The Cowboy Says I Do

by Dylann Crush

  “Down.” At Bodie’s command, Shotgun stood on all fours, her tail wagging so hard the back half of her body whipped back and forth like a rag doll. “We’re working on manners.”

  “I’m impressed.” Lacey looked up at Bodie as she leaned down to pet the dog. “She seems to be doing great.”

  Shotgun jumped up, cracking the top of her head against Lacey’s chin. Lacey stumbled back but a strong hand caught her before her tailbone hit the ground.

  “You okay?” Bodie’s hands gripped her arms and pulled her back to a standing position. “Sorry about that. She’s a work in progress.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Lacey grinned even though the area under her chin throbbed from the impact. “Shotgun, your head seems to be as hard as a rock.”

  Bodie put a hand on either side of Lacey’s face and tipped her head back. Tiny pinpricks of awareness swept over her cheeks. “She got you good. You want me to grab some ice?”

  Lacey stepped back, more worried about the feel of Bodie’s fingertips on her skin than any bruising that might be forming on her face. “No, I’m fine.”

  Shotgun stood in front of her, minus a bit of her previous enthusiasm, her tail no longer thrashing the air. She cocked her head one way, then tilted it the other.

  “That’s the universal way of saying I’m sorry in dog talk.” Bodie reached down to ruffle the dog’s ears. “She also says maybe I should have named her Bonehead instead.”

  Lacey let out a laugh as she arched a brow. “I had no idea you could communicate with animals like that.”

  “It’s a newly developed talent.” Bodie shrugged. “Just one of my superpowers, I guess.”

  Bodie was big enough to be a superhero. Her inner teenager had always considered his mere presence a superpower in and of itself. The way he could make her laugh no matter what kind of mood she was in, the way he’d resort to desperate and embarrassing lengths to coax a smile. Lacey peered up at him as she squatted next to Shotgun. Yeah, Bodie was all of her favorite superheroes combined.

  Her breath caught in her chest, making her cough on her own inhale. When did she become such a sap? She shook all cheesy thoughts of Bodie out of her head.

  “So you want that checklist?” She gave Shotgun a final pat then stood, brushing stray dog hair off her shirt.

  “Yeah, that would be great. What’s on it?”

  She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and unfolded it as she stepped close to the counter. “Not too much.”

  His finger grazed hers as he pointed to the first item on the list. Her breath hitched. Since when did being around Bodie incite choking on air? Since he’d stopped looking at her like a bug he’d like to squash and started looking at her as someone he might want to . . . what? As he ran his finger over the paper, she wondered what might happen if she pressed her hand onto his.

  “Moses removal?” His finger stopped on item number three. “Who’s Moses?”

  She jerked her finger back as hot prickles raced across her cheeks. What had gotten into her lately?

  “Lacey?” Bodie poked her in the arm. The kind of poke he might have given to her twelve-year-old self. The kind intended for someone he didn’t think of as more than an annoying little sister.

  “Moses. Yeah, that’s the armadillo Adeline saw.”

  “You named him after a biblical figure?”

  Her shoulders shook as a shiver raced through her. “It was the best I could do at the time.”

  “Fill in holes in the yard? Don’t you think we should wait until item one is taken care of to do that?”

  “It looks like a fairy garden graveyard out there. Can’t we fill in some of them so people don’t wonder why there are holes all over the place?”

  “A fairy garden graveyard?” Bodie’s head dipped. Then it shook from side to side like he’d never heard anything so stupid. But she knew for a fact he had. He and Luke used to make stuff up all the time. They once told her that an old tree in the backyard came alive at night. She was terrified to go in the backyard alone for months.

  “Just deal with the armadillos, okay? Everything else can wait until I get back.”

  “We’ll have to set live traps. Do you have a budget for that?”

  “I don’t have a budget for any of this. We’ve got a little bit left from the warehouse sale.” She noticed the way his shoulders hunched when she mentioned it. “Other than that we’ve almost maxed out the maintenance budget set aside for the house and property.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” He folded up the paper and shoved it in his pocket. “Now, do you mind if I look around? I’m pretty sure I dropped my mini flashlight while I was here for the sale.”

  “Go ahead. I didn’t see anything up here in the office so it must be in back.” She gestured toward the door to the warehouse.

  “Thanks. You want me to take Shotgun with me or leave her out here with you?”

  “I have to come back anyway to sort through some more boxes. We can all head out back.” Did Bodie really wince or did she imagine it?

  “All right. Lead the way.” He held the door open, letting her pass through first. Shotgun bounded after her, dragging her new green-and-brown-camouflage-print leash behind her.

  “I’ll be over here sorting through fake flowers. Let me know if you need anything.” She turned left to head down one aisle while Bodie went to the opposite side of the warehouse.

  While she sorted through boxes and bins of silk flowers, garlands, and greenery, she couldn’t help but think about the predicament she’d stuck herself in. If she didn’t come through for Adeline’s wedding, she might as well kiss any hope of success good-bye. Adeline wasn’t the kind of woman who believed in doling out second chances. She expected 120 percent effort all the time. If a single thing went wrong, no matter how well the rest of the event went, it would shroud the evening in failure. Lacey took in a gulp of air and forced it down, past the tightness in her chest.

  As she opened another box, a crash sounded from the other side of the warehouse. “Bodie? Are you okay?”

  Shotgun barked. Bodie yelled something she couldn’t make out, and Lacey took off in that direction.

  She rounded a set of shelves to find Shotgun and Bodie engaged in a game of tug-of-war. Bodie crouched down, his hands wrapped around something Shotgun held in her mouth.

  “What’s going on?”

  Bodie looked up, letting go of his grip. “Damn dog knocked over a box of breakables.”

  Lacey’s gaze passed over the chunks of white ceramic scattered all over the floor. “What was it?”

  “It was a box of beavers.” He stretched his hands to the sides, nodding toward the mix of cardboard and packing peanuts spilling over the floor in front of him. “Shotgun wouldn’t leave it alone. She jumped up and knocked it off the shelf.”

  Lacey nudged the mess with the toe of her boot. “Are they all broken?”

  Bodie knelt down and sifted through the packing material. “What the hell?”

  “What?” Lacey squatted next to him.

  He lifted up the remains of a bucktoothed beaver figurine. Something long and brown stuck up from the center. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  Lacey squinted, trying to see what Bodie must be seeing. “What is it?”

  “I think we just figured out why my dad and pops were so eager to get their hands on your beavers.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Bodie made eye contact, looking like he’d just realized where they were and who squatted down next to him. “Sorry, I mean the beaver figurines. Do you know what this is?”

  Lacey squinted again as she shook her head. “No. Are you going to tell me?”

  He let the beaver’s bottom drop to the floor and held the bundle in front of her. “This makes so much sense now.”

  Impatience was getting the best of her. She clamped her hand
s to her hips as she stood. “I’m glad you’ve figured out what’s going on. Now, do you want to enlighten me? Please?”

  Still squatting, he had to look up to meet her eyes. “Have you ever seen my dad without a cigar in his mouth?”

  She nibbled on her lower lip as she considered the question. “No, I can’t say that I have.”

  As Bodie stood, he handed her the bundle. “Any idea what kind of cigars my dad likes to smoke?” At her blank stare, he rolled his eyes. “Cubans.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Lacey shrugged. “So?”

  She still didn’t get it. Bodie wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. Not in a creepy way. In a “come on girl, get with the program” way. “It’s illegal to import Cuban cigars into the States for commercial purposes, Mayor Cherish.”

  Finally, a hint of understanding lit her gaze. “You mean your dad and pops were using the import business as a front to illegally import them?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d say we’ve got some irrefutable evidence here.” He leaned over, digging through the box of broken beavers. Every single one of them had a bundle of cigars tucked inside. “How many boxes of beavers do you have?”

  She looked up at the shelf towering above her. “All the boxes on this shelving unit. Plus some more against the wall over there.”

  Bodie put his hand to his temple as he shook his head. “No wonder they wanted them back. There’s got to be thousands of dollars’ worth of cigars here.”

  “So what are you waiting for?” Lacey tossed another bundle onto the heap.

  “What do you mean?”

  Her gaze shifted to where Shotgun lay on the ground, chewing up a piece of cardboard. “If what you said is true, they’re breaking the law. Aren’t you going to arrest them?”

  “Not without a little more investigating.” Bodie grimaced. “I need to figure out what they wanted to do with them, where they were getting them . . . letting them know we’re onto them wouldn’t help the case at this point.”

  She clamped her arms to her waist, her brow furrowed. “So you’re not going to say anything about this?”

  “No”—he put his hand on her shoulder—“and you can’t, either.”

  Lacey’s gaze traveled to where his palm rested, making him acutely aware of the heat generated by his touch. “And why not?”

  “Because if they know we know something they’ll be liable to destroy the evidence.” That would set him back, putting him even farther away from learning what his dad and pops were up to.

  “You think your dad’s going to smoke them all?” Her lips quirked up at the edges like she wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the idea.

  “Just promise me you won’t say anything for a few days?”

  nineteen

  Bodie’s stomach clenched as he waited for her response. In his experience, Lacey could be unpredictable. At least she had been when she was younger. She’d promise to stay behind so he and Luke could meet up with friends then always show up where she knew they’d be. Hopefully she placed more value on her word than she had when she was ten. He studied her, trying to figure out if she’d be on board.

  “Fine.”

  He exhaled, his breath seeping out like a deflating balloon. “Thank you.”

  “I’m not doing it for you.” Her lashes fluttered as she blinked her eyes, drawing his gaze to the light smattering of freckles that still danced across her nose. “I’m doing it for everyone else. The town deserves to know what’s going on and if holding off gives you a better chance to uncover the whole story . . .”

  “It will. I promise.” He squeezed her shoulder then let his hand fall to his side. Knowing Lacey wouldn’t spill the beans took care of one issue. Now he had to deal with the more dangerous one—confronting his family. He didn’t know much about cigars beyond the fact his dad always seemed to have one clenched between his teeth, but if what they were doing was illegal . . .

  “I’m going to go grab a broom and sweep up this mess.” Lacey used her foot to nudge the broken pieces into a pile. “Hey, where did Shotgun go?”

  Bodie glanced to where the dog had been shredding the cardboard just moments before. “I don’t know. Shotgun!”

  When the dog didn’t come right away, Lacey moved toward the end of the aisle. “Shotgun, come here, girl.”

  “You go left, I’ll go right?” Bodie asked, already heading in the opposite direction.

  Lacey nodded before she disappeared around the corner. Bodie turned the other way, peering down the aisles as he went. Where could the dog go? It’s not like she would have sniffed out anything edible in the mix of decorations and figurines.

  “Found her.” Lacey’s voice came from a few rows over.

  Bodie followed, rounding the corner to see Lacey crouched over the poor mutt. Shotgun lay on her side, her tongue lolling out of her mouth.

  “What happened?” Bodie squatted down next to her, not liking the way the dog didn’t make any kind of effort to get up. His stomach churned as he ran a hand behind her ears. “Come on, girl.”

  “I think she ate your evidence.” Lacey pointed to what was left of a chewed-up bundle of cigars. “Do you think the tobacco made her sick?”

  “I don’t know, but we’d better get her to the vet.” He scooped Shotgun up in his arms. A giant pink tongue lapped at his cheek. Once. Twice. Then Shotgun panted as Bodie tried to get a better grip. “Do you want to try Zina or should we find an emergency vet?”

  Lacey must have already dialed. She held her phone to her ear. “She’s not picking up.”

  “To the vet, then. Can you try to find the nearest one?” He pushed through the front door, Shotgun still in his arms.

  Lacey climbed into his truck first then he laid Shotgun in her lap. “Hurry, Lacey.”

  Her fingers tapped on her phone. “There’s one about forty-five minutes away. Just east of Swynton.”

  “You going with me?”

  “Of course.”

  “All right, then.” He turned the key and threw the truck into drive. The beavers would have to wait. He’d become more attached than he thought he would to the pup Lacey held in her arms. More than he should have.

  Lacey ran her hand over Shotgun’s side. “You’ll be okay, hon.”

  Bodie reached over to rub Shotgun’s belly, his hand nudging Lacey’s. She looked up and his heart bounced around in his chest.

  “She’s going to be okay, isn’t she?” Lacey asked.

  “Of course. They’ll probably just make her throw up. She’ll be back to her bad manners in no time.” To further prove his point, he covered Lacey’s hand with his and gave it a squeeze.

  Lacey nodded then turned her head toward the window. She held tight to his hand though, making him all too aware of how fragile she suddenly seemed. She’d lost someone close to her already. Although, comparing the loss of her mom to her fear of losing Shotgun didn’t seem fair. With luck and hopefully a talented vet at the emergency center, she wouldn’t have to go through losing anyone else. Not if he had anything to say about it.

  By the time they pulled into the clinic, Shotgun had begun to shake. Bodie scooped her off Lacey’s lap and raced into the clinic. Since they’d called ahead, someone met him at the door and ushered him back to a room right away. Lacey followed, her face reflecting his own fear. After everything the dog had been through, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something bad happened and he hadn’t been able to prevent it.

  The vet tech got Shotgun settled on the table as the vet came into the room.

  “Hi, I’m Dr. Yang.” She shook both of their hands then quickly got to work examining Shotgun. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  Bodie glanced to Lacey, then spoke up. “We think she ate a number of cigars.”

  “What do you mean by ‘a number’
?” Dr. Yang pressed a stethoscope against the dog’s chest then moved it around.

  “I’m not sure. A handful of them. Maybe three to five?” Bodie shrugged. “Is she going to be okay?”

  “Nicotine is very dangerous for dogs, especially smaller breeds. But even a dog her size can be affected. How long ago did this happen?”

  “About an hour,” Lacey said.

  The vet nodded. “We’re going to give her something to make her throw up then probably start an IV to help flush out her system. We’ll be moving her to one of the back rooms so if you want to head out to the waiting room, I’ll let you know when we have more information.”

  “Okay.” Bodie ran a hand down Shotgun’s side. The dog looked up at him. “You’re going to be okay, girl.”

  Lacey rubbed Shotgun’s head. “We’ll be right outside.”

  Bodie reached for Lacey’s hand, twining his fingers with hers as the vet tech picked up Shotgun and carried her out of the room.

  “She’s going to be okay, isn’t she?” Lacey turned her gaze to him, her lower lip trembling.

  “I’m sure they’re doing everything they can.” Bodie wanted more than anything to reassure her, to tell her that everything would be just fine. But he didn’t want to be a liar. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “Hey, why didn’t you ever get a dog or a cat when you were growing up?”

  She glanced at him then dropped her gaze to where his hand wrapped around hers. “We had a cat, remember?”

  All of a sudden, an image of a tiny orange-and-white tabby formed. Shortly after her mom died, Lacey found a stray kitten. She’d cared for that little cat like her life depended on it. Looking back, it probably had. He’d been so busy then trying to be there for Luke while he grieved. Neither one of them paid much attention to Lacey and her crusade to save the kitten. She ended up losing it. The cat was too young.

  “That’s right. You had that kitten for a little while.” He leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee.

  “Not long enough.” She reached up and swiped at her cheek.