A Cowboy's Duty

by Marin Thomas

  “You’re tired.”

  “I hate it when you do that,” she said.

  “Do what?”

  “Tell me what I’m feeling.”

  Johnny raised an eyebrow. “You need a nap.”

  Swallowing a sarcastic retort, Dixie left the kitchen, her brother stalking her through the hallway.

  “When’s the wedding?” he asked.

  “We haven’t settled on a date.”

  “Why not?”

  Her brothers had gathered on the landing, their gazes shifting between Dixie and their big brother.

  “I’m going to take a nap.” She climbed the stairs and shoved her way through the human barricade. “Leave me alone.” She punctuated the command with the slamming of her bedroom door at the end of the hall.

  After Dixie’s birth, her grandfather had expanded the linen closet into the attic, turning the space into a nursery. The room’s slanted ceiling made it impossible for her brothers to stand up straight without hitting their heads, so they rarely ventured inside the room. A window air conditioner kept the cramped quarters cool. She stretched out on the twin bed and stared at the ceiling. Her throat grew thick. Her eyes burned and chest ached.

  I will not cry. The silent declaration opened the floodgates and tears leaked from her eyes.

  Dixie’s heart had stopped beating when Gavin had insisted they marry, and for an instant, she’d believed he’d wanted to make him, her and the baby a real family.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  She lifted the corner of the sheet and dabbed her tears. Her reaction had been childish. It had only been a matter of time before Gavin insisted on marriage—for the baby’s sake, not hers. She cursed herself for agreeing to a trial engagement, realizing now that she’d set herself up for more heartache and—

  “Mind if I come in?”

  “I’m napping, Porter.”

  As if the statement had been an invitation, Porter ducked inside. Shoulders hunched, he crossed the room and sat at the foot of her bed.

  “Johnny said you and Gavin are engaged.”

  She flipped onto her side, facing the wall.

  “Aren’t you happy the father of your baby’s going to do right by you?”

  “Gavin doesn’t need to marry me to send child-support checks.”

  “You don’t want to marry him?” Porter stood and knocked his head on the ceiling. “Ouch.”

  “I don’t love Gavin.” As soon as she said the words, a voice inside her head mocked her with laughter. Dixie rolled away from the wall. “Would you marry a girl you got pregnant if you didn’t love her?”

  Porter’s cheeks turned red. “I guess, if I had to.”

  Dixie rolled her eyes.

  “Gavin seems like a nice guy. He fits in with the rest of us and he can cook a mean pot of chili. You could do worse than him for a husband.”

  “Gavin’s a saint, that’s for sure.”

  “Johnny thinks you’re going to sabotage your engagement.”

  Darn her older brother for seeing through her. “Exactly how would I do that?”

  Porter shrugged. “Johnny says you should quit selling your soap and focus on Gavin and the baby.”

  She refused to put aside her goals and desires for the baby. Other women had careers while raising children—she could do it, too. “Get out.”

  Her brother hunch-walked to the door. “Did Gavin give you an engagement ring?”

  Since she had no intention of dragging out their engagement charade longer than necessary, she didn’t expect Gavin to waste his money on a diamond. Still...a ring would quiet the gossipmongers. “Leave me alone.”

  Shaking his head Porter left her in peace. Murmurs from the hallway drifted beneath the door but Dixie ignored them and placed a hand over her tummy. She concentrated on the baby growing inside her; her final thought before drifting off to sleep was whether or not the baby would have Gavin’s brown eyes.

  * * *

  GAVIN TIGHTENED HIS leather riding glove then flexed his fingers. Almost two weeks had passed since he’d proposed to Dixie and they’d spoken only a few times on the phone. Aside from polite, meaningless conversation, she never brought up the baby and neither did Gavin.

  He’d had plenty of time to contemplate the future during the long, solitary drives between rodeos, but he’d yet to come to terms with his impending fatherhood. That didn’t bother him as much as the realization that when he was apart from Dixie he missed her.

  The few times they’d spoken, he’d asked when the marketing firm would have her website up and running, but Dixie hadn’t given a clear answer and had changed the subject. Maybe she believed his interest in her business was self-serving since he’d loaned her money. He should be grateful she kept him at arm’s length, but he found her coolness irritating.

  If anything good had come from proposing to Dixie it was that the Cash brothers had quit following him on the circuit. If only he could find his seat again and make it to eight on a bronc, he’d feel better about the future. His confidence faltering, Gavin worried that the rodeo career he’d mapped out for himself was nothing more than a pipe dream. The only consolation after each loss was that when he closed his eyes at night and saw Nate’s mutilated body, he focused on Dixie and eventually the blood and gore gave way to sleep.

  Dixie was an enigma—stubborn, bossy and opinionated. Yet, when he’d held her in his arms and had made love to her she’d been soft, sweet and achingly vulnerable. He clung to the memory of her sexy sighs and gentle caresses, which carried him to a peaceful place each night.

  “Fans, Gavin Tucker’s up next in the bareback riding competition!” the rodeo announcer said.

  Pushing Dixie to the far reaches of his mind, Gavin climbed the chute rails and straddled Twinkle. He’d picked the Blythe Rodeo on a whim, hoping the added practice would prepare him for the next go-round in Bullhead City the following weekend where the pot was ten grand.

  “Tucker’s drawn Twinkle.” The announcer chuckled. “Twinkle’s got the personality of a rattler. Cowboys never know when this bronc’s gonna toss ’em on their head.”

  Gavin had heard his competitors gossiping about the horse earlier in the day. The bronc was an arm jerker—a stout horse that bucked with a lot of power. If a cowboy managed to keep his seat on Twinkle, he’d earn big points. Gavin tested his grip, then took a deep breath and nodded to the gateman.

  Twinkle leaped for freedom and it took all of Gavin’s strength to hold on. He leaned back and spurred the gelding. So far so good. Twinkle switched direction every other buck, forcing Gavin’s thigh muscles to work overtime as he fought to keep his balance. Sweat ran into his eyes but he ignored the sting, as he gauged the bronc’s next move. Right before the buzzer sounded, Gavin’s arm gave out and Twinkle sent him sailing through the air. He landed face-first on the ground and swallowed a mouthful of dirt.

  As Twinkle trotted from the arena, Gavin slowly got to his feet. The first few steps were the toughest—testing his muscles, evaluating injuries. Today he’d gotten off easy—a few aches, pains and twinges.

  “Looks as if Twinkle outsmarted Tucker. Better luck next time, cowboy!”

  Gavin waved his hat to the crowd, then hobbled into the cowboy ready area where he collected his gear. He’d grab a hotdog from the concession stand and hit the road.

  “Long time no see, soldier.”

  Gavin’s stomach clenched at the sound of the silky voice. He turned and came face-to-face with Veronica. He’d thought he’d seen the last of her a month ago.

  “Are the rumors true?”

  He played dumb. “What rumors?”

  “The ones sayin’ you’re engaged.”

  “Who’d you hear that from?”

  “Porter Cash. He’s been telling everyone he runs into that
you’re marrying his sister.”

  Gavin didn’t blame the Cash brothers for wanting folks to know Dixie was engaged before news of her pregnancy spread. “It’s true. We’re engaged.”

  The corner of Veronica’s mouth curled. “You knocked her up, didn’t you?”

  He’d never believed in his wildest imagination that he’d get a girl pregnant by accident but thank God the girl had been Dixie and not Veronica. Gavin hoisted his gear bag onto his shoulder. “Enjoy the rest of the rodeo.”

  Long, red talons sank into his forearm when he attempted to pass Veronica. “If things don’t work out with Dixie...”

  He yanked his arm free and moseyed off.

  “Dixie can’t handle a man like you,” she called after him.

  Gavin kept walking and ignored the looks of his competitors. Forgetting about his hotdog he left the arena and zigzagged through the parking lot to his truck. While he waited for the air conditioner to cool off the interior, he checked his phone for messages. None. He shifted the truck into Drive and sped away.

  Another rodeo. Another loss. Another solitary night on the road.

  Except for the losing part—exactly what he’d wanted when he’d quit the army. He should feel fortunate that the woman carrying his baby had no plans to interfere with his nomadic life, instead, he resented Dixie’s standoffish attitude.

  Maybe she senses a darkness inside you.

  Was it possible that Dixie might be leery of getting closer to Gavin? The only way to find out was to ask Dixie if she was afraid of him and Gavin sure in heck wasn’t opening that can of worms.

  The next time he paid attention to the highway signs he discovered he’d missed his turnoff and was driving south. Like a homing pigeon his instinct was to return to Dixie. He had five days until his next ride. He might as well blow them on the Cash pecan farm.

  Gavin flipped on the turn signal and took the exit for Stagecoach. With each passing mile, his heart beat faster. His and Dixie’s one-night stand had been a fluke, yet there was no denying they’d hit it off in bed. He wanted to make love to her again but feared the closeness would weaken his resolve to keep his distance from her and the baby.

  Squirming against the snugness of his jeans, Gavin slowed the truck at the edge of town. He stopped at the only traffic light and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. He should bring Dixie a present. Glancing along the block of storefronts he studied his options.

  Food. Liquor. A gift certificate from the Bee Luv Lee Hair Salon. Did the grocery mart at the gas station sell flowers? The light turned green and he drove another block before hitting the brakes in front of the Pawn Palace. He studied the gadgets in the store window, his gaze zeroing in on a sparkly object in the corner.

  A diamond ring.

  Crap. He’d been so focused on doing the right thing that he’d gone about it backward. He must have hurt Dixie’s feelings when he’d proposed to her without an engagement ring. He put the truck in Park and went into the store. Fifteen minutes later and a hundred-fifty bucks poorer, Gavin drove out to the pecan farm.

  He didn’t expect a pawn-shop ring to win him any points, but when he pulled up to the house, Gavin was contemplating ways to steal a kiss from Dixie before the evening ended. Her pickup was the only vehicle in the yard. He’d forgotten about the truck breaking down and was relieved it had been repaired. In her condition Dixie shouldn’t be without reliable transportation.

  He parked by the barn, figuring Dixie would be in her workshop but all the lights were off. He did an about-face and returned to the house, knocking twice on the front door. No answer. He peered through the window, but the foyer was empty. He tried the doorknob—unlocked. “Dixie!” he shouted when he stepped inside.

  He checked the kitchen. Empty. Where was she? He left through the back door and hiked into the pecan grove. Maybe she was gathering herbs or flowers or whatever she used to make organic soap. He’d walked a quarter mile when his ears perked. He stopped and listened to a hollow thudlike sound, then switched directions, cutting through a row of trees before pulling up short.

  Dixie stood ten yards away, throwing stones at the trunk of an ancient pecan tree. A pile of rocks rested at her feet. Throw after throw the rocks whittled a divot in the bark. If Dixie’s soap business tanked she could try out for a major league baseball team—the girl’s aim was dead-on.

  “Strike three, he’s out!” Gavin shouted.

  Dixie spun, stumbling off balance. Gavin rushed forward, offering a steady hand.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “What are you doing here?” She swiped angrily at the tears staining her cheeks.

  “You’re crying.”

  “I’m sweating.” Darn. The cowboy popped in and out of Dixie’s life at the most inconvenient times.

  “I was passing through the area and thought I’d see how you’re doing.”

  “Just because we’re engaged doesn’t give you the right to check up on me.”

  He raised his hands in the air. “Are you upset because I’ve been on the road?”

  “Don’t get a big head.” She scrunched her nose. “You’re not the reason I’m crying.”

  “You said you were sweating.”

  She sniffed, then kicked the pile of rocks she’d spent an hour gathering.

  Gavin inched closer and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered against her skin and she shivered at the intimate touch. “Tell me why you’re upset. I want to help,” he said.

  It took more effort than expected to rein in her emotions. She’d had herself a good cry, now she had to decide on the next course of action. “You can’t fix this.”

  “Try me.”

  Dixie was no match for Gavin’s sympathetic gaze. “Today I learned that the marketing firm I paid five thousand dollars to design my business website turned out to be a bogus company.” Lord, she couldn’t believe how gullible she’d been. She braced herself, expecting Gavin to implode. He didn’t.

  “What do you mean ‘bogus company’?”

  “My design agent disappeared off the face of the earth. His 800 number’s been disconnected and the internet address for the company’s website no longer exists.”

  “Have you reported this to anyone?”

  “I contacted the Internet Crime Complaint Center and filed a report.”

  “Did you call your bank to put a hold on the check?”

  “Yes, but the creep had already cashed it.” Through veiled eyes she studied Gavin.

  Her brothers, who were technically challenged except when it came to playing video games on their Xbox had warned her not to do business with an internet company. But Dixie had done her homework—or so she’d believed. The scam artist had posted bogus reviews for his company and must have had friends involved in the con, because the woman she’d emailed asking questions about her experience with the marketing firm had given Dixie all the right answers and a link to her newly designed website, which Dixie discovered had also disappeared from the internet. “Go ahead and say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “I told you so.” Gavin remained silent. “I’ll pay back the money you loaned me.” Who knew how long it would take to save up a thousand dollars? The tears that were never far from the surface these days dribbled down her cheeks and she batted away the wetness. “All I ever wanted was to make my grandmother’s dream come true.”

  Gavin took her hand and led her to the tree she’d used for target practice. They sat on the ground and leaned their backs against the trunk. He didn’t pressure her to talk and after a few minutes she relaxed. She wasn’t used to sharing her fears or dreams—blame it on pregnancy hormones, but Dixie needed to vent.

  “My grandmother was more of a mother to me than my own mom,” she said. While Aimee Cash had chased after men
, Grandma Ada had spent time teaching Dixie to keep house, cook and make the family soap recipes, which dated back six generations in France.

  “Grandma Ada dreamed of selling her soaps to a big company like Colgate, but my grandfather told her that she was foolish if she believed they’d take notice of her homemade soaps.”

  Gavin wiped the tears marring Dixie’s cheeks. Her long, brown lashes swept down, concealing her blue eyes. The need to hug her was powerful, but he hesitated. Along with wanting to comfort Dixie came a strong urge to help fulfill her dream.

  He blamed his years in the army for his need to step in and take over. He was a problem solver. A fix-it man. But it was more than instinct that prompted him to lead—he genuinely cared about Dixie. “I’ll loan you the money to work with another marketing firm.”

  “Thanks, but no, thanks. I’m finished doing business online.”

  Time passed and neither spoke, and then Dixie’s head bumped Gavin’s shoulder and he realized she’d dozed off. The weight of her resting against him felt right. Comfortable.

  Now that he understood Dixie’s passion for soap-making was tied to her love for her grandmother he was determined to do everything possible to help her succeed. The sun drifted lower in the sky, casting shadows across the trees and darkening the grove. He wasn’t sure how long they sat when the rumble of pickups reached his ears.

  Gavin gently nudged Dixie’s shoulder but she burrowed deeper against his side. Taking advantage of her sleepiness he lifted her chin and pressed his mouth to hers. Her lashes flew up and he waited for her to object—instead she curled her arms around his neck and opened her mouth wider. The tip of her tongue touched his lips and his arousal shot off the charts. He drowned in Dixie—her soft breasts rubbing against his chest, the taste of her sweet mouth, the scent of her honeysuckle shampoo. He pressed his erection against her thigh and groaned.

  Dixie popped open the snaps on his shirt. When her cool fingers stroked his naked chest, Gavin lost what little control he had. He pulled the hem of her shirt from her jeans and slipped his hand beneath the cotton. Sliding his fingers across her warm skin, he cupped her breast and thumbed her pert nipple through the silky fabric of her bra.