Cowboys Like Us

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  She looked extremely pretty this morning, with her glossy hair swept up in the ponytail he’d found so perky when he’d first met her. She wore a moss-green tank top and khaki shorts. He supposed that was because today she wasn’t required to be a bartender or a cowgirl. Instead she was a granddaughter.

  Country music had been playing on the radio when she’d switched on the engine, but now she turned it off.

  “I don’t care if you’d like to listen to that,” he said.

  “I’d rather talk to you. What did Elmer Crookshanks have to say?”

  “Weren’t you in the shower?”

  “I made it a fast one. Then I came out to see if you were back, and when I looked out the window, there you were, trapped by old Elmer.”

  “Without my boots and shirt, which I think telegraphed what we’ve been up to.”

  She looked at him, wide-eyed. “You think that telegraphed whipped cream and butterscotch schnapps?” “Maybe not specifically what we’ve been up to, smart-ass. I like to think the whipped cream and butterscotch schnapps will be our little secret for at least the next fifty or sixty years.”

  “Sorry. I’ve already contacted the Enquirer and they want my story. Gonna pay me big bucks, too.”

  “Don’t bother. Elmer Crookshanks will have the whole thing leaked by sundown, and the Enquirer isn’t interested unless they get an exclusive.”

  “There goes my retirement fund.”

  “Seriously, Caro, I’m sorry I ran down there half-dressed and practically announced to the world that I’ve been in your bed all night. I should have figured out a different plan.”

  “As I keep telling you, it will only raise my stature in this community if everyone knows I’ve had S-E-X with the great Logan Carswell. Relax.”

  “You’re not going to tell anyone about the whipped cream and butterscotch schnapps, though, right?”

  She grinned. “I don’t know. What’s it worth to you?”

  “Caro!”

  “No, I’m not telling that, for heaven’s sake. That was private. But as for everyone figuring out that you spent the night in my apartment with me, I don’t give a flip. It was worth it.”

  “You’re one special woman, Caro.”

  She gave him a quick smile. “I’d have to be to snag a hunk of burning love like you for a few nights.”

  He reached over and gave her knee a squeeze.

  “Watch it. We don’t have condoms yet.”

  “I know. And you’re driving. The last thing we need is a fender bender because I was distracting you.” He settled back in his seat. “So what do you think about this Peter Beckett?”

  “His project, or him in general?” She reached for a pair of aviator sunglasses on the dashboard and put them on.

  “Both, I guess.” Logan knew he should be enjoying the scenery out the window, but he was more interested in the scenery inside the truck. Caro looked hot in that outfit and the sexy shades made her look even hotter.

  “His project sounds fabulous. I’ve heard of programs like that, where teenagers go stay somewhere they have space to move around, and can interact with animals. It’s supposedly very good therapy for them.”

  “I can see how it would be. And there would be plenty of adult supervision, with all the hands around to ride herd on them. Emmett told me that mucking out stalls was great therapy.”

  “I’ll bet it is. I haven’t had much opportunity, but I can imagine that you get down to basics when you’re shoveling horse poop.”

  “I should probably try it.”

  She glanced at him, but her expression was hidden behind her shades. “You probably should.”

  He couldn’t help wondering what else she thought he should do, like maybe accept Beckett’s offer. She hadn’t said so, but if she was so high on the idea, she must be thinking he was a fool to pass it up.

  “Do you think I should consider working with Beckett?”

  “Not if you don’t want to.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that I don’t think my head’s in the right place to be a help to those kids.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Caro?”

  “I don’t know whether I should say anything or not, Logan. This is your life, and you have to come to these decisions on your own.”

  “You’re right, and I will, but something’s going on in your head. I can tell. I’d like to know your opinion.”

  “You might not like what I have to say.”

  “So what? Do you think I can’t take it?” When she hesitated, he finally realized what was going on. “You don’t think I can take it.”

  “Alex warned us that you would probably be a little…fragile.”

  Logan blew out a breath. “Fragile.” The word felt bitter on his tongue. He might be struggling, but he was never fragile.

  “Well, is that so wrong? You just said your head wasn’t in a good place to help those kids! Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “No! It just means I don’t feel qualified to give anybody advice on how to live their lives at the moment, because I don’t know how I’m going to live mine. Eventually I’ll figure it out, but I’m not there yet.”

  She took a deep breath. “If you would get into something like Beckett’s program, I’ll bet it would help you as much as it would help the kids.”

  “That’s not what Beckett is looking—”

  “You don’t really know what he wants from you, because you didn’t give him a chance to discuss it.”

  “He said he wanted someone the kids could look up to, a role model. I don’t see how I can be that when I’m essentially out of work.”

  “Logan, don’t you see? Those kids don’t need some supersuccessful dude who’s never had a real problem telling them how to live. I’m sure they’d prefer somebody they can relate to. You’re coming back from a hard knock. They’ll understand that. They might even teach you something about how to recover.”

  “Ah.” Logan stared out the windshield, but he still wasn’t seeing the Wyoming countryside. Instead he saw his dad’s face as he’d crouched down in front of him during a Little League game when Logan had just struck out, ending any hopes for the team’s victory. He’d been eight years old, and close to tears.

  His father had taken him firmly by the shoulders. Never let them see you sweat, son. His father’s words had shaped Logan’s entire career, his entire life, come to think of it. He’d had highs and lows during the past twenty-five years, but nobody, by God, had ever seen him sweat.

  In effect, Caro was suggesting a complete one-eighty. She was asking him to show the world, or at least these teenagers, that he was vulnerable, that he could be hurt, that he had been hurt. He wasn’t sure he could do that.

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t like it,” she said.

  “It’s not that.” He glanced over at her. “What you’re saying might be great advice for somebody else. I don’t know that it would work for me.”

  She shrugged. “No biggie. It was just an idea.”

  But he thought it was more than that. It was a way that he could be with her. Although she would never point it out, any idiot could see how taking Beckett’s offer would mean Caro could be part of his life. But unfortunately, she had the wrong man for the job.

  14

  CARO DROPPED THE SUBJECT of Peter Beckett’s project after that and spent the rest of the drive pointing out places of interest. At last they pulled into the parking area beside the assisted living facility, only a few minutes later than Caro normally arrived there.

  “Looks like a nice place,” Logan said.

  “It’s a beautiful place. As you can see, they nestled it in among some tall pines, without clear-cutting the property. There are shady walking paths for the residents who are ambulatory, and bird feeders by the windows of those who aren’t. The décor is cheerful and the food’s good. I just wish my grandmother liked it.”

  “How long has she been here?”

  “Six months.”
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  “And she’s eighty…what?”

  “Eighty-three. She lived in her house in Shoshone for almost sixty of those years. She and my grandfather rented it at first, and then scraped together the money for a down payment. He’d died by the time I moved in as a kid, but it was obvious the house contained many memories of him.”

  “So it’s not hard to understand why she’s resistant to this place.”

  “No.” Caro gazed at the one-story building with its hanging pots of petunias and rockers on the front porch. “I get it, which is why I come to visit her every day. I know physically she’s much better off here, but mentally…” Caro sighed.

  “What are her health issues?”

  “Osteoporosis, for one. She’s already had several small fractures and she has to use a walker because her balance is bad. And she’s diabetic, and arthritic, and has a heart condition. You know. The usual.”

  “I don’t know. My grandparents on both sides are doing pretty well, judging by that laundry list.”

  “Then you’re lucky.” She wasn’t surprised that his relatives would be healthy, considering what a fine specimen he was. She’d bet that poor health was considered a weakness in his family. “We’d better go in. I’m sure she’s sitting there waiting impatiently for me.”

  Caro opened her door, but Logan, despite his bum knee, managed to round the hood of the truck in record time. “Nice manners, Mr. Carswell.”

  “Good thing I have them, too. I learned right away that Sarah Chance is a stickler for manners. I wouldn’t have lasted long in her house acting like a clod, no matter how famous I am.”

  Caro accepted his guiding hand as she climbed down from the truck. Touching him was such a pleasure. She would miss that. “Do you think Sarah has a little bit of a crush on Peter Beckett?”

  “Looked like it to me.” Logan gave her hand a squeeze before releasing it. Then he closed the driver’s side door. “I wonder if anybody else picked up on it.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they did. Sarah might not be ready to admit it to herself, though. Jonathan Chance cast a long shadow in this area. She might think a romance would be disloyal to his memory.”

  “That would be too bad, especially if she’s attracted to Beckett.”

  “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” Or Caro would. Logan’s interest in the matter would probably disappear once he returned to Chicago.

  She walked with him up to the glass double doors that opened onto the visitor’s lounge. Sure enough, Grandma Bonnie sat in a wingback chair facing the entrance, her walker at her side. Her short white hair was perfectly styled, her makeup carefully applied, and her slacks and white blouse spotless. She’d always been fastidious.

  Several other residents sat in the lounge, too. More casually dressed and quite chatty, they were gathered around a couple of card tables playing games. Grandma Bonnie had never shown any interest in joining them.

  But she was certainly interested in Caro’s companion. Her eyes widened behind her rimless glasses and she gave Logan the once-over. Then she glanced at Caro, her expression alarmed. She obviously thought this man represented a threat to her routine.

  Caro hurried over, Logan by her side. “Grandma, I’d like to introduce Alex Keller’s friend, Logan Carswell. He came from Chicago for the wedding.” She hadn’t rehearsed what to say after that.

  “But why did he come to Pine Grove with you?” Bonnie immediately asked.

  Logan stepped forward. “Until a few months ago, I was a catcher for the Chicago Cubs,” he said in a voice loud enough to carry to the other residents. “Caro thought some of the folks here would like to talk a little baseball.” “You mean Carolyn. I hate that nickname she uses now.”

  “I’d like to talk baseball!” A bald guy with black-framed glasses left the table where he’d been playing cards. “Are you Logan Carswell, the guy who got hurt last season?”

  “That’s me.”

  “Logan Carswell!” A portly man hobbled over with the help of his cane. “Right here at Pine Grove! I need to find me something you can autograph! My grandson will be over the moon. Hell, I’ll be over the moon. I need two things you can autograph. Wait here. I’ll be back.”

  Caro watched in fascination as a crowd gathered around Logan. In addition to asking for autographs, they plied him with coffee and doughnuts.

  “Here.” A stout little lady shoved a paperback at him. “You can autograph this.”

  Logan looked perplexed. “But I didn’t write it.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You can still autograph it.”

  “But—it’s a romance novel.”

  “And you look like a romance hero to me, so…” She waved a ballpoint pen in his direction. “Just put your John Henry on the inside. I don’t know who you are, but everybody else seems to think you’re important, so what the hey. You’re cute, which is what I like about you.”

  Logan sent Caro a helpless look before signing the inside of the paperback.

  Caro worked hard not to laugh. At least her grandmother couldn’t be worried that she’d brought Logan here because he was her new boyfriend. She’d brought Pine Grove a trophy, obviously. Everyone was thrilled.

  Except Grandma Bonnie.

  “I still don’t understand what he’s doing here,” she murmured to Caro. “The wedding’s over, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it’s over. Alex and Tyler have left on their honeymoon.”

  “I’ll bet they had the reception at the Spirits and Spurs. If I still lived in Shoshone, I could have gone to it.”

  Caro didn’t want to let her get started down that conversational path. “Let me get some coffee and doughnuts for us, too.”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  Caro used her waitressing skills to balance the coffee, napkins and a couple of doughnuts. She set everything on a small table next to her grandmother’s chair. “Exciting news, Grandma. A guy named Peter Beckett wants to set up a summer camp for troubled teens at the Last Chance Ranch.”

  “That’s nice.” Her grandmother seemed more interested in the doughnut selection.

  “If they do it, they’ll build bunks in the upstairs bedrooms, so I was thinking I might make some quilts this winter for the beds and donate them to the effort.”

  Grandma Bonnie frowned. “I don’t know how you’ll have time, what with your job and coming to see me.”

  “I may not, but I’d like to do it. I think it would be so homey and comforting for them to walk in and see those handmade quilts on the beds, don’t you?”

  Her grandmother’s face softened. “There’s nothing quite like the look of a handmade quilt on a bed.”

  “No.” Caro waited to see if the seed she’d planted would take root. “There isn’t.”

  “I might be able to make a quilt or two this winter.”

  Caro wanted to shout for joy. “Could you? That would be wonderful, Grandma.”

  “What you really need to do for those poor children is let them take the quilt home when they leave. Now that would be something special. Of course, then you’d need a lot more quilts….”

  “I suppose so.” Caro wasn’t sure where this was going, but she let her grandmother take the lead.

  “You know, there’s a lot of card playing around here.”

  For one terrible moment, Caro thought Grandma Bonnie was slipping into dementia, because the comment had no connection to the topic.

  “When what these people could be doing, instead, is cutting out quilt squares. In fact, some of the ladies might know a thing or two about making quilts, and if they don’t, I’ll teach them.” Bonnie glanced up at Caro, and for the first time in six months, there was a gleam in her eyes. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s brilliant. I have to make sure this project is on, for sure, and the minute I know, we’ll get started.”

  “You mean it might not happen?” Her grandmother’s sparkle disappeared.

  “I’m virtually sure it will happen.” Caro mentally crossed her fingers be
hind her back. “In fact, I’m so sure, I’ll bring in some supplies tomorrow when I come, and a few extra pairs of scissors, so you can get this show on the road.”

  “But if it might not be needed, then—”

  “It will be. I’m positive. We’ll get started tomorrow morning. You can alert whoever is going to help. Even the guys.”

  “Of course I’ll tell those men! Why, your grandpa used to cut out squares for me all the time. He was good at it, too.”

  Caro glanced over to the crowd that still surrounded Logan, and realized he’d likely be busy for the rest of the time they stayed. She’d have to tear him away from his admirers when it was time to leave.

  “He seems like a nice young man,” Grandma Bonnie said. “If he didn’t live in Chicago, you might want to date him.”

  Covering her astonishment that her grandmother would suggest she get involved with someone, Caro turned back to her. “Well, he does live in Chicago, so that takes care of that.”

  “I guess it does. Now, we need to make a list of what you’re bringing tomorrow. I’m sure I gave you my box of fabric scraps, but you might have to buy some material. Look for a sale.”

  “If I’m going fabric shopping in the morning, I might have to show up a little later than usual.”

  “That’s fine.” Grandma Bonnie waved a hand as if it made no difference, something she never would have done before. “We’ll need extra thread, and needles, and cotton batting.” She glanced at Caro. “Why aren’t you writing this down?”

  “Uh, I have no idea.” Maybe because she was too busy gloating over this amazing turnaround. She’d left her purse under the seat of the truck, so she had nothing to write on, either. “Let me find some paper and a pen.” Once she obtained those from one of the attendants, she sat on the floor at Grandma Bonnie’s feet and made the list.

  They had so much fun planning the quilting project that she forgot the time, and when she finally looked at her watch, she jumped up. “Logan and I need to go, Grandma, or I’ll be late for my shift.”