by Jeannie Watt
“Ri-ight,” Hennessey said in a knowing way. “I heard you were in the area. I was hoping you’d call.” He gave Trace the hours and days of practice and Trace told him he’d see him soon—as in that afternoon.
When he arrived at the practice pen several hours later, he walked into the covered arena, drew in the scent of dirt, manure and animal sweat and felt as if he’d come home. There was a small crowd of riders there and a couple of older guys, all dressed in old jeans and flannel shirts. The younger guys were wearing their protective gear and the older men had on cowboy hats and canvas coats.
“Hey,” Trace said as he approached.
“You must be Trace,” the taller guy with the silver mustache said, holding out a hand. “I’m Jasper. Good to meet you. Cody said you might stop by.”
Trace smiled and shook hands, inwardly rolling his eyes at the bit about Cody. The kid probably hadn’t mentioned that he’d all but kicked sand in Trace’s face before discovering who he was. “Good to meet you.” He looked at the handful of riders milling around, stretching and adjusting gear. Cody was there. He saw Trace, did a double take then dropped his chin and headed over.
“Glad you could come,” he said with just enough self-deprecation in his voice that Trace decided that he was probably okay.
“Glad you told me about the place.”
Trace went to lean on the rail with Jasper and Bill, his brother. Watching was going to be harder than he imagined. Rain drummed on the roof and Trace glanced up. “Nice to be out of the weather.”
“I prefer the outdoor facility. We usually use it during the summer and fall. Just something about being out in the elements.”
Trace knew exactly what he was talking about. Whenever he’d escaped the house during his teen years and headed out into the fields or mountains on horseback, the sting of the wind and the splatter of rain had always made him feel free and independent. He could think about the here and now, and not the cold feeling he got whenever he walked into what was supposed to be his home.
“I imagine if you see something, the kids wouldn’t mind you pointing it out,” Bill said as they loaded the first bull.
Trace wasn’t much in the helpful hint department—not because he didn’t want to help these guys. He did. It was because, honestly, what worked for one bull rider might not work for another. But there were some things that he’d mention if he spotted them. Bull-riding basics.
“You bet,” he said before making a conscious effort to relax his tight shoulders and ease the knot out of his gut. What he really wanted to do was ride.
But it was better to feel antsy here than at home.
* * *
“HOW MANY BUTTERFLIES need costumes?” Danielle asked as she handed the hammer up to Annie, who stood on a ladder.
Annie pounded in a nail to hold up a quilt rail before answering. “Fifteen.”
“Wow.”
Annie descended the ladder and studied the rail. Thankfully it was level. “I figured butterflies were easier than the squirrels and bunnies. I can find some big scarves and work from there.”
“Great idea. We might ask Granny if she has any scarves tucked away in one of her trunks. I swear that she hasn’t thrown out a piece of clothing in fifty years.”
“I can’t vouch for the safety of the scarves.”
“Good point.” Danielle folded a small quilt and set it on an antique chair Annie had painted white after work the previous evening. “Maybe the thrift shops.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” When she wasn’t thinking about Trace, that is. She hadn’t seen him in a few days, but he’d never been long out of her thoughts. Even this room reminded her of him, since she’d been painting it when she’d bumped into him behind the building for the second time in two days. It was like some cosmic force was pushing them together.
“Speaking of Granny,” Danielle said, “Mom and I finalized the details for her birthday party and we managed to book the banquet room at the new pub. Will Emily babysit the girls?”
“Yes. It took me a while to convince the girls that a grown-up birthday party in a bar was not a place for a couple of seven-year-olds.”
“I’ll have to spoil them a little.”
“As per usual,” Annie murmured wryly. She moved the ladder to the opposite wall. The room was going to be beautiful, with quilts fully displayed on the two larger walls and smaller items arranged on tables, bureaus and chairs, as they were in the main store. All they needed were a few more pieces of furniture, which Annie hoped to find when she and the girls went to a farm auction that coming weekend.
“Oh... Brad Olsen from the PTO might call about—”
“Career day at the school,” Danielle said. “I know. I met him at the bank. I encouraged him to ask the new owner of the little coffee shop. She’s young and eager and has never been stared at by thirty kids who ignore your talk and want to know if you have any cats.”
Annie laughed. Danielle had pretty much hit the nail on the head. Career day was more like Interesting People Day to the little kids. “Look at the time,” Annie warned and Danielle let out a gasp as she saw that it was almost four o’clock.
“Good thing my OB always runs late.” She headed toward the back of the store to gather up her purse and sweater. “See you tomorrow.”
After Danielle was gone, Annie tidied up the store and then settled in the comfy chair near the counter and went to work on the cross-stitch kit she’d bought to fill her time when business was slow. She enjoyed the methodical process of pulling the thread through the canvas and watching the picture slowly take shape—slowly being the key word. This was not a hobby that would allow her to add stock to Annie Get Your Gun, but it kept her hands and mind occupied. For the most part. Except for those moments when a certain long-legged bull rider shoved his way into her head. And she just as firmly shoved him back out again. All this mental shoving was wearing on her. What was she afraid of? Why did she feel like she had to stop thinking about Trace?
The girls. Fear of messing with status quo.
Fear of the unknown.
As she saw it, she had two choices. She could either continue to dodge the issue and hope it went away, which it very well might—or she could confront it.
Ask him out.
Annie’s needle paused above the canvas. Crazy idea. What would be her objective in asking him out?
She set the canvas in her lap and frowned at the opposite wall where a glittery portrait of Annie Oakley holding her rifle stared back at her. Did she have to have an objective? She was interested in him and maybe he’d been correct when he said that she needed to focus on herself every now and again. She picked up the hoop and jabbed the needle in. Ask him out. Have a safe, friendly date.
Safe? Why would she think that a date with a guy like Trace, who sent her hormones into overdrive, would be safe?
Because he said he kept his promises and she believed him. She didn’t know him that well, but she sensed he wasn’t by nature a liar.
And if he did lie to her, Grady would have his hide.
* * *
LATE WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, just after Trace had finished feeding Lex’s livestock, he was surprised to see Annie’s car pull into his driveway. He was even more surprised to see that she was alone.
He crossed the wide gravel area that separated the house and barn as Annie parked. She got out of the car and came around to the front, coming to a stop a few feet away from him. She tilted up her chin and met his eyes, then pressed her lips together as if having second thoughts about whatever she was there to do. Something stirred inside him as he studied her face, remembering what her soft lips had felt like beneath his own.
“I’ve come to discuss...something.” Color rose in her cheeks as she spoke, but her expression remained carefully cool. Matter-of-fact. Too matter-of-fact, whic
h had Trace wondering what was coming next. Did she want him to babysit? Because while her girls were adorable, his kid skills were nil. Besides that, it would be so easy to do something wrong.
“What kind of something?”
She sucked a soft breath in through her teeth. “Would you like to go to an auction this weekend?”
“With you and the girls?” That would probably be lively, but he was game. And it would help fill an empty day.
She looked surprised then a little embarrassed. “No. I’m asking you out.”
“Out?” He echoed her words as he tried to gain footing, determine if she meant what she was apparently saying, as in, she wanted to go out with him.
Her mouth hardened. “You know...like to keep company? Go out?”
“I understand what it means.” Trace rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, feeling stupid and off center. “Sure. I’ll go to an auction with you.”
“I’ve surprised you,” she said flatly.
“A little.”
She shifted her weight and looked past him. “I’m new at this, so please excuse my awkwardness and feel free to say no.” Her cheeks were on fire now, but she maintained that serene, distant expression that made Trace think she was dying a little inside.
“I thought you were rusty.” She frowned, but before she could say anything, Trace reached out and took her wrist, gently easing her a couple steps toward him, and to his relief she didn’t pull back. “When is your auction?”
“Sunday. I’m looking for some furniture for the store.”
Those lips. Right there. He wanted to kiss her again, but was smart enough not to do it.
“But the only caveat is...” Annie held his gaze in a way that made him believe that she knew how tempted he was by her mouth. “I have to be careful of my girls. I don’t want them to suspect...well...anything.” The color in her cheeks was subsiding, but they were still stained pink. “Nothing can happen that might give them ideas—”
“Like me kissing you in the driveway?”
“Yes. Something like that.”
“They didn’t see, did they?”
“No. Thank goodness, because I would have had a lot of explaining to do.”
Explaining she wasn’t ready to do. He could see that. He wondered where she saw this thing between them going, and decided that she probably didn’t know. She was well aware of the fact that he was pulling up stakes and following the circuit as soon as he was healed, so it wasn’t like she didn’t have full disclosure on that aspect.
Annie pulled back and he let her go, his hand falling loosely back to his side.
“You honestly want to go?”
He smiled a little. “What do you think?”
She gave a small nod instead of answering. “I need to get back to town and pick up the girls. I’ll see you Sunday? Eight thirty maybe? I’ll drive.”
“Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to drive? I have a truck.”
“So do I. Grady’s.”
“Sounds good, Annie. See you then.”
* * *
ANNIE’S HANDS WERE shaking when she turned the key in the ignition. She glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror as she pulled to a stop at the end of the driveway and was surprised at how cool and in control she appeared. Like a woman going after what she wanted. The only problem was that she didn’t have a clear view of what she wanted, but she’d figure it out. As far as the girls were concerned, Trace was a friend of their uncle Grady’s, who was making friends with their mom.
Would there be benefits involved in this friendship?
Way too early to be thinking that way, but still, the very idea of experiencing what Trace had to offer made her breathing go shallow. “No benefits” would be the sane way to go, but there was something about Trace that had her edging away from sanity and logic. Or maybe she was simply edging closer to something that she’d been subconsciously looking for and had just now found.
Take. It. Easy.
He’s only here for a short time. Don’t get in over your head.
It wouldn’t be hard to do, getting in over her head. But she was an adult, who could make her own choices and deal with the consequences, as long as they didn’t touch her daughters. Trace understood that, which was another reason she was going out with him. He got it.
Annie picked up the girls and they stopped at the drive-in hamburger place, newly opened after being closed for the fall and winter. Annie loved hot dogs with the works, but they were too hard to eat while driving, so she ordered the same as the girls—a junior hamburger—which allowed her to indulge in extra calories in the form of her first milkshake of the year.
“We should do this more often,” Kristen commented from the backseat as she dug fries out of her bag.
Annie glanced at her daughter in the rearview mirror and smiled. They did this once or twice a month, and that was what kept this special.
Emily had been surprised when Annie had asked about Sunday babysitting, but she loved getting the hours whenever possible, thus boosting her retirement income. “We’ll have a craft day,” she said.
“They’ll love that.” And Annie was so very glad she hadn’t told the girls she’d been thinking of taking them to the auction. That way there were no explanations, no hurt feelings. She might want to stretch her wings, go on a date or two, but not at the expense of her kids’ happiness.
“We find out what our play parts are on Monday!” Katie announced as Annie pulled up to the mailbox next to the driveway. “We got to write down what we wanted to be on a list, but Mrs. Lawrence said we might not get the part we want. I want to be a butterfly because they’re prettiest, but Shayla wants to be a bunny.”
“She has a bunny...” Kristen said, her voice trailing off hopefully.
Annie chose to busy herself sorting through the mail rather than say no to the less than subtle hint that a bunny would be a welcome addition to their household. “I hope you are butterflies, because you can help make your costumes.”
“Out of glitter and stuff?” Katie asked.
“Definitely glitter.”
The girls instantly started planning what color costumes they wanted. Annie set the mail on the seat beside her and started down the driveway. Butterfly costumes and butterflies in her stomach.
Chapter Eight
It’d been a long time since Trace had cut himself shaving, but he nicked himself good less than an hour before Annie was due to pick him up. Cursing under his breath, he stuck a small piece of tissue on the wound and then shook his head at his reflection.
Why are you so freaking nervous? You’re going out with a woman. You know...like you’ve done many times before?
But this was Annie and he had a make-it-or-break-it feeling about this first date. When was the last time he’d felt like that?
Maybe the high school prom.
High school. Yes—that nailed it down perfectly. He felt like a high school kid getting ready for a date. Ridiculous, but true. And it wasn’t like it was a real date. It was a farm auction.
He grimaced at his reflection as he slapped tonic on the uninjured part of his face. Actually a farm auction was his idea of a great first date—especially when neither of them had any idea where this was going. Annie knew he was leaving; he knew that she put her daughters first in her life, but there was no denying the attraction between them. Exploring that attraction seemed like a good idea, as long as they were on the same page.
He had a feeling that he was Annie’s way of sliding back into the dating world. A way to spread her wings and gain confidence with someone she liked, who wouldn’t put pressure on her to take matters any further than she wanted. If she had started dating someone local, the girls would find out, but he was a friend of her brother’s. The guy who was farm-sitting for a relati
ve. They were probably safe enough from gossip. Probably. Small towns could be brutal.
He sat on the bed and slid his feet into cowboy boots. He’d spent a lot of time speculating as to Annie’s motivation and agenda, but his own...no, he was clear on that. He wanted to spend time with an attractive woman. He liked Annie. And he needed to treat her well, or Grady would skin him. He smiled a little as his heel finally slipped into place in the boot. Maybe that was why Annie seemed to feel safe with him.
Trace was ready early and he found himself pacing near the front door as he waited for Annie to show up. The dogs sat in a row, their heads turning in unison to watch his progress across the floor and back again. Finally he let them into the yard, where they would spend the day, his head coming up as he heard a deep rumble in the distance.
Straight pipes. He hadn’t heard that sound in a long time.
A few minutes later a classic Ford F-250 turned into the driveway, its exhaust pipes growling. The truck had at least a four-inch lift and a weathered decal at the top of the windshield, pronouncing it to be a FORD. The rig was a teenage boy’s fantasy and Annie looked darn cute behind the wheel.
“Grady’s truck?” he asked when she rolled down her window.
“’Fraid so. He tricked it out in high school, and even though he promises to make it more adult every time he comes home, he never seems to get the job done.”
“Sure you don’t want to take mine?”
She looked tempted but shook her head and he understood. She wanted to have control. He could understand that. “Get in if you dare.”
He dared. He went around to the passenger side and got in. Annie smiled over at him and put the beast into gear as he fastened his seat belt. She was wearing dark jeans and a simple white shirt under a short denim jacket. Her light brown hair was loose around her shoulders instead of in its usual ponytail and she smelled really, really good. There was also a touch of self-consciousness in her smile and he felt the same. In an odd way it was like meeting her for the first time.
She waited until they were on the county road before she chanced a glance at him. “I’m not going to lie. I’m nervous.”
