Stand-Up Cowboy

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Stephanie Bond

  “Yes. Just so you understand that I—”

  “I understand, Anna. I’d never want to cause you distress. See you at five-thirty.” Touching two fingers to the brim of his hat, he turned and walked to the door. He didn’t look back.

  She, on the other hand, followed his every movement as his long strides took him across the lobby. He pulled the heavy door open with ease and stepped outside.

  A group of three older women approached the entrance. He must have greeted them, because they paused to chat, smiling at something he’d said. He held the door for them before walking briskly to his truck.

  “What a perfect start to our visit,” one of the women said to the other two as they approached the reception desk. She sounded like she might be from back East, maybe Boston.

  “No kidding,” another one said with the same accent. “Our first real cowboy.”

  The third woman grinned. “And a dashingly handsome one at that.” She glanced at Anna. “Do you know that man?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He’s one of the wranglers at the Buckskin.”

  “Do the other ranch hands look like him?”

  “I’m probably prejudiced, but I think they’re all very attractive.”

  The woman turned to her two companions. “We screwed up, girls. We should have booked a cabin here at the ranch instead of getting rooms at the hotel in town.”

  Jake picked that moment to walk down the hall and into the lobby, still wearing his shearling coat and his Stetson. “Hello, ladies.” He tipped his hat in their direction. “Welcome to Raptors Rise. What can I do for you on this lovely afternoon?”

  “Definitely screwed up,” the first woman muttered under her breath.

  Anna swallowed her laughter as Jake laid on the charm. In a matter of minutes, the ladies had cancelled their hotel rooms, booked a large guest cabin, paid for a personal tour and made a generous donation to the sanctuary.

  They’d also given her a renewed appreciation for her circumstances. They were visitors, while she was one of the lucky women who lived here surrounded by the good guys of the Buckskin Brotherhood. Instead of recalling past traumas, she’d be better off counting her blessings. And Garrett was certainly one of them.

  Garrett added to her already high opinion of him when he pulled up to her cottage driving her Taurus.

  At the rumble of a car’s engine, Georgie ran to the window. He was still wearing the cowboy hat Henri had given him. She’d mentioned that a cowboy usually took off his hat indoors, but he’d looked so crestfallen she hadn’t insisted on it.

  He pushed the curtain aside, stood on tiptoe and pressed his face to the window. “Mama! My car! It’s back!” Then his jubilation turned to dismay. “Grit? Grit’s got my car?”

  “It needed to be fixed, son. Garrett fixed it for us.”

  “No! He can’t fixed it!” He whirled away from the window. “He can’t fixed it, Mama!” He sent her a pleading look.

  “He can and he did. We’re fortunate that he—”

  “Don’t want him.” The sound of a car door opening sent him racing back to the window. “He’s coming! Grit’s coming!”

  “I invited him for dinner.”

  “No!” Georgie ran to the door and hopped up and down trying to reach the deadbolt.

  “Georgie. Son. Take it easy.” She walked over and laid her hands on his shoulders. “He’s coming for dinner and then we’ll have s’mores.”

  He stopped jumping, clearly torn by opposing desires.

  Garrett tapped on the door.

  That settled the matter. “Don’t want Grit, Mama.” Georgie took off for the safety of his room.

  She sighed and opened the front door.

  “Alignment’s fine and brakes are operational.”

  “That’s awesome!” Garrett’s pleased expression almost cancelled out Georgie’s negativity.

  “Zeke pitched in, which made things move along faster.”

  “That sure was nice. Would you tell him thank you for me?”

  “Happy to. So far, he’s been an asset around here.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” She peered around him. The car was a lot cleaner than it had been when she’d driven it yesterday. “Don’t tell me you washed it, too.”

  He shrugged. “Made it easier to evaluate the damage to the bumper.”

  “Let me get my coat. I want to check that out.” She plucked it from the coat tree and shoved one arm in the sleeve as she came out the door and closed it behind her.

  “Hold on.” He grasped the hood, helped her into the other sleeve and settled the parka over her shoulders.

  “Thanks.” The slight pressure from his hands gave her the tingles. The urge to have body contact with the guy was becoming annoyingly frequent. She held the parka closed instead of bothering to zip it. “I don’t remember my car being that shiny even after I washed it.” She descended the steps.

  “I happened to have some wax.”

  She turned back as he came down behind her. “You waxed it? Garrett!”

  He gave her a little-boy grin. “Told you I like messing with vehicles. Making them run better. And look better.”

  “Well, my car hasn’t looked this good since I bought it. Thank you.” She crouched to examine the bumper. “These few little pock marks and scratches? That’s what you want to take care of?”

  “Wouldn’t you rather not have them?”

  She stood and faced him. His eyes gleamed with eagerness. “You won’t be happy unless you complete the job, will you?”

  “No, ma’am. It’s a good little car. No reason for it to have dings in the front fender.”

  “All right, then. I appreciate all your effort.”

  “You’re very welcome.” He held up her keyring. “Normally I’d suggest going for a test drive, but that’s complicated.”

  “Uh, yeah. And I just thought of something. If you drove my car over here, how are you getting back to the bunkhouse?”

  “I’ll walk.”

  “That seems wrong.”

  “I’m not asking you to drag Georgie along, especially because it’ll be close to his bedtime.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Zeke offered to come and get me if I need a ride.”

  “Then I want you to contact him when we’re finished with the s’mores. It’s too cold for you to walk.”

  “No, it’s not, but I’ll text him later if that will make you feel better.”

  “It will. And thank you again. The car looks great.”

  “You’re so welcome.”

  A breeze picked up and she shivered. “Let’s go in. It’s another good night for a fire.”

  “And s’mores.”

  “Absolutely.” She led the way into the house. A quick glance confirmed that Georgie had shut his door. “I’m thrilled to have my car back so soon, too.” She hung up her parka. “Your speedy job calls for a bottle of cider.”

  “I accept.” He left his coat and hat on the coat tree and followed her into the kitchen nook. “I see Georgie’s door’s closed.”

  “He wasn’t happy that you fixed his car. But you know what? I’m not going to insist on him leaving his door open or try to coax him out. You just did us a huge favor and if he doesn’t appreciate it, too bad.”

  “I was glad to do it.”

  “I can tell, which makes the gesture even more special.” She took two bottles of cider out of the fridge. “You’d better have come prepared with a bill for the parts, though.”

  “I did.” He pulled it out of his shirt pocket and gestured toward the bottles in her hand. “I’ll open those while you look at the bill.”

  “Thanks.” She gave him the bottles and took the receipt. Her eyes widened as she glanced at it. “That’s it?”

  He shrugged. “The parts aren’t that expensive.”

  “But the labor is.” She gazed at him. “A meatloaf dinner doesn’t seem adequate. I should have picked up some steaks or—”

  “A meatloaf takes more effort tha
n a steak.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Anna, I enjoyed doing you this favor.”

  “You’ve said that and I understand that you like working on vehicles. But I feel the need to reciprocate.”

  “Clearly you haven’t read the latest research on happiness.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Fortunately, I have.” He handed her one of the bottles. “Doing nice things for others is one of the key ingredients. This repair job borders on selfish, because I enjoy the work and it’s a big help to you.”

  She smiled. “I don’t think selfishness figures into it.”

  His cheerful expression disappeared and he glanced down, clearly uncomfortable.

  “Garrett? What’s wrong?”

  He raised his head and met her gaze. “Selfishness does figure into it, Anna.” He hesitated. “I’m attracted to you.”

  She gulped. “But I thought we agreed that—”

  “We did, and I promise to abide by your rules. But in all fairness, I should admit that I’m hoping someday you’ll bend those rules.”

  Her chest tightened and breathing became difficult. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m trying my best to understand. You’ve given me hints of the hell you’ve been through. And then there’s Georgie.”

  “And he’s the most important person in my world.”

  “As well he should be.”

  She searched his expression, her heart thumping. “Do you mean that?”

  “I do. He was here first. He has claim to your unwavering allegiance.”

  The tension in her chest eased. “Thank you for that.” She soaked up the compassion in his beautiful eyes. “Since we’re confessing things, I should admit I’m attracted to you, too.”

  His breath caught. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “It might not be the right thing to do. I don’t want to give you false hope.”

  “Doesn’t seem false. More like a glimmer of light in a dark tunnel. I’ll take it.”

  The glow of pleasure in his eyes had a hypnotic effect. She moved closer. “But since Georgie resists the idea of having a man around, there’s no way I can—”

  “I know that.” He reached out to touch her cheek and pulled back. “It’s okay. First things first.”

  “Thank you.” She appreciated his restraint. She really did. But she longed for him to stroke her cheek. Just once.

  Chapter Nine

  Anna wanted him. Could it be that he’d finally found the right woman? He dived into food prep as if he’d dismissed the topic of their mutual attraction, but he hadn’t, not by a long shot.

  While he tore lettuce and sliced tomatoes, while he steamed veggies and sautéed garlic in olive oil, he continued to savor the moment when she’d told him, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed. He’d barely stopped himself from touching her.

  Good thing he’d restrained the impulse. Brushing his hand over her warm skin wouldn’t be enough. He’d want to taste her full lips. That would be a betrayal.

  She’d trusted him enough to share her feelings. She’d already stated her reservations. Kissing her would be unfair.

  He only had one path forward, making friends with Georgie. The little boy’s door remained firmly closed. Evidently, driving up in the car Georgie considered his private property had crossed a line.

  No good deed goes unpunished. He’d heard that years ago, long before he’d read the article about happiness. He should contact the psychologist who’d written the article and ask about the saying.

  Anna grabbed a couple of potholders and took the meatloaf out of the oven.

  “Smells wonderful.” Not as wonderful as she did, some spicy perfume he’d guess had been recently applied. He’d keep that observation to himself.

  “Thank you. I like this recipe.” She set the dish on a hot pad and took plates from the cupboard. “Georgie hasn’t come out to spy on us, which tells me he’s super upset. I’m going to take his food into his room and close the door when I leave.”

  “All right.”

  “I’ll have a little chat with him when I do that. He’s being rude to someone who’s been nothing but kind to him. Maybe I can bring him around.”

  “Maybe. But seeing me driving the car seems to have really bothered him.”

  “Apparently.” She cut a small piece from the meatloaf and put it on one of the plates. “Much as I hated having the accident, it was a good thing. I have a bigger problem with Georgie than I realized if he can’t handle you driving our car.”

  “He’s just afraid. I’m invading his world and that scares him.”

  “I know, but if we don’t deal with it now, it’ll only get worse.”

  His heart warmed. She’d used we. She’d included him.

  She put salad and a helping of vegetables on his plate. “Since he’ll probably eat in his room, what would you think about moving the table over behind the couch? Then we can watch the fire while we eat.”

  “Good idea. I’ll set us up while you take his food in.”

  “Thanks.” She sent him a smile as she poured a glass of milk and got child-sized silverware out of a drawer.

  While she put everything on a tray, he crossed to the table, picked it up and carried it over to the couch. When he turned around, she’d paused with the tray in her hands. She looked momentarily disconcerted as she focused on him.

  He glanced back at the table. “Isn’t that where you wanted it?”

  “You put it in exactly the right place. I just… I’d forgotten what it’s like to have a man around who can move things without effort.”

  “It’s not heavy. I’m sure you could—”

  “I could. And I have. But my arms are shorter than yours and so is my body. I can’t accomplish the task as elegantly as you just did.”

  He snorted. “I wouldn’t call that move elegant.”

  “Well, it was.” She headed toward Georgie’s room.

  Elegant? No way. The slight sway of her hips as she walked toward Georgie’s room, though—that was elegant. Poetry in motion.

  Carrying the table was no big deal. But evidently she’d enjoyed watching him do it. Good sign that she was becoming aware of—

  “I think we’ll need more firewood.” She balanced the tray against her hip and reached for the doorknob. She glanced over her shoulder. “There’s more under a tarp beside the porch if you’d be willing to get it.”

  He snapped out of his daze. “Sure thing.” Time to cool the hell down. He decided against putting on his coat as he walked outside to fetch the wood.

  There was nothing sexy about her request to fill the wood box, but the gleam in her eyes just now had sent a distinct signal to his privates. He knew that expression, and it meant a woman was beginning to contemplate the possibilities.

  She might deny it, but what had prompted her suggestion to set up closer to the fire? A lot more romantic than the kitchen nook, right? At least he considered it romantic. She might just like the warmth of the fire.

  He loaded up on wood and was nicely chilled by the time he came back in. The firm tone of her voice penetrated the closed door of Georgie’s room, but not the words themselves. He felt for the little kid. Change was hard.

  Once the fire was crackling, he brought two chairs over and positioned them on either side of the table. Then he took silverware out of the drawer, found where she kept the napkins and set two places.

  The fire could use another log. He was adding one when she came out of Georgie’s room alone.

  “You’re right about the car being the problem,” she said. “He had trouble expressing it, but he’s convinced you’re taking charge of everything and on some level he remembers that wasn’t a good thing in the past.”

  “Any idea how we can show him I’m not taking charge?”

  “We can hold off on the bumper repair, for one thing. I know you’re itching to make it look good again, but—”

  “Not if the car�
�s a bone of contention. That repair can wait. Ready to have some dinner?”

  “Yes, I am.” She walked toward the kitchen. “I don’t eat by the fire often enough. Maybe I should just leave the table there for the rest of the winter.” She picked up a plate and dished herself some food.

  “I would.” He started filling his plate.

  “Be sure you take plenty.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. I got that memo.” He carried his food over to the table.

  She set her plate down and headed back to the kitchen. “I’m going to have another bottle of cider. Would you like one, too?”

  “Sure. I’m not driving tonight.” He followed her back to the fridge and took the bottles she handed out to him.

  “I can’t believe two bottles of cider would affect you.”

  “Probably not.” He opened both and gave one back. “It’s just one of those things people say.”

  “In my case, it applies.” She carried her cider back to the table. “If I had to drive, I wouldn’t have another. But I’m ready to take the edge off reality for a little while.”

  “Don’t blame you.” He helped her into her chair. If they’d been alone in the cabin, he would have taken her statement as a hint that she was open to some cuddling by the fire. But they weren’t alone. Still, it meant she trusted him enough to let down her guard.

  He glanced at the fire before sitting down. “Think I’ll shift those logs around, make sure they’ve all caught. I’m going for a nice bed of coals, unless you’ve changed your mind about s’mores.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Good.” He rounded the couch and crouched in front of the fire. “I’m looking forward to ’em.”

  “Me, too. I told Georgie we’d be doing it. I can’t imagine he’d pass that up, but who knows? He has a stubborn streak.”

  Garrett smiled. Like his mama? Not a bad thing. No doubt it had fueled her determination to get out of her bad marriage.

  “You seem to know your way around a fireplace.”

  “Not until I hired on here. The fire pit out behind the bunkhouse is where I learned the most about building and maintaining one.”

  “Jake said that’s a popular gathering place. Do you think having Claire living with you will change that?”