The Cowboy Upstairs

by Tanya Michaels

  The truth was, even though she was a mother past thirty, she didn’t have a lot of experience with men. She could count on her fingers the number of guys she’d dated. She wasn’t used to flirting or casual relationships, and now that she was divorced, she sure as hell wasn’t looking for Fairytale Prince: The Sequel. So she was unsure how to handle Sawyer. Could she go on a few dates with someone and enjoy the pleasure of his company, knowing that there was no future in it, or would it feel like a counterproductive waste of her limited time?

  Next to her, Amy Prescott shouted, startling Becca from her thoughts. Jodie had scored. My team got a point and I was too distracted by a man to even notice. Some coach she was.

  Becca belatedly cheered on her star player, working hard to stay focused on the game for the last few plays. But once the final whistle blew and Sawyer helped her gather gear, she felt uncharacteristically shy, self-conscious in a way she hadn’t experienced since her dramatic growth spurt in elementary school.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled as he handed her the clipboard. “Not just for helping me carry stuff or pass out snacks, but for being here. It meant a lot to Marc.” The Fighting Frogs had defeated the Unicorns 7–5, but from the way her son was beaming, no one would ever guess his team had lost. Marc had scored two goals, a season record for him, and both times he’d turned immediately to Sawyer to exchange a thumbs-up. Now Marc was jogging toward them with a rare swagger.

  She ruffled her son’s hair. “You more than earned that milk shake. There may even be onion rings in your future. Great job, champ.”

  “Thanks, Mama. What did you think, Mr. Sawyer? Was that great? What was your favorite part? I liked scoring goals, but also that time when the other team thought I would pass to Jodie but actually I kicked it to Doug, and they didn’t even see him coming! And when Dylan wiped out, making that totally awesome kick—it’s okay, he said he’s not hurt—and...” Marc kept up a mile-a-minute sports commentary as the three of them walked to the minivan.

  Listening to his high-energy recap made Becca realize how much her own energy was flagging. After a full day’s work, the argument with her sister and the game, she was beat. Although she’d never say a word to dampen Marc’s enthusiasm for their trip to the diner, what she really wanted was to go home to a hot shower, silky-soft pajamas and a good book. Sighing, she hit the remote that unlocked the van doors. I’d be willing to forgo key lime pie for the chance to kick off my shoes and take off this bra.

  “You okay?” Sawyer asked.

  “Of course. It’s just been a long day.”

  “Want me to drive?” he asked. “I’ve been tooling around town enough that I can find my way to Main Street from here.”

  Her instinctive reaction was to refuse; she believed in projecting an image of strength. But, honestly, being able to close her eyes in the passenger seat for a few minutes sounded like heaven. “Here.” She gave him the keys, her hand brushing his.

  His warm, callused fingers against hers sent a pulse of awareness through her, but the brief physical contact wasn’t nearly as intimate as his reaction. He went still at her touch, his only movement a shuddery breath as his eyes locked with hers. She might not have abundant experience with the opposite sex, but there was no mistaking the desire she saw in his gaze. It made her feel wanted and feminine. And powerful.

  Her earlier fatigue evaporated as if it had never been. Once again, key lime pie sounded like a splendid idea—or at least like a safe substitute for what she was really craving.

  * * *

  SEATED NEXT TO her on the padded vinyl bench, Marc was buzzing with so much excitement that the salt and pepper shakers on the table were living up to their name.

  And I ordered this kid a chocolate milk shake? Becca was having serious second thoughts about filling him up with sugar. On the plus side, after the crash, maybe he’d go to bed early. Yeah, there was some A-plus parenting.

  While Becca perused the salad choices, Marc leaned across the table. “Do you know what you want, Mr. Sawyer?”

  Sawyer’s eyes were on Becca, his menu unopened in front of him. “Yes.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks, and she glanced away, trying not to project her own lust onto the cowboy. She noticed the Ruiz family at a corner table; she was fairly certain their little boy had been in Marc’s class last year. “Hey, Marc, isn’t that one of your friends?”

  Marc spun around, climbing up on his knees for a better look. “Uh-huh. That’s Alejandro. He sits at the same art table as me on Fridays. He’s a real good draw-er.”

  “Do you want to go say hi?” she asked. “We have plenty of time.” His milk shake would be out soon, but they hadn’t ordered their food yet. It would be at least another ten minutes before dinner was served.

  “Okay.” He scrambled down and darted into the path of an oncoming waitress. Luckily, she had the reflexes of a superhero and didn’t spill any of the drinks she carried.

  “Walking feet!” Becca called after her son. Then she turned to Sawyer with a wry smile. “Is it wrong that I desperately want him to become better friends with someone who doesn’t own a snake?” She fiddled with the straw in her sweet tea. “No, in all seriousness, I’m incredibly grateful he’s got a best friend who’s helped him get through some tough transitions. But I worry that because of my schedule he’s spending too much time with the Whittmeyers.”

  Sawyer cocked his head, his expression puzzled. “Whittmeyer... Whittmeyer... Gee, the name doesn’t ring a bell.”

  That made her laugh. “If I had a dollar for every time I heard a story that started with ‘Kenny Whittmeyer,’ I’d be the richest woman in Texas.” She glanced fondly at her son. From his exuberant body language, she guessed he was reenacting the soccer game for his friend, especially the parts where Marc scored goals. “I know I told you this already, but thank you for coming to the game.”

  “I had fun,” Sawyer said, sounding vaguely surprised. “And now there’s something I should have told you already. I’m sorry about what happened at the house, with your sister. No one asked for my input, and I should have kept my trap shut. College is...a sore spot for me.”

  “Because you didn’t go?” she asked carefully. Though she hadn’t admitted it to him, she’d looked up some of his articles online. His intelligent, evocative writing had impressed her. He was descriptive enough to bring to life sights and sounds and tastes of places she’d never been, witty enough that she’d laughed aloud at her computer screen. And when referencing a historic massacre that was an uglier part of the state’s history, and how people could learn from it, his words had been poignant enough to make her blink away tears. He was definitely as smart as any of the college friends who’d graduated alongside her.

  “I didn’t mind not going,” he said. “I was being honest when I told Molly that I don’t think a college degree is the be-all and end-all. People take different paths in life. But when my brother came home from college...”

  Had Sawyer resented his brother’s education? Had he felt somehow inferior? It was impossible to imagine the cocky cowboy ever feeling not good enough. “What did—”

  The waitress returned to the table with Marc’s milk shake and an apology for taking so long. “I’ve got a party of twelve over there, including two dairy allergies and a gluten allergy.” She nodded to the other side of the room, where tables had been pushed together to accommodate half a dozen kids in soccer jerseys and their parents. The Unicorns were only one of the teams who’d recently finished a game. “Checking with the chef on substitutions and ingredients got hectic.”

  Becca assured her that the wait was no problem. Truthfully, she’d been so caught up in wanting to learn more about Sawyer’s past that she’d forgotten about food entirely. But her son certainly hadn’t. As if he’d been keeping one eye on the table for the arrival of his milk shake, he materialized immediately, wriggling back into the boo
th with a huge smile and a request to take Trouble for a walk in the park sometime with Alejandro’s dog, Scottie.

  Guiltily, Becca realized that she was a little disappointed that Marc had returned so soon, curtailing her grown-up conversation with Sawyer. It would be nice to have dinner alone with him. The thought triggered an unsettling realization. Although she’d told Sawyer he shouldn’t flirt with her, shouldn’t ask her out, if he did...she would say yes.

  She took a deep breath, not sure whether to hope he honored her request or to hope he was stubborn enough to ask anyway.

  Chapter Nine

  “This is not me giving in to your 5:00 a.m. howls,” Becca told the puppy sternly. “Because that would be reinforcing negative behavior. This is just me taking you outside to further your house-training, since we’re both awake, anyway.”

  Trouble didn’t seem to care what the reasoning was. She bolted forward with her customary enthusiasm the minute Becca unlatched the kennel. Since Becca had sleepily stumbled into the master bathroom, where the dog was, it seemed inconsiderate not to also give the shepherd the chance to go potty. She carried the puppy downstairs, where the leash hung on a newly installed hook, and as she did so, the most delicious aroma in the world washed over her. Coffee.

  Maybe that had been what woke her, not the puppy’s intermittent whimpering. Truth time, Rebecca—did you come down here to walk the puppy or to say goodbye to Sawyer before he hits the road? Well, it wasn’t as if the two were mutually exclusive.

  Refugio was only a couple hours from here; she was stunned that someone would voluntarily make a trip this early. But Sawyer said he was stopping at a ranch along the way to have breakfast and check on some business investments. It sounded as if he had friends in the area that he wanted to visit, too. Like Brody, here in Cupid’s Bow. Thinking of Kate and Sierra and Hadley, Becca wondered what it would be like if her friends were scattered throughout the state. She couldn’t decide if Sawyer was blessedly popular, with so many people in his life, or lonely. Maybe those conditions weren’t mutually exclusive, either.

  As she padded into the kitchen, she wondered... Did Sawyer also have lovers all over the state, women he called when he was in town who would be happy to see him?

  Her tone was sharper than she’d intended when she greeted him with, “You turned on the wrong light. Again.” She had one programmed; it helped give the house the appearance of being occupied when she was away and insured that she didn’t come downstairs to total darkness on early mornings. When he used the switch manually, he disrupted the timer.

  “Good morning to you, too.”

  “Sorry. The puppy’s been interrupting my sleep.” She had no qualms about blaming her mood on the squirming bundle of fur in her arms. At the shepherd’s insistent wiggling, she set Trouble down, freeing her to run to Sawyer with floppy-pawed adoration. Trouble’s feet were comically big for her body, but she didn’t let awkwardness stop her from throwing herself atop Sawyer’s boots for a tummy rub. The dog obviously loved him—and why not? He had rescued her from a storm and given her a home. Yet after a moment’s affection, she loyally returned to Becca.

  He grinned. “She knows who the alpha of the pack is.”

  Now if only the rest of the pack would recognize my authority. As she took the puppy into the backyard, Becca thought irritably about Sawyer disrupting her light settings, and Molly finishing the oranges in the produce drawer and the milk and the last of Marc’s cereal without writing any of it down on the grocery memo pad. Did no one respect Becca’s carefully ordered world, the effort she put into keeping life’s chaos at bay? Don’t panic. It was only some lightbulbs and supermarket items. That didn’t mean she was losing control. Yet.

  She went back inside, hoping caffeine would improve her outlook. Sawyer leaned against the kitchen counter, watching her pour a cup of coffee.

  He slid her the sugar canister. “Not going back to sleep?”

  “No point. I have to be up in less than an hour to get Marc ready for school, anyway.” All year, her son fought getting out of bed. It was ironic that only in the final two weeks of school, excited by the promise of summer, did he wake alert and cooperative. “Besides, I have a grudging respect for this time of day. I don’t like it, exactly, but I appreciate the peace of it.” They were speaking in hushed tones, careful not to wake the rest of the household. Outside was hushed, too. At 5:00 a.m., the world was just waking up and the chaos hadn’t kicked in.

  She stirred her coffee. “What about you? Natural morning person?”

  “Not inherently, no. But after so many years of my dad waking me for early morning chores, the habit sank in. It helps when I wake up to a pretty lady, but as long as there’s coffee, I can cope.”

  She ignored the pretty-lady crack; she doubted a woman with tangled hair and light-timer issues qualified. They finished their coffee in companionable silence.

  Rinsing his mug out at the sink, he gave her a crooked smile. “Will you miss me while I’m gone?”

  She rolled her eyes. “If you want me to miss you, you have to stay away for more than one day.”

  “Can’t. Your cooking’s got me too spoiled.”

  Another eye roll. Conversations with Sawyer were like ocular calisthenics. “I get it—you’re an irredeemable charmer who can’t help laying it on thick. But, come on. Respect my intelligence, would you? In the week you’ve been here, we’ve had pizza, deli takeout, diner food and hamburgers you grilled.” In fact, now that she recounted the list aloud, she felt vaguely embarrassed. She actually was a fair cook, but she’d been so busy lately...

  “You’re right, commenting on the food was an inferior use of my charm. I can do better.” He cleared his throat, his expression faux solemn. “Rodeos are dangerous work, ma’am. I’d be much obliged if you’d send me off with a kiss for good luck.”

  For one ludicrous second, she imagined actually doing it, going up on her toes and pressing her lips to his just to see his shocked expression. It would be priceless. And that would be your only motivation? Well, no. There was also the rediscovery of what it would be like to kiss a man—to kiss this man, in particular. Bad idea, Becca. Yet her heart sped up, and anticipation fizzed through her. Gripping her coffee mug, she stood rooted to the spot. Her common sense was strong enough to overcome anticipation. For now.

  Sawyer grinned, and the reckless moment passed with him none the wiser. “Okay, that line was terrible, too. I can’t do my best work at this hour.”

  “You’re not supposed to be flirting with me, anyway, remember?”

  “Of course.” His expression was all innocence. “That was only hypothetical flirting. It didn’t count. And I still get to be friendly...that’s just good manners.”

  How long would her self-discipline hold? She grabbed his truck keys from the counter and held them out. “You should go. Now, before morning traffic picks up. Be a damn shame if you got stuck in Cupid’s Bow rush hour.” All nine cars and two school buses of it.

  He laughed, taking his keys and tipping his hat in farewell. Beyond the kitchen, too far in the shadows of the hallway for her to see his face, he paused for just a second. “Now that I think about it, maybe it isn’t the food here I like so much. Maybe it’s just seeing you across the table.”

  * * *

  “YOU WERE INCREDIBLE!”

  Any man would appreciate hearing that from a pretty woman, and Sawyer smiled at the willowy brunette in her halter top and skintight jeans. But most of his attention was on the chute, where one of his best friends was about to ride. Lewis had been injured last winter, and this was his first official event back in the saddle.

  “Thanks, darlin’,” Sawyer said absently. He’d sound ungracious if he disputed her compliment, but today hadn’t been one of his better performances. Because you weren’t focused enough.

  He’d been distracted and out of s
orts. His morning had started off so well, teasing Becca in the cozy confines of her kitchen. Good coffee, better company. But when he’d reached the ranch where his friend and business partner, Kaleb, lived, he’d felt a pang of... Not quite bitterness, but perhaps an envy that men like Brody and Kaleb had a place where they belonged.

  How long had it been since Sawyer felt that? Maybe it was why he’d been so angry at Charlie—not just for coming back from college with a condescending disrespect for the work Sawyer had done in his absence, but for making Sawyer feel like the ranch wasn’t equally his, like he belonged less.

  Although Sawyer still enjoyed traveling, discovering quirky new places and regional customs to write about, the word home was starting to hold an allure he hadn’t experienced since he’d driven away from his family ranch with a muttered good riddance.

  Only distantly registering that his brunette fan had faded back into the crowd, he cheered for Lewis, eager to replace the ugly memory of his friend’s accident. You’re lucky you didn’t have an accident today. Bronc riding was not something that should be half-assed. What had happened to the thrill of the ride?

  Sawyer used to love the crowds and the noise; always happiest outdoors, he hadn’t minded the gritty heat. Even the sensation of his teeth rattling in his skull had made him feel alive, sending jolts of adrenaline through him. He knew cowboys who participated in rodeos well into their sixties, albeit on the senior circuit, but when Sawyer thought about the decades to come, this wasn’t what he wanted for his future. At least, it wasn’t all he wanted.

  But the packed stand of a Texas rodeo was no place for introspection. Someone jostled his shoulder, and he turned to find Gabe Delgado, champion roper, standing there.