Crazy for Cowboy

by Roxy Boroughs

  “Deal!”

  * * *

  “You can see where this small piece of bone has separated.” Emily held up the x-ray for Gord Hogan and managed to keep it steady in spite of the breeze. “We call that a sequestrum. I’ll just make an incision and remove it. I’ve booked the surgery for next Wednesday. Does that work for you?”

  “That’s great.” Hogan played with his hat, twirling it around in his hands. “We’d hate to lose Tulip as a jumper. My daughter has her heart set on competing with her.”

  Emily slipped the x-ray into her bag. “Don’t worry. I’ve been giving Tulip penicillin to combat the infection as well as an anti-inflammatory. Her prognosis is excellent.” She stroked the mare’s neck with one hand and patted Hogan’s arm with the other. “I’ll be back tomorrow to check on her again.”

  “Thanks, Doctor Grant.”

  She shook the owner’s hand and grabbed her bag. She made it as far as her truck when a swirl of movement caught her eye. Emily glanced up to find Houston Saveloy walking toward her.

  He looked as though he’d just stepped out of the old west—a lone, tall hero, decked out in black jeans and a Stetson to match. Except this hero was wincing with every step.

  “I told you I’d find you.”

  Emily swallowed. “That’s right. You did. You’re a man of your word.” His grin was shy and that cute little blush was back. “Are you all right?”

  “Sure. Why do you ask?”

  “Because you’re limping.”

  He looked down at his feet, as though he’d be able to witness this phenomenon even though he was standing still. “No, no. I’m fine.”

  “Is it that old bronco injury?”

  “Huh?” His eyes narrowed, then closed, as if reliving the memory. “Oh, that.”

  Emily watched as he swatted the notion away. Perhaps it had been a traumatic event in his life, a more serious accident than Sam had hinted at and one that Houston didn’t like to discuss. Whatever the case, his dismissal effectively ended the small talk. They both stood there for several seconds, looking at each other. It was the perfect opportunity for her to make a hasty retreat. If only her legs would cooperate.

  “Well, Mr. Saveloy, I should get back to my rounds.” She rolled the name over her tongue again. “Saveloy. Mmmmm? Why does that sound familiar?”

  “Ya know,” he said, quickly, “you could call me by my first name. It’s—”

  “Houston,” she interjected, beating him to it. “I remember.”

  And why shouldn’t she call him by his first name? She called Sam by his. Houston wasn’t the enemy. Not personally. Just cowboys in general.

  “Right.” He took a deep breath while he contemplated his boots again.

  She’d done what he’d asked. She’d called him Houston. Then why did he look so disappointed?

  “Emily, I was wondering...if you’d have lunch with me.”

  A yes was halfway out of her mouth before her teeth clamped shut. She liked him. He was attractive, funny and had the kind of animal magnetism that she’d only read about.

  She thought back to the restaurant. What had she and Jackie asked the gods to send her? A nice, cute, steady stud-muffin. Other than the steady part, Houston Saveloy certainly fit the bill. Unfortunately, that was the most important item on the list, the omission of which always got her into trouble. To overlook it now would send her right back into the same heartache she was trying to escape. She had to remember her new vow. She’d never hear the end of it from Jackie if she took up with another cowboy.

  It was too difficult to look at him and refuse. She lowered her gaze, occupying herself with the medical equipment in the back of her truck.

  “Thanks for asking, Mr. Saveloy, but...” Come on, girl. Follow through. Just say no to cowboys. “This is a busy time of year for me. I spend the mornings at the clinic and the rest of the day making rounds. I really don’t have time for lunch.”

  He placed his hand against the back of the truck and leaned in. “You have to eat, eventually.”

  No fair. He wasn’t supposed to coax her. And he wasn’t supposed to stand so close—close enough for her to catch the scent of his cologne. It was soft but spicy, more fragrant than she’d known any other cowboy to wear. It reminded her of faraway places and forbidden fantasies. “I just grab a bite when I can,” she sputtered.

  She hadn’t planned on looking at him again. That would totally crumble what little resolve she had left. But he kept standing there, unmoving.

  She risked a glance and found his eyes twinkling; his mouth wearing a sexy grin. “I’ll remember that,” he told her.

  Before she could react, Houston turned and took off, limping across the field, managing to display the nicest butt she’d ever seen on a man.

  “See y’all tomorrow,” he called, turning back in her direction.

  The heat rushed to Emily’s cheeks. She was so worried that he noticed where she’d just been looking, that she didn’t register his comment until long after he was gone.

  Tomorrow? What did he think was going to happen tomorrow? Would she have to turn him down again?

  In spite of her growing anxiety, at least one good thing came from their encounter. As she gazed at his departing rear, she was reminded of the two other needles she had yet to administer.

  * * *

  Emily spent the rest of the day making her rounds and reviewing her choices.

  Plan A: She could change her schedule around and visit Tulip in the late afternoon, skirting lunchtime altogether. Plan B: She could stick with her original agenda and keep her distance from Houston. Plan C: She could become a hermit, take up residency in a cave and avoid men completely.

  The more she thought about it, the more ridiculous her options became. The solution was simple. She just wouldn’t have lunch with Houston Saveloy. Or anything else with him, for that matter. That was it. Case closed.

  Still, the next day, she found herself scanning the grounds of the Rocky Mountain Riding Stables, looking for him.

  There was no sign of the cowboy. Perhaps he wouldn’t show up at all. Perhaps he’d already forgotten about her. She told herself that she didn’t care, that it would be easier if she never saw him again.

  “Hi.”

  The simple word made her start. She twirled around and there he was, a dark curl tumbling down onto his forehead, a wicker basket in his hand.

  “Hi, Houston.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “As I mentioned yesterday, I really don’t have...” She sniffed the air as something spicy wafted her way. “Hey, is that chicken I smell?”

  He patted the side of the basket. “Since you don’t have time to go out and dine, fair maiden, I have taken the liberty of bringing the food to you.”

  “A picnic?” Her stomach made a noise she hoped he hadn’t heard.

  “Complete with a checkered blanket. Let’s go find ourselves a tree to put it under, shall we?” He offered her his arm.

  She hesitated. After all the effort he’d made to bring her lunch, it would be rude to refuse, wouldn’t it? And what could it hurt? A casual picnic would hardly compromise her virtue. Plus, she was damned curious about the guy. Houston was a walking, talking, leave-women-gawking contradiction. Emily wanted to solve the mystery of him.

  And yet, she’d made a vow. She’d kept her New Year’s resolution to stop biting her nails. And she’d managed to cut down her salt intake by removing the shaker from her kitchen table. Those two acts proved that she wasn’t devoid of willpower, didn’t they? Then why did her problem with cowboys seem so difficult to control?

  In the end, her belly settled the matter. She was hungry. And the chicken did smell good. Telling herself that her decision to accept his offer was based purely on the need for sustenance, she grasped the arm he held out to her.

  Before, just touching him briefly had given her tingles. Now holding onto him, she felt a warmth drift all over her body.

  They crossed the field without a word. Em
ily doubted she would have been able to carry on an intelligent conversation anyway. Feeling him this close did strange things to her. Her heart pumped faster, her breath came in shallow gasps. Somehow, this guy managed to make her endorphins do cartwheels.

  Had she ever felt this way with another man? She supposed she must have, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember when. Or with whom. Houston Saveloy had managed to erase all other men from her memory, as if he had a magic magnetic strip, the kind that mess up your credit cards.

  “This spot looks good.” He stopped beside a huge Manitoba maple. Its full, bright green branches formed a cool umbrella against the blue expanse above. Nearby, stood an old two-seater buggy, added for decoration and as a landmark for riders.

  Emily looked out across the horizon from their hilltop perch. The few clouds that hung in the sky were lying low—fluffy on top, but flat on the bottom, as though some mighty hand had come along and trimmed off the edges. “Nice view,” she commented.

  “Beautiful,” he replied, his gaze fixed on her.

  Men had complimented her appearance before, but never quite in that way. There had always been a coarseness to it, with a “hey baby” leer attached. Not with Houston. The single word had been spoken with such awe. With such reverence.

  While she stood there, trying not to gush like a teenager in the presence of a rock star, he flung the blanket out on the grass and gestured for her to take a seat.

  “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I brought some of everything.” He opened the basket and pulled out an assortment of containers, along with cutlery, plates and napkins. “There’s chicken, spare ribs, potato salad, some pickles, vegetables and dip, butter and rolls—”

  Emily smacked her lips together. “Where did you get all this food?”

  “There’s a great deli, not far from my house.”

  “What are these?” she asked, peeking into a container.

  “Dried up sausages.” He gave her a wry smile. “An inside joke. I’ll tell you all about it. Later.”

  He made himself busy, opening containers and positioning them on the blanket. He’d thought of everything, even bringing a thermos of lemonade. It all looked and smelled delicious. Especially the server.

  Emily forced herself to turn away from him and dig into her plate. She’d come to eat and that’s what she was going to do. And it was certainly easy to lose herself in the flavor of the food. The potato salad was incredibly creamy. The chicken, baked with sun dried tomatoes, was sweet and spicy at the same time. Heck, even the dried up sausages were tasty.

  “This is wonderful,” she said between mouthfuls. “Thanks.”

  “It’s absolutely my pleasure. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”

  Emily’s gut tightened. There was an opening line if she’d ever heard one. By the end of lunch, she’d have to make it clear to Houston that this picnic was as far as their relationship was ever going to go.

  “So tell me about yourself, Doctor. When did you decide to become a vet?”

  “I’ve always loved animals. It was a dream of mine since first grade.”

  “You must have been one of the smart kids.”

  Emily smiled and relaxed a bit. Small talk she could handle. “I was good at science. In high school, I was able to win a couple of scholarships. That helped a lot. And I was conscientious. I always had my nose in a book.”

  “Are you from Calgary?”

  “No. My mother and I moved here from Saskatchewan when I started high school.”

  “It was just the two of you?”

  “Yes. My father...” It was silly to freeze up. She wasn’t a kid anymore. With the family unit disintegrating everywhere, no one found her story shocking these days. Certainly, a man like Houston wouldn’t. “My father left before I was born. He’s never contacted me.”

  “I’m sorry.” His voice was low and halting. “I know how hard that can be.”

  Emily didn’t comment. She’d heard all the words of sympathy before—offerings of understanding when there really were none.

  “I have a sister—”

  “I wondered about that,” she said, trying to brighten the mood. “Is her name Dallas, by any chance?”

  “Dallas? No, it’s Allison.” He looked at her, puzzled. “Why did you think her name was Dallas?”

  “Never mind. Just an inside joke of my own.” She wiped her fingers on one of the napkins. “What about her?”

  He shifted his position, stretching his long legs out over the blanket. “Ally’s raising my nephew alone.”

  Emily set her plate down. “The boy’s father left?”

  “Yeah.” It was a simple reply, but his voice conveyed a complex mix of emotions within that one word. There was resignation coupled with a deep sense of sadness. Perhaps Houston did understand.

  “How old is your sister?”

  “Twenty-one now, and trying to finish up her high school diploma.”

  “And she’s doing it all on her own?”

  “She’s got me for support, but I know she regrets that her child is growing up without a dad.”

  Emily nodded in agreement. “What about your parents? How do they feel about it?”

  “Our mother died when we were both young.” He placed his empty plate on top of hers. “My father passed away six years ago.”

  Emily chewed on her bottom lip, inwardly chastising herself for asking the question. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too. Dad would have loved Liam.”

  “That’s your nephew?”

  “Yeah. He’s a great kid. Really smart. He just turned five and he’s already reading. And he can beat me at checkers. Honest. I used to try to lose, but now I really have to pay attention or the little guy creams me.” He chuckled and Emily laughed along with him. “Do you want to see a picture of him?”

  “Sure.” Emily was curious, but mostly she was surprised. She didn’t know any men who carried photos of their nephews around with them, but apparently Houston did. He dug into his pants pocket, produced one out of his wallet and passed it to her.

  Emily looked at the smiling face. The boy had dark brown hair, hazel eyes and an infectious grin punctuated by a dimple on either side.

  “He’s darling.” She gave the photo back to Houston, her fingers brushing against his. A wave of heat coursed through her. She held her breath as he reached up and pushed a strand of hair away from her face, his palm cupping her cheek in a soft caress.

  “I’d like to see you again, Emily.”

  This was the time to speak up, to tell him that she wasn’t interested. But, the synapses between her mouth and the speech center in her brain weren’t functioning properly. Not while he was touching her. She opened her lips to give him his walking papers but something entirely different came out.

  “Did you get the job?”

  His hand dropped. “The what?”

  She didn’t need a psychologist to figure out that she’d just employed a delaying tactic, using the old switch-o-change-o routine and substituting another topic in place of the one that she couldn’t handle. Fortunately, in her case, it seemed to work. Houston got the message and pulled back. “Sam told me all about it.”

  “He did?”

  Boy, had he ever gotten the message. Her cowboy had gone from talkative to monosyllabic in ten seconds flat. “Yes, about how you teach the kids to ride by showing them what not to do. Your routine the other day was hilarious. You must have the children in fits.”

  Houston stood up, walked over to the base of the tree and picked up a stick. His head was down, his mood dark.

  “I’m sorry. Was it supposed to be a secret?”

  “No. That’s okay.” He tossed the branch, javelin-like, toward the buggy.

  It obviously wasn’t okay. Emily pulled herself up and moved to his side. “Didn’t you get the position?” The thought of his leaving for the next job in the next town left her feeling numb. “Look, I can put in a good word for you, if you like. I think you’d be
just perfect for the—”

  “It’s all right. It’s just that I...” His words evaporated as he turned and looked at her. Emily grew warm under the intensity of his gaze. Her fingertips were cold, but the rest of her was hot.

  Red hot.

  Her tongue slid out from between her teeth and moistened her lips. It wasn’t until after she’d accomplished the action that she realized what she’d done. She’d sent a message to Houston as clearly as if she’d spelled it out for the guy.

  Kiss me, please. I’m desperate for you.

  The idea brought her back to reality with a jolt. She was supposed to be fending him off, not egging him on. She wrapped her arms around herself and took a step away.

  The picnic had been a mistake. Every minute she spent with Houston was another minute that threatened her resolve. How could she keep her vow when all she wanted was to feel his arms around her? Experience his lips on hers.

  “I should be heading back.”

  He looked confused for a moment and that was fine with her. Hell, why should she be the only one who was confused.

  “Sure. Whatever you say,” he answered, his jaw tight.

  “I’ll start tidying up.” Emily bent over and began to cover the food, swatting away a couple of flies and several yellowjackets.

  It was then that she saw the shadowy mass. It hovered near a large, papery gray cone, which hung from the footboard of the abandoned buggy.

  And something odd was poking out of that cone. She squinted until she could see what it was.

  Houston’s stick, the one he had thrown, had made a perfect landing. It was impaled right through the middle of the nest. And a dark swarm of angry insects was on its way to express their displeasure at the cowboy’s lucky shot.

  “Wasps!”

  In an instant, Houston was at her side, grabbing her hand. “Run!”

  She didn’t need to be told twice. They booted it over the hill, Emily’s heart pumping in time with her legs.

  She caught Houston sneaking a peek behind them. “Don’t look back.” he ordered. “Keep running.” Without warning, he changed direction, pulling her along with him. “There’s a pond. Come on.”