“They love working cattle, so don’t let their stampede out of here get you down,” Jolie said, coming up beside her. “You did great, and I think they enjoyed themselves.”
“Like a trip to the dentist.”
Jolie chuckled. “It wasn’t that bad. And remember, they’re boys. When you get more to the actual painting part of the class things will get better.”
“Well, at least there’s hope.” It was true that today she had to spend time teaching a little theory. Not much, but she had to explain the different art forms, the brushes and mixing the paint, etcetera.
“I’m pleased. They need a little Art 101 and it’s just a wonderful thing that you showed up right here beside us. God just works everything out. It’s a wonderful thing to watch.”
It was Lucy’s turn to chuckle. “I’m not so sure the fellas would agree.”
“They don’t have a clue what’s good for them.” Jolie winked and then began straightening desks. Lucy did the same. “So how’s the remodel going?”
“Pretty good. I think we’ve got all the walls knocked out that I can possibly knock out.”
“Well that’s a good thing. I overheard something about Calamity Lucy the other day. We’re studying women of the West right now and so they have heard stories of Calamity Jane. I think they were beginning to fear the house was going to fall in on you.”
She shook her head. “Crazy guys. I do admit that I kind of fell in love with certain aspects of swinging that sledgehammer. There’s a lot of clearing of the head that goes into that swing.”
Jolie sat on the edge of the desk as her smile bloomed wide. “Speaking of Rowdy, how’s that going?”
Had they been speaking of Rowdy? She thought they’d been speaking of her house and clearing her head. Suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation, Lucy bluffed. “What do you mean?”
“C’mon. There’s something there. I saw it the other night. It’s okay. I can tell you he’s a good guy.”
“First of all, I’m not looking for any kind of guy right now. Just so you know. But also, he told me he’s trying to mend his ways. That’s a red flag to me. I bet he’s very popular.” With the ladies went unsaid.
“And I’ll be one of the first to say he needs to mend his ways. Especially after...” Jolie’s words trailed off and her eyes dimmed.
Lucy didn’t want to pry, but couldn’t help herself. “What? After what?”
Jolie bit her lip. “I shouldn’t have said that. Rowdy is a great guy. I’ve known him since I came here at age ten, when my parents were house parents. He didn’t take his mother’s death well. He got into all kinds of trouble—reckless stuff. My mom used to say it was as if his mother dying young made him think his life was going to end early, too, so he might as well live fast and furiously. He almost got killed trying to ride a bull that the best bull riders in the country had trouble riding. It stomped him—it was terrible. It scared Randolph to death.” Jolie shook her head. “Anyway, I know we all want the best for him.”
Jolie had changed what she’d been about to say, but hearing about Rowdy as a grieving boy tugged at Lucy’s heart. Still, why had Jolie thrown out the “especially after” comment, then backpedalled like an Olympian?
Whatever it was, she’d already figured out it couldn’t be good or Jolie would have had no reason to withhold from her.
“Rowdy just needs someone who can help mend the heart of that boy he once was. By the way, I want to say how sorry I am. I read the article about the fire.” Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry you lost your husband and were so badly burned. A terrible thing. I guess me pushing you about an interest in Rowdy is probably way off base right now. Forget I said anything. I’m just glad you’re here and agreed to teach art to the guys. Working with them will bless your soul.”
Lucy tried to figure out what to say, but in the end she said nothing. Just that the boys already were getting to her in a good way, and then she’d gotten out of there as fast as she could.
She had very nearly let her defenses down where Rowdy was concerned. The thought plagued her all the way home.
There was something behind Jolie’s remark. And it had a big red stop sign painted all over it. And yet, she thought about that boy who lost his mother and dealt with it by living hard and recklessly, and her heart ached for him.
Chapter Ten
Driving back from Bandera a few days after Lucy had told him about her husband, Rowdy had a lot of time to think. He’d been unable to get her off his mind. He’d had to make the almost four-hour trip to hill country on the spur of the moment to finalize the buying of a horse he’d been working on for weeks. The trip had turned into a two-day affair and he was anxious to get home.
Morgan had relayed to him that the first two art classes had been exactly as they’d all thought they’d be—met with strong opposition.
“If it had been us being forced to lift a brush at that age, we’d have been moaning just as loud,” he’d told Morgan.
“You’d probably have skipped out and found you someplace to hide out there holed up under the stars where you always used to run,” Morgan had accused, and been right on target.
Still, that being said, he hoped the boys weren’t making Lucy feel too bad.
He had to admit that after hearing her story—or at least part of what he suspected was a story with more to it—he was glad Jolie had asked her to teach the art class. It opened up a reason for her to be at the ranch some. He knew that what he and the boys could do at her house was not going to last much longer. They’d already knocked out every wall that could be knocked out and the hedges were all trimmed and the yard cleaned up. He enjoyed being around Lucy. He couldn’t deny it.
He was supposed to be cooling his jets, and here he had gone and kissed the first woman since “the bad move of the century.” The only good thing he could say about that—other than the fact that he’d enjoyed it more than any kiss he’d ever experienced in his entire life—was that at least he’d kissed a good woman. A really good woman.
Not that every woman he’d ever dated had been bad—they were just not what he was looking for anymore. He was digging himself deeper and deeper. He was a shallow jerk.
It was as much his problem as it had been theirs. Until Liz.
Liz was in a realm all her own, and if there was one good thing he could say for her, it was that at least knowing her had set him on a different course. He still felt for her family and what she’d put them through. And he knew that when and if he ever married, he was taking no chances on a woman like Liz standing across from him saying “I do.”
Like his dad had said, there was always a positive to every situation. You could learn from the bad ones and if you didn’t, then the blame for that sat squarely on your own shoulders.
Rowdy had learned and learned well.
His dad had also told him once that living hard wouldn’t bring back his mother. Wouldn’t right the wrong he’d felt done to him when she died. They’d created the ranch as a haven for lost boys, boys who had no one and yet Randolph sometimes worried that Rowdy was the most lost and alone of all the boys who’d come to the ranch. Rowdy couldn’t do anything more than just look at his dad that day, because he’d felt his words were true.
Staring at the night flashing by, Rowdy wasn’t sure why his thoughts had gone there. He didn’t like excuses, didn’t like thinking that he had been unable to deal with the feelings of loss that had coiled inside of him for so long. He’d been angry on the inside—hiding it as best he could—finding relief in his reckless ways.
Much as he suspected Wes was doing. For Rowdy, everything had come to a jolting halt when he’d been confronted by Liz’s husband. It was as if icy cold water had been poured over him, startling him awake.
He’d known then he wanted to change. He’d gone down on his knees and asked the
Lord to forgive him. To change him. And that change was in process.
He just hadn’t refined the process yet. Bad habits were hard to break. Especially when a gal like Lucy fell into his arms.
He smiled thinking about that first meeting. She’d surprised him from the beginning, and every day he wanted to know more about her.
Not far to go until he’d be driving past her place. It was late, but if her lights were on, he might stop in.
Once again, maybe he was getting ahead of himself.
Patience had never been a strong suit of his.
So he’d play it by ear. It was eleven o’clock, anyway. She was probably snug in bed with the lights off. The best thing he could do was drive on by and let her be.
* * *
Lucy stared at the sketch she’d just finished of how she wanted the studio to look. The barn was sturdy and the concrete slab made it all the more workable to have an art studio here in the loft. Sitting on the edge of the loft with her legs hanging over instead of her body this time, she studied the floor below. There were possibilities for that space, too...if what she’d heard at the Spotted Cow Café today had been any sign. Both Mabel and Jo had voiced a desire to learn to paint. They’d said they had a lot of friends who would enjoy an art class one night a week—maybe even two.
Possibilities. She let her imagination open and saw the loft as her personal studio with the first floor set up as an art classroom. The idea wasn’t something she’d even thought about until Jolie had asked her to teach the boys. What a disaster that was on the verge of being. But if she was actually offering art classes to people who wanted to take them, and were excited about it— Well, that was really appealing to her.
As far as the guys, she was feeling like a failure, despite Jolie assuring her they’d come around.
Ha!
The crunch of tires, then headlights flashing across the open barn doors, alerted her that someone was pulling into her driveway. She glanced at her watch. It was after eleven-thirty.
Who would be coming to her house at this late hour?
And what was she doing out in the barn this late alone? Her door was even unlocked and every light in the house was on. Hello—
She’d not realized how late it was. She’d gotten lost in her drawing. Pulling her legs back from the edge, she stood and went to the window to peek out and see who was out there.
Rowdy!
What was he doing here so late?
She’d been relieved when he hadn’t shown up to work two days ago. The boys had relayed the message that he’d had ranch business out of town. It hadn’t made her happy that her first reaction had been to feel let down that he was gone. She’d kicked that out the door in an instant and been more than happy not to have to see him for a few days. It gave her time to think. Time to take control of her circumstances again.
She’d called a contractor and set up a meeting for tomorrow.
Rowdy got out of his truck, stretched and then, looking better than she wished he did, he strode to her back door and knocked on the screen-door frame.
Drats!
He waited, looked at his watch then turned and glanced toward the barn. She knew he couldn’t see her and she didn’t move. But then she realized that maybe since it was so late, there was an important reason he was out there.
“Rowdy,” she called, pushing the window open and waving. “I’m up here. Is everything all right?”
“Lucy! What are you doing out there at this time of night?”
Okay, so maybe she should have let him stand out there all night. “I’m working. What are you doing?”
“Looking for you?” He was steadily heading toward her. The barn’s spotlight showcased him all the way. He looked up as he got closer. “Mind if I come up?”
Yes. “No,” she said instead. Walking over, she sat back down on the edge of the loft and let her legs dangle as she watched him stomp up the stairs.
When he made it to the floor he came and sat down beside her. Too close for comfort, his shoulder brushed hers. Butterflies came out of nowhere and attacked her stomach. There were just some things she was finding out that she couldn’t control. Butterflies were one of them.
Drat and double drat!
* * *
God had been having an excellent day when He’d created Lucy Calvert. Yessiree, it was true. He’d also been on a let’s-torture-Rowdy kick.
He’d missed her.
There, he admitted it. Staring into those amazing eyes, he knew there was no use trying to deny it.
“What did you say you were out here doing? Working?” he asked as the sounds of the night settled in the stillness between them. Through the open barn doors, crickets chirped and he could hear the coyotes in the distance, so far off their lonesome call almost blended with the night.
She nodded, picking up a sketch pad on the floor beside her. She handed it to him. His fingers brushed hers as he took it. “This your studio?” he asked, trying not to send any signals that would put a wall up between them.
She’d had her hands folded together in her lap, and now she just nodded. This had been a bad idea on his part. But to be true to the path he’d committed to with the Lord, he was keeping his distance.
Looking into her eyes, he knew he was a fickle soul. That had always been his problem where women were concerned. But if he didn’t want to run Lucy off, then he now understood he would have to move slowly. She was different than any woman he’d ever known.
He yanked his gaze away from hers and stared at the drawing. He sent up a prayer for help.
Because he did have good intentions.
“Yes. I drew it up and kind of lost track of time. The contractor starts on Monday.”
She’d hired a contractor. He’d known this was coming, had thought as much earlier, but he knew that meant his time here was done. He hadn’t realized it was going to hit so hard. “So you’re kicking me and the boys out?”
“Y’all have been wonderful, but a girl can’t wear out her welcome. You have a job to do and the guys have enough on their hands with school, ranch work and preparing for the rodeo.”
It was true.
“Besides, I only agreed to let y’all help for a short term. And my agent really needs me to get busy.”
True again.
“You’re sure this doesn’t have anything to do with me grabbing you like a jerk and kissing you?”
She stared up at the rafters for a moment, engrossed in the moths playing in the lamplight as she stalled for time.
“Maybe some. But you have been nothing but great to me since the moment I moved in here. It’s me. There’s—” She stopped speaking and took a deep breath.
He waited.
“I didn’t tell you the whole story the other day.”
You haven’t told her the complete story, either. “Look, about that. I need to say something here,” he said.
She shook her head. “No. I need to tell you something first. I think you deserve to know so you understand.”
His gut burned with the need to come clean. It was as if once he’d realized Lucy deserved to know, he needed to get it out. But ladies go first. “Okay, then you first.”
“I’ve told you that my husband was having an affair when he died. It’s hard to think about, much less talk about.”
Lucy’s expression was so mingled with anger and sorrow he wanted to put his arms around her and comfort her. But he couldn’t move.
He caught himself before blurting out that her husband was an idiot. “Who in their right mind would do that to you?” He finally said what he’d been thinking ever since she’d first told him about her husband’s cheating.
She wrapped her arms together across her midriff and held his serious gaze with one of her own. “Tim Dean Calvert, that�
�s who.”
Tim Dense Calvert. “So were you still together when the fire happened?” he asked, wanting to know more—he’d felt from her first revelation that there was more to this story. She’d said they were asleep. So she’d overlooked the affair. That didn’t strike him as the Lucy he knew.
“I didn’t know. I found out afterward.”
“Afterward. So were you having problems?” What was he pumping her for information for? Did you love the guy when he died? The question slammed into him and he held it back.
“Not as far as I knew. Well, some. Things had gotten tense. But you know, that happens.” She took a deep breath and stared at the clouds as if seeking her next words. “I woke up and found I was in a burn center and my husband was dead. I was grieving when...the next day a woman came to my room.”
He didn’t like the way this story was going at all.
Her eyes glittered. “She was bitter and blamed me for the fire that had killed the man she was in love with. She told me about the affair and that Tim had planned to leave me for her. I mean, honestly, how could I have been so blind?” She took a deep breath but he couldn’t find words.
“Once I got out of the hospital, several friends came to me and told me they’d known of Tim’s infidelities. Infidelities. As in more than this woman. But they hadn’t known how to tell me...so they’d said nothing.”
Rowdy started to speak but she picked back up as if once she’d started talking she couldn’t stop.
“I haven’t looked at anything the same since. So many things came to light about the real Tim that I had to take a good hard look at my life. I think I knew deep in my heart something wasn’t right, but I just hadn’t wanted to face it.”
The look on her face told him she’d begun to question herself in that time. He couldn’t even imagine how horrible that had been for her. Burned as bad as her neck and arm were, and the pain she must have been in both physically and emotionally. And that was before being confronted by the other woman.
“Unbelievable,” he said at last. “That explains the walls.” It all made perfect sense now.
Love Inspired January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Her Unexpected CowboyHis Ideal MatchThe Rancher's Secret Son Page 8
