Her Cowboy Boss

by Patricia Johns

  When he finally pulled back, he said, “Please stay. We’ll figure something out.”

  “Hank, we don’t have a future,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m going back to Kansas. Why don’t you come with me?”

  That was a lot to ask. He couldn’t just relocate to a new state and seriously date this woman without a steady income. Yet he was asking her to do the same thing, wasn’t he? He looked toward the canteen again. Louis was no longer in the doorway, but he must have seen enough. Hank had just lost his job.

  “I can get another job here,” he said. “I have family. There’s got to be a Granger somewhere who will hire me. I’m not saying it’ll pay well, but it’ll be something.”

  “It isn’t the money, you lout.” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “You can’t give me what I want here, either, Hank. I want to get married. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but I do want marriage...”

  He could feel the futility of it all rising up inside him. He’d known he should have kept his distance, but he hadn’t heeded reason. And now he’d gone and crossed all those lines—kissed her in front of his boss. He’d just thrown it all away for Avery, and it couldn’t work between them.

  “I’ve been married before,” he said. “You know I can’t do it again.”

  “I know,” she said, her gaze meeting his sadly. “I have to go back to Kansas to reopen my mother’s store. It’s home, Hank. I have to go home.”

  Home. He understood that. This place had been his home, too, and he wanted her to continue fitting in here in Hope... He wanted more rides with her, more walks, more chances to eat her awful cooking. He wanted to cook for her, too—wake her up to omelets and waffles...whip up a Sunday afternoon pot of creamy soup to share... But he couldn’t offer what she needed. He was bitter and broken, and he couldn’t blame her for refusing to settle for less.

  “So is this it?” he asked, a lump in his throat nearly choking off his words. “Is this goodbye?”

  She nodded. “I’ll leave in the morning. I think Louis will understand if I don’t give notice.”

  Hank pulled her into his arms once more and held her close. He leaned his cheek against her wet hair and inhaled the scent of her.

  “If you ever change your mind...” he said, but he knew better. She was her mother’s daughter, and when Winona had walked away from this town, it had been for good. Avery was going home where she belonged, and he had to let her.

  Hank released her, and she shrugged out of his jacket and handed it back. She hunched her shoulders against the rain and headed toward the bunkhouse, and he stood there with his slicker in one hand, forcing himself to stay put. Because if he took one step, it was going to be to run after her, and that was pointless.

  He’d known it from the start.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Avery turned off the water, then dropped her robe and stepped into the bathtub. She was cold and wet to the skin from the rain, and the warm water enveloping her was a welcome comfort. She leaned her head against the wall and shut her eyes.

  She was exhausted. It was almost two in the morning, and had she stayed in Kansas where she belonged, she’d be fast asleep right now. Coming to Hope in search of her father had been foolish. What made her think that her mother had been wrong to hide her past? Winona had never done anything without a good reason, so why did Avery have to question that after her death?

  Except Avery knew her curiosity would never have allowed her to let this be. Her mother gave her the name of her biological father...or at least the name of the man she thought was Avery’s father. She’d tried.

  “Mom, you died too soon...” she whispered, tears slipping past her lashes. She still needed her mother. Even at the age of twenty-four she needed mothering. Would that ever go away, that longing to be someone’s child? Perhaps that was why she’d come out here—to be someone’s child again.

  Now, though, Avery wished that she’d never come. Her mother was not going to be replaced by a dad who was a stranger. She could see why her mother had wanted Louis to be the man. Louis was gruff and sweet, everything she’d have wanted in a father. Unfortunately, he wasn’t hers...

  It was possible that Chris Mayfield was her dad, but did she want to do this all over again—thrust herself into the middle of someone else’s family? Not really... This experience with the Harmons had given her a hearty dose of reality. No matter how good the man, she’d be a shock. And with her mother’s early tendency to look for love in all the wrong places, as Louis put it, Pastor Mayfield might not be her father, either...

  No, she was done looking for her dad. If she ever changed her mind, she’d approach it differently, but she might never be ready to try again.

  Hank had been the warm spot in this debacle. The memory of the way his lips felt against hers still made her tingle, even through her sadness. Avery would never forget Hank. She’d accidentally fallen in love with him, and while she knew they had no future, the thought of leaving him behind still felt like a piece of her was being carved out of her chest.

  She rubbed her hands over her face, sniffling back the tears.

  And he loves me, too... That made it worse. It would be easier if her feelings weren’t reciprocated and he felt nothing for her but friendship. Then she could snap herself out of this... She’d always been practical, but his kisses, the way his arms slid around her and held her so securely...those were memories she couldn’t banish.

  After she warmed up in the tub, she let out the water and got back into her bathrobe. She stood in the center of the bedroom for a long while, then went to her bag and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. She propped up some pillows against the headboard of her bed and crawled on top of the quilt.

  She was leaving in the morning after she put out the cereal for breakfast. There was no reason why the men should go hungry. She’d do her job for the last time, and then she’d go back where she belonged.

  Dear Louis,

  I apologize for the pain I’ve put your family through. I had no intention of upsetting your children or revealing secrets. I had only wanted to meet my father, and I can see why my mother wanted so badly for you to be him.

  You are a kind man and a fair boss. Your children are lucky to have you, and I wish you only happiness in the future.

  Please forgive me for leaving without saying goodbye. I thought it would be better if I just went home. I’m not a very good cook, anyway. Just ask Hank. He’s a good manager—you’re lucky to have him running your ranch.

  Avery Southerly

  She tore off the sheet and folded it. She’d leave it on her bed to be found after she left in the morning. She’d miss Louis, she realized. He wasn’t her father, but he might be the closest she’d get to meeting a father of her own. If she’d have been able to conjure up a father out of ideals and hopes, Louis would have been the result. He was a good man, and her mother had obviously felt the same. Winona wasn’t a liar. But she was a woman, and even she could fall victim to her own deepest wishes...

  But Louis wasn’t the only one she’d miss, and she’d left Hank’s letter for last because it would be harder to write. She picked up the pad again, and wrote the first words: Dear Hank.

  She stopped there, her heart so full that she felt like it would burst. She had no words to encompass what she felt. They’d already said all they could say to each other, except for a proper goodbye. But she didn’t trust herself, because if her lips touched his again, she’d stop thinking rationally and do something she’d regret.

  Hank was heartbreak. He awoke things in her that she’d never experienced before, but he wouldn’t be the one she’d marry. And she couldn’t settle for less... Her mother had made mighty sure of that.

  She sat with the pen poised over the paper, wishing that something new would come to her, some stroke of illumination that would make sense of it all. Her mother wou
ld have been able to help her. She’d have some insight that would give clarity, explanation. If her mother were here, Avery wouldn’t be alone in this, because if there was one thing that Winona understood best, it was men. And heartbreak. And moving on.

  Avery dropped the pen as her shoulders shook with sobs. She loved him, and right now nothing hurt more.

  * * *

  HANK WAS OUT checking on the barn long before sunup. The patch on the roof seemed to have held, and the storm from the night before had moved on, leaving them with crimson-splashed clouds as the sun edged over the horizon.

  Hank had gone to bed around three, and had managed to sleep until four, then he was up again. Ordinarily, an hour of sleep for the night would leave him grouchy and in need of a nap, but not this morning. He was irritable, but it wasn’t from lack of sleep. It was because in the space of one night, he’d let go of his self-control and lost everything that mattered most to him—his job, his home here at Harmon Ranch and the woman he’d fallen in love with against all his better instincts.

  He’d been thinking about Avery all night. He’d told himself that he’d wait until breakfast to talk to her, that maybe things would look different in the light of day. Maybe it would hurt less. Maybe it would seem more like the logical and necessary ending of a short fling. Except Avery was no fling. It might have been short, but he hadn’t been toying with her. This wasn’t just physical—it had slipped deeper than that, and he’d fallen headlong in love with her.

  Hank slowed his truck as he approached the Harmon house. He squinted against the slanted rays of morning sunlight, shading his eyes with one hand. Had he seen that right?

  Mr. Harmon was standing outside in his bathrobe and slippers, waving frantically. Olivia was in the doorway, also in a bathrobe. Hank gunned the motor and took a sharp turn up the drive to the house. Something was wrong—something more than the fact that Mr. Harmon was going to fire him today. He unrolled his window.

  “Boss?”

  “Hank!” Louis came up to the side of the truck. “Have you seen Owen?”

  “No. I was just at the barn, and he wasn’t out there. Why? Didn’t he come home last night?”

  “Yes, he came back last night,” Louis said. “He was in his room before I went to bed. But he was gone this morning.”

  Hank’s stomach sank. The kid had been through a lot in the last few hours, but he wasn’t the running away type. Still—

  “Did he leave a note? Pack a bag?” Hank searched his mind for any information that might help. “I don’t know... Are any of his clothes missing?”

  “Not that I can tell.” Louis rubbed a hand over his graying hair. “I tried talking to him last night about his mom and I... He wouldn’t listen. I talked to Olivia and Owen together, but—”

  The older man’s eyes misted with tears.

  “Mr. Harmon,” Hank said. “I have an idea of where he might be. I’ll go see if I can find him, okay?”

  His boss nodded. “Thank you, Hank.”

  Apparently, losing his job would have to wait. Hank had been planning to head back to the canteen to see Avery, but that would have to wait, too. He couldn’t leave Owen out there alone, not while it was possible he’d still do something stupid that would break his dad’s heart. Owen was a good kid, but he was also sixteen, and things were more passionate at that age.

  Hank put the truck into gear and drove straight through the Harmon property and up to the highway. If Owen was anywhere, it would be at his mother’s grave—Hank was willing to bet on it. For Owen, this was all about his mom, so that was where he’d go for his answers.

  As Hank sped along the highway toward town, the sun rose slowly into the sky, bathing the land in a rosy, golden haze. The fields stretched out on either side of the road, making him feel small in comparison to it all, but his heart was still heavy. He already missed Avery like an ache in the center of him. They’d said it all last night—he knew that. He couldn’t offer her anything more than what he already had, and he knew as well as she did that it wasn’t enough. He wanted to put off the goodbye, but that wasn’t fair to her. He did need to talk to her, though. Maybe he needed to hear it all again to hammer it home—he was a man, after all.

  Hank took the turn onto the road that led up to the country church, and when he approached the building he saw one of the ranch trucks parked out front. He felt a wave of relief that his gut instinct had been right.

  Hank parked his truck next to Owen’s, and got out. The sun was slowly rising in the sky, dew sparkling on every blade of grass and glistening on the fence posts. Owen was crouched near the edge of the small graveyard. He glanced back as Hank slammed his door shut, the boy’s expression sullen.

  “What?” Owen asked testily.

  “You scared your dad,” Hank said.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are you?” Hank squinted and Owen turned back to the gravestone. Their shadows were long in the early morning sunlight, and Hank sucked in a chestful of flower-scented air. He’d always loved this place—not the graveyard, exactly, but the church and the garden surrounding it. It was peaceful.

  “Why didn’t they tell me?” the boy asked after a few beats of silence.

  “Probably because it embarrassed them,” Hank replied with a shrug. “Nobody likes to share that kind of thing.”

  “He wasn’t my dad...” Owen still sounded incredulous. “All this time, and I had no idea.”

  “He is your dad,” Hank said.

  “No, my mom and some other guy—” Owen turned back toward Hank. “Who was my real father?”

  “I have no idea who your biological father is,” Hank said. “But I know who your real dad is. He’s the guy who held you when you were born and taught you how to walk. He’s the guy frantically looking for you in his bathrobe now.”

  Owen heaved a sigh. “My sister already knew. Mom told her ages ago, and she kept it a secret.”

  That was actually a relief to Hank. He wasn’t sure he could talk both twins down from the ledge on this one.

  “They should have said something,” Owen said, his voice thick.

  “Yeah?” Hank asked. “You think so? Because I don’t know how much your dad wanted to sit you down and tell you that your late mother had cheated on him. Those would be painful memories. He loved your mom something fierce, and when you love someone that much and they walk out—”

  Emotion tightened Hank’s voice, too, except it wasn’t Vickie he was thinking about. It was Avery. She didn’t want what he could offer... He could sympathize with his boss on that. When a woman a man loved that much didn’t want what he could give, it gouged out a part of his heart that he didn’t even know existed.

  “Your parents would have wanted you to believe the best about them,” Hank said at last. “I don’t think there was any easy way to have that conversation.”

  Owen rubbed his hands over his eyes. “So who am I?”

  “You’re Owen Harmon. There’s more than one way to make a family.”

  Owen was silent.

  “Your mom and dad loved each other in a way that not everyone gets to experience,” Hank went on slowly. “Everyone wants it, and everyone looks for it, but not everyone finds it. That doesn’t mean they didn’t hit some rough patches. Life can be complicated sometimes, and at your age, you’re not going to understand that. You probably think we adults are a bunch of idiots who mess up our lives out of sheer stupidity, but we don’t...”

  “Like Aunt Vickie?” Owen asked.

  “Yeah, like Vickie.” He sighed. And like Avery, too. “But when someone can get past the betrayal of an affair and love again, that’s something uncommonly beautiful. Not many can do it, but your dad did. He loved her so much that he was willing to put aside the fact that you kids weren’t biologically his and love you just as though you were. He wanted to keep you
all together.”

  “You think it’s the same for him?” Owen whispered.

  “Yup.”

  The boy sucked in a deep breath. “I miss my mom.”

  “I know.” Hank put a hand on his shoulder. “But you still have your dad, and right now he’s worried sick about you.”

  “I should probably give him a call...” Owen looked over this mother’s grave once more, then pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and turned it on.

  Mr. Harmon needed to hear from his son personally. “Now, I’m going to give you some privacy here to talk to your dad, and I’m going to head back to the ranch.”

  “Okay.” Owen nodded. “Thanks, Uncle Hank.”

  “You promise me that you’re coming home,” Hank added.

  “Yeah, I’m coming home.”

  That would do. Hank turned and headed back to the truck, his heart still raw, but his mind was going over a new thought. He got back into his truck and turned the key, the engine coughing to life.

  When Vickie had cheated on him, she’d broken his heart and his self-confidence all at once. She’d taken everything he had to offer—every last bit of him—and then handed it back all chewed up. He hadn’t been good enough, and he’d never wanted to feel that kind of failure and rejection again. He’d never felt lower, never felt more worthless, and until this very moment, he’d never felt a deeper pain.

  Well, Avery did love him, and her problem wasn’t that he wasn’t man enough or interesting enough... She wanted commitment. She wanted marriage, and he’d just spent the last five years being too afraid to try again.

  He turned on the road that led to the highway. He’d thought that if he held back from committing, he’d save his heart, but that hadn’t worked with Avery. It wasn’t commitment that hurt so much when it came to her, it was the lack of it, the walking away. He wasn’t going to just get over her. There’d be no forgetting that Avery had passed through his life, and if he let her leave, he’d never forgive himself, either.