Her Cowboy's Promise (Fly Creek)

by Jennifer Hoopes

  He walked away from the piece and crossed to the far wall, pretending to look at other paintings. His skin itched and crawled as if to get away from him, and he didn’t blame it. He was disgusted with himself as well. She’d painted a life-size homage to the single worst day of her life and he’d been thinking about her and the bed.

  Worse, he couldn’t even tell her he understood what it must have cost her to paint it, because she didn’t know—couldn’t know yet—that he knew about that day. That he knew the truth about that day.

  That Drew hadn’t died…not then, at least.

  The paintings on this wall were smaller but no less impressive. Moving along them, he froze in front of a portrait.

  “Drew,” he breathed out. His cousin smiled back at him. That crooked grin that had girls dropping like flies wherever they went. An ache settled in his chest. God, Adam missed him.

  “What did you say?” Emily was next to him in an instant. Her words ripped raw from somewhere deep.

  Shit. He turned and met her gaze with one of faked confusion. “I said I wish I drew.”

  She deflated, her arms coming to wrap around her midriff. “Oh. Sorry, I thought…” She shook her head, not looking at him or the picture. “Peyton Brooks was in here today asking me to teach her Girl Scouts.” She laughed. “She thinks I should start offering classes of some sort. Here or at the ranch. Guess Shelby got to her. Anyway, I could maybe, you know, teach you. Not necessarily to draw but paint. You could be my test subject.”

  He needed to get away from this painting. From her memories. Memories that would be altered when he finally told her everything. When he finally knew she could handle everything.

  “Private lessons?” He shrugged. “They could be fun but I’ll warn you, I’m all hands.” He wiggled his fingers, and she locked her gaze on them, her eyes brightening as a small amount of desire filtered in. Abrupt change from the heaviness of the moment from before but passion was a natural foe of death.

  She swallowed hard, letting her arms drop. “Private lessons are expensive.”

  “And I’m sure worth every damn penny.” Adam stepped closer, his hand sliding a strand of hair off her cheek and tucking it behind her ear. She shivered but stood still, letting him caress her neck and dip to trace her exposed collarbone.

  “I thought you said we were friends.” Her words were whispered, almost a plea, but Adam wasn’t sure if they were to ward him off or convince herself to let go. And he was helpless to ensure she chose the first.

  “We are. Friends who…”

  “Who?”

  The distance between them vanished, each moving in to the other hungrily. His hands speared through silky strands and held tight as he fought for control of her mouth. She wasn’t weak, nor was she into anything by half measures. Something he’d learned quickly last night. She angled her head, deepening the kiss, and took a step, forcing him back. A minute later his knees came up against her bed and a small thread of sense wormed its way into his consciousness.

  He couldn’t do this again. Not here. Not now. Not ever. One kiss was hard enough to deal with, but tumbling into bed—now or ever—was the wrong move.

  Friends.

  He’d like to leave Fly Creek knowing that Emily White didn’t hate him. The truth was, he already held the losing hand on that wish long before last night.

  Running his hands up her back, he gripped her shoulders and gently pushed her away. Their frantic breaths huffed against one another. Emily’s lust-filled haze disappeared, slowly replaced by embarrassment.

  He tapped her nose. “I want it on the record that, as your friend, I didn’t come in here tonight expecting this. I really was trying to help you.”

  The embarrassment faded, and she looked up at him, a grin sliding across her face. “Duly noted, and I think it’s pretty self-evident, I’m not complaining.”

  She sent several glances toward her steps. He really should leave, but he needed a safe way to keep getting to know her. One that might not startle her more than their apparent chemistry was.

  “Have you eaten?”

  Her hands fluttered about her as the color drained from her face. So much for safe.

  He reached for one of her hands and smoothed his thumb down the top. “Emily, friends eat together. Would it make you feel better if I invited others along? Maybe Peyton and some guys from the ranch.”

  She eased her hand away and attempted a smile. The spark was dying and the wariness and sorrow filtering back in. He’d pushed too far too fast, but time wasn’t a friend to him. Of course kissing wasn’t doing either of them any favors, either.

  …

  Dammit, what the hell was he doing? Even more important—what the hell was she doing? How had she ended up kissing him again? He’d come in all white knight, here, let me help you and the next thing she knew, she was trying to figure out how to get him into bed. Thank God he brought them to their senses. And now he wanted to go out for dinner as if five minutes ago hadn’t happened.

  No, she needed to be alone to process and evaluate, but if she flat out refused him, he would worm around it. She just knew it, and the fact that she could predict his behavior after a few encounters gave her even more reason to want to be alone.

  She moved away from him and their obvious heat, into the kitchen. “I actually ate earlier this evening, but I’ll take a rain check. Maybe lunch one day next week?”

  Adam’s gaze raked her face, and she fought like hell to keep her eyes on his. This fascination with their attraction, with his body was too confusing. It was making her see and want things that she had no business seeing or wanting. A quick glance at the portrait of Drew brought her grief back front and center.

  “Rain check definitely.”

  Emily didn’t miss the underlying tone to his words, but she forced the erupting shiver back down. This friends-with-benefits thing wasn’t going to work. At least not until she was certain it was the best thing for her and more importantly for him. He wasn’t staying, and she would never give him her heart. If that became acceptable for both of them, maybe she could take another step forward.

  Adam prowled toward her, stopping less than a foot in front of her. Emily refused to step back, but her eyes may have dipped a little. She was a woman, after all. A woman whose body and his talked in their own language. She inhaled. His scent wrapped around her, mixed with the sexual tension, and convinced her brain that one final kiss wasn’t such a bad idea. She lifted her gaze and found his eyes hot, but his lips held a trace of a smirk. She stepped back.

  “I guess I’ll see you around.” She walked to the steps.

  “Oh you will, don’t worry.”

  Her face warmed and she wanted to laugh at herself. She may have even cracked a smile, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to her. Glancing back at Adam, he stood with his arms crossed, once again seeming to examine her. Actually focusing on what she was and maybe what she wanted. Coupled with their obvious attraction he was a temptation she could have never predicted.

  The man was good. Good looking, good tasting, and maybe even good at heart—not that she had any plans involving his heart. But plans involving other things? Could be.

  Turning her back on him, she made her way down to the gallery and began the process of shutting off the lights, making sure her brushes were soaking or drying. Everything neat and stacked and in order. She heard his boots on the steps and busied herself at the front counter. He came around the desk and grabbed one of her hands. She met his gaze as he lifted it to his lips, and every nerve in her sighed.

  “See ya around. Friend.”

  Adam walked through the door. He waved to someone down the sidewalk and then got in his truck and drove away. A minute later, she locked the front door and leaned her forehead against the cool glass. What the hell had she gotten herself into? And did she really want to get herself out?

  Chapter Eight

  The shrill ring drove straight to Emily’s heart. She lurched off
the side of the bed and landed with a thump all while sending her hands fumbling across the top of her side table. It was another shiver-inducing ring before her fingers wrapped around the handset and she answered.

  “Hello.”

  “Em, are you… Oh, crap, time change.”

  Emily let her head rest on her knees. “Yeah, two hours.”

  “I’m sorry, sis. I just. Well, it’s just I was…”

  Emily’s head snapped up, awareness fanning through her body. “What’s wrong, Sof? Tell me.”

  “Nothing. I thought maybe something was wrong…with you.”

  Emily couldn’t speak. She opened her mouth and a puff of air escaped.

  Sofie continued. “I woke up with that stomach cramp. You know the one we used to get about each other when something was off? I needed to know you were okay. I mean, I know you’re not okay. I saw you at my engagement party. I saw how much you’re still not okay, but this feeling seemed different.”

  Tears streaked Emily’s face, her fingers flexed several times around the handset and still she couldn’t find words. Sofie’s call, her feeling, the reaching out at the perfect time. How could she handle it all on top of what she already knew had shifted in her life? How could she admit the shell that contained what was left of her these past three years didn’t fit anymore?

  Sofie must have taken her silence for anger. “I’m sorry I bothered you. It was stupid to call.”

  “No.” The desperateness startled even Emily. She pushed off the floor, fighting a losing battle with sheets determined to send her right back down. “Something is wrong, only I don’t know if I could explain what it is.”

  “Oh.”

  Emily laughed. That word did seem to sum up an awful lot. “Ever since your party, or maybe even before, things… I did something and things shifted. Life’s not as simple and cut and dry anymore.”

  “I’m not sure life’s ever supposed to be simple and cut and dry, Em. Perhaps you made it that way because it wasn’t really life.”

  Emily shook her head even though Sofie couldn’t see it. “No. It wasn’t. Isn’t. But I’m trying. I want to try only…”

  “You’re scared.”

  A sob escaped and she collapsed back on her bed. “So much.”

  “I’ll come. Say the word and I’ll be on the next plane to that Godforsaken place.”

  Emily tried to picture Sofie in Fly Creek. The sophisticated city girl in her three-inch heels would last about a day before the town would swallow her up and spit her out, complete with boots, a hat, and maybe some fringe for good measure.

  “It’s not that bad.” She swallowed and wet her lips. “And thank you for offering. I don’t deserve it. Not after—”

  “I’m always here. I always have been. It was a lot to go through.”

  “I know.”

  “Just know my offer stands. It’s summer break.”

  “And when has your summer break ever been free and clear. Besides you have a…a wedding to plan.”

  “You’re my sister, Emily. That means more than plans or weddings.”

  Tears dropped into her lap. “You’re the best, Sof. I’m trying. I want to be a better sister. Better at life. My trip back east opened my eyes in some ways. And then others here are forcing them the rest of the way.”

  “It doesn’t have to be a sprint. You were never very good at those anyway. Long distance is more your style.”

  “Ha. Three years seems a pretty good distance to me.”

  “There isn’t a time limit on grief. But sadly there is, in a lot of ways, on life.”

  Emily let her sister’s words filter through. She was right. She could grieve still, might always in some ways, but she could also live. The two were not an either-or pair.

  “Thank you, Sof. Thank you for calling. For reaching out even knowing I might bite your hand.”

  “I love you, sis. I’m here. Use the phone more often. And I’m serious; I’ll come to your sky country. Just say the word.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “Now go live a little.”

  Emily put the phone back on the table and noticed the time, 5:47 a.m. on Sunday. She didn’t open until eleven, so what could she do in the little time that might qualify as living? Nothing immediately sprang to mind except an image of a handsome cowboy and his irresistible lips. Still uneasy over the direction her life seemed to be heading, she glanced back at the brick wall and the portrait of Drew. His crooked smile encouraging her. In a breath she was back at the high school where they’d first met. Where the kids had teased them about the art and gym teachers who had fallen in love.

  Wiping away a tear, she knew where her first stop of the morning would be.

  Twenty minutes later, she pulled onto a patch of field along the Quinn River, Sky Lake Ranch visible in the distance. She had come to this spot twice a year since arriving in Fly Creek. On the anniversary of Drew’s death and on his birthday.

  She’d moved to Fly Creek on a whim. Finding the pamphlet for Sky Lake the day after being laid off from her teaching job had seemed like a sign. Drew had talked often about opening up a ranch similar to Shelby’s. Moving back west and starting their family.

  Emily had yet to actually bring herself to visit Sky Lake, instead content to view it from afar and pretend it was still part of her future life. The ranch and the water surrounding it seemed contradictory. One representing what she should have had and one representing how it was all ripped away. Maybe a visit to Sky Lake would be another step on this new path she needed to take.

  Emily climbed out and leaned against the truck. It seemed strange to call it a river here. The banks were no more than six feet apart. A little baby in comparison to where she’d lost everything. Almost a mile wide of water rushing and tumbling and destroying. The days after were beyond a blur. Family and friends took turns watching her, caring for her, and even then, she felt nothing. People who’d been part of her life, part of her emotional makeup were just faces with names. Nothing tugged at anything internally. It was as if when Drew succumbed to the river’s pull, he’d taken everything that existed inside of her with him.

  She eventually surfaced. She had to in many ways. It was what people told her she had to do and what Drew would have wanted, but even though she mimicked the motions of life, her heart, if it really was that anymore, wasn’t in it.

  A tear rolled down Emily’s cheek. She thought of Sofie’s call. They’d been so close. Born only eleven months apart, they had always known the other’s thoughts. But after that day, Emily couldn’t be that sister any longer. She couldn’t handle the pity stemming from their connection, and she’d pulled away. Seeing her sister at her engagement party, full of life and laughter and love punched her in the chest, jealousy lingering in its wake. Jealousy over the future Sofie would have and she wouldn’t. Or maybe couldn’t.

  She stared at the lightly moving waters, a symbol of the same waters that took everything. Did she have anything to give?

  Taking a few steps, she dropped to the ground and hugged her knees. Three years ago, she knew the answer. Hell, a week ago she thought she knew. Was Adam the catalyst or the final straw? Hadn’t she been off balance since returning from back east? Was Sofie’s party what weakened her guard and allowed Adam Conley and his hands and kisses to filter in? Or was this just a time thing?

  She always wondered why she’d survived and Drew hadn’t. Why she was left to try and live. Smiling, feeling, laughing were all things he would never do, and it didn’t seem fair that she got to. But the past few days? It seemed okay.

  Emily lifted her gaze to Sky Lake and thought of Peyton and the Girl Scouts and what she could give them. She thought of Adam putting in a hard day’s work and the possibility of more time with him. She’d thought of terms last night. They were acceptable to her. Would Adam be okay exploring this thing between them knowing she wasn’t a whole person? That she couldn’t give him all of herself because a part of her died three years ago. And was she okay building
memories with a man who might leave come September, as most ranch hands did?

  Standing, she brushed her hands down the back of her legs and nodded at the waters.

  Emily drove back into town. As she passed the Wagon Train, she saw Adam holding the door open for someone leaving before he ducked inside. She pulled to the side of the road. Sofie had told her to go live a little today, and nothing seemed more alive than being in the presence of a man whose mere voice made her knees weak.

  …

  Adam scanned the diner and headed for the small open table in the back corner. He’d taken two steps when bird-like claws littered with age spots wrapped around his arm and yanked him to a stop.

  “Mr. Conley?”

  Adam looked down to find Polly, the owner of the claws, sitting across from her good friend Agnes Young. Two of the foremost gossips of Fly Creek with memories as long as the years they’d lived.

  “Morning, ladies. What can I do for you?”

  Both women brightened but held their determined looks.

  “We just wanted to find out about you and Miss White.”

  Adam choked. He should have known. “Me and Emily?”

  Polly looked at Agnes and then back at him. “I swear, between her blushes and your throat clearing, it’s no wonder the two of you are in need of others to help you along. Now, we’ve watched that young lady for three years, and to be quite honest we didn’t think there was hope for her. Too much of something in her past that we didn’t think she was going to overcome. But now we have hope. You better not screw it up, because at our age, hope is a hefty fountain of youth, young man.”

  Since Adam didn’t trust anything that might spill from his mouth, and disrespecting nosy elders ranked up there with stealing another man’s cattle, he settled for crossed arms and a stern look.

  Polly didn’t blink.

  God, here he was putting his damn life on hold to help this woman and he was getting hit from all sides because he was trying to do a good deed. At least he now had no doubt the whole town knew of his and Emily’s dance at the bar, and most likely someone noticed his truck outside the gallery yesterday evening. But being accosted by two formidable older ladies who essentially asked him his intentions in regards to Emily had him squirming like a three-year-old who had to pee.