Not My First Rodeo 2 Boxed Set

by Donna Alward

  It would have been nice if he’d found it just a bit difficult to walk away, though.

  “Chicken shit,” she said out loud again, though there wasn’t a blessed soul to talk to. She burped and then took another long drink. How long was she going to play coward? Long enough to guarantee she’d always be alone?

  Cassidy pushed her dirty plate piled with chicken bones to the side, then grabbed her laptop and booted it up. She clicked on the cowboy boot icon and up popped the Not My 1st Rodeo site. She hesitated for a moment. Maybe this was stupid. After all, look at what had happened already. But then she frowned. She’d told the truth in her profile. There were testimonials on the site, dammit. Happy endings. Just because one person lied…

  And then there was the stark reminder that going it alone in this town was getting her nowhere. Why shouldn’t she get out there and date? She drained the wine glass and filled it again, defiantly tipping up the bottle for the last drops. “I’m not leavable,” she stated to the empty room. “They’re just leavers, that’s all. It’s not me. It’s them. Jerks.”

  She clicked onto “My Account” and logged in. Her profile was disabled, and it took her a few confused minutes to figure out how to enable it again. When she did manage it, she let out a cheer, slopping a few drops of wine on her shirt. “There I am!” She toasted herself. “Cassidy Strong. That’s right. I’m going shopping.”

  A rugged jawline and pair of blue eyes stared back at her.

  “Well, hello, handsome.”

  She scrolled through several profiles, and her sips of wine got smaller and smaller. Eventually she got bored. This guy was too short. This one too far away. Another was clearly balding and his nose looked odd.

  They weren’t Joe. As she realized it, the wine soured in her mouth and she put the glass down on the table. Damn. That was it. They simply weren’t Joe. They didn’t have his smile, or that devilish gleam in their eyes, or the way he walked into a room and made everyone immediately feel safer. They didn’t have his hands, and couldn’t touch her like he could. Didn’t have his lips or…or…

  She pulled the throw blanket over her and fell back against the cushions of the sofa. When she closed her eyes, it felt as if the room was spinning, and she opened them again, trying to focus.

  She was drunk. Drunk and sad and stupid. Stupid for letting him get to her this way. Stupid for not letting go.

  Then she remembered something her mother had always said to her. “The heart wants what the heart wants.” The words had always been accompanied by a weary shrug. Feelings were feelings. You couldn’t really do anything about them, besides accept them and deal with them.

  “I’ll worry about it tomorrow,” she mumbled and burrowed into the blanket.

  Chapter Eleven

  Joe’s shift ended at eleven. By the time he got to the cabin, it was nearly midnight. Flynn was barking up a storm as Joe shut the door of the truck. Cassidy had been right about that. It was nice to have him waiting at home. The house didn’t seem so empty and quiet.

  Of course it hadn’t started feeling that way until after Cassidy had been there for the weekend.

  For the first few days, he’d been able to smell her. The smell of her shampoo in the shower, that light, floral scent tangled up in the sheets so that every time he rolled over she was there again. Keeping away the last month had been hellish. He’d felt like one big walking hormone; distracted and, frankly, horny.

  He’d thought he was past that. It had been nearly a month now since he’d walked out of her apartment. But all it had taken was one chance meeting and all the feelings came rushing back.

  Never had he fallen for a woman like this. Not this fast, not this completely. He felt like a fool. She’d been cold and aloof earlier tonight. Clearly her feelings didn’t match his.

  He opened the door and waited for Flynn to rush outside to do his business. Once that was taken care of, he called the dog and they went inside. It was cold. The fire had burned out and so he left his jacket on as he built it back up again. Flynn circled madly around him, trying to jump up and lick his face.

  At least somebody loved him.

  His cell phone rang. What the hell…he’d been out of the office less than an hour and already he was getting a call? He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the number.

  It was Cassidy. What the heck?

  Heart pounding, he pressed the button on the phone. “Hello?”

  “Joe? Zat you?”

  “It’s me. Cassidy, are you okay?”

  “No, I’s not okay, Joe. Know what?”

  She’d been drinking. No doubt about that. He let out a relieved breath that it wasn’t something worse and sank down into the sofa cushions. “What, Cass?”

  “Stupid site. All those guys…you know what their problem iz, Joe? Do you?”

  He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or sigh. She wasn’t really making any sense, but he’d play along. He was tired, and he was weak. He’d missed her. Even the current situation was better than nothing.

  “What’s their problem, Cass?” He said it quietly and shut his eyes. Flynn hopped up on the sofa beside him and flopped down, resting his chin on Joe’s thigh. Joe dropped his hand to rest on Flynn’s warm back.

  “They’re not you, Joe. Joey. Joseph. Whatever Joe is short for. Anyway, not one of those guys is you and you know what that makes me, Joe?”

  He was still trying to figure out who those guys were. “What does it make you?”

  “Screwed. I’m screwed, Joe. And not in the good way. And it’s all your fault. You and your…Joe-ness.”

  His heart surged. So maybe he’d completely misread the situation earlier. Maybe she did care.

  “What do you want, Cass?” Nerves tangled in his stomach as he waited for her answer.

  “I dunno.” She sighed. “I don’t want to be in love again. Love sucks.”

  “So this is a booty call?” Disappointment churned his insides. He’d already crossed a line when they’d made love—it had been vastly inappropriate in the situation. He wasn’t going to compound that mistake by dropping by her house for a quickie. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, either, but it wasn’t that.

  The line went quiet. “Cassidy?”

  Nothing.

  “Cass?”

  There was a little click. Had she hung up? Put the phone down? He struggled to hear any background noise, but there was nothing.

  All he could hear was her slurred voice saying, “They’re not you, Joe.”

  He clicked off his phone and threw it onto the sofa cushion on the other side of the dog. Maybe she wasn’t as cold as she’d seemed. Maybe…aw, hell. Truth was, she’d come along and hit him like a ton of bricks and he hadn’t been the same since. Yes, it had been a crazy weekend of sex, but it had been more than that, too. There’d been talking, and going on the hike, and simply enjoying being together. There was his urge to comfort and protect her, to see her laugh, to pull her close and feel a calmness come over him as they snuggled together.

  It hadn’t been just physical. Sex was…well, sometimes it was just sex. But Joe wasn’t a naïve kid. When it was with someone you really cared about, sex had the potential to be spectacular. It went past being bodies and became a deeper connection. He’d felt that with Cassidy. She was different.

  And apparently so was he. He got a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach when he remembered the sound of her voice insisting, “They’re not you, Joe.” So what exactly were they doing apart, again? What was the worst that would happen if they started seeing each other? Gossip? Rumors? Would there be any protocol issues to deal with?

  Their weekend together had been weeks ago. He still felt twinges of guilt when he thought about how he hadn’t exactly done his duty…but why should he have to pay for that forever?

  He thought about it for a long, long time; long after he should have been in bed catching some shut-eye. In the end he fell asleep on the sofa, with Flynn’s warm body curled up next to his side.

 
; …

  “Ow.”

  Cassidy peeled herself up from the sofa. The abrupt change of position was a mistake, however. Her head was pounding, a steady throb that brought to mind one of those wind-up monkeys with the cymbals, only with little hammers, banging on her skull from the inside.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  Her glass of wine was still on the table, a third of it left. The smell alone was enough to make her stomach lurch. She picked up the bottle…it was empty. She never drank a whole bottle at one sitting. What on earth had she been thinking?

  And then she remembered seeing Joe at Bubba’s and she closed her eyes for a moment. The chance meeting had been more difficult than she’d expected.

  Her laptop sat on the table, too, the cover not quite shut. She opened the lid and brought it back to life. The battery light was blinking, but there was enough juice to show her the last website she’d visited. Not My 1st Rodeo. She groaned. Had she really reinstated her profile last night? Oh, that Shiraz had been full of false bravado, hadn’t it?

  Carefully as she could, she eased her way off the sofa and hobbled to the bathroom, where she peed, brushed her teeth, and put a cool cloth against her face. Then it was another slow trip to the kitchen for ibuprofen and orange juice. She wasn’t sure what it was about the juice that appealed, whether it was the sugar or the vitamin C, but it tasted awesome on the way down. She prayed it stayed that way.

  She was still in last night’s pajamas and her hair looked like a bird had tried to build a nest in it. There were a few splotches of wine around the second and third buttons. She was still debating whether to shower first or try to eat something when there was a knock at the door.

  Oh God. And she looked like this. She could maybe not answer it…

  The knocking came again, the sound like a drum against her head. She went to the door, wincing as it continued, and flung it open. “For all that is holy, please stop knocking!”

  It was Joe. Looking showered and tidy and holding some sort of bag in his hands that smelled delicious. Which was something, considering the state of her stomach.

  “Joe,” she whispered, mortified.

  “I’d ask how your head is, but I think you’ve already made that clear.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I brought you breakfast.” He lifted the bag. “The best thing for a hangover. Crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast.”

  “There’s bacon?” He was right about one thing. The odd time that she’d overindulged, the next morning she went for the OJ and the grease. It seemed to work miracles.

  He laughed. “Oh, you sound very hopeful. Yes, there’s bacon.”

  She opened the door wider. “I guess you’d better come in, then.”

  It wasn’t until he was inside that she saw the hint of dark circles beneath his eyes. “Late night?”

  “You could say that.”

  It was only nine o’clock. He was around early for someone who’d been up late. She frowned. “How did you know I was hung over?”

  He hesitated, and she swore she saw a bit of pink beneath the slight stubble on his face. “Well…I guess you don’t remember, huh?”

  “Remember what?”

  “You, ah…”

  Suddenly she remembered something. Something she’d said, something about being screwed…

  Embarrassment flooded through her. “Oh my God. I drunk dialed you, didn’t I?”

  He nodded. “You did.”

  “What did I say?”

  He shook his head. “First, bacon. Then we talk. You need food. And coffee.”

  He shoved off his shoes and handed her the bags, then shrugged off his jacket and hung it over a chair in the little kitchen. Cassidy, thoroughly embarrassed and too out of sorts to have her wits about her, simply went to the counter and began opening the paper bags. One held a cardboard take-out tray with two coffees in it, plus little bottles of juice in the opposite corners to balance it out. The other had two foil containers with breakfast.

  She peeled the cover off one. Fluffy eggs, four slices of crisp bacon, and four triangles of toast, which were slightly soggy now from the steam but would taste perfectly fine with some raspberry jam. She slid the other container across the counter and went to get knives, forks, and jam.

  “You’re not wasting any time,” he commented, accepting the utensils. Cassidy didn’t even bother going to the table. She was fine with eating standing up in this case. Fill the belly, then figure out what the hell she’d said on the phone. She was pretty sure it wasn’t good.

  Then again, he was here.

  Which meant what she said might have been too good. Or at least too truthful. Oh damn…

  She shoveled in a mouthful of eggs, stopped briefly to add pepper and salt, and then carried on. It took no time at all for her to finish the meal, saving one piece of bacon for last. She savored it, bit by bit, until it, too, was gone. Then she reached for the coffee and took a breath.

  Joe was still only half-through.

  “Okay,” she said. “Spill. What did I say?”

  He grinned. “You should be careful. You could give yourself indigestion.”

  She did feel the uncomfortable beginnings of a burp building. “I’m fine. Stop teasing me, Joe. I’m embarrassed enough.”

  “What happened last night?”

  She sighed, frustrated. He was going to make her work for it. “After I saw you, I came home and had a letter from the ex. It made me mad, is all, and I had a little too much wine with my pizza and…yeah. So whatever I said, forget it.”

  “I find most people say things they otherwise might not say when they’re drinking,” Joe observed, spreading jam on his last triangle of toast. “Sometimes it doesn’t make a lot of sense, and you have to put the pieces together. But it’s usually truth that comes out.”

  What the hell had she said?

  “Fine. Here’s what I remember. I was mad. I was mad at Darren, and I was mad at you, and I went onto Not My 1st Rodeo and reinstated my profile.”

  “That’s all you remember?”

  She vaguely remembered scrolling through some of the profiles. And then…it was all fuzzy.

  “That’s it.”

  “Hmm.” He munched the last bit of toast, then brushed off his fingers. She didn’t even offer him a napkin. She was just so overwhelmed and feeling off-balance. “What did Dumbass Darren have to say?”

  She couldn’t help it; she laughed. “I’ve called him that in my head before. He didn’t actually want anything. He left a letter. It was an apology. Who knows, maybe he’s in one of those twelve-step programs or something.” She rolled her eyes.

  “What did you do with it?”

  “Recycled it.”

  It was his turn to laugh.

  But then silence fell around them.

  Joe finally spoke. “What do you want, Cassidy? There’s a reason why you went on the site last night, and a reason you called me.”

  “I was drunk.”

  “I call bullshit.” Joe pushed his container to the side. “Seeing you yesterday was really hard for me, and I think it was hard for you, too. Let’s finally be honest. Cass, I’m here because it’s been a month and I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to see you again. I want to see if what we have is—”

  “Stop. Just…don’t.” What he was saying scared her to death. She’d fallen for Darren so hard and fast, and they’d been married before a year was out. But he hadn’t been the man she thought he was. He’d grown distant, they’d stopped doing things together, and then he’d found someone younger and prettier to do them with.

  “What are you afraid of?”

  Everything, she wanted to answer, but she pressed her lips together and shook her head. She met his gaze. “You felt like you’d violated some sort of code for letting it happen in the first place. I don’t want to be responsible for you losing your job or anything.”

  Joe rubbed his finger over his lower lip. “I see.” He sighed and ran his hand
over his hair. “I waited until now because you’ve been part of an ongoing investigation and court case. But now the guy’s pleaded guilty. It’s over, you know? Is it my job? Is it the fact that I’m a cop?”

  She could take the easy way out and say yes. She knew his first wife had had a real issue with his profession, and all she had to say was yes and he’d leave, he’d stop making her examine all her insecurities.

  He reached over and took her hand in his. “The truth,” he reminded her.

  “It’s not your job.”

  “Why did you reinstate your profile on that site?”

  Her head still ached; she pressed her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “I think I do.”

  She dropped her hand and stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t want something serious. You don’t want anything where you might get in too deep. A dating site? You can go out on a few dates, decide they’re not for you, and move on. Our weekend together suited you because after two days you could go back to your old life without any messy, complicated emotions. You’re scared to death, and you’ve tricked yourself into thinking this is moving on.”

  She pushed back her chair and got up, rushing to the kitchen as harsh breaths filled her chest. She was angry and she was also so, so confused, because she suspected he was right. Had she really done that? Chosen an online dating site to avoid getting too close? Had she been lying to herself? If that were the case, then she really was screwed.

  He got up and came to stand behind her. “Cass, maybe people will talk. Maybe I’ll take some heat, and in the beginning it seemed like the cautious thing to do. But now…my feelings aren’t going away. It’s not the sex, though God knows that was amazing. It’s more than that. It’s your laugh, and the way you look at me, and how we can walk through the forest and just talk and I can be myself.”