True-Blue Cowboy

by Sara Richardson

  “Oh sure.”

  While she ran off again, he bent and stretched the chicken wire to fit against the fence posts. By the time she got back, he’d already managed to get it into place.

  “Here you go.” She handed him a pink hammer. Pink.

  He stared at it with a smirk.

  “It works the same as all the other ones. I promise.” A smile opened up her face, making her appear less guarded, bringing back some of that spark she’d shown him when they’d danced on the patio at the party.

  “We’ll see about that,” he teased, wanting her to hold onto that smile. It changed her face, made her seem so carefree in comparison to the subdued expression she usually wore.

  He took a nail from the box she held out and got to work pounding the chicken wire into place. “The posts aren’t very secure, but I can pick up some cement at the hardware store later.” Wait. Had he really just offered to make a special trip to fix her fence? The fence that would be demolished in a few short months, along with the rest of her farm? Man, he never should’ve kissed her. It was seriously messing with his head. For the next two months she was his tenant. That’s it. They had no other connection besides her lease.

  “I don’t need you to do that.” Her expression hardened again. “I can handle it.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said, handing her hammer back. Everly took it from him and walked away. She obviously didn’t want to rely on him for anything. But he was still her landlord. It was his job to fix things when they were broken, especially when his dog was responsible.

  So whether she liked it or not, he would take care of the damn fence posts.

  Just her luck she had to teach a cooking class on a morning when she couldn’t seem to get it together.

  Luckily, Hector, Charlie, and Gus hadn’t seemed to pick up on her flustered incompetence. The widowed retirees were currently too busy managing their own challenges. Working in the kitchen wasn’t exactly their forte. They were content to let her make their breakfasts at the café, but she figured they needed a few easy, healthy recipes they could make at home.

  She’d never dreamed teaching three over-eighty-year-olds how to make whole grain pancakes could be so complicated. So far, they’d been at it over a half hour and they still weren’t done mixing the batter.

  “What is this, birdseed?” Gus held up the bag of flaxseed.

  “No, that’s a healthy grain,” Everly said patiently. “It adds lots of fiber. You can all add two tablespoons into your batter.”

  “Is the batter supposed to be lumpy?” Hector leaned closer to the mixing bowl on the counter in front of him, squinting through his Coke-bottle glasses. “That looks too lumpy.”

  Everly hurried over, taking a glance at his concoction, which had the consistency of bread dough. Huh. “Um. Are you sure you measured the oats right?”

  “Well, I think so. Two cups, you said, wasn’t it?”

  “No, she didn’t say two cups,” Gus muttered. “A half-cup.” He raised his voice. “Turn up your hearing aid.”

  Charlie dropped his mixing spoon with a sigh. “Great; now we’re gonna have to wait for him to start all over.”

  “No, no. It’s fine.” Everly took Hector’s bowl and replaced it with hers, her hands fumbling clumsily like they had since she’d come in. Dear God, she had to get it together and stop thinking about Mateo. There were some things that couldn’t be unseen, and Mateo Torres standing naked in the morning light happened to be one of them.

  In her defense, it’d been a while since she’d seen a man naked. And even then, the men from her previous life in Yuppie Ville tended to have a different body type. Fit, sure. But not so…hard. Athletic. Broad and strong. Her ex-fiancé had run five miles a day and took a weight-lifting class, but the sight of him naked hadn’t completely mesmerized her quite the way the sight of Mateo had when his towel dropped to the ground…

  “You got any more coffee?” Hector asked. He’d already downed three cups.

  Everly shook herself and smiled sweetly. “Didn’t your doctor say you needed to cut back?” If it wasn’t for her, these three wouldn’t mind their health at all. “Here. I’ll get you some water.” She grabbed the pitcher she’d put out, but the handle slipped out of her hand and water went everywhere.

  “I’ll get that cleaned up for you.” Charlie shuffled past in his arthritic gait, and even though she could’ve found a towel and sopped up the mess much faster, she let him. These men were always trying to do small things to help her out—tightening the doorknob for her when it got loose, refilling the salt and pepper shakers on the tables when they got low. She smiled as he mopped up the water. Everyone needed to feel useful sometimes.

  When he stood, she laid a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Charlie.”

  “Anything for you, my dear.” He tossed the towel aside, gave her a wink, and swaggered back to his station at the stainless steel island.

  “Okay.” Everly blew her bangs out of her eyes. “We’ve got approximately twenty minutes to finish these pancakes before I have to open up the café. Think we can do it?”

  “You bet we can.” Gus straightened the apron she’d lent him. He hadn’t wanted to stain his best sweater vest. It took a real man to proudly wear polka dots.

  “Come on, men.” He led the charge over to the commercial gas range where Everly had set up the cast-iron griddles.

  “This next step is really simple.” Everly squeezed in closer to the stove with the men surrounding her. “All you have to do is pour a little batter onto the griddle and wait for the steam to rise.” She demonstrated with the perfect plate-sized pancake. “Once the bubbles form, it’s time to flip it.” She waited an extra few seconds to get that golden brown color, then used her spatula to turn it over.

  The men ohhed and ahhed.

  “Would you look at that? It’s perfect.” Hector patted her on the back. “You’re so talented, Everly.”

  “Aww. Thanks.” She gave him a quick hug. Every girl should have a support group of elderly men to tell her how wonderful she was. “Okay, Gus. You’re up.”

  The man retrieved his mixing bowl and carted it over to the stove. “Just pour it on?” He seemed doubtful it would work.

  “Yep. Exactly like I showed you.” She tried to boost his confidence with a smile. “You can totally handle it.” But just in case he couldn’t, she moved closer.

  Gus raised the bowl and started to pour batter onto the griddle.

  “Hold it straighter, you oaf,” Charlie grumbled. “You’re making a mess.”

  The comment seemed to fluster poor Gus. “Mind your own business,” he shot back, turning to scowl at his oldest friend. Everly swore those two were like an old married couple.

  “Pay attention, Gus.” Hector could never seem to stay out of the fray.

  All of the commentary distracted Gus and he dropped the bowl onto the stove. Batter oozed everywhere. “Now look what you made me do, you blunderbuss.”

  “It’s okay! It’s fine!” Everly rubbed at her temples. “I can clean it up.”

  “No, I got it.” Charlie swiped a towel off the shelf and waved it toward the stovetop.

  “Wait! Stop!” She dashed over but it was too late. The gas burner ignited the edge of the cloth.

  “Jumpin’ Jehosaphat!” Charlie threw the towel, which happened to land on the counter where Everly had set the newspaper earlier. The whole thing went up in flames.

  “Shit!” Everly lunged for the cabinet where she kept the fire extinguisher, but before she could get there the back door opened.

  The whoosh of air sent the flames higher until they reached the very edge of her lace curtains.

  Mateo walked in. “What the hell?”

  “Fire!” Gus ran to the sink and got the sprayer, but instead of aiming it at the flames, he misjudged and sprayed Hector right in the face.

  “Get the extinguisher!” Everly growled, pointing to the cabinet behind Mateo. He jumped into action, opened the cabinet door, and had the f
ire out before Gus could douse it.

  A layer of white covered the countertop, wall, and curtains. Smoke clouded the ceiling. Everyone seemed to be in a state of shock, including Mateo.

  “Okay. Well. I think class is over for today.” Easing in deep, cleansing breaths, Everly went to the window and pulled it open. The fresh breeze swooped in, clearing the air. Well, clearing the smoke from the air. Everly could feel Mateo watching her. She could practically hear the unspoken questions firing from his brain.

  Way to look competent in front of your new landlord. At least he didn’t say anything in front of the guys.

  “I’m so sorry.” Gus’s shoulders drooped even more than they usually did.

  “Me too.” Concern deepened the lines around Charlie’s mouth.

  “We can help you clean up,” Hector offered.

  “That’s okay. I can handle it.” She had to handle Mateo, too. She gave Gus’s hand a squeeze. “No harm done. Actually it was a great lesson in why you always want to have a fire extinguisher in your kitchen. Do any of you have one?” She looked at each of the men in turn.

  One by one they shook their heads.

  “Then go out and buy one. Today.” She put her arms around Gus and Charlie, nudging them toward the dining room. Hector followed along behind. “Now I want you three to go claim your table and start your crossword puzzles. I’ll bring out your breakfast as soon as I get this cleaned up.”

  At the doorway, Gus paused and placed his hand on her cheek affectionately. “Don’t know what we’d do without you, doll.”

  The words warmed her through. Who cared about a small fire? “I don’t know what I’d do without you three, either.” She gave them each a pat. “We’re still on for class next week, right?”

  “We’ll be here,” Charlie assured her.

  “Great. Maybe we’ll try something that doesn’t involve the stove.” Smoothies, perhaps? Or she had a great oatmeal dish they could make in the microwave. “Give me a half hour to get your eggs made,” she said as they lumbered to their table.

  When she turned back around, Mateo stood in front of her. “What the hell happened in here?”

  “It was…nothing.” She slipped past him and went to the towel cabinet. Hopefully she had enough to clean up the mess from the fire extinguisher.

  “Nothing? Really?” He followed right behind her. “Because it looked to me like your kitchen was on fire.”

  Everly pulled out an armload of towels. “It was a small fire. Minor. No one was hurt.”

  “They could’ve been.” Mateo shadowed her as she went back to the counter and started to mop up the debris. “What were those three doing back here anyway?”

  She dragged over the trash can and peeled the charred newspaper off the counter to throw it away. “I was teaching them how to cook.”

  “Why?” he asked as though that were the stupidest thing he’d ever heard.

  Everly swallowed an exasperated sigh. “Because their wives used to do it for them, but they passed away.” As if this was any of Mateo’s business. He might be her landlord, but he didn’t get to come in here and run her café. “I thought it would be nice for them to have a few recipes they could make at home.” She reached up and unlatched the curtain rod so she could toss the charred fabric into the trash.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea to invite those guys back into the kitchen.” Mateo had crossed his arms into an unyielding stance. It was all Everly could do not to roll her eyes.

  “Why are you here?” she asked, retrieving a spray bottle from under the sink. She’d have to scrub the whole area before she could do any cooking.

  “You invited me for breakfast. Remember? Last night?”

  Oh, right. She’d invited him for breakfast and a tour so he could bear witness to how skillfully she ran her business. There went all of her credibility. “I won’t be ready to make breakfast for a while. So how about you leave and I bring you something later?”

  Mateo’s seductive eyes narrowed. “Are you kicking me out?”

  “Yes.” She stared him down. They had to have boundaries. Maybe she wouldn’t have been so distracted all morning if he hadn’t started her day with a private peepshow. She’d never look at him the same way now, never be able to stand within ten feet of him without picturing that exquisite physique. Between that and memories of their kiss, it would be a miracle if she could get anything done when he was around. “I’ll bring you a cinnamon roll as soon as I can,” she promised. With a hand on his shoulder, she directed him to the door. “I’ll even add extra frosting.” As long as he stayed out of her hair.

  Chapter Six

  It’d been years since he’d gone duck hunting back in Oklahoma, but this crazy mallard hadn’t given him much of a choice.

  Mateo pushed open the creaky door to a run-down stable where the duck had fled when he and Dante finally had it cornered near the front porch. Since Everly had banned him from the kitchen, he had more time on his hands. Figured he could round up the animals that were still scattered so they could avoid another possible catastrophe in the form of a fox or a hungry coyote.

  Crazy that rounding up the animals had been the most difficult task he’d tackled today. Especially considering he’d literally put out a fire. He’d been starving after he’d finished fixing Everly’s fences, and figured he’d make good on her breakfast offer. When he’d opened the kitchen door and smelled the smoke, he’d been ready to rush in and pull her out of there. What if something would’ve exploded? What if Everly had been hurt?

  He forced the thought out of his head. He was getting good at that, at forcing thoughts of her out of his head. It didn’t mean anything that his heart had taken a nosedive when he thought she might be in danger.

  Somewhere at the back of the stable, the damn duck quacked. The outbuilding was dark and musty, like every other structure on this farm. Didn’t look like Everly used it for much except storage. Rakes and shovels leaned against the warped walls, and a covered ATV took up all the space in the center. “Let’s go, Dante.” His dog followed behind him as he maneuvered his way between an ATV and another pile of gardening tools. “Come on, duck. I know you’re in here.”

  Dante put his nose to the ground, sniffing and wagging his tail as though he was hot on the duck’s trail.

  “I should let you eat the damn thing,” Mateo mumbled. And yet he knew he wouldn’t because he didn’t want to have to explain that to Everly.

  A clatter drew him to the other side of the shed.

  Barking, Dante tore to the back wall, and sure enough, the duck cowered behind a lawn mower.

  “Off, Dante. Leave it.”

  The dog whined, but backed up. Mateo eased toward the duck a few steps, then lunged and captured it in his arms. The thing squawked and tried to flap its wings, beating Mateo in the face. He held it tighter against him, smoothing down its wings while he carted it out of the shed.

  The duck seemed to give in to its fate, calming some as Mateo lugged it over to the pens where the chickens pecked at the ground.

  Dante paced on the outside of the newly secured fence, eyeing the animals as though he could come up with a few good uses for a duck.

  “Sorry, boy. Not today.” Mateo glanced his watch. He should probably get cleaned up. With any luck, Everly would bring him that cinnamon roll she’d promised before he got hungry enough to break down and make something himself.

  “Let’s go, Dante.” He checked to make sure the gate to the animal pen was secure, then headed in the direction of his trailer. He needed a shower. Desperately. He had sweat more when he thought Everly might be in danger than he had the whole time he’d been cementing in her fence posts. Sure it was nice of her to try and help those old guys, but she didn’t have to do that. It didn’t benefit her business.

  Shaking his head, Mateo looked down. A trail of water dribbled past his feet on the way up the hill. Water? Uhh… He shot a glance up at the sky. All clear. Mind-numbingly blue. No rain. And as far as he knew, there w
as no irrigation system up here. Just his trailer.

  His trailer…

  Fuuuuuuck. Mateo’s steps turned into a jog when he crested the top of the hill. “No way.” Water oozed from the sides of his fifth wheel, dripping down to the ground where it formed a steady stream that trickled under his feet.

  It was flooded. The whole damn thing. He sprinted the rest of the way and tore open the door. Water gushed out, running over his boots, and when he stepped inside, there still had to be a good four inches standing on the expensive hickory floors.

  Mateo sloshed through the mess, all the way back to the bathroom. It was worse in there. When he’d heard that gunshot, he’d bolted out of there so fast he must’ve forgotten to turn off the shower. That meant the entire fresh-water tank had flooded the interior of his trailer, ruining the floors, the carpet, and probably everything he had stored underneath. He grunted in frustration, tore down the shower curtain, and threw it; then he splashed back down the narrow hallway through the small kitchen and bolted outside.

  Dante whined and crouched on a patch of dry ground. The dog had never been a fan of water.

  Damn it. How could he have been so careless? He jogged to the storage door at the back of the trailer and ripped it open, hoping like hell that the bin of pictures and souvenirs from his childhood had survived. Funny how he didn’t care about his clothes or his possessions or even the bin of his rodeo accolades. Instead he dug around until he found the plastic bin that held the scraps of the past he never wanted to face. He shimmied it out of the small space and dried the top with his shirt before popping the lid open.

  Relief ached in his lungs. Everything seemed dry. All of the pictures, the notes from his sisters, the small trinkets they used to give each other at Christmas, most of which were scavenged from other people’s trash. He dug through, making sure there was no damage, carefully lifting out the pictures he hadn’t bothered to look at in years. The one of him and Andres stopped his heart. It had been taken only a few months before his brother had walked out on them. On him. Mateo had been eight—a scrawny kid, especially compared to his older brother. In the image, he looked up at Andres the way he would’ve looked at a father. That was how he’d seen his brother—as his protector, his provider.