by Amanda Boone
Loved by the Cowboy
Love in Ghost Lake Ranch
By: Amber Duval
Loved by the Cowboy
Chapter One
“Okay, two more errands, and we can head back to the ranch,” Liam Boone said. “I’ll get the wire tacks from the hardware store, and you can grab Jessa’s fabric order. She said she already paid for it, so you just need to pick it up.”
Thomas Boone took the order slip Liam handed him, but nearly groaned when he saw the name of the store at the top. “Want to trade?”
“It’s a quilt shop, Tom, not a minefield.” His older brother grinned. “Besides, the owner is the prettiest gal in town.”
Tom glanced down the street. Spring had finally arrived in Montana, and after the long winter everyone was anxious to get out and about. He liked seeing the new green grass, and the patches of wildflowers popping up everywhere – but he’d rather walk through a sub-zero blizzard than go into Shay Larabee’s quilt shop.
Liam nudged him. “What’s the problem? Don’t tell me it’s Shay. That girl’s pure sweetheart.”
Tom’s dread climbed another notch. “You got a thing for her?”
“Sure. Every man in the county with a pulse does.” Liam gave him a shrewd look. “So, what? That bee you’ve had in your bonnet all winter named Larabee?”
“Nope.” To avoid more talk Tom climbed out of the pickup, resettled his Stetson over his shaggy black hair and headed across the street.
QT Quilts, Shay Larabee’s quilt shop, occupied two storefronts in the center of Main Street. Tiny crystal beads hanging in the big display windows sparkled over waterfalls of brightly colored fabric bolts. The soft pastel colors of the store’s facade always reminded Tom of the pretty dresses the shop owner liked to wear.
His ferocious crush on Shay made it hard enough For Tom to see her, but the fact that she owned her own business jabbed at him, too.
Tom had loved wood-working since he was a boy, and for years had dreamed of opening his own carpentry shop. But since his parents had been killed he and his six brothers had worked hard, endless hours to keep running Ghost Lake Ranch, the family cattle business. All of his brothers loved ranch life, too – so how could Tom ever tell them that it wasn’t the life he wanted for himself?
Out of the corner of his eye Tom spotted Liam coming out of the hardware store down the street, and forced himself to head into the quilt shop.
Inside the usual gaggle of ladies browsed neatly-stocked shelves and aisles of fabrics, patterns, kits and notions. Little pots of tea roses on the window sills lent a delicate, sweet scent to the air. Behind a long cutting table stood a willowy brunette in a rose-colored dress and spotless white apron. She smiled at an elderly lady as she folded a length of bright red cotton.
“Be sure to prewash it so it doesn’t bleed through your quilt top, Mrs. King.” Shay Larabee’s doe-brown eyes flashed up as Tom approached. “Be right with you, Mr. Boone.”
Tom belatedly remembered to remove his hat, and nodded to Ella King as he hovered beside the cutting table. He liked watching Shay work, as her slim hands moved as gracefully as the rest of her. He liked watching Shay, period.
Tom could remember the first time he’d seen her, on the very same day she’d moved to town from Wyoming to take over her aunt’s business. They’d literally bumped into each other coming and going from the bakery.
“I’m so sorry.” Shay had looked up at him with those big brown eyes and offered him a donut from her box. “Here. A bribe, so you won’t have me run out of town.”
“No need,” Tom assured her, unable to hear anything but his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. “I’d never do that.”
That had probably been the last complete sentence he’d ever said to her. Tom had never been especially easy around girls, but there was something about Shay that set his blood to roaring like a lion and his mouth to closing up as tight as a bear trap.
When Shay sent the elderly woman up to the register with her yardage, she turned and grinned at Tom. “Okay. What can I do for you, sir? Are you hankering for some calico for your next sewing project, or can I interest you in my new line of no-sew fleece?”
Tom knew she was only teasing, but he couldn’t respond with the same. “Neither, ma’am.” He could almost feel his tongue tying itself in knots now, so he simply took out Jessa’s order slip and offered it to Shay.
“Ivory silk and burnout cream velvet – oh, yes, this is that special order for Dr. Cooper. I think it’s so lovely that she and her mom are going to make her wedding dress.” Her expression turned curious. “She’s marrying your brother Ethan, isn’t she?”
“In June, yes, ma’am.” Tom could feel everyone within earshot watching them now, and turned over the hat in his hands. “I’m picking it up for her.”
“Well, then, you’re already a very nice brother-in-law.” Shay sorted through some packages under the cutting table before she produced a large white box tied with a silver ribbon. “Here it is. Please let Dr. Cooper if she needs more yardage to call me before Friday. That’s the day I drive up to Helena to pick up new stock from my distributor.”
Tom nodded and replaced his hat as he took one long, last look at her lovely face. “Thank you, Ms. Larabee.”
Her full lips curved. “You’re very welcome, Mr. Boone.”
#
Shay Larabee’s assistant Jenny came to stand beside her and watch Tom Boone walk out of the shop.
“That cowboy is so gorgeous,” the little blonde said with a dreamy sigh. “I’ve never seen eyes like his. What color are they, anyway?”
“Violet blue,” Shay murmured absently. She could still smell the sandalwood he left in his wake. Too subtle to be cologne, so she felt pretty sure it was from the soap he used. “He’s not dating anyone, is he?”
The unofficial hub of all town gossip, Jenny made a quick negative sound. “Tom Boone doesn’t date much at all. When he does it’s a certain kind of gal. One who likes roadhouses, pool tables and horizontal good times, if you know what I mean.”
“Well, he’s a man, not a monk.” Shay rubbed the back of her neck. “So which roadhouses does he go to?”
“I knew it.” Jenny uttered a small shriek and tugged her back into the storage room. “Admit it. You have a thing for Tom Boone.”
“I would like to have a thing,” Shay corrected. “But whenever I see him, he barely says a word to me.”
“He always kept to himself when we were kids.” Her assistant grew thoughtful. “He was small for a while, too, the way some boys are. He got picked on because of it, but his brothers put a stop to that.”
Shay mentally sketched Tom Boone’s body in her mind for the thousandth time. “He’s not small now.”
“Yeah, it was quick with him. One summer he shot up and filled out, and suddenly girls were tripping over each other to get to him.” Jenny sighed. “But that was the year his folks were killed. I remember he was real close to his dad.”
Shay regarded the younger woman. “Is there anything you don’t know, girl?”
“I don’t know why you’re hankering for Tom Boone. You could crook your finger and every bachelor in this town would stampede in here after you,” Jenny told her. “Some of the married men would sneak on in, too.”
“I’m curious, that’s all.” And frustrated, and lonely, Shay tagged on in her head. But what was the point of yearning for a man who so obviously didn’t want to be near her? “Come on, let’s get back to work.”
For the rest of the morning Shay’s thoughts kept straying back to Tom Boone, however, and his solemn violet eyes. She’d never known a single man with such striking coloring, nor one who smelled so good. When he did speak, Tom’s husky voice always moved along her spine like an invisible caress. She’d never had a reason to touch him, but that was okay. Shay suspected putting hands on that cowboy would reduce her to a puddle of helpless, lovesick goo.
When she took her noon break Shay decided to go to her favorite caf�
� for lunch. After walking in she saw one of Tom’s brothers having coffee by himself, and stopped by his table.
“Hi, you’re Becca’s husband right?” She held out her hand. “Shay Larabee. Call me Shay, please.”
“Chris. Nice to meet you.” The biggest of the Boone brothers politely rose to his feet before he gently shook her hand with his massive paw. “Rebecca Rose has told me how much she’s enjoyed that quilting class she’s taking at your shop.”
“She has a great eye for color.” Shay thought it was charming how Chris referred to his wife by both her names. “Would you mind if I join you for a minute? I need some advice about one of your brothers.”
“Absolutely.” The big man scowled. “I hope Caleb hasn’t been a nuisance. If he has, I’ll kill him for you.”
Shay chuckled. “I haven’t met Caleb yet,” she admitted. “Actually it’s Tom. He came by my shop this morning.”
“Tom? In a quilt shop?” Now Chris looked shocked. “Was someone holding him gunpoint?”
“He was picking up an order for Dr. Cooper.” She sat back. “He won’t talk to me. Does he hate quilts? Or is it me?”
The big man rasped a hand along his jaw. “Tom’s not much of talker, but he doesn’t hate anything, except maybe shoveling manure. I think it’s probably more nerves. Tom’s very shy.”
“Really?” She’d never considered that.
Chris nodded. “It was tough on him, being the smallest of seven brothers, and a late bloomer to boot. His body grew out of it, but I don’t think his head ever did. Don’t give up on him, Shay. Tom’s a good guy.”
“He is. Just wish I could coax more than two words out of him.” Feeling a little embarrassed now, she got up. “Thanks, Chris.”
As Shay walked over to the counter, she glanced back and saw a strange smile spread across Chris Boone’s broad face.
Chapter Two
“I really, really, appreciate this, Tom,” Jessa Cooper told him that Friday as she handed him the address in Helena. “I know it seems silly to exchange two hundred yards of white ribbon for two hundred more yards of slightly whiter ribbon, but my mother is a crazy woman.”
“I am not,” Jessa’s mother called from the kitchen.
Tom peered at the slip. “Last Chance Gulch in the downtown section. Yeah, I’ve seen the place. I’ll take care of it.”
“You’re the best.” Jessa reached up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek before she hurried off to the kitchen, where Buck was teaching Jessa’s mother how to make huckleberry pancakes.
Tom looked in on Ethan, who was sitting with Jessa’s father and pretending to go over seating charts while they really talked about baseball. “I’m heading into the city. Anything you need while I’m there?”
“Someone we can sit next to your Great Aunt Frances at the wedding,” Ethan said. “You remember her from Cousin Ethel’s fiftieth anniversary last year.”
Tom thought for a moment. “About a hundred, wears bright red lipstick, smells like muscle rub, and likes to kiss ministers on the mouth?”
“That’s her,” his brother said. “And no one wants to sit next to her, so please. Kidnap an old man if you have to.”
Tom walked out to his pickup to see his youngest brother, Caleb, inside the cab and fiddling with his dash. “Now what are you doing to my truck?”
“I hooked up that new mini-cam I got for Christmas,” Caleb told him. “We need them on all the vehicles, plus the balers. They can record any accidents, and pick up any signs of foxglove or pokeweed patches after we mow. Ethan won’t buy them until I can prove how good they are.” He slapped his shoulder. “You’re my guinea pig, bro.”
“Great.” Tom climbed in and eyed the little device, which Caleb had clipped to the back of the rearview. “I can’t even see it.”
“That’s the point.” His youngest brother grinned. “It sees everything, but you don’t see it.”
Tom felt relieved when he finally got away from the ranch and on the road. He enjoyed the silence so much he didn’t even turn on the radio, although he did check Caleb’s mini-cam. His youngest brother surely loved his gadgets. Despite his odd notions, Tom thought Cal had some good ideas.
Once Tom reached Helena he went directly to exchange Jessa’s ribbons at the florist supply shop, which took a few minutes. He then walked down to a custom furniture shop to look in the windows.
Although the maple and oak pieces on display looked well-made, Tom’s sharp eye picked out a dozen imperfections and mistakes with the construction. Since he was a boy he’d had an affinity for wood, and making things out of it. Something about the feel of the grain under his hands made ideas jump in his head like popcorn. He’d built every single stick of furniture in his room, and made or repaired just about every other piece in the big house. With his brothers’ help he’d also put in the back deck and raised two barns of his own design.
“We ought to be doing more of this,” his father had told him whenever they’d worked together on something in his big wood shop. “You’re a born carpenter, boy.”
Tom had happily taken wood shop in high school, hoping to eventually get a job working as an apprentice to a real carpenter. Then his parents had died, and he’d put all his dreams aside to help Ethan keep the ranch going.
Tom stepped back from the display window and glanced down the street. He’d have to look around for a place to have dinner before he started the long drive back to Ghost Lake.
“Tom? Is that you?”
He stopped in his tracks and turned around to see Shay standing behind him. “Ms. Larabee. What are you doing here?”
“I always come to the city on Friday, remember? And it’s Shay.” She glanced at the bags of ribbon in his hands. “I know you’re not taking up floral design. Are those for Dr. Cooper?”
He nodded, and felt the same old knot tightening in his chest as he tried to think of what else to say.
Shay grinned up at him. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your truck.”
On the way to the pick-up, Shay told him about her drive up to the city. This included a stop to watch a high school marching band competition, and a drive by a fragrant, colorful flower nursery. The more she talked, the easier Tom felt. Shay was a born storyteller, and he had only to nod or smile as he listened.
“I should head back now, but I’m starving,” Shay mentioned once he’d stowed the ribbon in his truck. “There’s a great little place a block over from here, too. I hate to eat alone, though. Do you like seafood?”
“I love it,” Tom said, looking down at her pretty face and wishing he could kiss her smiling lips. “Let’s go.”
#
Shay surveyed the huge pile of shells on the newspaper-covered table between her and Tom. “Did we just eat two bushels of steamed crab?”
“I think you did.” Tom held up a crab claw. “Last one. Want to arm wrestle me for it?”
She laughed. Over the last two hours Tom had finally abandoned his shyness and started talking back to her. Now he was joking with her as easily as if they’d known each other for years.
“I’d better not,” she said. “Much as I love crab, I’ll probably break your arm.”
“I think you would.” He expertly snapped the claw and popped out the snowy white meat, but divided it and held out half. “Here. For being generous.”
Shay leaned forward to snap it from his fingers, but instead parted her lips and let him feed her the piece. She looked in his eyes as she did, and saw the way he was watching her mouth.
“Thank you,” she murmured after she chewed and swallowed.
His dark violet eyes gleamed. “You’re welcome.”
Shay sighed happily as she finished her sweet tea. “That was amazing. The best meal I’ve had since I don’t know when. I’m so glad I ran into you.” That reminded her. “Were you looking to buy some furniture from that store?”
“No, I was just looking at it. I do a bit wood-working in my spare time.” His smile faded. “Not that I have a lot of that.”
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“You make furniture, too?” When he nodded she felt impressed. “That’s not an easy hobby.”
“Wood has two sides to its nature,” Tom told her. “It wants to go together, and it wants to be apart. You just have to convince it to fit instead of git.”
Shay chuckled. “Sounds a bit like you, Mr. Boone.” She took out her wallet as the waitress brought their check, and then scowled as Tom gave her his credit card. “Hey, we were supposed to split the bill, remember?”
“If we did, I couldn’t call this a date.” Two men arguing in low voices nearby made Tom frown in their direction.
Shay followed his gaze. “Wow. That guy looks like that councilman they caught stealing from the city – Bramson?”
“Yeah, I think it is.” Tom’s smile returned as he looked at Shay. “Why don’t you be a good politician and let me pay for dinner?”
“So you can call it a date?” she teased.
He nodded. “If it’s not a date, I can’t kiss you good-night.”
Shay felt all the air in her lungs evaporate. “You planning on kissing me, Tom Boone?”
He watched her eyes as he signed the charge slip the waitress brought and then stood. “Come and find out.”
Shay took the hand he offered her, and tucked her arm through his as they walked out of the restaurant. “What if I give you the money for dinner?” she teased. “Can I call you my date, and do what I want to you?”
Tom chuckled as they stopped in front of his pickup. “I’d have to know what you have in mind for me, ma’am.”
“Well.” Shay gathered up her nerve as she turned to him, and took his hands in hers. “It’ll start with a kiss, but I won’t say good-night.” As another couple passed them, she made a face. “Not here, though. Someplace, ah, more private.”
“Okay.” Tom caressed her cheek. “You can pay me later. Get in the truck.”
Shay felt as if she might burst with excitement as Tom drove from the restaurant to a deserted park, when he parked next to an empty sedan. When he turned to her she climbed out and beckoned to him.
