Falling for the Cowboy

by Mary Leo

  “Maggie, I…” He looked down, then back at Maggie. “I wish you nothing but the best, no matter where you go or what you do.”

  She couldn’t stop the tear that slipped down her cheek. “Thanks. You, too.”

  Maggie didn’t want to do this anymore, didn’t want to deal with the bundle of emotions welling up inside her so she gave him a brief smile and turned away from him to answer her phone.

  “Hi, Allison.”

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  Maggie heard Blake get into his truck. It took every ounce of willpower she had to keep her feet planted on that snowy sidewalk.

  “No. Not at all,” she lied. “Your timing’s perfect.”

  As Blake drove away, he threw her a smile and a wave. She waved back, completely heartbroken, but confident she had made the right decision. Meanwhile, Allison went on about the multimillion-dollar media blitz she would be handling for Aragon Computers.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As Blake drove away, he felt about as melancholy as a hound dog sitting on the porch of a deserted cabin. He had desperately wanted to rock her in his arms and plead with her not to go, but that phone call had come before he could have made a fool out of himself.

  The thing that stuck in his craw was how easily he had allowed himself to think she might be different when all the signs were there. It couldn’t have been more spelled out for him if she had told him point-blank: Blake Granger, I’m going to tease and torment you, then I’m going to make love to you until your very bones call out for mercy, act as if I love you, then kick the crap out of your heart and leave you in the dust.

  He shook his head at the thought of her on the phone, walking back to Kitty’s. Apparently, that steak wasn’t important anymore.

  Part of him had wanted to beg her to stay, but he knew she couldn’t and wouldn’t, no matter what he did or said. Instead, he had shoved his love for her aside and driven off, hoping he could make her disappear as easily as he’d waved goodbye.

  Funny thing was, the more he thought about her telling him exactly what would happen, the more he knew he wouldn’t have changed a thing.

  How could he? He had fallen in love with her as soon as he’d seen that beautiful face of hers, looking all full of herself and entirely kissable.

  The snow was coming down heavier as Blake drove home. It stuck to his windshield, making it difficult to see. He wasn’t in the mood to fight the weather. Still, he didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want to be reminded of Maggie when he passed that empty guest room or when he slept in his empty bed. He needed to talk to somebody. He needed somebody who would understand.

  He needed to talk to his brother Colt.

  * * *

  “COME ON IN, big brother. I had a feeling you’d be showing up here tonight. I just put the boys down, so we’re free until one of them wakes up calling for something.”

  Blake followed Colt into his living room. A fire burned in the hearth as Colt picked up trucks, game pieces and his boys’ clothes off the floor. “Can I get you something? You look as though you might be in need of a bit of liquid warmth.”

  “Brandy. Thanks,” Blake told him, knowing that what he really needed was some advice, but was too self-conscious to ask for it.

  By the time Colt returned with two glasses of brandy, Blake had stoked the fire, removed his coat and gloves, and settled on one end of the brown sofa. Colt’s house was decorated in contemporary masculine functional. All the feminine pieces his wife had bought were stored out in the barn or had been given away.

  “So what’s up, big brother?” Colt asked, handing him a glass of amber liquid.

  “You know exactly what’s up.”

  Colt took a sip of his brandy. “I thought I’d be polite and let you tell me.”

  “Since when have you become polite?”

  “Since I know losing Maggie is ripping out your insides.”

  Blake stared down at his drink. “Mind if I stay here tonight?”

  “Already set up the spare room.”

  “You’re a good brother, Colt.”

  “I learned from the best,” he said then slammed his brandy back in one gulp and stood. “You want to talk, I’ll listen. If not, I’m heading off to bed. Them boys of mine start an early day.”

  Blake changed his mind about needing to talk. It was enough that his brother understood what he was going through. “You go on to bed. I’ll sit here for a while. Get my bearings. Thanks for the brandy.”

  “Anytime, big brother.”

  Blake stood and the two men hugged. Colt went off to bed, dragging with him as many toys and clothes as he could hold. Blake switched off the lights and sat staring at the roaring fire, trying to sort out how he was going to learn to live without Maggie Daniels in his life.

  * * *

  MAGGIE’S NEW JOB turned out to be everything she ever wanted in terms of a career. Not only was she back on track in a spacious corner office, but she had outdone even her wildest dreams. Sure, she hardly saw her posh apartment on Gorham Avenue in Brentwood, and she rarely enjoyed a night out on trendy San Vincente Boulevard, but she had personally landed four new major clients in the few weeks since she’d been in Los Angeles. And Allison seemed duly impressed with her performance.

  Maggie was finally living her dream: designer clothes, a fancy new car, hobnobbing with the rich and famous, and a plush sofa made of the finest synthetic fiber her money could buy. She even sprang for a rocker exactly like Kitty’s.

  So, why with all that she had going for her was she more miserable than ever?

  She hated all the traffic in L.A., the bad air caused her throat to feel scratchy most of the time, and the tile floor in her ultramodern apartment made her feet chronically cold. Then there were the endless paved roads and the complete anonymity that she once enjoyed, but now hated. And she couldn’t get over how expensive everything seemed. Had the prices doubled or was she simply mentally caught up in the Briggs economy?

  Strange as it seemed, she longed for a wide-open sky, especially at night when all the stars were hidden from view by the lights of the city. She missed the smell of pine, and the feel of snowflakes on her tongue.

  She didn’t exactly understand what was happening to her, but she was finding it more and more difficult to remain focused.

  Big-city diva Maggie Daniels was desperately homesick for small-town Briggs and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. She had made her bed and now she was struggling with the covers.

  At first, she thought she simply needed a period of adjustment. The city was something she had to grow back into, like getting used to riding a bike again after you’d given it up for a long stretch of time. Unfortunately, it was more than a simple feeling of being unsteady; she honestly didn’t want to ride anymore.

  “Now what?” she asked herself as she gazed into the bathroom mirror.

  It was the day before Thanksgiving and Maggie was preparing to fly business class to London, England, in less than four hours. It was the biggest deal of her life. If she landed this client, which seemed inevitable, she would secure her standing with her new company and prove to herself that she and Allison Bennett were indeed at the top of their game.

  As she dressed for the long flight—jeans, a simple cream-colored sweater and fuzzy warm socks under knee-high black boots—she tried to stay positive. After all, she was on her way to London. How great was that? Allison’s company was doing so well the
y had to hire more people in both offices.

  Maggie Daniels had, indeed, arrived.

  The only fly in her London pie was Kitty’s insistence that she return to Briggs for Thanksgiving. More than anything, Maggie would love to return to Briggs, but she knew she couldn’t. For one thing, she couldn’t possibly postpone the meeting in London, and for another, she couldn’t pour salt on the Blake wound. Not now, anyway. For the most part, she had her feelings for him in check, and she wanted to keep them that way for the foreseeable future. It was her only hope of survival in this cement-and-metal jungle. Besides, she hadn’t spent the holidays with Kitty since they were girls.

  And just as she was about to pull on those black boots, feeling confident in her holiday convictions, her phone rang. Naturally, it was Kitty. Her sister seemed to have a sort of radar. Whenever Maggie thought about her, she called.

  Or it could be that she’d been calling every day at the same time for the past week trying to convince Maggie to come home for Thanksgiving. Not that Kitty’s house was “home,” but it was the closest thing to home that Maggie had felt in a very long time.

  “What’s up, sis?” Maggie chirped into the phone, as if she had no idea why Kitty was calling so early in the morning. She abandoned her boots in favor of gathering up more of her things to toss into the open suitcase.

  “You know what’s up. Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving. Everybody wants to see you. Tell me you’ve booked a flight and you’ll be here in time for dinner tomorrow night,” Kitty said. Maggie could hear the apprehension in her voice. “My babies miss their auntie.”

  “Your babies are too young to know they even have an auntie.”

  “They’d know their auntie if she were around more.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Anything is possible. You just have to decide to make it happen.”

  “I don’t have time for this.”

  “What do you have time for?”

  Maggie pulled her winter coat off a hanger in the closet, but it slipped out of her hands and landed on Kitty’s cowboy boots.

  Her breath caught in her throat. She blew it out. “My flight to London leaves in a few hours and I’m not ready.”

  “Only people without families go to London on Thanksgiving. You have a family and we want you here.”

  Maggie stood, picking up her coat then closing the door on the closet, trying to ignore those scuffed-up boots that she’d grown to love. Maggie had gotten good at not letting Kitty get to her, telling herself to be strong. To focus on her goals. To be a big girl. “I’m not going to be able to make it this year, but I promise to fly in for Christmas.”

  Kitty let out a long sigh. “You’re doing it again, you know.”

  “Doing what?” But Maggie knew exactly what she was referring to.

  “Putting your job before your family.”

  Maggie paused, trying to get her nerves to settle down. Her morning coffee had turned to acid in her stomach. “You don’t understand. I don’t have a choice.”

  “That’s the old Maggie talking. The new Maggie knows she always has a choice.”

  “Not today. Not this week.”

  She tossed her coat on top of her suitcase, walked back to the closet, opened the door, grabbed the cowboy boots and proceeded to slip them on, thinking they might keep her feet warmer than the thin, expensive boots she’d been going to wear. Then she shoved the expensive boots in her suitcase, just in case cowboy boots looked a little out there in London.

  “It’s a national holiday about giving thanks. Isn’t it time you celebrated it with your family?”

  An intense feeling of nausea swept over Maggie. She didn’t want to talk to Kitty anymore. “I can’t do this now. I have to finish packing.”

  “Are you giving me the brush-off?”

  She hated it when Kitty could peg her so easily. “Of course not. You’re my sister. I’m just in a hurry.”

  “And instead you’re talking to your pest of a sister, is that it?”

  Maggie could hear one of the babies fussing in the background. Her eyes watered as emotion gripped her. She’d give almost anything to hold those sweet babies again. “No, that’s not it at all. Please, don’t do this. You know how important working for Allison is to me.”

  “Apparently, more important than I am, or your niece and nephew, who change every day and you’re missing everything.”

  Maggie couldn’t talk to Kitty anymore or she’d start blubbering like a kid. If she gave Kitty any inkling that she was miserable, Kitty would be all over her like a flea in a doghouse.

  The thought reminded her of Blake, but as soon as she thought of him she dismissed the image and concentrated on the task at hand…to appease Kitty.

  “I’ll be there at Christmas. How much can they change by Christmas?” Maggie knew she was lying, but she had no choice. She was desperate.

  “And when Christmas rolls around, what excuse will you give me then?”

  Maggie sighed. Who was she trying to fool? Certainly not Kitty. She’d already played this corporate game and lost. “Lately, I can’t talk to you without it turning into an argument.”

  “Why is pointing out the truth an argument?”

  Maggie had another incoming call. It was the limo driver, probably calling to tell her he was out front waiting for her. “I really have to go. My driver’s here.”

  “Fine, but I hope this job is enough for you, because it’s all you’re ever going to have.”

  “Kitty, you don’t understand, I… Kitty, are you still there?”

  Silence, then the familiar sound indicating that the caller had hung up.

  Maggie returned the driver’s call. She told him she’d be out in ten minutes and proceeded to cry like a baby while staring down at her now warm feet tucked inside Kitty’s cowboy boots.

  It was at that exact moment when everything finally came into focus. When she realized her chronically cold feet were suddenly warm, and what Blake had really meant when he’d scolded her outside his office door on that first day when she was too scared to go inside. She had learned something about herself that day, something she’d truly never believed she possessed, and needed now more than she’d ever needed anything in her entire life.

  A backbone.

  * * *

  THREE DAYS AGO, Dodge had alerted the Granger family that they might have to stop by Kitty’s at some point on Thanksgiving. And yesterday during breakfast, Dodge warned Blake that Kitty was getting pretty determined about them not only stopping by, but sharing the main course. Then on Thanksgiving morning, before Dodge could get the thirty-pound bird into the oven, Kitty phoned to invite the entire Granger clan for a sit-down dinner at six o’clock that night.

  “I’d be so disappointed if any of you couldn’t make it,” she had told Doc before he could reason away the invitation. He’d wanted to use the bad weather excuse—it had snowed more than two feet the previous night—but Kitty knew the Grangers had their very own snowplow.

  “We’ll do our best, Kitty” was about all Blake could say before he hung up.

  Dodge, who happened to be standing not two feet away, preparing the turkey, simply covered the large roasting pan with a lid and slipped it back into the fridge. “We’ll just save this here bird for tomorrow’s dinner. I’ll call your brothers and tell them the news. They’ll react better if it comes from me.”

  Blake admitted he was somewhat skeptical—okay completely skeptical—about
celebrating Thanksgiving at Kitty’s house, but the woman simply would not take no for an answer. So the entire Granger clan had little choice but to suck it up and accept the invitation.

  The kids were warned to be polite and not to comment negatively on whatever bean-nut-tofu concoction Kitty put down in front of them, but Blake wasn’t so sure they could control their facial expressions, especially Scout.

  “I know we’ve been over this a hundred times, but please try to pretend you like Kitty’s dinner,” he warned as he pulled up in front of Kitty’s place and parked curbside. Through Kitty’s front windows, he could see that Colt and his boys had already arrived. Cars and trucks and SUVs crowded the driveway and the surrounding street. Blake figured Kitty must have invited half the town to this tofu feast.

  Misery loved company.

  “Are you going to pretend?” Scout asked with that soft innocent voice of hers. He shut off the ignition and turned to her behind him. “Yes. To be polite, I’m going to pretend I love everything on my dinner plate.”

  “But isn’t that lying, Daddy? You don’t like tofu turkey roll.”

  Dodge, who was sitting in the passenger seat, also turned to her. “Lying to somebody when you’re tryin’ to protect your rotten ways is like makin’ a pact with the devil. One day it’ll catch up and bite you on your cute bottom. But when you pretend for no other reason than you’re wantin’ to make somebody happy, then you’re makin’ a pact with an angel and nothin’ but good will come to you.”

  She considered this for several seconds. “So, then, Kitty will be happy if I tell her I like tofu when I really don’t?”

  “Yes,” Dodge replied.

  “But then, what if she gives me more tofu and I have to pretend again and then she’ll give me even more, and I get sick from eating all that yucky tofu. What do I do if I want to throw up?”

  Blake chuckled as he slipped from the cab, then helped his daughter out of the backseat. “Scout, I want you to go in there and be respectful to Kitty. You don’t have to do anything or eat anything you don’t want to. All I ask is that you act nice. Will you at least do that?”