand came up her back and settled at the base of her skull. She hadn’t been kissed this way since her night with the wolf, and it awakened every cell in her body. This man who’d taunted her with his tattooed chest, his dimpled grin, and his endless blue eyes was now kissing her as if she were the best-tasting thing since chocolate ice cream. As if he wanted to devour her—just like the wolf had. She’d give anything to feel Travis’s lips on her neck, trailing down to her breasts and maybe even lower. The only thing between her and Nirvana was the zipper on her PJ’s.

  Travis’s beard was rough and soft all at the same time. It scratched and tickled—a delightfully wicked combination. She’d never kissed a man with a beard before. It was foreign and exciting, but somehow comforting, too. She brushed the side of his face with her fingers before tangling them in his wavy hair. With her other hand she toyed with the tag of the zipper at her neck. Should she do it?

  A sensation of warmth spread across her upper thigh and soaked the leg of her pajamas.

  She broke the kiss instantly, gasping in horror. They’d forgotten all about poor little Henry!

  “What’s wrong?” Travis asked.

  “I think Henry wet himself.”

  Travis looked like he might say, “Henry who?” but then his eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

  Henry yawned and stretched. “Did the Spurs win?”

  Maggie had no idea who had won the game, and from the dazed look on Travis’s face, neither did he.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Travis collapsed on the couch and looked around in defeat. The place was hardly a model home under the best of circumstances, but after a bout of Hurricane Henry, it was a disaster. Spilled cereal under the table. An upturned laundry basket of clothes. All the couch cushions, save the one Travis was sitting on, dumped on the floor.

  And it was only eight o’clock in the morning.

  When he’d finally dragged Henry to the breakfast table, he’d discovered they were out of the little tyrant’s favorite cereal. The socks Henry liked were dirty. The toothpaste wasn’t the right flavor. By the time Travis had shoved Henry onto the bus, he felt like he’d been through the ringer.

  Ping!

  He looked at his phone and grinned. Hey wolfie. Cat got your tongue?

  Close call last night. He thought for sure she’d recognized him as the wolf. It was an odd moment. Part of him had been relieved. He was ready for the deception to end, for Maggie to know the truth, and choose him anyway. He should ignore the text. Why make it worse? Maybe because making things worse was his specialty…

  Just can’t stop thinking about my tongue, can you?

  He didn’t like being deceptive. But Jesus, she thought he was trying to ruin her business. Other than Anna splitting her project between the two of them, what business had he officially stolen? He just had a few piddly-assed small businesses as clients. Although come to think of it, piddly-assed small businesses made up the overwhelming majority of Big Verde’s business community. Had he inadvertently stolen clients from Maggie?

  He’d stolen clients from Maggie.

  Shit. He hadn’t meant to fuck with her life. He’d finally met someone he really liked, and she thought he was out to ruin her. He doubted she’d take kindly to him being a lying dog—literally—on top of it.

  He’d kissed her.

  Thinking about it gave him a rush. If it hadn’t been for Henry, they might have made out like teenagers for hours. Maybe they’d have done more than make out. He knew what was hidden inside that shapeless mass of fuzzy fabric Maggie had worn, and he’d wanted nothing more than to pull down its zipper and run his hands all over her smooth, warm skin.

  You’ve got a pretty nice tongue.

  A dumb smile took over his entire face. What did Miss Mary Margaret think about last night? Maybe he could get her to fess up.

  How was your evening? You entertained the enemy. Refused to wear sexy lingerie
.

  What would she say? That she’d made out like a fiend with the guy she thought was ruining her business?

  It was okay. He’s a nice guy.

  A nice guy? There were probably worse things than being a nice guy. Like being a lying bastard business-stealer who’d had sex with an unsuspecting business-maiden in a garden shed.

  Should I be jealous?

  He wanted her to say yes, that she was completely hot for the guy she was with last night.

  He’s no alpha dog.

  Travis laughed, even though it was a slap in the face. How could he be jealous of the wolf when he was the wolf? Being both the alpha dog who made Maggie do dirty things and the nice guy who brought his nephew over for hot cocoa was emotionally confusing, to say the least.

  But nice guy or not—I need to shut him down.

  Travis raised an eyebrow. She wanted to shut him down? Irritation crept up his spine, along with a healthy dose of respect.

  The back door slammed. Mrs. Garza wasn’t supposed to come today, but Travis’s nose picked up garlic, onions, and cumin. Not only had Mrs. Garza come on a day she wasn’t expected, she’d brought food. His stomach growled as he went into the kitchen.

  He smiled. Even with her jet-black hair teased high on her head, Mrs. Garza couldn’t be much more than five feet tall. Today’s outfit was a zebra-striped pantsuit, complete with a rhinestone-encrusted cane hooked casually over one arm.

  “I brought you carne guisada and homemade tortillas. And I brought in the mail. It looks like nobody’s done that for a few days. The box was overflowing.”

  “Thank you. The food smells delicious. I didn’t realize you were coming today.” He glanced at the huge stack of mail on the counter with dread, and then sighed and started thumbing through it. Magazines and other things addressed to Lisa, flyers…nothing from the Army. And finally, on the very bottom, a pink envelope from the tax office. He’d open it later when he had some privacy.

  “I need to clean up a bit before Albert gets here.”

  Travis scratched his head. “Albert?”

  “My cousin.” She opened the foil-wrapped tortillas and a cloud of steam escaped. “He was supposed to paint the Janskys’ house today, but they’re not quite ready for him. He’s going to work here instead.”

  “Today?” Panic. The place was trashed. “He’s going to paint the interior today?”

  “He’ll at least get started on it. And my brother, Beto, is happy to process the beef if he can keep half of the cow. Plus the head, of course.”

  “The head?”

  “Barbacoa. His is the best.”

  “He can have whatever he wants.”

  Mrs. Garza pushed him aside with her cane as she reached for a plate. “You’ll eat some of this now, sí? I can hear your stomach grumbling. But save some for tonight. Henry will need dinner.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She walked into the living room. “What happened in here?”

  “Henry didn’t want to go to school today.”

  “I’ll clean up this mess. You make your taco.”

  She bent over to pick up a couch cushion from the floor. Travis rushed to snatch it up, fearing she’d topple on top of it. He set the couch cushion in place and gestured for Mrs. Garza to have a seat, but she spotted the cereal under the coffee table and headed for the broom in the corner.

  “No, ma’am,” Travis said. “You have a seat and I’ll take care of that.”

  Mrs. Garza stopped and raised one of her eyebrows, which was quite a feat since it was painted on and already arched just below her hairline. “Did you say no to me?”

  Travis swallowed. “Sorry, ma’am.” He got her the broom and she briskly swept the tiny pieces of cereal into a pile.

  “Go eat,” Mrs. Garza said, shuffling to the trashcan to empty the dustpan.

  “Maybe after I’m showered. I’m running late for work.”

  “Go on, then,” Mrs. Garza said. “You get in the shower and I’ll fix your tacos and warm up a plate.”

  “Oh, no, really. You don’t have to—”

  “Are you saying no to me again?”

  Travis knew when he’d been beat. He went upstairs to the bathroom, took off his clothes, and got in the shower. Turned out it was the right thing to do. The stress of the morning dissipated under the rhythmic pounding of the showerhead.

  He needed to tell Maggie he wasn’t planning to remain in Big Verde. She’d probably be relieved to know he had no plans to take over her evil landscaping empire.

  He shouldn’t keep texting her. But it was fun. And so damn hot. Even as his mind pondered the depressing reality of his current predicament, his hand wandered down to the pressing, aching need that had risen in response. He closed his eyes and teased up an image of Maggie’s sweet ass bent over the workbench in the shed. The bows on the backs of her red stockings had driven him wild. He gripped his cock, thinking about what she’d tasted like when he’d licked the bare skin of her thighs all the way up to her hot little—

  The bathroom door opened. Dammit, Henry.

  But Henry was at school. Travis frantically poked his head out of the shower curtain. “Mrs. Garza? What the—”

  “Don’t mind me, mijo,” she said, standing in the steam like a zebra-striped apparition. “I’m collecting dirty towels, so I can start a load of laundry.”

  He was naked. Mrs. Garza was two feet away from him. And he still had his dick in his hand. Flustered, he let go and made sure the shower curtain wasn’t gaping. “You don’t need to do that,” he said. “I can get to it later.”

  Mrs. Garza opened the laundry hamper and bent over, a vision that chased away any lingering fantasies involving Little Red Riding Hood. “It looks like later never comes around here. I’m happy to help.”

  Mrs. Garza grunted as she stood up, arms overflowing with towels, socks, and underwear.

  “Thank you,” he said with a feeble smile, hoping she’d quickly be on her way.

  “Don’t worry about getting this load in the dryer,” she said, turning toward the door. “I’ll do it while you’re gone.”

  Ten minutes later, Travis blew through the back door, but then immediately screeched his heels to a halt at the sight and sounds of three men hammering and sawing right behind his house.

  “Mrs. Garza!” he hollered, continuing to watch as the men climbed in and out of the mass of wood and metal that made up the long-useless cattle pens.

  Mrs. Garza opened the door and poked her head out. “What is it, mijo?”

  “Who are those men, and what are they doing?”

  “Those are my cousin’s sons. They’re fixing up your cattle pens.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he wants his fajitas,” Mrs. Garza said. “That means getting a cow to the processor. Which means getting one into a trailer. And first you’ve got to get it into a pen.”

  Travis hadn’t given that a bit of thought. More evidence that he had no business being a rancher. Wait, when had he thought about being a rancher?

  He walked over and watched the men work for a few minutes. They asked him some questions, he thought about the answers, and by the time he got in his truck, he had a good idea of how to get cows into the shoot and trailer, and some plans for improving the design.

  * * *

  Travis pulled up to Anna’s to see an entire herd of pickups parked beneath the trees. He found a spot and got out, gathering his tools from the bed of his truck.

  JD stood with a group of men next to a pile of rocks. He waved his hat, inviting Travis over.

  “Here’s the brawn,” JD said. “Where’s the beauty?”

  “I imagine she’ll be here any minute.” Travis nodded at the other men, most of whom looked vaguely familiar. That was the recurring theme since coming home to Big Verde—vaguely familiar.

  “Beauty?” one of the other guys said with a smirk. “I thought you were going to say brains.”

  “Maggie’s got both,” JD said.

  “
I agree. She’s a beauty with brains,” Travis added, with a nod to JD.

  “I don’t think either one of you should get your hopes up,” one of the guys said.

  “Travis, do you remember Bill?” JD asked. “He was probably a year behind you in school. He’s doing the masonry on the house.”

  Travis didn’t remember him, but he nodded as if he did, and Bill did the same.

  “I heard Maggie’s a lesbian,” Bill said.

  “She is not,” Travis and JD said together. Then they awkwardly eyed each other until Bill piped up again.

  “I bet she’s a virgin then.”

  “Definitely not,” Travis and JD chorused. Then they stared each other down with what were no doubt identical expressions of surprise before Travis looked away first.

  JD finally cleared his throat. “Bill, not every woman who turns your ugly ass down is a lesbian or a nun.”

  Mark Langley, who Travis remembered because his dad had been the high school principal, laughed heartily. “That’s true,” he agreed. “Unless ninety percent of the women in Big Verde are lesbians or nuns.”

  “Aw, fuck off,” Bill said. “And I’ve never even hit on Maggie. I just have a very sensitive gay-dar. I mean, have you seen the way she dresses? Lesbian all the way.”

  “She dresses like a landscaper,” JD said. “Stop stereotyping.”

  “Well, I’ve never seen her with a man,” Bill said, crossing his arms as if that decided it.

  JD yanked the brim of his hat down. “You obviously weren’t at Anna’s gala.”

  Mark Langley glanced around and lowered his voice. “I was there. She sure wasn’t dressed like a landscaper that night.”

  Travis didn’t like this one bit. The whole scene put a bad taste in his mouth. And as for how Maggie dressed, these were the kind of guys who catcalled. How was she supposed to dress? Who could blame her for wanting to be taken seriously?

  JD stirred, and his fists were clenched. “She was Little Red Riding Hood at the gala. And I’d better not ever run into that wolf.”

  Travis broke out in a light sweat and pretended to squish a bug with the toe of his boot, keeping his face lowered because he figured it was fucking on fire.