by Liz Isaacson
But she couldn’t leave. So she walked around the back of the room, intending to just lean against the wall. Austin stood before she’d come all the way to a halt and gestured for her to take the inside seat.
She couldn’t very well cause another scene, so she glared as hard and with as much of the fury she felt inside in his direction, not allowing herself to make full eye contact with him. It didn’t matter. She didn’t need to look at Austin to know the square shape of his jaw. The happy glint in his sky blue eyes as he fed the chickens. The smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose.
He’d grown out a beard in the last few months, which had taken his baby face into a man’s features—and something Shay could barely resist.
Austin preferred a dark cowboy hat, as Shay had never seen him wear anything but black, or brown, or dark gray. She’d grown up with her own cowgirl hat preferences, so she understood. She wasn’t obsessed with Austin or anything.
Certainly not.
Just because he was the only man in the past decade to stir something inside her that hadn’t so much as been disturbed since her high school boyfriend didn’t mean she noticed what kind of shirts he wore, or that his boots weren’t from any shop in town, or that he had a specific type of Texan drawl that made Shay shiver whenever he spoke.
Shawna took the group through a class on a strategy to deal with anger when it came on suddenly, like it did when she got bumped into by a handsome man and something spilled on the both of them.
She used her excellent peripheral vision to look at his shirt. It still looked wet to her, and as hers still was, she could only assume it was cold and sticky as well. She wanted to cross her arms over the stain to keep her emotions from leaking out, the way she’d done at that blasted wedding where he’d asked her to dance.
He’d been drop-dead handsome in a black tuxedo, all the edges tailored and crisp. He used a cologne or an aftershave with cedar and musk in it, and the scent called to her like catnip to a feline.
It had taken all of her willpower to sit only a table away from him, keep her mouth shut during the songs she knew, and hurry out as soon as was socially acceptable.
Just like now.
She couldn’t just make a run for it. Could she?
No. She sat inches from him, the magnetic field between them straining, while Shawna taught the lesson. When it was clear she was almost finished, Shay stood and squeezed past Austin, nearly falling into his lap.
She balanced herself with one hand against his strong shoulder, the electric current between them sharp and zipping from her fingertips to her shoulder. Yanking her hand away, she stumbled into the space between the row and the wall.
Cookies. Yes, she needed to get the cookies out. She hurried out of the room and around the corner to the small kitchen in the corner of the library. Since she liked to measure, mix, and bake when she was stressed, she had dozens of cookies in her freezer at the ranch. More than enough to bring to the anger management group every week for the next four months, probably.
She’d gotten them out of the freezer a couple of hours ago and arranged them on a tray in the kitchen here. With a quick swipe of her hand, she collected the cookies and headed back to the room where Shawna was finishing.
The librarians always made sure there was enough bottled water for the group, and Shay slid the tray next to the neat rows of bottles on the back table.
She stayed there rather than returning to that too-small seat next to that too-attractive man. Didn’t matter. He seemed to be able to track her, no special equipment necessary. Wherever she sequestered herself on the ranch, he showed up with questions and seemingly genuine interest about the affairs of the ranch.
And blast it, she’d helped him. Explained all she could. Number one, it was part of her job to lend help to the owners. Number two, if she wanted to keep her job for the full twelve months she was guaranteed, she had to “be agreeable.”
Seriously, that was the language in the contract. Since it was open for interpretation, Shay had done her best to be nice to Shane, Dylan, and Austin. But not too nice. Not nice enough to dance with Austin at his brother’s wedding.
And while she didn’t know everything about ranching, or even most of what happened at Triple Towers, she did want to keep her job there. It was comfortable at the very least, and Shay still didn’t know what else to do with her life.
Shawna finished her class, and the participants clapped. Shay made her way to the front as the other woman sat down. “Thank you, Shawna,” she said. “Does anyone want to share anything that happened this week and how they handled it?”
The anger management meetings weren’t anything like what Shay had seen in movies or on TV. She’d hesitated attending her first one, imagining herself sitting around in a circle while she detailed how infuriating slow drivers were.
No, thank you. She didn’t need to air her dirty laundry in public.
But she had come eventually, and the meetings weren’t anything like what the entertainment made them to be. Shawna was a licensed therapist who taught strategies for managing stressful situations, gave homework exercises the participants could try at home during the week, and every couple of months, the meeting was just a social gathering while Shawna met with people one-on-one.
Tonight, no one raised their hand to share, and Shay felt pressure to fill the silence. But she didn’t. The Army had taught her that sometimes silence was good, and sometimes it was okay to just let the quiet into your soul so you could feel and hear what you needed to feel and hear.
“All right,” she finally said. “Well, I brought double chocolate chip cookies and butterscotch chip blondies. Help yourself.” She gestured toward the back table and the people stood, some of them chatting with each other, some heading straight for the refreshments, and a couple quickly ducking out the back.
Austin hovered next to his chair, his eyes trained on her. She wished she didn’t like it so much. At the same time, his curiosity was like a scent in the room that annoyed her to no end.
She couldn’t just leave the meeting. So she employed a strategy Shawna had taught several months ago. She faced her challenge. Met it head on. Looked right into Austin’s stunning blue eyes and held them with hers.
No.
The word rang in her ears as she drove out of town and back toward the ranch. She’d said it at least a half a dozen times while talking to Austin.
Is there a meeting next week?
No. That had been an easy one.
Are you in charge every week?
No. She could’ve elaborated for him. Explained that she was simply the person who ran the group on the second Thursday of the month. She wasn’t in charge. She didn’t organize anything. That was all Paula Hurdle, and she attended if she could. Tonight, though, she’d had an orchestra concert for her daughter.
Do you always bring cookies?
No. Technically, she hadn’t lied. Sometimes she brought brownies or coffee cake.
Are you angry with me?
No. And really, she wasn’t. She knew she wasn’t. But projecting her anger onto him and his brothers was easier than carrying it on her own shoulders or placing it where it really belonged.
Did I do something wrong?
No. It wasn’t his fault he had a perfectly symmetrical face, or muscles everywhere, or eyes so blue she could practically dive into them and swim around. That blame belonged to his parents.
Do you want to go grab, I don’t know, a coffee or an ice cream cone?
That one had been so terribly difficult to answer. Because everything inside Shay definitely wanted to go get coffee with Austin Royal. Or ice cream. Or both.
No.
And so Shay drove down the lonely road by herself, her fingers gripping the steering wheel just a little too tightly. When she returned to her cabin, Molly and Lizzy greeted her at the door, their German shepherd tongues hanging out of their smiling mouths. “Hey, girls.” She gave them both a quick pat, glad when some of her te
nsion left her body. “Let’s train, okay?”
Shay cut a piece of steak into tiny training bites and took the dogs out the back door. The light on the back porch shone far enough for her to do basic tasks, and she sent the dogs after a ball to begin with.
If she could focus on them for a while, let her spirit play with theirs, she’d calm down. Working with dogs had always been an outlet for her emotions, as had been singing.
She’d give up the singing when her mother died. Dropped out of the church choir and everything. Not that it mattered. She’d enlisted two months later and would’ve had to quit when she went to Basic Training anyway.
Her father had asked her to sing something for him every day once she’d come home. She’d refused every time. Singing was something she did with her mom, something she’d learned from her mom, and it simply felt wrong to do it in a world where her mom no longer was.
“Down,” she told the dogs, glad her voice didn’t crack with the emotion streaming through her. Some days, she barely thought of her mother. Sure, she was always there, lingering in the back of Shay’s mind. But the fact that she couldn’t call her didn’t hurt too badly.
Other days, Shay felt like someone had dropped a piano on her chest and was pounding on the keys, sending painful reminders with every discordant note that her mother was gone.
With both dogs down, she rewarded them with a bit of steak. A truck’s engine rumbled into the night air, and headlights beamed down the lane for just a moment before Austin pulled into the garage.
She couldn’t see him. Her cabin was too far away for that, and it was dark besides. But somehow, her body knew he was in the near vicinity, and it wasn’t happy that she’d turned him down for coffee.
Shay couldn’t believe he’d asked again. She wondered how many times he’d ask to spend more time with her, and she wondered how much longer she could keep resisting him.
Did she even want to keep resisting him?
No.
The word flew into her mind and out of her mouth before she could even think. She was really starting to hate the word no.
Chapter Three
Austin worked with Shay on Friday and Saturday, and neither of them said a word about Thursday’s meeting. He passed along Shane’s invitation for Thanksgiving dinner, though he’d told his brother he should invite Shay.
When Shane had given him an inquisitive look and asked why, Austin had said, “We don’t get along. She won’t come if I ask her.”
“You work with her every day,” Shane said. “And you don’t get along?”
“We’ve worked out a system.” He didn’t elaborate. Shane didn’t need to know that Austin was a doormat when it came to Shay. She could treat him however she wanted, and he simply took it. He hated the system, hated that there was no we when it came to establishing the system, hated that he was willing to endure her glares and her lectures simply to be with her for a few hours every day.
“Ask her,” Shane had said, sealing the conversation. “I’ve spoken with her father. He’s coming. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already mentioned it to Shay.”
Austin agreed, because that was what he always did. Nod and smile. Say yes and move on. Didn’t matter if he was right or wrong.
But he knew her father hadn’t mentioned it to Shay. Because Shay didn’t talk to her father very often. Hardly at all, from what he’d been able to gather in the brief snippets of insight into her life she gave him.
On Saturday, as the sun sank toward the horizon, Austin started piling all the tools they’d used back into the huge tool chest in the tractor equipment shed. “So,” he said. “I haven’t heard if you’ll come to Thanksgiving dinner. Shane wants to know who to plan for.”
Shane didn’t care at all. But Shay didn’t need to know that.
She straightened, her tall, lithe frame athletic and feminine at the same time. Regarding Austin with a cool look that could’ve been considered flirty if it came from anyone but Shay, she said, “Your mother will be there, won’t she?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Is she cooking?”
Austin blinked, completely caught off-guard by the question. “I don’t rightly know. She’ll probably make part of dinner.”
“Because I’ve seen what you Royal brothers eat, and we can’t have cold cereal for Thanksgiving dinner.”
Pure surprise flowed in Austin’s veins. She’d seen what they ate? What did that mean?
“I can make a pretty awesome peanut butter and honey sandwich, I’ll have you know.” He grinned at her, just as shocked by that as what he’d said. He and Shay didn’t talk about their lives. He wanted to, but she’d shut him down pretty fast.
Now though, something that looked strangely like a twinkle shone in her hazel eyes. “I suppose I’ll come then.”
Deciding to press his luck with this new vibe between them, he said, “I notice you go into church every week. I do too. Should we…maybe…do you want to ride together?” At the horrified look on her face, Austin added, “We wouldn’t have to sit by each other during church or anything.”
All of her shutters flew back into place, leaving her eyes emotionless and her jaw set. “I’ll think about it.” She wiped her hands on a blue rag and tossed it to the ground before meeting his eye with the classic laser-stare he’d grown accustomed to.
Conversation over.
Any other stupid questions, cowboy?
Austin gave her his best smile, noting that she softened slightly. At least she hadn’t said no. That two-letter word seemed to be all she could say to him every other time he asked a question, so he’d take “I’ll think about it,” gladly.
“All right,” he said. “I’m headed in. You have a good night.” He left her in the equipment shed, using every ounce of willpower he had not to look back and see if she was watching him.
Austin didn’t hear from Shay before church, so he loaded up himself and made the drive on his own. He did like the time to think, but he thought he would’ve liked having the sweet smell of Shay on the bench seat with him just as much.
“You’ve got to get over her,” he lectured himself. It was clear she wasn’t interested in him. Not the clean-shaven version, nor the man who wore the beard and joked about peanut butter sandwiches.
She tolerated him, and probably only because she wanted to keep her spot on the ranch until June, when her contract would expire. Shane had suggested he’d keep her on after that, but without paperwork in place, anything could happen.
He didn’t see her at all at the sermon, and he wondered if maybe she’d stayed home because of him. He hoped not. The thought ate at him, gnawing all through the meeting and all the way back to the ranch. He parked outside of the garage and got out of his truck, his gaze straying down the lane to the cabins. They were smaller because of the distance, and he pulled his jacket around him, zipped it, and headed down the dirt road.
With every step, he tried to talk himself out of knocking on Shay’s front door. He could go right past the cabins and to the house where Dylan lived. His brother wouldn’t be there—he hated sitting around. He’d likely have taken the ATV and gone out onto the open range, the way he often did on Sundays. That, or he’d have gone into town to see Hazel.
Austin didn’t want to spend the afternoon with his brothers. He had chores to do, and the work never seemed to end. But as he neared Shay’s cabin, the scent of marinara sauce filled the air, and he made the deliberate decision to go up the steps and knock.
Several moments passed before she opened the door. She leaned into it and cocked her hip as she stared at him.
Austin forgot how to breathe. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, free from it’s usual ponytail or braid, exposed since she wasn’t wearing her normal cowgirl hat. She wore a blue T-shirt that wasn’t anything special. But somehow it made her skin seem a bit more creamy, and Austin’s fingers itched to touch her.
Though it was almost December, she wore a pair of cotton shorts that were probably
part of her pajamas, and the temperature inside Austin reached summer proportions. And she wore glasses. He’d never seen the black frames on her face, but they somehow made her softer, sexier, than she had been previously.
“Hey,” he managed to push out of his sticky throat. “You didn’t go to church today?” She didn’t wear much makeup to begin with, and today she wore none. She was so beautiful, it made Austin’s muscles ache.
“Wasn’t feeling particularly well,” she said, the edge in her eyes softening.
“You wear glasses?”
“When I don’t have my contacts in.”
“Something smells good.” He looked past her, trying to contain his raging hormones.
“Are you fishing for a lunch invitation?”
“Would you invite me to eat with you?” He crossed his arms and settled his weight on his back leg, almost a challenge.
She scanned him from his boots to the top of his hat, and when her eyes came to his again, it was the first time Austin felt like she’d sized him up and didn’t find him lacking. Lightning crackled between them. Surely she felt it. He wasn’t that delusional. Was he?
“What kind of dessert can you bring?” she finally asked.
Hope warred with desperation inside Austin’s mind. “I could maybe ask Robin to help me make something.” Then he’d have to explain a lot of things, to both Robin and Shane. But did that matter? What was he trying to hide?
His phone buzzed in his back pocket, but he ignored it. He couldn’t look away from Shay, and she seemed as equally enamored with him.
“If you’re just going to have someone else make it, you might as well come in and I’ll help you.”
Austin’s eyebrows shot up. “You will? What will we make?”
“Which is your poison, cowboy? Brownies or cookies?”
Austin liked them both, but he said, “Brownies,” simply because he knew he could make a batter and stick it in the oven. With cookies, he’d have to scoop and babysit them until they were all baked.
She stepped back, allowing him space to enter. “C’mon in, then. I can’t be heatin’ the whole ranch.”
