The Cowboy Upstairs

by Tanya Michaels

  “It’s about your sister,” Odette said with an aggrieved sigh. “Molly’s been out of high school since January, and all she’s managed to do is get fired from three jobs and date two inappropriate men. The one who just dumped her is almost forty! Bet she’ll go running back to him if he calls. She did last time.”

  Becca’s stomach clenched, regret burning like an ulcer. Molly had always had good grades, nearly as good as Beccca’s had been, and she’d earned enough credits to graduate a semester early. Maybe if we’d kept in better touch, I could have helped her develop some ambition for college. Or for anything. Knowing Odette, Becca guessed she’d been leaning on her youngest as live-in help, so why would she foster Molly’s desire to leave?

  It sounded as if mother and teen weren’t getting along. On the one hand, discord between them might finally motivate Molly to seek greener pastures. But Becca wanted to see her sister in community college or IT courses or dental hygienist school—something productive—not shacked up with a man twice her age because she didn’t have the income to live on her own.

  “She’s impossible,” Odette complained. “I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do with her.”

  Parent her. But there was no point in saying that. For all that Odette had given birth to six of them, she’d never been overly invested in raising children. In fact, Becca was almost surprised her mother even cared enough to seek guidance over Molly’s behavior. “Have you talked to Courtney to get her input?” Becca’s second-youngest sibling knew Molly a lot better than she did.

  “The situation is beyond ‘input.’”

  “But... I thought you were calling to ask my advice?”

  “Typical. You’re hoping to mumble a few parenting tips, then wash your hands of us. Is that it?”

  The seething accusation in her mother’s voice might have wounded Becca if she hadn’t built up an immunity over the years. Odette had used the same tone when she’d labeled Becca a spoiled ingrate for going away to college when her family needed her. She’d used it when she asserted that Becca had eloped out of spite—never mind that it had been a financial decision—and again when Becca had refused to turn over her inheritance from her uncle. Odette had called her a heartless miser who’d let her family starve rather than share her windfall.

  “I don’t need advice,” her mother said now. “I need you to look after your sister.”

  “No.” The rush of anger was dizzying, and Becca grasped the edge of the table as her blood pressure soared. “I’m not your unpaid babysitter anymore. I’m a grown woman with my own child and a mayoral campaign who—”

  “I bet you have all those Cupid’s Bow voters conned into believing you value family.”

  Becca had too much self-control to hang up on anyone...but just barely. “If you value family, talk to your daughter. Molly’s young. There’s time for her to get her life on track before she makes an irreparable mistake.”

  “You be sure to tell her that when she gets there.”

  “When she gets here?” Becca echoed, praying she’d heard wrong.

  “I was calling as a courtesy. She’s probably on a bus by now. Hateful girl told me to go to hell, declared she was moving in with you, and stormed out. The two of you should get along great.” And with that, her mother disconnected.

  Becca sat frozen, barely registering the unpleasant buzz of the dial tone. Was Molly really coming here, or had she given Becca’s name as a decoy because she didn’t want their mother to know where to find her? Considering how long it had been since the two sisters had spoken, it seemed more likely that Molly would crash with a friend or one of those “inappropriate men” Odette had mentioned.

  The sound of a vehicle in the driveway finally spurred Becca into motion. She put the phone back on its charger cradle and went to look out the window, expecting to see Sawyer. Despite her conflicted feelings about the man, at the moment she’d welcome a distraction. But it was the Whittmeyers.

  She walked out barefoot to meet them. “I wasn’t expecting you for another hour at least,” she told her son as he hopped out of the minivan.

  Lyndsay Whittmeyer rolled down her window, her Texas-sized blond curls filling the frame. “The movie was sold out, so we drove to Turtle for a round of minigolf and then brought him back.”

  “It’s probably just as well,” Becca said. “Now he can get plenty of rest before his game in the morning.” They were scheduled to play at nine, which meant arriving at the soccer fields by eight thirty.

  “Kick the other team’s butts,” Kenny called from inside the vehicle.

  Marc laughed even as he cast a cautious look at Becca to make sure she didn’t object to butts. Not tonight, kiddo. Between Mayor Truitt’s pettiness and having to talk to her mother, Becca found her mental vocabulary was a bit more colorful than usual.

  She was making sure her son had remembered to thank the Whittmeyers for taking him along when a taxi pulled up behind them, blocking their exit from the driveway. For years, there hadn’t been any cab service in Cupid’s Bow, but Arnie Richmond had decided he could make good money driving inebriated patrons home from the local bars on the weekends. Had Sawyer and Brody gone out drinking?

  But it wasn’t the tall cowboy who climbed out of the back seat. A curvy redhead emerged, barely topping five foot three in her boots. She glanced around nervously as Arnie popped open the truck, but then she locked gazes with Becca and smiled.

  Becca blinked. “Molly?” The young woman might not have gotten much taller since they’d last seen each other, but she’d definitely grown up. The interior light from the cab showed that the tips of her sister’s layered bob were streaked magenta and electric blue. And she filled out her black halter top in a very adult way.

  Molly took a gigantic camo duffel bag from Arnie, handing him a crumpled wad of bills in exchange, then turned back to Becca. “Hiya, sis. Long time no see.”

  Chapter Five

  Becca felt dazed, moving on autopilot as she waved goodbye to the Whittmeyers and ushered her sister up the porch steps. She managed an absent “You remember your aunt Molly?” to Marc, even though she doubted he would. It seemed only yesterday that Becca had been applying bandages to Molly’s scraped up, preschool knees. Now her sister was a woman in painted-on jeans and high-heeled boots.

  “You look...good,” Becca said diplomatically. Beneath the foyer chandelier, her sister’s heavy-handed makeup looked a little garish, but the teenager was still beautiful. Besides, Becca had too much guilt over their estranged relationship to open with criticism.

  “Mama always said I look like you. The redhead part, maybe.” Molly’s laugh was self-conscious. “Definitely not the height.” She dug inside her purse and pulled out a green pack of bubble gum. “Want one?” she offered Marc, as she unwrapped a piece for herself.

  He nodded eagerly.

  “You okay with sour apple?” she asked. “I’ve also got grape, watermelon and fruit pun—”

  “I’m sure sour apple will be fine,” Becca said. “Marc, why don’t you put on your pajamas and watch a DVD in my room? I need a few minutes to catch up with Aunt Molly.”

  “’Kay, Mama. Thanks for the gum.”

  “Sure thing, kid.” As he took off toward the staircase, Molly smiled after him. “He’s cute. I always wanted a little brother. Thought it might be fun not to be the baby of the family.”

  Being the oldest was no picnic, either. “You’re definitely not a baby anymore. You’re a grown woman who gets to make adult choices. Like leaving home, apparently.”

  Molly’s face flushed. “About that...”

  “Odette only called fifteen minutes ago. The bus must have made good time.”

  “I decided to save the money I would’ve spent on the ticket and bummed a ride from a couple of guys headed in this general vicinity. We parted ways at a bar just o
utside town.”

  “Please tell me these were guys you knew.” Becca had an appalling mental image of her sister hitchhiking on the freeway.

  “Uh, it was more like a friend-of-a-friend thing,” she said evasively. “But since I’m not twenty-one, I couldn’t go into the bar for dinner. You got anything to eat?”

  “Come on, I’ll fix you a sandwich.”

  Molly followed slowly, studying her surroundings. “This place sure looks different than back home.” There was an edge to her voice. Jealousy? Disapproval? Had she subscribed to Odette’s claims that Becca should be doing more to financially assist her family? “Is there a guest room?”

  What was Molly’s backup plan in case there wasn’t—sleeping on the sofa? “Yes.”

  Her sister looked away, blowing a green bubble that popped loudly. “I know you and I don’t talk much, but I can’t afford to get all the way to Oklahoma to stay with Courtney. Can I stay here?”

  The inevitable question. Becca didn’t want to think about where Molly would end up if she said no. “You can stay. But there are a few house rules and conditions.”

  Molly’s gaze hardened. “I don’t need you telling me what to do.”

  “You just showed up in the middle of the night on my doorstep, courtesy of a few ‘friends of friends’ who only got you close enough to call a cab, so maybe you should keep an open mind about sisterly advice. What do you have to lose?” Instead of waiting for an answer, she went to the refrigerator. Molly might be more amenable to guidance with food in her stomach. “I can do a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich or grilled cheese.” She eyed a small container of leftover chili. “Or nachos.”

  “Grilled cheese. Courtney used to make me that with tomato soup.”

  And I used to make it for Courtney. It had been one of Becca’s go-to dinners because the local supermarket often had canned soup as a buy one, get one free special. These days, there was soup in the house only when Marc got a cold and she cooked homemade chicken noodle. “I could heat you up a cup of chili with your sandwich.”

  “Just the sandwich is fine.”

  Silence stretched out while Becca buttered slices of bread. “You want to tell me about your fight with Odette?” she prodded.

  “It wasn’t my fault! You must know how unbearable she is. Everyone says you couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

  “I got out of there with a plan—and a college scholarship. Maybe you need a plan, too.” Or at least opportunities. Becca knew of a few places that were hiring in Cupid’s Bow; none of them were particularly glamorous, but they didn’t require specialized skills, either. If Molly was only able to find part-time work, maybe she could also do some volunteering. Becca pondered options as she flipped the sandwich in the small frying pan. Volunteering in the community would allow Molly to make contacts, while keeping her out of trouble.

  “Dwayne and I had a plan. He plays guitar and I sing. We were gonna save up bus fare and an apartment deposit, go to Nashville and get famous. But then he got back together with his ex-wife. Maybe they’ll break up again.”

  Becca wasn’t sure which to address first, the statistically unlikely odds of “getting famous” or the inadvisability of fickle lovers. “First piece of sisterly advice? Don’t make your plan dependent on a guy.”

  “What happened to your man? Mama cackled some about your getting taken down a peg, but never said why you divorced.”

  Becca sucked in a breath. Odette had laughed over it?

  Given some of the things her mother had said directly to her, that shouldn’t come as such a hurtful surprise. Turning off the stove, she reminded herself of the positives in her life. “The divorce represents my past. What’s important is my future, raising Marc and winning this mayoral race. What do you see in your future?”

  “Dunno. Guess I’ll figure it out as I go along.”

  “Something smells good down here.”

  Sawyer! Preoccupied by the arrival of her sister, Becca had stopped listening for his return. She whirled around to find him hatless, his hair a shaggy yet somehow appealing tangle, with his chambray shirt unbuttoned over a white T.

  He flashed an apologetic smile. “Didn’t meant to interrupt, just wanted to grab a quick bite.”

  “And who might you be?” Molly asked, her eyes wide with interest. “I didn’t know Becca was involved with anyone.”

  Becca shook her head emphatically. “Our only involvement is the rent he pays me for the apartment upstairs.”

  “Oh.” With that breathy proclamation, Molly rose from her chair and sidled closer to him. Her attraction to Sawyer was even less subtle than Hadley’s ogling yesterday.

  Becca’s stomach tightened as she wondered uncomfortably if the attraction would be mutual. The heavy makeup Molly wore obscured her age—assuming Sawyer was even looking at her face and not the cleavage revealed by the clingy halter top.

  “Sawyer McCall, ma’am. Pleasure to meet you.”

  As he shook Molly’s hand, Becca slapped the plated grilled cheese on the table. “Sawyer, this is my sister...my teenage sister.”

  Molly glared. “I’ll be nineteen in a month. That makes me practically twenty.”

  No, that makes you practically nineteen. Sawyer could date whomever he wanted—assuming she was a legal adult and didn’t show up at breakfast—but Becca refused to sit idly by and watch her sister pursue another doomed liaison.

  “Molly Baker.” Her voice was a purr as she smiled up at him. “I’m staying here, too, so we’re neighbors. Guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

  He stepped back, softening the retreat with a smile. “You know what? After a hot day in the pasture, it was just bad manners for me to come down without showering first. Apologies, ladies. I’m going to get cleaned up.”

  Becca was half-afraid her sister would offer to wash his back for him, but he left the room without giving her the chance.

  The minute his boots hit the stairs, Molly’s smile disappeared. “You went out of your way to make me sound like a little kid!”

  “I made you sound like exactly what you are. Besides, didn’t we talk about how you need goals that don’t include a man?”

  “I’m not divorced and cynical, like you.” Molly dropped back into her chair. “I believe in true love.”

  And you expect to find it with a drifter rodeo cowboy at least a decade older than you? “I’m not saying love doesn’t exist. I just believe in making smart choices.”

  “You think I’m stupid?”

  “Of course not. You did great in school. I think you can do anything you set your mind to. You just need a plan.” A logical approach to life, without taking rides from strangers and throwing herself at men she’d met seconds ago.

  “How would you know what I need? You barely know me.”

  “Well, I guess it’s about time we fix that. Tonight we can—”

  “My day was very draining,” Molly said, her expression mutinous. “I’m going to turn in early.”

  “No problem.” Actually, that gave Becca longer to strategize. “Tomorrow, after Marc’s soccer game, we’ll talk.”

  When her mother had called earlier, Becca had been furious that Odette was once again dumping the job of parenting on her. But, truthfully, Becca regretted not being a better sister to her youngest sibling. Starting tomorrow, she would make up for it. Becca was goal-oriented, and now she had a new goal to add to the running list: help Molly turn her life around.

  * * *

  WHEN YOU WERE trying to set a good example for a child—not to mention demonstrate your moral fiber to a townful of voters—you rarely indulged in vices. Becca didn’t smoke, rarely swore in front of others, kept her alcohol consumption to a minimum and hadn’t had sex in years. But everyone had at least one weakness. She had never been able to resist the tart temptation
of key lime pie.

  The one downstairs in the refrigerator was currently calling to her.

  It was after midnight, a terrible time for extra calories. The smart decision would be to go back to sleep. But her sleep hadn’t been restful, anyway. She’d bounced through a chaotic tangle of dreams that were half make-believe and half memory. Having Molly here had not only dredged up Becca’s childhood, it reminded her how much she’d adored her father. He’d been on the road constantly, trying to provide for his family, but the days when he’d come home had been like Christmas and birthdays and the Super Bowl rolled into one, cause for Texas-sized celebration.

  Even Odette, who spent hours in bed with nausea when she was expecting and fatigued headaches between pregnancies, had got excited about his return, emerging from her room with bright eyes and a warm smile that gave Becca temporary hope her mother would change. But when he left, the brightness faded. And after he’d died? The only light she’d ever glimpsed in her mother was permanently extinguished. Odette was a bitter woman with a martyr complex, always complaining about how her children didn’t appreciate her.

  Am I turning bitter?

  Only a few hours ago, Molly had characterized her as a cynic whose worldview was tainted by divorce. Logically, Becca knew better than to let that upset her. Yet she was bothered enough to reach for the stained-glass lamp on her nightstand. Screw all this tossing and turning—life would look better after a slice of key lime.

  Rather than turn on the hall light and risk disturbing Marc or Molly, Becca used the thin beam of her cell phone flashlight to guide her way downstairs. She frowned when she noted light coming from the kitchen; the fixture above the counter was on a timer and should have turned off an hour ago. Apparently, her groggy mind was too jumbled to draw the obvious conclusion—someone was in there.