You Had Me at Cowboy

by Jennie Marts

  She knew Mimi wouldn’t approve of the way she was treating Mason just to get a story. Especially since she was doing it to save Mimi herself. Her grandmother would throw herself in front of a bus rather than let Tess get hurt in any way.

  Tess couldn’t tell her everything, but she couldn’t help sharing a little bit about Mason, telling her that he was a guy she’d met at the wedding and that she’d been spending time with his family out at the James’s ranch.

  Mimi knew that Tess was going to Rockford’s wedding and had guessed Mason was his brother. Tess told her she was attracted to Mason but didn’t share their disagreement about his brother. The taste of the beer had gone sour in her mouth as she thought about the hurt look on Mason’s face. She was embarrassed and ashamed, and Mason had every right to be hurt. And Tess knew if Mimi asked her too many questions, she’d easily figure out she really did like Mason and there was something more going on.

  Her grandparents’ relationship had been a passionate, whirlwind affair, and Mimi was a big believer in love at first sight and that love conquers all.

  Tess knew Mimi would tell her to forget the dumb argument—and the stupid story—and go for it with the cute guy who was making her heart pound and her palms sweat.

  And maybe she should.

  The headache had already been building behind Tess’s eyes so she didn’t talk long, just enough to assure her grandmother she was safe and would be spending another few nights up on the mountain.

  Tess had told her grandmother the magazine was paying for her lodging, just to keep Mimi from going to an early grave. Knowing her granddaughter was sleeping in her car in an alley would surely bring on a coronary.

  Just add it to the big, old pile of BS she’d been shoveling up the past few days.

  The pressure behind her eyes had Tess begging off the phone, and she’d promised she’d call her grandmother again the next day.

  That pressure was now ten times worse. She pressed her hand to her forehead, fighting the familiar signals of the migraine headache. She knew she was going to pay for not having her sunglasses on this afternoon.

  But she needed to get down all the great material she’d heard today before she forgot it. She pulled out her notebook and spent the next fifteen minutes jotting notes as fast as she could while willing the migraine to hold off until she’d at least captured some of the stories about the James brothers playing hockey as kids and Rock making a picture frame with his own hands and planning to adopt Quinn’s son. She crammed the notebook back between the seats as soon as she’d reached the end of her notes, then leaned her head back against the seat rest and closed her eyes.

  The phone call with her grandmother was already getting fuzzy in her head. They’d skimmed over the impending house payment, but she was sure now that Mimi had said something about having things under control. That she’d talked to “some people” and was working on a plan.

  What people? What kind of plan?

  Any time her grandma mentioned anything about having a “plan,” Tess knew some kind of trouble was about to follow. Mimi’s plans never quite worked as expected. Maybe she should call Mimi back.

  Pain seared through her head, and a wave of nausea rolled within her stomach. Maybe she’d call her later.

  She crawled into the back seat and reached for the thin blanket, her hands already shaking as the chills started.

  She’d suffered from migraines for years but could often fend them off with medication, especially when she felt the onslaught of a bad one starting. This one had taken her by surprise, sneaking up on her as she drove away from the farm. What had started as a nagging annoyance had built further toward full-blown agony with every mile she drove.

  It made perfect sense though. The day had consisted of the perfect storm of migraine triggers—the bright sunlight coupled with clouds and drastic weather changes, the fact that she’d had too little sleep and not enough caffeine that day, and that she was most likely dehydrated after working with the tree and sweating throughout the afternoon.

  Fumbling for her bag, she pawed through the contents, remembering that she had meant to check it and praying she’d thrown the bottle of migraine medication into her purse.

  Her search proved fruitless, and she let out a cry of frustration as she threw her bag onto the floor of the car. She’d been in such a rush when she’d left Denver and preoccupied with her grandmother’s situation that she hadn’t even thought about it. Besides the fact that she hadn’t been planning to spend even one night in Creedence, let alone two.

  She needed water and some ibuprofen, but the water bottles she had in the car were empty, and she couldn’t find the strength to crawl back into the front seat and drive to a convenience store. Not like she had any money to buy aspirin anyway.

  Curling into a fetal position, she pulled the blanket over her shoulder and tried to breathe through the pain. The migraine was coming fast and hard, slamming into her body in a storm of pain and distress.

  Dewey curled up next to her on the seat, giving her comfort in that amazing sixth-sense way dogs have of knowing exactly what a person needs.

  The realization that she had no medication at all only served to increase her stress and intensify the severity of the migraine.

  Only the barest sliver of moonlight shone into the back window of the car, but even the slightest amount of light had pain searing through her head. Another wave of nausea rolled through her, this one worse than the first. She grabbed for the empty fast-food bag she’d spied on the floor earlier, leaning over the seat as her body heaved.

  She let out a sob as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then squeezed her eyes shut against the pain in her head.

  Foul sweat covered her skin, soaking through her shirt, but her body still felt cold, and she shivered under the blanket. She heard Dewey whine and tried to lift her head to find and comfort the little dog. But she couldn’t see straight, and dizziness swept through her.

  Smudges of black blurred her vision. Her head fell back against the seat.

  Tears of pain and frustration leaked from the corners of her eyes. She hated this feeling of helplessness, of not being able to control her own body. Her eyes stung from the tears. Her mouth was dry, her throat burning from the bile of the vomit. She needed water, could already feel the dehydration settling in.

  But her limbs were too heavy and the pain in her head too severe. She couldn’t move, couldn’t even sit up.

  Her throat was parched, dry as cotton, the discomfort made worse by the sound of the steady rain now hitting the roof of the car. If only she could open the window, she could stick her head out and let the rainwater fill her mouth. She’d already cracked the window a few inches for the dog. If she could only sit up.

  But the effort was too much.

  Pain seared through her head, and stars sparkled in the air just before her vision blurred to a muddy brown, then an inky black as she lost consciousness and collapsed back against the seat.

  * * *

  This is probably stupid, Mason thought as he glanced down at the picnic basket on the seat next to him. But he’d acted pretty stupid, and this was the only way he could think to apologize. He’d let his temper and his imagination get the best of him. And he’d been a jerk to Tess.

  She hadn’t really done anything wrong, not as far as he knew. And what had he really seen? Her laughing as his brother passed her a dog. That same scenario wouldn’t have fazed him if he had been in the barn with them. If they hadn’t been alone and swigging beer.

  But sharing a laugh, or even a drink, didn’t mean that Tess was interested in his brother. He’d automatically jumped to the conclusion that she’d been after Rock all along. His worst fear was that he was going to care about another woman, and she was going to end up using him again to get to his brother.

  But he’d thought Tess was different, had believed that sh
e was something special. So when he’d spied her in the barn with Rock, he’d automatically seen red. And he hadn’t given her a chance to explain, even to listen to her side of the story. He’d just stormed back into the house and let himself have a good sulk. Until his stomach started growling, and he’d settled down and realized that neither he nor Tess had eaten any supper. And that he probably owed her an apology at the very least and a chance to talk this through. It seemed like his apology would go better if he was bearing food.

  He knew she was staying at the Lamplighter Hotel, so he’d decided to drop off a sandwich to her. How the hell a sandwich had turned into a full-on picnic complete with a bottle of wine and a couple pieces of leftover pie was beyond him. And if that wasn’t bad enough, as he’d walked to the truck, he’d pulled a handful of wildflowers to give her. He’d seen the patch of yellow daisies and couldn’t resist. He figured she’d love them, and maybe they’d soften her up a little and give him a better chance to explain.

  What in the Sam Hill was wrong with him?

  He didn’t do picnics, and he sure as hell didn’t pick wildflowers for anyone other than his mom. And he hadn’t done that since he was nine years old.

  But he also didn’t spend hours languishing in bed, exploring the curves and valleys of a woman he’d only met the day before.

  This was probably coming on too strong. He’d just give her the sandwich. And maybe the pie. She didn’t have to know he’d packed an entire picnic supper. Or that he’d picked her a handful of posies.

  Cut it out, man. He was overthinking it. It was just a simple gesture. Just a sandwich, for crying out loud.

  But he wasn’t fooling himself. Nothing about this was simple.

  Not the sandwich, not the handful of stupid flowers, not the fact that he was in his truck driving into town at nine o’clock at night to follow after a woman. A woman he’d just met. A woman he barely knew.

  A woman he was falling for. And falling hard—as in face-first, no-hands, full-speed, crash-and-burn falling, with no safety net in sight.

  And he had no idea if she felt the same.

  He knew she felt something—she had to. With the kind of day they’d just had, she had to at least like him a little. That couldn’t all be pretend. But one bout of great sex didn’t mean she cared about him or was interested in anything more.

  And since when had he even considered “anything more” with a woman? Especially a woman who didn’t even live in his town. Or his county. It had been so long that he couldn’t even remember. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d let his guard down enough to even consider the possibility.

  But he’d let his guard down today. Hell, his guard had come crashing down the minute he opened that closet door and saw Tessa Kane standing inside. Her shirt busting open was just the icing on the cake.

  He was in trouble here. This was all happening too fast. He needed to pump the brakes and slow this ride down.

  He should turn around now. Forget the sandwich, forget the stupid picnic.

  This afternoon had been great—hell, it had been knock-his-socks-off amazing—but he wasn’t looking for a relationship, especially with someone he’d just met. The relationships he did have were built on trust and honesty. And how could he trust a woman he’d bumped into in a closet at a party and knew nothing about?

  But his truck seemed to have a mind of its own as it pulled into the parking lot of the Lamplighter Hotel. Regardless of what his truck wanted, he knew he wanted it too.

  Even if this whole idea was a little bit crazy. Maybe he could use a little crazy, a little impulsive. It was certainly impulsive to drive into town and try to track her down. He didn’t even know what room she was in, he suddenly realized. He didn’t suppose it would be too hard to figure it out though. It wasn’t a really big hotel, and her car would most likely be parked in front of her room. If he had to knock on a couple of doors, it wouldn’t be that big a deal.

  Except that her car wasn’t parked in front of her room.

  It wasn’t parked in front of any room. In fact, it wasn’t anywhere in the lot at all.

  Hmm. That was weird. Maybe she’d stopped to get something to eat. Except that the diner and the grocery store were both already closed for the night. The only other place to buy anything to eat was the convenience store, and the parking lot had been empty when he’d driven by just now.

  His eyes narrowed as he stared at the four cars that sat in the hotel parking lot: an old Honda, a red pickup, an SUV, and a new sporty compact. None of them were a crappy Ford Taurus.

  He pulled up in front of the office and cut the engine to his truck. So much for trying to surprise her. He pulled out his phone and tried her number, but it went to voicemail after four rings.

  He didn’t bother leaving a message. What would he say anyway? “Hi there. I’m kind of an idiot and brought you some food, but you’re not here. Call me if you’re still interested in either me or a sandwich.”

  Yeah, that sounded real great. He blew out a sigh as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He wasn’t sure what to do. He could always leave her the sandwich and the pie. That would mean he wouldn’t get to see her again, but at least she’d get fed.

  An awful thought struck him—maybe she’d gone home for the night, back to Denver. Maybe this whole thing had been too much for her, and she’d said screw it to the whole weekend and driven back down the pass.

  The hotel office was lit up, and he could see one of the Johnson girls sitting behind the counter. He couldn’t tell which one—there were three girls, all teenagers—but this one’s red hair was pulled up in a messy knot and falling across her face as she studied her phone. They’d gone to church with the Johnsons for years and had known all the girls since they’d been born. The joys of a small town. Only in this instance, the small-town connection might come in handy.

  The desk clerk knew him and knew he wasn’t a weird stalker. Maybe she could tell him about Tess. If she’d seen her tonight. Or knew where she was. Or when she’d be back. Or if she’d be back.

  It couldn’t hurt to ask.

  He pushed through the door of the hotel office, cringing as the bell rang, signaling his entrance. “Hey there.” Easiest to go with the generic greeting until he figured out which girl he was dealing with.

  She looked up, startled, then a grin split her face. “Hey, Mason.”

  “Hi, Sarah.” He recognized her now. She was the oldest of the girls. “Sorry to bug you, but a friend of mine is staying here. You know, she’s in town for Rock’s wedding. I wanted to drop something off for her, but I can’t remember her room number. Her name’s Tessa Kane, and she drives a beat-up little Taurus.”

  Sarah’s brow furrowed, and she frowned. “Are you sure she’s staying here?”

  “I’m pretty sure. Why?”

  “I haven’t seen a car like that here, and I don’t have anyone registered by that name.”

  That was weird. This was the only hotel in town, and Mason was sure she’d said she was staying there.

  “Really? Because I thought she said she was staying here. She would have checked in yesterday. Can you look again?” That was a dumb question. She hadn’t looked at anything the first time. “Maybe you missed her registration.”

  The exaggerated roll of her eyes told him she didn’t think so. “I don’t need to look. We only have three rooms rented out for tonight. One is to a fly fisherman who comes up here once a month, and the other two are to families that are traveling through and just checked in tonight. We were full last night because of your brother’s party, but none of the rooms were rented to a single woman.”

  A sinking feeling settled in his gut. “You’re sure?”

  She let out the kind of sigh only teenage girls can seem to perfect. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “All right. I must have heard her wrong.” He trudged out to his pickup.

&
nbsp; What the hell? Where was she? He was sure she’d told him she was staying there.

  Why would she lie?

  And if she’d lied about this, what else was she lying about?

  He raked his arm across the seat, sending the picnic basket crashing to the floor, then threw the truck in gear and peeled out of the parking lot.

  And then he slammed on his brakes as a Volkswagen Jetta laid on the horn and swerved around him.

  Shit. He hadn’t even seen the guy.

  He needed to get off the road. Give himself a minute to calm down. To take a breath. He pulled into the next closest parking lot across the street from the hotel. The library was closed, and the lot was empty.

  The wild daisies had slid off the seat when he’d slammed on the brake. They lay on the floor, mocking him with their cheery yellow color. He rolled down the window, then grabbed them and flung them out onto the pavement.

  What the hell was going on?

  This didn’t make any sense.

  He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, trying to relax, to think about this rationally. But how could he think when all he could hear was the sound of a dog barking? And not just barking, but barking interspersed with yapping and whining. Somebody needed to let their damn dog inside.

  He shook his head. Now he was cussing at a dog. It wasn’t the dog’s fault.

  This was stupid. If he wanted to know what was going on, he needed to go to the source. He needed to ask Tess. He’d already tried her cell once, but he needed to try again. And again after that. As many times as it took to figure out what was going on.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket, then jabbed at her contact information. Holding his breath, he listened to the phone ring. Once. Twice.

  Realizing he was clenching his teeth, he intentionally relaxed his jaw. The phone rang a third time, and he let out his breath as he heard a click. This time she picked up. Or at least it sounded like she did.