Cowboy to the Rescue

by A. J. Pine

  He crossed his arms defiantly. “Maybe I will.”

  She closed the door behind her.

  He heard her turn the sink faucet on, so he collapsed into the desk chair and did exactly as she’d suggested. Everything seemed to be falling into place at the station except for Shane. No matter what method he used to try and connect with the guy, Shane always pushed back.

  It had only taken seconds for him to get lost in the books, so he hadn’t heard the faucet being turned off or the bathroom door opened. He didn’t even know Ivy was behind him until her hands began massaging his shoulders.

  “I think you’re in need of more TLC than me, mister.” She kneaded a knot below his shoulder blade, and he blew out a long breath.

  “Good lord, that feels good,” he said.

  “Tell me about the books.” She worked on all his knots and kinks, the physical manifestation of the pressure he’d felt at the station these last few weeks.

  He shook his head, happy she couldn’t see the defeat in his eyes.

  “I don’t get it,” he said. “I’ve tried every approach with that kid. And before you tell me he’s a grown man, he’s twenty-two. That’s barely legal and a kid in my book.”

  Ivy laughed. “I’m simply here to listen, Lieutenant. Not judge.”

  “Sorry,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m at the end of my rope with him. He couldn’t have been serious about going for lieutenant seconds after finishing his probation. But it feels like he has this grudge.”

  “Some people need someone else to take the blame for their mistakes or shortcomings—or fears. I’m not saying it’s right, but it happens.”

  He spun his chair around to find Ivy standing there in nothing more than his T-shirt and her underwear.

  “Well shoot, darlin’. That massage was something, but if I’d have known you were behind me wearing next to nothing, I’d have turned around a lot sooner.”

  She climbed into his lap, her legs straddling his torso. He slid his hands under the T-shirt and rested his palms on her hips.

  “How’s his big brother Wyatt doing?” she asked.

  Carter shrugged. “Perfect. Best driver engineer I could ask for—should we ever get a real call.”

  Ivy’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, but she didn’t change the subject.

  “Do you and the captain praise Wyatt for his good work?”

  He nodded. “Hell yeah. Chief even singled him out last week to commend him on the CPR training he did for the local mother and toddler group.”

  Her forehead fell against his. “And what’s Shane done to earn anyone’s praise?”

  Carter groaned. “I swear I’ve tried, Ivy. I’ve tried to use positive reinforcement with him, but it’s like he’s determined to buck authority just enough so that he doesn’t get let go from the team.”

  She huffed out a laugh. “Because I’m guessing that dealing with you is a shade or two more bearable than dealing with his father. I’m not condoning his insubordination, but you’re right. He’s a kid who’s still trying to find his place in a very small town that knows he messed up and that puts his brother on a pedestal every which way he turns. To him, you’re simply one other person reminding him that he can’t measure up, so why should he try?”

  “I know how that feels.” Carter had realized he was competing with his brothers for his father’s approval. But once he chose his own path, his father made it clear that if anyone was keeping score, Carter had lost. Maybe this would be his in with Shane. Maybe it wouldn’t. But somehow Ivy made sense of what Carter should have seen on his own.

  She cradled his cheeks in her palms and brushed her lips over his. “You’re good at what you do. You don’t need to prove yourself to him, Carter.”

  “To who?” he asked.

  She kissed his cheek. “To your father.” She kissed the other. “To the chief.” She kissed his lips. “To yourself.” She lifted his T-shirt over his head. “To me,” she added. Then she brushed a kiss over the scar on his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me about football? About losing your spot on the team because of surgery?”

  He slid his hands up her thighs until his thumbs hit the hem of her underwear.

  “Because it wouldn’t have mattered if I’d been able to play anyway. I’d have gotten kicked off the team because of my attendance eventually.”

  He let his eyes fall closed as she peppered his chest with kisses. Everything was better with her in his arms, with her warm skin touching his. The pain of the past fell further away each time he kissed her, each morning he woke up next to her, and each day he got closer to calling Meadow Valley his home for good.

  “Did your dad know how important it was to you?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “There wasn’t a point. Either my brothers and I took over the garage or the business would eventually go under when my old man’s arthritis wouldn’t let him work anymore. He was a very proud, self-made man. And I respect that about him. But he can’t get past seeing me as ungrateful for not wanting what he made.”

  She brushed her fingers through his hair. “It’s okay that you chose a different path. What you’re doing is something that not many men or women would or could. Be proud of yourself.”

  He let out a bitter laugh. “For my boring cubicle desk job?”

  “No,” she said, a slight tremor in her voice. “You risk your life for others. And there’s nothing boring about that.”

  She ran her fingertips over the raised and knotted skin on the left side of his torso.

  “I wasn’t just talking about Shane when I said people blame others for their own baggage. I’ve been blaming you, in a way, for my fear of once again losing someone I care about. It’s not fair. If you’re not ready to be proud of yourself, then know that I’m proud of what you’ve done, of what you continue to do.”

  He nodded. His throat was tight, and he wasn’t sure what it would sound like if he spoke, but he needed to know what this meant. He needed to know where they stood as far as her not being able to deal with his job.

  “But can you let go of the fear, Ivy? If you’re really proud of me—of how well I do my job—can you accept who I am and what I do, so that this”—he motioned between them—“doesn’t have to come to an end?”

  A tear slid down her cheek, and she nodded. “I don’t want to be afraid,” she said. “Because I think I’m falling for you, Carter Bowen.”

  He grinned and lifted her up. Her legs squeezed tight around his waist, but the vise that seemed to be slowly squeezing his heart for the better part of a decade loosened.

  He laid her down gingerly on the bed.

  “I’m head over heels and ass over elbow and whatever other phrase you got that says how hard I’m falling for you, darlin’.”

  He glanced toward the melting bag of ice on the nightstand.

  “We forgot about your shoulder.”

  She tugged him down to her. “Forget about it. I have another one that’s in perfectly good condition.”

  He laughed. Then he lifted the Astros shirt up her torso and over her head. And there she was in nothing other than her underwear—bare and beautiful and falling for him. Everything in his life finally felt like it was clicking into place. She was simply the missing piece he hadn’t known he was missing.

  “I have a question for you,” she added. “Actually, it’s more of an observation.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  She smiled, and he swore he’d do whatever it took to make her smile the last thing he saw before he went to sleep and the first thing he laid eyes on each morning—for as long as she’d let him.

  “I know Midtown won their big game and all, but I think it’s our turn to hit a home run.”

  He laughed. “I think that’s an excellent observation.” Then he brushed a lock of hair out of her eye and stared at her.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said. “Here…” He kissed each breast. “And here.” He kissed the skin above her heart. “I didn’t pl
an on you, Ivy Serrano. But I sure am glad your refrigerator cord caught fire—and that you were able to put it out so quickly.”

  He rolled onto his side, and their legs entwined as their lips met, as if this were a choreographed dance they’d learned years ago.

  “I sure didn’t plan on a cowboy fireman turning my life upside down. I didn’t know what it would be like to come home, with my parents in Boston and Charlie gone for good. The past several months have been real hard. And then you showed up.”

  She kissed him, her breasts warm against his chest. And it was simply right—she and he like this.

  “And,” she said, “you’re wearing too many clothes.”

  Almost as soon as she had said the words, his jeans and boxer briefs were no more.

  He slid her panties to her ankles and over her feet, and she hooked a leg over his.

  “I don’t want anything between us tonight,” she said, wrapping a hand around his hard length.

  “But—” He was all for what she was suggesting, but after waiting all this time, he wanted to be careful. Tonight was the start of something bigger than he’d imagined, and he wanted to get everything right.

  “I’m on the pill,” she said. “Have been for years. And I haven’t been— It’s only you, Carter. Just you.”

  He knew what she meant on a literal level but wondered if she felt it, too—how hard he was falling for her, how he couldn’t fathom it being anyone other than her ever again.

  He buried himself inside her, hoping to fill her with all that he was feeling but couldn’t yet say.

  She arched against him and gasped. He kissed her hard, and she rolled on top of him. He watched her move in a rhythm that was all their own. And he wondered how so much could change in such a short time.

  He always thought he was running from a father who couldn’t accept his choices, but maybe he was running to her all along.

  He woke the next morning before she did, their bodies still tangled and her back against his chest.

  He kissed her neck, and she hummed softly, but it was a dreamy hum, one that assured him she was still asleep. Still, it couldn’t hurt to check.

  “Ivy,” he whispered. “You awake?”

  She didn’t stir.

  He knew this was right—that she was right. So why deny it any longer.

  “Maybe this is too soon, but I’m a man of certainty, and I’m certain that I’m not falling for you, darlin’. I’m not falling because I already fell.” He kissed the softball-shaped bruise on her shoulder. “I love you, Ivy.”

  He wasn’t ready to say it to her face, not when a tiny part of him kept whispering that eventually his job would spook her and this would be over. It was better like this, not knowing what she’d say in return. Because if the other shoe dropped, he wanted to be prepared. He could handle her walking away if he never knew that she loved him, too. But if he knew and she still left, that might downright ruin him.

  Maybe he risked his life doing what he did for a living, but he realized now that the one thing scarier than walking into a burning building was risking his heart.

  Chapter Nine

  Ivy closed the store at four, since business had been slow. Plus, happy hour at Midtown started at five on Thursdays, and most folks went early to claim their preferred seats, especially those who liked to sit closest to the free appetizers.

  “Ow!” Casey said when Ivy accidentally poked her with her hemming pin.

  “Sorry,” Ivy said with her lips pressed tight around the blunt ends of the remaining pins, so it sounded more like Srry.

  “I get that you’re nervous and all about putting this design on display, but if you poke your very human mannequin one more time, she’s quitting. She didn’t sign up for acupuncture, and she has to get her butt behind the bar soon.”

  Ivy spit the pins into her palm and sighed.

  “Sorry. This is—it’s more than the design. It’s symbolic, you know? If I can look at the dress in the store—on an actual mannequin who doesn’t complain—it’ll mean I’m okay. It’ll mean that I can remember the good things about Charlie, about growing up here, and be happy instead of—” She trailed off before finishing. Because she would be a horrible person if she said what came next.

  “I know,” Casey said with more understanding in her voice. She held out a hand, and Ivy grabbed it, letting her friend give her a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay to be angry.”

  Leave it to her best friend to know exactly what Ivy was thinking.

  “He should have known better,” Ivy said softly, the tears pooling in her eyes. “They train to know when the building is safe to enter and when they need to get out. He should have gotten out. He should have thought about his wife and his baby and his family and…”

  Ivy hiccupped and sobbed. She’d never said any of this aloud, not to her parents or Charlie’s wife. She’d grieved as best she could, but she’d never admitted the ugly part of it, the irrational blame she placed on the brother she’d lost.

  “I’m the worst,” she said. “You don’t need to tell me because I already know.”

  Casey sat down carefully in Ivy’s office chair and patted the top of the desk, for her friend to sit. Ivy nodded and complied.

  “Hey,” Casey said, taking both of Ivy’s hands now. “You know this is normal, right? The anger part? I know you’ve accepted that Charlie’s gone, but I think you skipped right over this part. I should have stayed longer in Boston after the funeral. You kept it together for your parents and Allison, but you didn’t get to fall apart with your best friend like you should have.”

  Ivy choked out a tearful laugh. “You mean like now?” She grabbed a tissue from the box on her desk and blew her nose. Then she grabbed two more to try to dry her tear-stained face. “You had a business to run. I never expected you to stay. I never expected me to stay as long as I did, but I couldn’t leave until I knew they were all okay…” She paused for a long moment. “Or until I could come back here, knowing home would never be the same.” She blew out a long breath. “So, I’m really not the worst?”

  Casey smiled sadly and shook her head. “Do you really blame your brother for doing a job not many are cut out to do?”

  Ivy shook her head.

  “See?” Casey said. “Not the worst. This is actually a really good step, Ives. I think you’re finally starting to move past the worst of it.”

  Ivy worried her bottom lip between her teeth, and Casey’s brows furrowed.

  Once she said what she was about to say out loud, it would be real. Like really real. And real with Carter Bowen still scared her half to death.

  “There’s something else you’re not telling me.” Casey narrowed her eyes. “This is about more than Charlie, isn’t it? Spill,” she added. “You have ten more minutes before I turn into a pumpkin and this badass dress changes back to jeans and a T-shirt.”

  Ivy laughed. Casey always could make her feel better about any situation. Venting her anger was cathartic, as far as taking a productive step past her grief, but it wasn’t the only thing she’d been thinking about.

  “Did I mention that Carter said he loved me?” she asked softly.

  “What?” Casey threw her arms in the air. Then she yelped as a bodice pin scraped along her skin. “Ow!”

  “Sorry!” Ivy cried, fumbling to fix the pin.

  “Screw the apologies!” Casey said with a grin. “Tell. Me. Everything.”

  Her pulse quickened at having said what he’d said out loud. She’d sat on the information all week, not sure what to do with it. Hearing those words from him had been everything—shooting stars, fireworks, and a lifetime supply of fried pickles. She’d wound up exactly where she never wanted to be, except for one minor detail…Ivy loved Carter, too. And the realization solidified how much she had to lose if anything ever happened to him.

  Ivy cleared her throat. “I spent the night at the inn with him after the game last week,” she started.

  “Bow-chica-bow-bow,” Casey sang.


  She rolled her eyes even though she was grateful for a moment of levity. “Yes. I’m a woman in my mid-twenties who has sex.”

  Casey waggled her brows. “Yes, but unless you stopped telling your best friend everything, you’re a woman in her mid-twenties who up until meeting Lieutenant Dreamboat had not had sex in quite some time and who was taking things slowly with said Dreamboat.”

  “Nine months,” Ivy admitted. “But who’s counting? Anyway. If you want your best friend to tell you everything, you’re going to need to stop interrupting.” She paused, brows raised, and waited. Casey made a motion of zipping her lips, so Ivy went on.

  “It was the next morning,” she continued. “I was sort of asleep, sort of not. So I’m ninety-nine percent sure I didn’t dream it. But he said something along the lines of knowing it was probably too early to say it but that he was a man of certainty and that he was certain he loved me.”

  Casey stared at her, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

  “You can talk now,” Ivy said.

  “Phew! Okay, first things first. I think it’s reasonable to fall in love with someone in a few weeks. Plus, we’re talking you, and you’re pretty damn loveable.”

  “Thank you very much,” Ivy said with a grin.

  “But the part of the story that’s missing is what you said back to him.”

  Ivy winced.

  Casey’s eyes narrowed. “Oh my God, Ivy Serrano. Did you pretend you were still sleeping?”

  If it was possible for her wince to get bigger, Ivy’s did.

  “What if I dreamed it?” she asked.

  Casey sighed. “You didn’t dream it.”

  “Well, what if he only told me because he thought I was sleeping and didn’t really want to tell me for real for real.”

  Casey shook her head. “I don’t even know what you just said so why don’t you tell me this—do you love him?”

  Ivy sucked in a steadying breath.

  “Maybe?”

  “Serrano…”

  “I don’t know if I’ve ever been in love before. So how would I know?”