To Kiss a Cowgirl

by Jeannie Watt

  “Short break.”

  “Busy night.”

  And it was a night that stayed busy, but Dylan continued to hang. A couple guys joined him at his table and Jolie recognized them as deputy sheriffs who’d worked with her ex-brother-in-law, Kyle, before he’d taken a job elsewhere. They settled in, talking shop, no doubt, shared a round and then shot a couple games of pool. Beccie, the other bartender, saw to their needs, which left Jolie responsible for Maddox’s table, which was fine.

  As she’d told Jim, they’d gone a couple rounds the previous weekend after he’d made one sexist comment too many and she told him where his nuts were going to be if he didn’t stop. And she’d taken care to tell him alone as he returned to his table from the men’s room, so that he wouldn’t feel the need to defend his honor in front of a group. Maddox was the perfect example of a guy who’d peaked in high school and she had a feeling that he knew it and was self-conscious. Not that he’d ever let on, of course.

  Jolie had gone onto shift early that afternoon, despite the tire and the calf, so she was able to hang up her apron an hour before closing, leaving Beccie and Jim to man the bar. The crowd had thinned as people moved on to other bars or private parties, but the place was still fairly packed—enough so that Dylan, who was still playing pool, probably wouldn’t notice her absence. She just wanted to get away. To stop glancing over at him. To stop being so freaking aware of the guy.

  She stepped out of the kitchen entrance and walked quickly to her truck parked a few yards away under one of the pole lights that lit the parking lot. She’d unlocked the door before she noticed that the rear tire rim was sitting on the ground, the tire itself a sad flat black puddle beneath it.

  “Shit!”

  She’d known it was stupid to drive the truck when she had no spare, but what were the odds of two flats in one day?

  Given the state of her tires, pretty decent.

  Annoyed that the tire was flat, that Dylan had been right, that the third bad thing had happened, she kicked the tire and then jumped a mile when a male voice said, “I’ll help you with that.”

  She whirled to see Maddox’s older brother, Wyatt, coming toward her from the main entrance of the bar. Wyatt, who was pushing forty and roughly the size of a battleship.

  “No need,” Jolie called as she took a few steps toward the side door. Wyatt continued in her direction with a purposeful stride, his big arms swinging at his sides. His ball cap was pulled low so she couldn’t read his expression, couldn’t tell if it was friendly or whether he had other things in mind. He might be there to help, but after her run-ins with his brother, she was taking no chances. “I’ve got it. Thanks anyway,” she said when she’d reached a point midway between the kitchen entrance and her truck.

  “I don’t think you do,” Wyatt said.

  “She does.”

  They both turned to see Dylan standing next to the door she’d been heading for and Jolie hated the fact that she was glad to see him. Putting a guy in his place in the bar was one thing. In a parking lot a lot of other factors came into play.

  Wyatt squinted at Dylan for a moment. “Culver?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Mind your own business. I’m going to help this lady with her tire.”

  Dylan started toward him. Jolie stepped aside as he walked past.

  “I’m getting Jim,” she said as she started for the door.

  “No need,” Dylan replied easily. “Wyatt’s going back into the bar. One of his brothers is going to drive him home.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Wyatt asked.

  Dylan stood with his weight on one hip, looking totally relaxed. In control. “You know what I do for a living now?”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “I’m a cop.”

  “Good for you.” But Wyatt rubbed his jaw. “All I was doing was offering help.”

  “That may be, but when a lady says no, that’s what she means.”

  “It’s a damn tire, Culver.”

  “She likes to change them alone.”

  Wyatt let out a disgusted breath. “Whatever,” he muttered, turning and walking back into the bar.

  Once he was gone, Dylan turned to Jolie who’d walked a few steps closer, trying to look as though she hadn’t been spooked. “I hate that you work here,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Well, guess what? You have no say. My life is private. Just like yours.”

  “Private or not, you’re buying new tires. I’ll loan you the money if that’s what’s holding you back. And I want to pay you to feed that damned cow of Mike’s.”

  Jolie drew herself up. “We need to get a few things straight, you and me.”

  He cocked his head politely.

  “One, I took the animals because I wanted to. Two—” she pointed a finger at his chest “—you are not going to finance anything in my life except the paycheck that I earn from your store. Three, I have a truck with brand-new tires, but I didn’t feel like unhitching it from the horse trailer. Four—” She pointed the finger again, but never got the rest of four out of her mouth because Dylan took her hand in his and pulled.

  Jolie, caught totally off guard, stumbled half a step forward and the next thing she knew she was wrapped in his arms and his mouth was on hers.

  There was never a question of whether or not she would kiss him back. She did, and as his arms tightened around her, she had the most stunning feeling of coming home. Of being where she belonged.

  It scared the crap out of her.

  Roughly she pushed away, needing space. Now.

  Once she was a couple feet from him, she pressed the back of her hand against her swollen lips. Then, realizing how vulnerable that made her appear, she quickly dropped it to her side.

  “No,” she said, swallowing hard after the word came out. “No.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  DYLAN STEPPED BACK, giving her space, disturbed that he’d upset her to the point that all she would say was no. He’d seen too many instances where some asshole assumed that no meant maybe or yes, or took it as a challenge to show a woman she didn’t really mean it.

  So he took another full step back, his mouth tightening as he wondered how he, who thought everything through, had allowed this to happen. Had allowed feelings to boil to the surface and then acted on them without any kind of analysis at all.

  But that was what being around Jolie did to him. It knocked him off-kilter, as she’d so aptly put it.

  She’d responded, though. In a big way, as if she’d been waiting to kiss him for a long, long time. And, damn, but she could kiss.

  That didn’t matter. Now she was backing off.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said.

  “What did you mean to do?” she asked as she rubbed her upper arm with her opposite hand, as if trying to look casual and unaffected by the very thing that had rocked his world.

  He shrugged. “Kiss you?”

  “Why?”

  “What kind of answer do you want me to give, Jolie?”

  “The truth?”

  He took a cautious step forward. She no longer seemed threatened by him, which made him wonder if she found the threat in him or in herself.

  “The truth. Well, I’d say the truth is that I’m attracted to you. And I would also risk saying that you might be somewhat attracted to me.”

  Her eyes widened. “And surely you can see where this could become awkward if pursued.”

  “I backed off.”

  “It’s still awkward.”

  “So is being around each other all day long, feeling this...”

  She twisted her lips into a speculative expression and waited for him to find the words.

  And that wasn’t all that easy. He frowned a little as he finally said, “Attrac
tion?”

  “Here I’d hoped for a really great synonym,” she said without one bit of humor.

  “Sorry to disappoint. And it won’t happen again.” He cleared his throat, held her gaze, half afraid that she was going to start walking home or something to prove how independent she was.

  Instead she pulled her purse up higher on her shoulder before asking stonily, “Are you going to give me a ride home or what?”

  “Ride home,” he said, feeling a surge of relief. He jerked his head in the direction of his truck and started walking. A moment later Jolie followed.

  * * *

  JOLIE LEANED BACK against her front door, listening to the fading sound of Dylan’s truck as he drove away. It’d been a silent trip home. Uncomfortably silent. But what had there been to say?

  It was just a kiss. A great kiss, but a kiss all the same.

  Jolie pushed off the door, dropping her purse on the chair on her way to the kitchen. She’d overreacted. Long day; stressful, busy night. Wyatt lumbering toward her... Yeah. Overreaction. She poured a glass of tap water and held it against her heated forehead for a moment before drinking.

  This was a blessing. Yes, it was. Now that the kiss was over, they no longer needed to wonder. They knew.

  She snorted. Yeah. They knew enough not to do it again or it might get away from them. With another guy, Jolie might have gone for it. With Dylan...not an option.

  She couldn’t put a label on the reason why, so decided to go label-less. To go with her gut, which said, For your own safety, keep your distance from this guy. She’d do that. At the store, she’d be friendly but distant. Shouldn’t be that hard, what with Dylan holing up in his office or the warehouse. A couple more months and he’d be out of there and the kiss would be a faded perhaps even pleasant memory.

  Gus padded into the kitchen, probably wondering if she was ever going to bed.

  “Coming,” she murmured, setting down the glass and turning off the light on her way out of the kitchen. It occurred to her as she went up the stairs that she’d been so preoccupied by kissing Dylan that she hadn’t even thought to check the closets for monsters. She really did hate living alone, but Dani was happy and she needed to toughen up.

  Jolie was the first one at the store the next morning and while she should have gone to work facing shelves and dusting, she paced, duster in hand, nerves thrumming. It wasn’t as though she and Dylan had had drunken elevator sex and now had to face the reality of the day after.

  But still she paced, feeling the need to burn off nervous energy she shouldn’t have early Saturday morning after a night at the bar.

  Last night she’d fallen asleep almost as soon as she’d crawled into bed and, of course, she’d dreamed of Dylan. But the dream had had nothing to do with kissing him or having her way with him sans consequences. It had been about his injured leg.

  He’d been in the path of something big. Awful. Frightening. Something he couldn’t escape because he couldn’t move fast enough. It rolled over him. Destroyed him...

  Even now her gut twisted at the thought.

  As she’d driven to work that morning, in the truck that actually had tires, she’d wondered briefly if she was the force that was going to roll over him, destroy him, because he was at a disadvantage.

  As lovely a thought as that was, she knew it wasn’t the answer. Then what? And why had the dream bothered her so much that she’d awoken to a burst of relief? Only a dream. Not real at all.

  That was why it shouldn’t still be bothering her.

  * * *

  JOLIE WAS DOING the Saturday-morning cleaning when Dylan arrived at the store. Saturdays were one of their busier days, but it was also the day they did the work the janitorial service had overlooked in their twice-a-week visits. Little things like dusting all of the shelf space.

  Between the two of them, they did a good enough job that Dylan had suggested to Mike they drop the service. At least for a while. Mike had given his blessing and as soon as the current janitorial contract expired, they’d be the only cleaning force.

  She stopped dabbing the lamb’s wool duster over the display of ironwork when he opened the door, then went right back at it, perhaps with a bit more force, after nodding a quick hello.

  “Let the awkwardness commence?” he asked in a low voice.

  The dabbing stopped and Jolie looked at him over her shoulder. “By all means.” She lowered the duster and turned to face him.

  Dylan shifted his weight, noting that Jolie was more blinged-out than usual this morning with rhinestones on her shirt, back pockets and belt. Her armor?

  “I’m not sorry I kissed you,” he said. “It was coming and now it’s over.”

  “Is it?” Her voice was as cool as it’d been over the past week.

  “Yes.” He was fairly certain they both realized that getting physical, developing a more intimate relationship, was not a good move on either of their parts. He wasn’t ready to trust, to share, to let down his guard. He had issues to deal with and he didn’t need to haul anyone else into the muck and mire.

  “Good.” She didn’t speak in an insulting way. Or maybe they were so clearly on the same page that he simply knew it wasn’t meant as an insult but rather as an expression of relief.

  She regarded him uncertainly for a moment and damned if he didn’t feel the urge to move closer to her. Touch her. This was going to be a rugged couple months until Finn came home.

  “I dropped the spare off at Bobeck’s this morning,” she said as she took a couple of wipes at a piece of pottery. “It should be ready at noon. They’re even going to take it to the bar and switch out the flat on the truck and then repair it, too.”

  “What’s that costing you?” he asked, glad for the change of topic. Glad for anything that helped them ease into a more comfortable working relationship.

  “Barrel lessons for his daughter. I also get tires at cost.”

  “I’m impressed.” He smiled a little. “There was a time—”

  “When you assumed I was too rattlebrained to manage my life effectively?” Her tone might have been mild but her gaze was sharp.

  “That’s not what I was going to say, and I think you know that.”

  It was pretty obvious what she was doing: cruising for a fight, even a minor one, so that they once again had a reason to back off to neutral corners. Quite possibly because she also felt the heat steadily building between them. The kiss hadn’t solved anything. He could say that the matter was over and done, that they’d had their experiment and now they were moving on, but it didn’t feel that way. And the way Jolie was reacting told him that she was thinking the same thing.

  Her mouth tightened and she shook her head. “Sorry. You’re right.”

  He crossed the room to set his lunch in his office, then leaned back out the door. “How are you getting to work tonight?”

  “Beccie is picking me up.”

  He gave her a long look. “Will you give me a call if you need a ride home—for any reason?”

  “Yeah,” she said after a brief hesitation. “I will.”

  And that was good enough. A bit of a truce, but enough tension to keep them from getting too close. He closed the office door, but only halfway.

  * * *

  WHEN HE GOT home from work Mike handed him a beer, then told him to take a load off while he finished barbecuing the hamburgers.

  Dylan complied, thinking that it had been one long uncomfortable day. He’d barely started drinking when Mike professed that he had a hankering to see his girls. Tomorrow would be good.

  Dylan shot him a disbelieving look over his beer.

  “You don’t need to come,” Mike said. “I’m totally capable of driving to the Lightning Creek. Besides, you have that exam to study for.”

  Dylan grabbed the excuse not
to go. Again, he didn’t think Jolie needed to see him at her ranch, in her domain. Mike, on the other hand... She seemed to have a soft spot for his grandfather. Her expression warmed a little whenever Dylan mentioned him, just as it warmed when Morley Ames or his wife came into the store. As far as he knew Jolie had no living grandparents so, yeah, why horn in on Mike’s visit?

  “I got the truck rented for the move,” he said. “And Gordy Sawyer said he’d help us with the big stuff.”

  “The big stuff?” Mike coughed and Dylan couldn’t hold his smile. Gordy was Mike’s friend Cal’s grandson, sixteen-years-old, tall and rail thin.

  “He’s tougher than he looks.” At least that was what he’d told Dylan when he called and asked if they needed help in the warehouse earlier that day. Dylan had regretfully told him no, but that he’d keep him in mind if anything opened up. And then he’d gotten the brilliant idea of hiring the kid to help move Mike’s furniture. Gordy had been more than happy to help.

  Mike shrugged. “I guess what he lacks in bulk, he makes up for in enthusiasm.”

  Dylan lifted his beer. “Here’s to enthusiasm.” And finally getting this move over and done with.

  * * *

  LATER THAT EVENING, after Mike had gone to bed, Dylan drove to McElroy’s Tavern. He didn’t go inside, even though he recognized Jess Moody’s Jeep in the parking lot. They’d had a decent time catching up and playing pool the night before, and Dylan could have used a beer, but he didn’t think Jolie would be all that happy to see him. Not after the long day they’d shared pretending the other wasn’t in the building.

  He drove past Jess’s Jeep to the back of the building where he was pleased to see Jolie’s truck parked next to the rear entrance under the light, all four tires fully inflated. Jolie wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t risk her safety and the fact that she’d parked as close to the building as possible made Dylan feel a little better as he drove away.

  Even though he hated driving away.

  It’s the way things were. His test was coming up. He’d received his confirmation and had set up a meeting with the captain to discuss his future. He also had an appointment with his lawyer to address the matter of Lindsey entertaining a steady houseguest and thus breaking the terms of their mortgage agreement. In other words, he had a shitty trip ahead of him, but one that was necessary to put his career and his finances back on track. He had no doubt that he could rebuild his life in Lanesburg, maybe even to the point that he could see about establishing a new relationship. Who knew how things might eventually play out with him and Jolie?