Hometown Cowboy

by Sara Richardson

  Lucas studied Levi. “But you have your whole career ahead of you…”

  “I don’t need you to protect me anymore,” their younger brother said with more conviction than Lance had thought he was capable of.

  Lucas still looked as surprised as he felt. “No. I guess you don’t.”

  Levi walked over and tossed his beer bottle into the recycling bin. “They couldn’t prosecute me anyway. You’ve already served the sentence. So yeah, it might suck if everyone else found out. They might hate me. But I won’t go to prison.”

  Lucas still looked undecided, but Lance wasn’t. “We can tell him tomorrow. At dinner,” he said. “But right now I have to run.” Wouldn’t do to be late for Jessa. She’d already forgiven him for being an ass once. Or twice. Didn’t need to add poor punctuality to the list.

  “Have fun,” his brothers said in unison as he trotted out the door.

  Didn’t need to tell him twice. It’d been only a few days since he’d spent time with her, but it felt more like months.

  Outside, the early evening sun backlit the mountains with a vibrant haze. He climbed into the truck, appreciating the view as he drove toward town. Normally, he didn’t consider himself an optimistic sort of fella, but it seemed things were falling into place. His brothers were back home, which meant the family was back together. After all these years, they’d put the past to rest. Worlds were coming up fast, and he’d never felt more ready for a competition in his life.

  And all of it was thanks to Jessa.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was becoming apparent that perhaps Darla hadn’t been the best choice in reinforcements to call when Jessa had started to freak out about her date with Lance. The woman had come right over and talked her into wearing her brand-new flowy, low-cut sundress that clearly said, Make love to me in a flower-dappled meadow.

  And yes, she had to admit, it was the perfect outfit for a first date with a man who’d already convinced her he was worth the effort. But there was a slight complication. She shouldn’t go on a date with him. Not when she was leaving for Denver at six thirty in the morning with his father for a secret doctor’s appointment. “He told me to wear jeans,” she said, glancing at herself in the mirror.

  Darla only laughed. “He doesn’t want you to wear jeans. When he sees this dress, he’ll forget all about jeans,” she promised.

  “I shouldn’t go. I could tell him I have the chickenpox,” Jessa squeaked, fisting her friend’s shirt desperately in her hands. “Or measles. Or a bad case of the stomach flu…” A rising panic crowded into her chest, jamming up her throat. She glanced at the clock. Lance would be there in ten minutes!

  “No.” Darla plucked Jessa’s hands from her clothing and backed away, straightening the wrinkles out of her shirt. “You are going on this date,” she said sternly. “I mean, come on! Lance never asks anyone out.” Her hands flew up. “Think of what this means. This is like a record. Maybe you’ll end up in the Guinness World Records or something.”

  Jessa deflated to the couch, suddenly exhausted from the weight of carrying such a heavy secret. “I can’t go. I can’t.” How could she look into that man’s perceptive eyes and pretend everything was all right?

  Darla plopped next to her. “You have to go,” she argued. “You look gorgeous. And you don’t want to discourage his interest in you, right?”

  Jessa stared at her hands, trying to even out her breathing. “Well. No. I guess not.” She liked Lance. Okay. She more than liked him. But that was the problem. She’d learned enough about him to realize that keeping any sort of secret about his father would be considered an unpardonable sin in his book.

  “Come on.” Darla gave her shoulders a quick massage, like a coach pumping up a boxer for a big match. “Just forget about everything else and have fun tonight. Let it all go.”

  “I want to.” She wanted to waltz out that door with him and let him sweep her off her feet like they’d been caught up in one of those wonderful Humphrey Bogart movies. Not like it would be all that hard for him to sweep her off her feet. He’d already laid a serious claim on her heart. She wanted to hold his hand and kiss him and, well, depending on where things went, maybe more than kiss him. But. “I feel like I’m lying to him.” In a moment of desperation on the phone, she’d given up Luis’s secret to Darla. Not that she had to worry. The woman was a vault.

  “Pshaw.” Darla waved away her concerns. “You’re not lying. You’re withholding. Totally different,” she said, as though she’d suddenly become a relationship expert. “You have to respect Luis’s wishes on this, Jess. This is his decision. Not yours.”

  And that was the sad truth of it. “I know.”

  “Luis is right. This would completely throw Lance off right before the biggest competition of his life. Is that what you want?”

  “No.” He needed this win. He needed to go out on top. Surely he’d understand. She was just trying to do what was best for him.

  “Now, I’m gonna take off before he gets here and sees me giving you a pep talk.” Darla pushed off the couch and walked across the room to the dog bed Jessa had brought home for Ilsa. The pig squealed when she picked her up, but Darla carefully calmed her with a smooch on the head. She’d agreed to watch Ilsa tonight. Just in case things went late.

  But Jessa couldn’t let things go late. She couldn’t sleep with Lance! Not when she was keeping something from him…

  “Call me the second you get home,” Darla said for the hundredth time. “Got it? I want details. I want to know everything.”

  She followed her friend to the door and opened it for her, then leaned down to kiss Ilsa’s snout. “I’m not sure there’ll be anything to tell.” How could she say one word to him without everything coming out? Let alone kiss the man? It would feel so wrong…

  “Oh, there’ll be something to tell,” Darla insisted on her way down the porch. “Trust me. That dress won’t let you down.” With a suggestive lift of her eyebrows, she traipsed down the porch, wiggling her fingers in a wave.

  Jessa didn’t wave back. Her arms felt too weak to move. She tapped the door closed with her toes and paced the living room. Usually the anticipation of seeing Lance brought on the butterflies, but now it had unleashed something far more intense. What if Lance could read the secret on her face? What if she accidentally mentioned something about their trip to Denver? What if—

  The doorbell chimed.

  Her head whipped around. Lance’s sturdy build crowded the window.

  “Okay,” she breathed. “Okay.” Too late to cancel. Too late to make up some sort of illness. Darla was right. She wasn’t lying. After it all came out, she’d simply explain to Lance how important the secret had been to Luis. He would understand. He had to understand.

  Slowly, she shuffled to the door, her insides quivering the whole way. She reached for the knob and suddenly the damn thing felt like it was solid steel. Somehow she managed to get the door open, even with her failing muscles. And that image of him standing there…that burned into her brain. He was dreamy…a rugged cowboy fantasy. Dark tight jeans. Black button-down shirt tucked in so as not to hide any of his goods. His hair had been somewhat tamed but not to the point of looking like he cared all that much, and God, that made him sexy.

  “Hi, there,” she said as casually as she could, considering the pulse in her throat.

  “Hey.” His gaze lazily trailed down her body and back up to her eyes, and the desire she saw there rendered her speechless.

  “I know I told you to wear jeans, but that’s one hell of a dress, Jessa Love,” he uttered in a rather provocative, scraping tone that tempted her to do away with the dress altogether.

  Instead of disrobing, she turned away to snatch her purse off the sofa table. And to talk her cheeks out of a blush. “Thanks,” she muttered as soon as she could speak.

  When she turned around, he stood closer, almost right against her, and even though he hadn’t touched her yet, she felt him, inhaled that dangerous scent that mad
e her think of the powerful trees lining the mountains outside.

  “I thought we’d go for a picnic.” His gaze lowered to her cleavage as though he wanted her to know how much he appreciated it. “That sound okay with you?”

  A picnic. It sounded perfect. In the great outdoors, maybe she could think about something besides leading him right into her bedroom. Skip the small talk. Skip the food. Who needed a date when Lance was so good at seducing her? Ahem. Yes. A picnic would be much safer. “I love picnics,” she told him, going to the closet to pick out a sweater. Delicate and white to match the dress.

  “Can’t say I’ve ever been on a picnic,” he said, holding open the front door for her. “But I figure it’ll be a nice evening up at the lake.”

  “Mmm-hmmm,” she squeaked, hightailing it down the sidewalk to his old pickup. She’d already climbed in and gotten belted before he could open the door for her.

  Lance hoisted himself into the driver’s seat and started the engine. As he pulled away from the curb, he glanced over at her. “You okay?” he asked, more unsure than she’d ever seen him.

  “Yes.” A fake laugh tumbled out. “Of course I’m okay.” Oh God. She might as well have said, No, Lance. I’m not okay. I’m taking your father to Denver in the morning. She was terrible at pretending.

  Sure enough, he gave her a skeptical look.

  “Um.” She scraped at a piece of nail polish on the tip of her finger. Think. Think, damn it. Maybe sex would’ve been a better idea. Then she wouldn’t actually have to talk to him. “It’s just…it’s been a stressful week.”

  His eyes watched the windshield now as he navigated the town streets. “Things at the shelter okay?”

  “Yes.” As far as she could tell. Though she’d been a bit distracted lately, courtesy of that man sitting right there. “Just a lot to do.”

  The truck lurched to a stop as he waited to turn onto the highway. “My offer’s still good, you know.” His hand swept down her arm and brought on a rush of longing. “Even though you’re not staying with Dad anymore, I’ll still donate half my winnings to the shelter.”

  Her shoulders went stiff. “You don’t have to do that,” she choked out. He shouldn’t do that.

  “I want to.” He sped onto the highway, sneaking glances at her as they headed toward the ranch. “You’ve done a lot for us, Jessa. Bringing my brothers home…helping out Dad.”

  Her hands squeezed into fists. She was still trying to help out Luis. She had to remember that. “It’s nothing,” she insisted, staring out the passenger window, watching the familiar mountains roll by. They’d turned off the highway and onto the ranch’s vast acreage and were heading up the same switchback road she and Luis took on the ATVs. The secret seemed to sear against her chest, but she battled back an urge to tell him. “So how are things going with your brothers?” she asked in an attempt to take the focus off her.

  “Things are pretty good.” He kind of laughed. “Surprisingly.”

  That drew her gaze to him. “Why is that surprising?”

  “Let’s just say there’ve always been some things between us.” He focused on the road as though he wanted to evade her eyes. “But we’re dealing with them. Finally. After all these years, I think we can be like a family again.” There was a gravity in his voice, half hope, half fear. But when his face turned to her she saw only strength. “Thanks to you.”

  Guilt spilled through her again, forcing her to look away. “I can’t take credit for that.” After he found out about his father’s situation, he likely wouldn’t be singing her praises anymore.

  Silence ensued as the truck crawled up the steep incline. When the road leveled out, he glanced over at her again. “I didn’t think I’d be thankful for them coming back. But I am. And Dad is.” His eyes locked on hers. “I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time.”

  She felt the color drain from her face. His father was not a safe subject right now. Not at all. “How’s training coming?” she rasped, hoping to divert the conversation away from Luis. She couldn’t talk about him at all or she might burst into tears. She’d nearly driven herself crazy looking up his symptoms on the Internet, fearing everything from a brain tumor to dementia to Alzheimer’s.

  “I feel ready,” Lance said, parking the truck near the short path that led down to the lake. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this ready for a competition.”

  “I’m glad.” It was the most genuine thing she’d said since he rang her doorbell. She was glad for him. After the hell everyone was giving him, he deserved to win.

  Which is why she wouldn’t tell him. As soon as he came back from Worlds, he’d find out everything. Right now, she had to give him space to concentrate. Comforted by the thought, she climbed out of the truck, thankful for the fresh air, the expanse of space between them. Maybe out here in the openness things wouldn’t feel as intimate. Maybe she could keep her distance.

  While Lance unloaded a huge basket from the bed of his truck, she wandered to the path. Evening was just starting to settle, hushing the world, making everything glow. God, it was romantic. The lighting, the soft breeze, the faraway rush of a stream. The peace of it made reality seem a little farther away, like they really had entered some dream world where happiness could never come to a screeching halt with one diagnosis, with one little lie. Her body let go of some of the tension it had been carrying as she inhaled the scent of honeysuckle and pine. So lovely, these mountains. So far away from everything else.

  “Hope you like cheese. And wine,” Lance said, coming up behind her.

  She turned, letting herself take him in, letting her eyes linger on his. “I like both.” She smiled at him. And it felt real. Not forced. “That’s quite the basket. I’m so impressed,” she teased, eyeing the huge woven work of art he carried.

  “Borrowed it from Naomi,” he admitted with a grin. “I was just gonna pack it all in a good old saddle bag. But I figured we might not want hay in our food.”

  She laughed, and somehow it made a surge of tingling anticipation slip through her hesitations. Lance had gone to a lot of trouble planning this date. A picnic. Something intimate and sweet. He could’ve taken her to a restaurant, but instead he’d brought her out here. The effort he’d put in warmed her.

  They walked in an easy silence down to the lake. She’d been there a couple of times, fishing with Luis, mostly, but she’d never seen it at dusk. When the trees opened into a clearing, she stopped suddenly. It almost looked fake. The glassy surface, smooth and turquoise, fed from the glacier nestled between two cliffs above. The setting sun streaked the sky with colors, reflecting off the water. “This is incredible,” she breathed.

  “Yeah. Sometimes I come up here at sunset. It’s probably the most peaceful spot on the entire ranch.” Lance led her down to the water, where a big flat rock sat mere feet away from the shoreline.

  “This is where I usually sit.” He lowered the basket to the ground and took out a red-and-white-checkered tablecloth, shaking it slightly before he spread it out.

  “It’s perfect.” She sat, letting her legs stretch out in front of her, crossing them at the ankles as her skin soaked in the gentle evening sun.

  Lance sat beside her, pulling things out of the basket, one by one. A plastic-wrapped plate of some yummy-looking cheeses, a container of grapes, a platter of what looked to be prosciutto and salami. Then, two wineglasses and a bottle of merlot. He uncorked the wine and poured a glass for each of them. Then he held his out to her, a sparkle of mystery in his eyes. “To great views,” he said, eyeing her dress again, and this time she let herself blush.

  “To great views,” she repeated, clanking her glass against his.

  He pulled out two plates and served her. It was all perfectly thought out. The saltiness of the cheese with the bitterness of the wine and the sweetness of the grapes. The two of them ate leisurely while the pink hues deepened in the sky.

  Jessa set down her wineglass, still mesmerized by how the lake’s surface mirrored the s
ky. “So what do you think about when you come up here?”

  Lance gazed up at the peaks above them. “Life. Competitions. Sometimes my mom.” That last sentence seemed garbled with an emotion she couldn’t quite peg. Anger? Resentment? Sadness?

  She munched on the amazing Brie he’d selected and sipped her wine. “Did you stay in touch with her? Ever hear from her?”

  Instead of answering, he shook his head. Then he popped some grapes into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully before he swallowed. “For a while I thought she’d come back. That she’d realize her mistake and make things right.”

  By the sound of things, he’d given up on that dream a long time ago. But she’d never been one to lose hope easily. “Maybe she still will,” Jessa said, her tone treading carefully.

  “Nah. She would’ve already. If she wanted to.” He set his plate on the ground next to the rock and hunched, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ve looked for her more than once. Didn’t find anything. She obviously doesn’t want to be found.”

  The pain on his face ground itself into her heart. What would that be like? To have this important piece of your life missing? Did he feel incomplete because of it? “You boys deserved better,” she said, covering his hand with hers. His was warm and rough. Battered by the constant tug-of-war with leather. She loved the feel of it. Of him. His hands were so distinct, the lines and ridges and scars…

  Lance scooted closer to her. “You didn’t have it so easy with your family, either, huh? Always going back and forth the way you did.” His arm settled around her.

  “No.” She let herself lean into him. “That’s true. But both of my parents were always there for me.” They may not have been in love, but they both loved her. She’d never had to doubt that. “I consider myself very blessed to have had that.”

  Lance peered down at her, his eyes searching hers. “How do you do that?”

  She turned to face him. “What?”