True-Blue Cowboy

by Sara Richardson

  A familiar rage swelled through him, tightening his grip on the flimsy picture. He should rip it up, tear apart the last piece he had of his brother. But for some reason he couldn’t seem to make himself do it. Instead, he tossed the photograph back into the bin and shoved the container aside.

  “The pancakes are burning!” Hilda, Everly’s lovely and affordable sous chef, lumbered over and hip-checked her out of the way. It didn’t take much. The woman had hips the size of a barge. Not surprising when you considered she’d birthed seven children. Now Hilda had thirty-one grandchildren, which made her the most efficient force in the kitchen that Everly had ever seen. She wouldn’t be able to run the café without her.

  “You’re as flaky as a hand-rolled piecrust today,” Hilda muttered, scraping the burnt pancakes off the griddle before tossing them into the trash.

  “Sorry.” Everly stood back. Ever since she’d hired Hilda, she didn’t have to do nearly as much work in the kitchen as she used to. Sometimes she missed it. Not today, though. She was still reeling from the morning’s events—shooting the rifle, naked Mateo, the fire in the kitchen…good lord, was it only ten o’clock? She was about ready for bed.

  “Why don’t you go on out to the dining room and make the rounds?” Hilda may as well have told her to get out of her way. “It’s so packed out there this morning, there ain’t no room for an apple to fall.”

  It sure was, and it couldn’t be a coincidence. Something told her this morning’s rush had little to do with luck and more to do with the fact that Mateo Torres now shared land with her little café.

  Everly wandered to the crowded room and skirted past three tables of women who were dressed like they’d just walked out of a dance club. Ah, yes. There was her old friend Chrissy. The woman who had interrupted her and Mateo at Kate’s engagement party. Today she looked especially eager in an off-the-shoulder sweater that glistened with sequins.

  She swore that ever since those rodeo stars had moved into town, the female tourist population had more than doubled. Of course, she shouldn’t be complaining. The café was never this busy during the fall season, and right now she needed the money. So she put on her sweetest smile and served them all the sunrise smoothies and egg-white omelets they’d ordered in record time. When she’d finally set down the last plate, she’d broken a sweat.

  A “thank you” came from Chrissy. She apparently didn’t recognize Everly from the night of the party. No surprise there.

  “You’re welcome,” Everly said as warmly as she could. In her opinion, it was way too early for sequins, but that was just her. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “Actually…” The woman glanced around. “Does Mateo Torres ever eat breakfast here?”

  “I heard he lives here,” another woman chimed in.

  “Is he around?” a made-up brunette asked.

  “Nope.” The lie slipped out easily. “I mean, yes, he does own the land,” she quickly explained. “But I hardly ever see him.” Another blush fired up. She’d seen a whole lot of him just that morning. “He’s so busy. Training and traveling to competitions.” At least she hoped he’d be. Then he wouldn’t keep barging in on her life like he had earlier that morning.

  Chrissy cut her omelet into neat little squares. “Well, if you do happen to see him, tell him Chrissy, Michelle, and Aimee stopped by. We know him from the Tumble Inn.”

  The same irritation that had lit her fuse when they’d fallen all over Mateo at the party zinged again, and there was no stopping the words that came out of her mouth. “Yes, well, it’s definitely hard to keep track of all the women he meets at the Tumble Inn.”

  Three pairs of painted lips parted with shock, but Everly kept her candied smile intact. “Let me know if I can get you anything else,” she said before quickly scurrying away. There went her tip, but it was totally worth it.

  Smiling to herself, Everly checked on a few more customers, refilled some coffee, and then went back to the kitchen. Hilda was humming while she stirred scrambled eggs and kept a watchful eye on the blueberry pancakes.

  “Everything seems to be under control. Mind if I step out for a minute?” She still had to deliver that cinnamon roll to Mateo, and she’d like to get it over with before the lunch crowd came in.

  “Of course not.” Hilda waved her away. “I can hold down the fort. Take your time.”

  Hopefully it wouldn’t take any time at all. Everly boxed up the cinnamon roll and even slathered it with extra frosting, as promised. He did put out the fire in her kitchen, after all.

  Relief washed over her the second she stepped outside. The sun warmed her face and the cool fall-scented breeze reinvigorated her. Sure, her morning had gotten off to a rocky start, but things could only get better from here, right?

  She traipsed down the path toward the farm, but stopped cold when she reached the animal pens.

  The fences had all been repaired, the coop had been patched up, and the animals were each where they were supposed to be. Even Walter and Henrietta waddled around inside the fence, quacking irritably at each other.

  Tears caught her off guard. Mateo had fixed it. Everything. And from the look of things, he’d done a solid job. Much better than what she could’ve done herself. She swiped at her eyes, annoyed at the emotion. She’d told him she would take care of it. Didn’t he think she was capable?

  Everly veered off the path and stomped up the hill toward Mateo’s trailer. He had no idea what she was capable of. He hadn’t seen the inside of the farmhouse yet. She’d redone the whole thing herself, from the floors to the kitchen cabinets to replacing the plumbing in the bathroom. She hadn’t needed his help with that, had she? Nope. And she didn’t need his help with the farm either—

  Ummm…was Mateo having a yard sale or something? The area around his trailer was a mess. Boxes and plastic tubs were stacked everywhere.

  The door opened and Mateo stomped out, hauling more crap. He was shirtless again, the showoff. And she was staring again. The sun’s heat seemed to intensify on her face.

  Mateo dropped a heap of rugs on the ground and looked up as though she’d startled him. “Hey.”

  “Hi.” Despite her most angelic intentions, her gaze immediately dropped to where his jeans sat low on his hips. The display of his tensed lower abs made her heart flutter. Ahem. “Doing some fall cleaning?” she asked, distracting herself with a glance at the mess. It looked like he’d dragged out everything—clothes and dishes and food…

  “Not by choice.” For once he wasn’t wearing that cocky grin. “My trailer flooded. I left the shower running when I came down this morning and now everything’s soaked.”

  “Ohhhh.” It came out in a dread-filled groan. So maybe now wasn’t the time to lay into him for taking care of the fences when she’d asked him not to. She looked around. “Wow. That sucks.” Way to state the obvious. After all he’d done for her that morning—while his own home was flooding—you’d think she could come up with something a little sympathetic. “I mean…is there anything I can do? I have a Shop-Vac back at the house.” She’d used it to suck up all the water when her bathroom had flooded last year.

  A trace of amusement raised Mateo’s dark eyes. “Thanks, but I don’t think a Shop-Vac is gonna cut it.” He posted his hands on those chiseled hips and surveyed the clutter scattered around them. “The floors are shot. I’ll have to have it towed to a shop in Denver so they can gut the inside.”

  Guilt recoiled through her like the kickback of her rifle. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Was it just her or did his jaw soften every time his eyes met hers? “I shouldn’t have let Dante out so early.”

  As if he’d heard his name, the dog came trotting out from the trees and greeted her with a lick on her ankle, then stretched his nose toward the box in her hands.

  “I almost forgot.” She held out the container to Mateo. “I brought you that cinnamon roll I promised.” At the moment, the offering seemed wholly inad
equate, but the man had to be starving.

  “Thank God.” He opened the lid, picked up the roll, and took a huge bite. “Mmmmm.” He closed his eyes and chewed slowly, which was really kinda hot. “I love your cinnamon rolls, Everly Brooks.”

  There was no battling the blush that rose high on her cheeks. She cleared her throat so her voice wouldn’t purr. “It’s the least I can do.” She should bake them fresh every morning as penance for forcing him to run out on his shower. “So, if you have the trailer towed, where will you stay?” Everly asked, unable to resist patting Dante’s head.

  Mateo bit off another hunk of the cinnamon roll, taking his time to chew before he answered. “Not sure yet. The guy at the shop said he thought they could have it done in a month.”

  A month? Mateo would be homeless for a month?

  “I’m sure I could bunk up at Levi’s house. Not that I want to crash the newlywed party. Those two should have their own space when Cass is in town.”

  “You could stay here. At the farm.” The words tumbled out before she could process what they meant. Heat flashed to her face. Had she really just invited Mateo Torres to move in with her?

  He seemed just as surprised as she was. “You mean at your house?”

  Well, technically it was his house. Not that she wanted to admit that to him. But this could actually be perfect. She didn’t have much time to convince him that the farm had value. It might not make a huge profit, but it brought the community together in so many ways. If he stayed with her, he’d see that. He’d see how much this place mattered.

  “There’s an extra bedroom. Plenty of space.” It wasn’t like she was around the house much anyway. When she wasn’t at the café she was out weeding garden plots or feeding animals or taking walks in the afternoon sun. And she hung out with Darla and her book club friends a few evenings a week. So, really, it shouldn’t be a big deal to have him there. “It’s nothing fancy, but the guestroom is pretty much empty except for a queen-sized bed. And you could store your stuff in the cellar until your trailer is fixed.”

  Mateo gawked at her, his head tilted. He set down the half-eaten cinnamon roll on a box. “You want me to move into your house? With you?”

  Well, not when he said it like that. “I don’t care if you stay for a month,” she rephrased for clarity’s sake.

  “You don’t?” A look of suspicion pulled his mouth into a frown.

  “Nope.” She squared her shoulders to prove it. “I’m hardly ever around.” And she could be around even less if she wanted. The café had a small office in the back. She always had a ton of work she could catch up on. “Besides, it’d be a good chance for you to get to know the property since you own it now.” It would be a good chance for him to fall in love with the farm so he would keep it around.

  “I guess it would be.”

  Well, that was it, then. Everything was settled. Mateo Torres was moving in with her. They would be living in the same house. Sharing a bathroom…

  “You’re sure you’re okay with this?” he asked in the same soft voice he might use on a toddler.

  Nope. Not even a little bit. “Of course,” Everly bluffed with a sturdy smile. “In fact, I’ll even help you get all of this stuff loaded in your truck.” That would give her a chance to work out the nervous energy that suddenly pinged between her pulse points. She stooped to pick up a plastic bin. “Then you can drive down and move everything in.” Because he was going to live with her. For a month. He was going to sleep right across the hall from her every night. For a month…

  Whew boy, the box suddenly felt heavy in her hands. She went to set it back down, but accidentally tipped it over. The lid popped off and sent pictures and papers cascading across the ground. “I’m so sorry!” She quickly scrambled to collect them, and carefully restacked them in the box. “Is this your family?” She couldn’t resist taking one out to get a closer look. The five of them were posed in front of one of those cheesy blue backdrops from the nineties. The older woman—his mother presumably—was a good foot shorter than Mateo, but her genuine smile gave her a larger-than-life presence, even in the photograph. Her daughters all resembled her with their lovely dark hair and beautiful thick-lashed eyes. Mateo looked so different. A lot scrawnier and a little angry.

  “That was taken right before I left for the States,” he said, looking over her shoulder.

  “Wow,” she marveled. “You had a lot of women in your life.”

  “Have,” he corrected. “I still have them all in my life.” He said it with conviction, strong and protective.

  Everly had never heard him sound so serious. She didn’t even know he had it in him. “When did your family move to the States?”

  He hesitated as though he didn’t want to talk about it. “My family didn’t. I came to live on Gunner Raines’s ranch when I was sixteen.” Mateo turned away and started to stack some of the boxes lying around in an obvious effort to end the conversation, but there had to be more to his story.

  She thought back to the night they’d danced. He’d said he had to leave ugly things behind and move on. That was hard to believe when she looked at the charismatic cowboy who charmed women into dancing and kissing. Nothing seemed to get to him. But there was obviously another side to Mateo. “You left your family at sixteen?” she asked, moving to stand across from him.

  He set down the crate in his arms rather impatiently. “Didn’t have a choice. My dad passed away when I was six. In an accident while he was working at Gunner’s ranch. His truck collided with a semi on some country road.”

  The words came out matter-of-factly, but Everly didn’t miss the flash of pain in his eyes. “Oh, Mateo…”

  “Gunner always felt responsible,” he interrupted, pushing aside her sympathy. “He knew my mom struggled to provide for us with my father gone. So once I was old enough to help out on the ranch Gunner took me in, spent years helping me become a citizen, and gave me a career to make sure I could take care of my family.”

  Everly glanced at the picture again. God, what a contrast to her privileged life. “They’re lucky to have you.” She set the photograph back in the bin. “Do you see them much?”

  “It’s hard to get home.” He picked up another crate and carted it over to his truck. “I can’t take too much time off from training. Mom comes every once in a while, but my oldest sisters are too busy with their families to travel.”

  Everly followed him and set the bin of photographs on the tailgate. “What about your youngest sister?” The one who was holding Mateo’s hand in the picture.

  “That’s Ana Sofia. She’s in Seattle on a student visa. At the University of Washington.” His chin lifted in a show of pride, much like a father’s would. “She got a late start, but she’s killing it up there. I see her the most. Once in a while, she’ll come to competitions, and I make it up there a few times a year.”

  She smiled. It was sweet how he talked about Ana with so much affection. It seemed the man had a heart after all. She went to glance at the picture again, but a different photograph caught her eye. A tattered snapshot of a young Mateo with an older boy. She picked it up. “Who’s this?”

  Mateo looked over. “No one.” His jaw tightened as he swiped it out of her hand and buried it in the bin before replacing the lid. “We should get everything loaded.” He moved swiftly away from her.

  Everly watched him haul more boxes to his truck. His movements were tense. Almost angry. Which proved one thing. Whatever ugly memories Mateo had buried in his past, it seemed he hadn’t quite left them behind after all.

  Chapter Seven

  Before standing directly in front of it, Mateo hadn’t paid much attention to the farmhouse on Owen’s property. Hadn’t seen the point since he had other plans for the land. But now that he saw it up close, he couldn’t seem to stop noticing the many imperfections.

  The white paint had started to peel back in more than one place. The siding closest to the ground had rotted. And don’t get him started on the roof. It h
ad been compiled of shake shingles, which were a serious fire hazard, by the way. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if someone had kept up with it, but the shingles were warped and weathered from who knew how many years of wind and snow and sun. Then there was the pitiful front porch made up of a concrete slab, which was sloped and crumbling.

  “Wow,” he couldn’t help but mutter as he followed Everly to the front door. “Owen sure didn’t keep this place up, did he?”

  “What d’you mean?” Her expression tightened.

  “Uh…” Surely she’d noticed the house had gone to ruin. That couldn’t be news to her. “It needs a new roof, new siding, and new concrete work.” He could’ve kept going, but decided to stop when she peered over her shoulder with a frown. She’d obviously tried to dress up the porch with a colorful bench and pots of various flowers, but you couldn’t hide the facts.

  “It’s fine for now,” she snapped as she unlocked the door. “I haven’t had time to do much work on the outside.”

  He didn’t see any point in reminding her that the work was actually the landlord’s responsibility. His responsibility, in other words. Yet another reason to bring in the bulldozers. A roof alone would set him back at least ten thousand dollars.

  Everly scooted on ahead of him into the house, but Mateo hesitated. If the outside looked this bad, he’d better brace himself for what he’d find on the other side of that door.

  Turned out, he didn’t have to. When he finally did step inside his jaw dropped. The place was immaculate. Small, but seriously impressive. A kitchen was nestled into one corner of the open room, and it looked like everything had been replaced. Gray cabinets gleamed with a fresh coat of gloss and the butcher-block countertops were in pristine condition. Even the farmhouse sink seemed to sparkle. Then there were the oak floors. They’d obviously recently been sanded back to perfection and coated with a dark stain, which really made the white shiplap on the walls stand out.