Cowboy is Mine (Cowboys of Nirvana Book 5)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  Her mind drifted to her ex, his kaleidoscopic charm and the dreams they’d once shared before life got the better of them. They’d never done anything with caution, always jumping into things heart first. Some people arrived in a person’s life like a typhoon meeting a tornado, and Dodge was that powerful of an influence on her soul. She’d definitely been thinking with everything other than her brain when she moved in with him a week after meeting and, a month later, when they made an impromptu trip to Vegas where they exchanged nuptials in front of an Elvis impersonator. Since money was tight, they couldn’t afford a luxury wedding suite so they’d stayed in a rundown motel outside of the strip, shared a ten-dollar bottle of champagne, and snacked on pretzels while lying in the vibrating bed. That night had been the best of her life.

  Those seven months as a newlywed had been amazing. She quit her waitress job where she worked for tips and managed to land employment at a newspaper, writing traffic reports. She would have mucked cow manure without gloves if it meant she could come home to her college football player husband every night.

  They were happy. Two blissful young adults, loving whole heartedly while aspiring to make a change in the world. What could be more poetic? Who needed money when they could live on love, and the sex was extraordinary.

  But every rainbow fades in time.

  Dodge anticipated being drafted into the NFL. He worked hard, forcing his body to push even when he was exhausted. He gave the game his all. She’d supported him, even when all she wanted to do was drop kick him on his behind at times.

  One evening, they’d gotten into a heated argument. She wasn’t even sure what it was over now, but she’d packed a bag and went to a motel. For two days she’d stayed away, resisting the urge to call him, until missing him had become too great. She’d gone home and waited for him, but when two A.M. had rolled around and he hadn’t shown up, she’d grown concerned. Driving several places where she knew he could be, she found his truck parked outside of the sports bar where he hung out with his buddies on occasion.

  She wasn’t sure what thoughts were going through her mind when she walked into the honky tonk looking for her husband, but the second she saw the look on his best friend’s face, Krista had known something wasn’t right. She’d walked straight up to Peter, the brawny linebacker who was sitting wobbly on the bar stool surrounded by a cluster of scantily dressed ladies, and asked, “Where is Dodge?”

  “He didn’t go home yet?” Peter had answered in a slurred voice.

  “His truck is still out front.”

  The man had turned two shades whiter. “I-I…well, he was just here.”

  She knew the players had a pact—to watch each other’s back. Getting information from Peter would have been like pulling teeth, so she didn’t try. She’d instinctively checked the men’s restroom.

  In that moment, the ceiling could have fallen and Krista wouldn’t have known.

  Dodge was pressed up against the sink by a tall, leggy blonde who was kissing his neck. Her hand was wrist-deep in his pants.

  There were times in life when a woman knew a single event held such significance that it would change her life forever. Her existence seemed to freeze as she’d stood in the doorway of the restroom, hearing the invisible chains of their marriage breaking, one by one. Krista would never forget how Dodge had shifted ever so slightly as his gaze met hers past the blonde’s wildly coiffed hair. Several emotions had flittered across his face before he’d finally pushed the woman aside, but it had been too late. Krista was already flying out of the bar and heading toward her car. He’d caught up to her before she reached halfway, grabbing her elbow and pulling her back into his chest.

  “Where are you going?” He’d pinned her with a cold glare.

  “Away from here!” She’d tried pulling away, but he held her close. Even then, as her hands trembled and her knees weakened, she’d wanted to sink into his arms and forget all of their troubles. Wanted to wake up from the nightmare. Wanted her husband to assure her what she saw in the bar had been a mistake.

  “So you decided you’d just waltz right back into my life after you told me it’s over,” he’d forced the words through tight lips, his eyes madly lit.

  “Apparently you’ve already forgotten me, but remember who I am? I’m your wife!” She put great emphasis on ‘wife’ and pointed at the simple gold band on her finger—the one he’d purchased from the bubble gum machine at the grocery store.

  “No, it was you who’d forgotten. You left, remember?” he snarled.

  She jerked her arm so hard that he had no choice but to let her free. “I wasn’t the one caught with my pants down.”

  “My pants weren’t down. What you saw—”

  “You in the arms of another woman.” She’d inhaled deeply and wrinkled her nose. “You even smell like cheap perfume.”

  “Do you know me at all?”

  “No, not in the least bit. What had I been thinking by marrying you?”

  “Fine!” He’d kicked up rocks with the toe of his boot. “I don’t owe you any explanation anyway. You gave up the right the moment you walked out of our marriage.”

  “Is that right? Well, I sure hope you and the white trash bimbo have a glorious life together.” She slipped her band from her finger and tossed it at his chest. He didn’t bother trying to catch the ring. “I hope she picks up your dirty socks and lets your drunken friends hang out on the sofa all night. Or accepts the fact that you’re never around because you’re always playing football!” She stomped toward her car, jerked open the door, but he wasn’t finished yet.

  “At least she won’t try to change me. I am who I am. I have dreams, too! Maybe she’ll stay, unlike what you did.” He turned on his heel and stomped back toward the bar’s entrance.

  Krista didn’t have a clue what came over her, even to this day, but she’d been filled with an anger unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Her life had crumbled around her, much like the pea rocks on the parking lot under her feet. Instead of climbing into her car like she should have, choosing the high road and walking away, she grabbed the baseball bat. The one she kept on the backseat for protection. That’s where things took a downward turn.

  Dodge had loved his new truck, a gift from his parents, and as she lifted the bat high, all she could feel was justification as she shattered the headlights. And when that wasn’t enough, she’d slammed the steel bat onto the candy-red hood. Her breathing had been heavy in her ears as she’d turned, finding him standing on the sidewalk, staring dumbfounded. She would have expected anger, even yelling, but she hadn’t seen one sliver or sign of rage. What she did see had taken her by surprise. His prominent features were filled with sadness and loss of hope. Calm, collected and very slowly, he scrubbed his jaw, then sunk his hands into the front pockets of his worn jeans. “I guess I deserved that.” His voice was even unruffled. “But we’re through. You’ll be hearing from my divorce attorney.” He stepped across the gravel, pulled off his ring, also purchased from a gumball machine, and placed it on the hood of his beat-up truck. “You take care of yourself, you hear?” He winked, turned and disappeared inside of the building.

  Krista had stood there for the longest time, holding the bat while gaining her breath. She hated that she didn’t feel better, not feeling vindicated for her rampage on the truck. She’d only felt heartbreak because he’d been her first and only love. Everything they’d shared had disintegrated there in that parking lot on that hot summer evening in July. She’d taken his ring, found hers, and slipped them both onto her finger as she drove away.

  Driving for hours, she finally went to the apartment she’d shared with Dodge and found it quiet. He hadn’t returned. She packed her bags and could remember how forlorn she’d felt. Here she was, in a town surrounded by only Dodge’s friends, and Maggie had gone home months before. Krista decided she had no other choice but to leave town and return to Ohio. She’d tucked her tail between her legs and admitted to her parents that she’d made a mistake.
Expecting “I told you so,” Krista had been glad that neither of them had rubbed the break up in her face. Instead, they’d told her they were sorry and that they would help her in any way they could.

  The next few weeks had been horrible. She stopped eating. Couldn’t sleep. Even Maggie couldn’t seem to pull Krista out of her depression.

  When Maggie bought tickets to a concert to see their favorite band and wouldn’t take no for an answer, Krista went with her. Not wanting to ruin the night, she’d put on a fake smile, danced to the music and pretended she was the carefree girl she once was—before Dodge.

  Hours later she came home, exhausted from pretending happiness, and found that her parents had left her a gift. A box of stationary, a pen, and a note, “Write it down. It’ll help.”

  The words seemed to flow, and when the paper no longer satisfied her craving, she bought a laptop and put her words into a book. Rejection after rejection later, she finally landed a contract and was published.

  As happy as she was now, life wasn’t fulfilling. The circle wasn’t complete.

  Parking her car in the garage of her apartment building, she grabbed a longer, heavy jacket from the backseat and pulled it on before getting out. Her heels clicked loudly on the cement as she crossed the lot and climbed into the elevator.

  Stepping out into the lobby, she was greeted with a friendly smile and wave by one of her neighbors, Steve. “Hello, ma’am.”

  “Hello, Steve.” She could always count on him and his family for brightening her day. “How’s the wife and baby?”

  “Wife is great and the baby just turned a year old.” His smile reeked of pure pride.

  “A year? Already? Yikes. She’ll be starting college next month.”

  “Yes, Miss Wyatt. She’s growing like a weed. Here, let me grab the elevator for you.” Steve slipped past her and pushed the button to her floor. “You have a good evening.” He dipped his hat as she stepped inside of the cubicle.

  She rode the elevator up several floors, her thoughts on the past. The bell dinged and the doors opened. The hallway was quiet and the overhead light flickered. Shoot! I forgot to tell the maintenance worker that it’s on the blink. She could barely see as she slid her keycard into the slot.

  Inside of her apartment, she clicked on the lights and went into her bedroom, slipping off her shoes. The large window looked out onto the scenic view of the historic town and she stood there for a few minutes watching life pass her by. An ambulance pulled into the apartment lot, shut off its lights and parked in front of the building. She hoped Mrs. Viney wasn’t sick again. The elderly woman had been in and out of the hospital for the last month. Krista always made it a habit to check on her neighbor every evening.

  Grabbing her phone from her purse, she hit a key for speed dial and the phone was picked up on the second ring. Krista felt instant relief hearing the woman’s jovial, but husky, voice. “I was just checking in, Mrs. Viney. I hope you’re doing well this evening.”

  “I’m fine, dear. Watching my favorite show. He’s about to kill a zombie so we’ll talk soon.” Click.

  Krista tossed her phone onto the bed and chuckled. The older woman was as sweet as could be, but she was addicted to TV, especially zombie shows.

  Closing the curtains to the window, she pulled off her coat, then the jacket, and dropped both over the arm of the chair. Dancing light caught her attention. The sequins on the corset glistened and glittered like diamonds in the reflection of the mirror. Her breasts looked like they’d grown from B’s to C’s with the help of the tight fitting top. The woman at the shop had told her to pick a size smaller for the best results, and they were exactly as promised—she looked like a fifties pin-up model. She loved her shape and hadn’t had a complex about her body image since she was a teenager. It had taken her some time to realize that, at five foot two, her curves didn’t have as much room to spread out in length. She wholeheartedly embraced her curves, and had to admit, looking at herself now, she was quite sexy. She wasn’t bone-thin, never had been, and had always called her hourglass hips the ‘female persuasion’. Although she knew she could work out more and eat fewer carbs, she enjoyed having a curvy frame and even the small muffin top that appeared on occasion as a reminder that she was all soft woman.

  “Time to go.” She plucked at the corset with a sigh, realizing she’d already wasted enough time on the failed attempt at seduction. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Or so I’ve heard. Grabbing a pair of scissors from her vanity drawer, she started at the side seam and cut the material all the way to the bust. Once it fell away, her breasts thanked her. Scooping the corset up with her big toe, she deposited it into the trash can. “Sayonara.”

  Pulling on a short nightgown and applying a thick layer of green mask on her face, she went into the kitchen and made a bowl of Rocky Road. Taking it into the living room, she sat down at her computer and pushed the power button. Taking a bite of ice cream, she immediately felt a punitive tingle at her temples. “Ouch! Brain freeze.” She rubbed her forehead. This really isn’t my day.

  Once the ‘freeze’ defrosted in her brain, she pulled up a blank document, ready to start a new story. Grabbing her book of notes, she read the information she’d jotted down while visiting a local house rumored to have the ghost of a twenty-year-old woman wandering the halls. She had committed suicide in the early 1900’s after her fiancé was killed in a hunting accident. The stories were that her spirit was seen on nights when the moon was full. Krista had spent a night cuddled up in a blanket at the estate and hadn’t seen any proof that Beatrice Nelson still roamed the property. To love someone so much that you can’t live without them…such a tragedy.

  Hovering her fingers over the keyboard, she sat there and stared until her eyes blurred. Usually the words flowed like water, but right now she could barely think, let alone put two sentences together.

  This was all Willard’s fault.

  No, that wasn’t true.

  “Damn, Dodge. This is all your fault!” Her mind was stuck in the past and on the man who had probably forgotten her before she crossed the Florida/Georgia line, heading back home.

  Dodge had always managed to nestle his way into the recesses of her mind at all of the inopportune times—while she was taking a bath, at night while she was trying to sleep, when she was eating…when didn’t he enter her mind? He was like an incurable virus, slowly eating away at her preservation.

  She took another bite of the Rocky Road, this time a smaller one, and chewed thoughtfully on a piece of chocolate.

  How could she write about hauntings when she was dealing with a haunting of her own? A six-foot-two, two-hundred pound, brawny ghost that had an insane ability in making women swoon.

  Point was, she was spinning in her heels. Krista had a lot of love to give. And passion. Yet why did she continue to pick the wrong men? She’d known from the get-go that Willard wasn’t the man for her. He was too reserved, too quiet. Not Dodge.

  That was the real problem. No man compared to her husband.

  Her memories were stockpiled and spoiled from the days she’d spent with him—the times she was in his arms she’d been the happiest. He’d broken her heart. Where had it gone so wrong? One minute they were content, and the next they were arguing over a pair of dirty socks and talking divorce. For years after she’d left Dodge, she’d waited, almost anticipated the papers of dissolution arriving in her mailbox. They never did come. Now ten years had passed and she was still married to her first love—her first lover.

  She’d kept track of him while he was in the public eye, and had called it her secret stalking pleasure. She almost felt a little dirty when she remembered how she’d scroll through his social media page, both cursing and savoring him like a high calorie dessert that would only add more inches to her waistline. Soon after she’d left him, he was drafted to a pro football team and he became an overnight success. He was the talk of the sports world. For a time, it seemed as if all of his goals and dreams were coming together li
ke a puzzle. The media claimed he was an up-and-coming star. Yet there was another side to her husband, the man who had a new female flavor on his arm every night according to the photos in the sports magazines. Women and his fans loved him. Standing for hours in rain or shine just to get an autograph and to shake his hand. Once a fan was arrested when she used a pair of scissors to clip a lock of his hair. Another time, a woman had wrapped herself around his body, clinging to him like white on rice until security had peeled her off and hauled her away.

  It wasn’t long until things took a tragic turn for him. He’d suffered an injury that put him out of the game. At first it appeared he would make a full recovery, but she knew Dodge. She could guarantee that he’d pushed himself too fast, and then he was injured again. This time there was no going back and his career was over. He’d disappeared off the radar and she’d assumed he’d gone back home to Montana to lick his internal wounds in private. But she’d called his mother and found that Dodge wasn’t home. In fact, they weren’t sure where he was, but he’d told them he wanted to be alone for a while.

  Days passed. Months, even years.

  A part of her had worried about him. Although she’d removed her wedding band after she’d left him, the invisible ring remained. They weren’t a couple, and yet she had the marriage license that proved differently. It was possible she meant nothing to him, but once upon a time he’d meant everything to her and she wanted to believe he’d loved her too.

  Coming to the conclusion that she needed to move on, a year ago she’d hired a private investigator to find him. He was living and working as a hand at a ranch in Wyoming, a place called Nirvana Ranch. Pro football player turned cowboy hand.

  After months of pondering and fretting, she’d finally called the spa and left a message for him to return her call. But he never did. She’d called several more times, but each time she was met with silence. Eventually, when her frustration surmounted, she’d hired an attorney and sent Dodge divorce papers. Again, they went disregarded. There was no reason why they should prolong the inevitable, so she wasn’t sure why he continued to play games. They’d been a train wreck waiting to happen from the moment they said “I do”.