Her Cowboy Boss

by Patricia Johns

  “Seriously?” Hank looked her over. “Okay, maybe I see it.”

  Hank pulled open the door for her and let her pass through first. His boots clunked against the linoleum floor behind her as he followed her inside. There was no air-conditioning in this old building, and it smelled like gym shoes and orange peels. The unseasonal June heat seemed to make it worse.

  “This way,” he said, his fingers lingering on the back of her arm before leading her toward the office. The touch was casual—polite even—but there was something about his gentlemanly gestures that sparked some warm feelings in her, and she quickly tried to tamp them down.

  There were a few cabinets of trophies along the walls, some signs posted about graduation fees and a large glossy poster about the dangers of smoking. The office was located a few yards away from the front doors, windows open into the hallway.

  “Good morning,” Hank said to the secretary with a smile. “Wondering if Mrs. Neufeld has some time to chat with us.”

  “Are you parents?” Her gaze flickered to Avery questioningly. She obviously thought Avery looked too young to have a child in high school.

  “I’m Hillary’s cousin,” Hank said. “And this is Avery Southerly. We’re just sleuthing out some family history and Hillary might be of help.”

  “Oh... Well, I’m sure you could ask her.” The phone rang. “Feel free to wait,” the secretary said with a distracted smile. “She’ll be back soon.” She picked up the receiver and turned away.

  Avery could hear a woman’s amplified voice filtering down the hallways. “...at which point you will receive your diploma. The teacher who hands it to you will say a few words to you. A photographer will take your picture then—so don’t rush, but also be respectful of the graduates coming behind you...”

  “Thanks,” Avery said. “We’ll just be out there.”

  The secretary nodded, and they went out into the hallway again. One stretch of hallway was lined by lockers, and above them were framed graduating class photos going back through the years. Avery looked down that hallway. It was possible she’d find her mother’s photo on that wall.

  “So what about me screams debate club to you?” she asked, glancing up at him.

  Hank’s slow, controlled gaze moved over at her, then he said, “I don’t know...you look wholesome.”

  “Debate club could get pretty feisty, you know,” she countered.

  “Alright,” he said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Feisty and wholesome.”

  Well, maybe she was. But while her high school years were less exciting than her mother’s seemed to have been, she’d had good friends and no regrets. But she wasn’t the one who’d gone to school here. This was also Hank’s old school, wasn’t it?

  “What about you?” she asked. “4-H? Future Farmers of America?”

  “Football.” He raised an eyebrow. “And I was pretty good, too.”

  Avery grinned. “Really?”

  Somehow, it was hard to imagine this serious cowboy in football gear, but then she’d never imagined her mom as a cheerleader, either.

  “And 4-H,” he conceded with a small smile. “I was complicated.”

  That was one way to describe him. She still hadn’t figured him out. He was strong and tough, but there was a tender core that he protected. Because of his divorce? Or was it more than that? She wished she knew.

  “You still seem complicated,” she confessed.

  “It’s all a big act,” he replied. “I’m actually very simple. All work and no fun.”

  “I don’t think so.” She turned toward him and looked up into his face. “Last night when you walked me back—”

  “I don’t really want to talk about that.” He glanced away. Was that embarrassment she sensed from him?

  “—you opened up,” she went on, ignoring his protest. “I saw it. You looked me in the eye and you weren’t the boss anymore. You were...a really sweet guy who cared.”

  He’d held her hand until the moon came out, and then he’d moved that strand of hair away from her lips... Maybe she was reading more into the moment, but she’d wondered if he was thinking about kissing her. It was the way his gaze had lingered on her mouth. He hadn’t been the bossy ranch manager out there in the moonlight.

  “Was I?” He sighed. “That was an accident.”

  “Maybe so,” she agreed. “But I still saw it. There is a whole lot more to you that you keep hidden all the time. It must be hard work.”

  “What’s hard work?” he asked. The smile was gone; he met her gaze for a silent beat.

  “All that hiding.”

  “I’m careful not to give the wrong impression,” he replied. “I’m not a guy who toys with women.”

  “What, hiding that you might actually be fun?” she asked with a teasing smile.

  “That I’m available.”

  His words made the smile on her lips evaporate. Was that what he was worried about, that she’d fall for him like some young innocent? Maybe she should be a little more careful, too, about the impression she gave. She knew what was good for her, and she knew what she wanted out of life. She wasn’t about to do something so stupid as to fall for an emotionally unavailable cowboy from her mother’s hometown in another state. Her life—and her future—lay in Kansas. She was only here to introduce herself to her father, and she hadn’t lost sight of that.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy,” she said with a small smile. “I’ve got a flower shop in Kansas that I’m going back to.”

  “I didn’t mean—” He winced.

  “Yes, you did,” she replied. “And it’s alright. We’re on the same page. You can relax.”

  He took a breath and opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, then he turned back to the photos on the wall. “That’s my class there.”

  He nodded up at a picture and she watched Hank as he looked at the faces. His classmates—the people who had grown up with him, known him since he was a kid. Maybe he would hold himself back less with them. He had to have someone who understood him, made him feel less alone. Avery scanned the young faces, wondering if she could pick him out.

  “Fourth from the left, third row,” he said.

  Her eyes moved to the appropriate photo, and she couldn’t help but grin. There he was—all young and innocent. He was a good-looking guy, and she could see how the years had changed him. He was tougher now, stronger.

  “You look like you were a sweet kid,” she said.

  “I thought I was quite manly at that point.” He laughed softly. She looked closer at the photo and then back at Hank. The years had solidified him, hardened him into real manhood.

  “I was six months away from getting engaged in that picture,” he went on. “I had all these plans for the future... I wanted kids back then. I figured by the time I was this age, I’d have at least four sons. Maybe even my own ranch.”

  “What if you had girls?” she asked.

  “As long as they could ride and rope, I’d have been happy.” The smile slipped from his face. “Well, life didn’t work out that way, and maybe I was too stubborn to be much good at it, anyway. Turned out I wasn’t much of a husband, either. But back then—” he nodded toward the picture “—I was oblivious to all that.”

  “You’re ranch manager now,” she said. “I’d call that success.”

  “I’ve definitely worked for it,” he said, but there was something in his tone that suggested he didn’t have it all yet. What was missing from his version of success? she wondered. Was it his wife—the woman who’d walked away from him? To have chosen some other guy over this brooding, handsome cowboy... Avery wasn’t sure how a woman could do that. But this wasn’t the time or the place to be thinking those things. Hank had said so himself—he wasn’t available. And she wasn’t sticking around, either, so...<
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  “I wonder where my mom’s picture is.” They were near the end of the hallway, and it looked like they didn’t have class photos going back more than twenty years.

  Behind them in the gym, a woman’s voice had been replaced by a man’s, talking about “...showboating on the platform.” Some things never changed—like warning teenage boys not to moon friends and family. The gym door opened and a woman in a navy suit who looked about her mother’s age came out of the gymnasium.

  “That’s Hillary,” Hank said, and he waved.

  A smile came to Mrs. Neufeld’s face and she headed in their direction, pumps echoing through the hallway. The private camaraderie of the moment evaporated as her mother’s friend strode toward them. Maybe Avery would get some answers.

  * * *

  HANK GLANCED AROUND Hillary’s office. He’d been a generally good kid when he was in high school. He wasn’t a real studier, but he passed all his classes, which was a prerequisite for playing football. And he’d liked football—more than math or English. He’d also liked riding and being out on the open range, breathing in the scent of grass and scrub. But football satisfied that part of him that liked a goal, points, a clear victory. It also gave him a chance at college, and he wanted to study agriculture most of all.

  He’d sat in this very office while his principal gave him the good news that he was being offered a football scholarship to Montana State. He would have been thrilled—this had been the goal all along. That football scholarship would have made college possible, but senior year, his situation changed, and he couldn’t put off working for the four years it would take to get a degree. He needed money now—he needed a job.

  Hank could still remember the look of disappointment on the principal’s face. And education was a future, but Hank wasn’t willing to explain. It was personal, and he had made his choice. Standing by a decision was a mark of manhood. Like standing by a woman he never should have married... Had that been a mark of character or stupidity?

  “What can I do for you today?” Hillary looked a lot like the Granger side of the family. She was tall, slim and had a wide, toothy smile. She’d gone to college—two degrees, actually—and she’d made the family proud.

  Hank made the introductions and they all took a seat.

  “I was told that you knew my mother,” Avery said, jumping right in. “Winona Southerly. Do you remember her?”

  “Winona?” Hillary’s eyebrows shot up. “Yes, of course. That was a long time ago, though. I knew her when we were attending this very high school.”

  “Yes, that’s what I heard,” Avery confirmed.

  “Are you...” Hillary paused. “When she left, she was—” She stopped again. Yeah, Hank could see the awkwardness of that question.

  “Yes, I’m the one she was pregnant with senior year,” Avery confirmed.

  His cousin breathed out a long breath and nodded. “I’m glad to meet you, Avery. How is your mother doing?”

  “She passed away a couple of months ago,” Avery replied. “Breast cancer.”

  Silence stretched for a couple of beats, then Hillary blinked a few times and said, “I’m so sorry... I hadn’t heard. My condolences.”

  Hank wondered if he should have quietly excused himself before they started talking. If he left now, he’d just be interrupting them, so he sat there, mildly uncomfortable.

  “The thing is, my mom never talked about Hope and the life she had before she moved to Kansas, and since she passed away I wanted to find out what I could, what kind of person she was back then, that sort of thing.”

  “I’m not sure what I can tell you,” Hillary said slowly.

  “You were friends, though,” Avery pressed. “What was she like?”

  That seemed like a fair question to Hank. Who didn’t wonder what their parents were like before parenthood?

  Hillary smiled sadly. “She was very popular. I wasn’t. You know how those things can be.”

  “Is it true you had a falling out with her?”

  Hillary nodded. “My boyfriend preferred her to me. I was upset about that, and Winona dated him for a while. She and I never did patch it up. I’m sorry about that now.”

  That was a gentle way of putting it, Hank noted. Winona had stolen her boyfriend?

  “Who were you dating?” Avery asked. “Do you mind if I ask that?”

  “Oh, not at all.” Hillary shook her head. “It was ages ago. He was a young man named Philip Vernon.”

  “He’s a mechanic here in town,” Hank offered.

  “Ah.” Avery smiled wanly. “Okay... Thanks.”

  “I’ve got an old yearbook from the year we graduated.” Hillary spun her chair around and went over to a bookshelf on the far wall. She pulled a hardcover book from the bottom shelf and brought it back to the desk. She flipped through the first few pages, then handed it over, open to a page of candid shots.

  “That’s your mother there—” She pointed. “And there...”

  Hank looked over Avery’s shoulder to see where Hillary pointed. He could see a fine-featured girl who looked an awful lot like Avery, except she was blonde where Avery was fiery red. There was a photo of her sitting next to Chris Mayfield in her cheerleading uniform, an easy smile on her face. Some things didn’t change over the years, and one of them was cheerleaders. No matter what year, you put a cute girl in that little uniform, and the guys would follow her around like puppies.

  Vickie had been a cheerleader, too—cute and perky, full of offbeat humor. He’d liked the way she bounced around and cheered for the team, and one day after practice, he’d asked her out. Dating a cheerleader was a status thing for the guys, but he and Vickie hadn’t really been a good match. The only thing they had in common was football.

  “Who’s that?” Avery asked, and Hank tuned back into the conversation.

  “That would be—” Hillary turned the yearbook around and squinted at the photo “—Ned Pine, I believe.”

  “A friend?” Avery asked, and he caught the nervousness in her voice.

  “Well...” Hillary’s expression froze. “I’m not sure what you’re wanting me to say here.”

  “I want to know if he was a friend, or something more.” Avery’s tone grew terse, but she was clutching her hands together in a white-knuckled grip. She was nervous.

  “I...” Hillary sighed. “I honestly don’t know. Winona was—” She looked at Hank helplessly, and Hank just stared back. He didn’t know anything about Hillary’s old high school friend. He couldn’t help her out here. The only thing he could identify with was what it was like to have a pregnant girlfriend in senior year.

  “Okay,” Avery said with a sigh. “What about Louis Harmon?”

  That caught Hank’s attention. That was a good question—one he was curious about, too. Was Mr. Harmon one of the guys Winona had been involved with, or was he in the clear?

  “Avery,” Hillary said softly. “Are you looking for your father?”

  “I suppose that’s a bit obvious, isn’t it?” Avery sighed. “Yes. I’m not interested in forcing anything... I’m not asking for money or anything like that. I just...with mom’s passing...” Tears welled in her eyes, and Hank leaned toward her. He’d have put an arm around her if he thought it would comfort her, but that didn’t seem right in this situation.

  “I understand,” Hillary said softly. “The thing is, Avery, your mom had quite a few boyfriends over senior year. She was involved with a lot of guys.”

  Avery stiffened, licked her lips.

  “I don’t say this to speak ill of your mom,” Hillary went on gently, “but if you’re looking for your dad, it might be difficult.”

  “And Louis?” Avery asked woodenly.

  “He was a friend of hers. I don’t know how involved they were, but...I suppose it’s possible.”

&nb
sp; Hank hadn’t wanted to hear that...for his boss’s sake. But if Mr. Harmon were Avery’s father, he needed to know that, too. A man took care of his responsibilities.

  Chapter Eight

  Avery watched as the telephone poles crept past her window, the lines looping lazily. They were on their way back to the ranch, but the earlier cheeriness had slipped away. Thinking back on it, she should have done that visit with Hillary Neufeld with more privacy. She hadn’t expected to find out that Louis had been right about her mother—looking for love in all the wrong places. He wasn’t the only one to have that opinion about Winona.

  Stealing her friend’s boyfriend, selfish behavior... Winona hadn’t been that kind of woman. She’d been moral to a fault, very black-and-white about things. She’d refused to let Avery date until she was seventeen, and then before the boy picked her up, her mother had given her a few self-defense lessons. Her mother had told her in all earnestness, You have no right getting into a car with a boy unless you know how to maim him from the passenger seat.

  The rules for dating had been lengthy and written in stone. She’d hated that. Avery wasn’t going to make her mother’s mistake—her mother had drilled that into her from the beginning. So Avery thought she deserved a little more trust in her ability to make good choices. Winona disagreed.

  Avery was to be back exactly thirty minutes after the movie ended. She was permitted to sit and talk with the boy in her own living room, with her mother close enough by to pop in at inopportune moments. Avery was raised with the ideal of abstinence until marriage, because you don’t want to be a teen mother like I was, dear. It’s harder than it needs to be. You want a husband by your side. Trust me on that.

  Winona knew the dangers from experience, and she wanted something different for her daughter, but Avery had always had the distinct impression that her mother’s pregnancy had been a shocking one-off accident. She’d heard stories about girls who had sex once and discovered they were pregnant, and she’d assumed that her mother was the same—a living, breathing morality tale. She now felt a little foolish about that. Wasn’t that the joke, that kids always thought their parents had had sex only enough times to conceive them, and never again?