Her Secret Cowboy

by Marin Thomas

  “You guys spoil Bandit.” The twins must have talked their father into buying the Great Dane-size pillow. Conway was a softie when it came to the twins.

  Will made a few tweaks to his sketch. “The pillow will be a tight fit, but I think it will work.” He tried to envision himself as a father when Ryan had been the twins’ age, but he couldn’t. At twenty-four he’d been riding the rodeo circuit and working odd jobs to cover his entry fees. He wouldn’t have made his son a priority.

  The sound of a car engine met his ears and the boys raced across the yard, Bandit trailing behind them. Marsha’s SUV came into view and as soon as she saw the kids, she slowed the car to a crawl.

  Will’s heart hammered inside his chest. He’d worked at the church all week and was used to seeing Marsha come and go but he hadn’t spent an entire day with her. He was nervous—not because it was difficult to hide the fact that he found her attractive, but because he didn’t feel like he was her equal. She’d gone to college and bettered herself while he remained behind and became a construction worker.

  “Good morning,” Marsha said after she got out of the car.

  Will opened his mouth to speak but the words froze in his throat when the passenger-side door opened and Pastor Bugler stepped into view. “Pastor,” Will said.

  “William.”

  “’Morning, Ryan,” Will said. The teen lifted a hand in greeting. Will motioned to the twins standing with him. “Javier and Miguel, this is my son, Ryan, his mother, Ms. Bugler, and his grandfather, Pastor Bugler.”

  “My dad says Uncle Will is the best builder in the whole world,” Miguel said.

  “Uncle Will’s gonna build Bandit a doghouse.” Javier walked up to Ryan and asked, “Are you gonna help us?”

  Ryan nodded.

  “This is Bandit.” Miguel tugged on the dog’s collar and dragged the animal over to Ryan. “My dad gave us Bandit for Christmas. You want to see his toys?”

  “Sure.” Ryan accompanied the boys and the dog inside the house.

  Pastor Bugler chuckled. “Looks like you lost your workforce.”

  Will’s brow broke out in a sweat as he faced off with Marsha and her father.

  “How can we help?” Marsha asked.

  “I forgot the nails. Wait here.” As soon as Will entered the barn, he cursed out loud.

  “What’s wrong? Are the boys getting on your nerves?” Conway poked his head out from beneath the tractor engine. “I can ask Isi to keep them in the house if—”

  “The twins are fine. Marsha’s dad came along today.”

  “Why?”

  To spy on me. “Heck if I know.” Will had been nervous enough about spending the day with Ryan and Marsha without having the pastor’s eyes watching his every move.

  Conway got to his feet. “Don’t let him ruin your day.”

  “How am I supposed to have a decent conversation with my son if the old man is eavesdropping?”

  “I don’t know, but you can’t hide in here all day.”

  “You’re right. See you later.” Will took a box of nails from the shelf above the workbench. When he returned to the yard, he walked past Marsha and her father. “I’ll holler inside the house for the boys.” Halfway up the porch steps, he stopped. “Would you two like a bottled water?”

  “No, thanks,” Marsha said. Her father shook his head.

  Will opened the screen door and shouted. “Hey, boys, we’ve got a doghouse to build.”

  The twins came outside with Bandit’s toy basket and Ryan held the dog’s favorite soccer ball. Bandit twirled in circles whining to play.

  Ryan threw the soccer ball and the dog raced across the yard, then used his snout to push the ball. Ryan laughed and Will felt a warm sensation stir in his chest. Bandit’s antics won over the pastor, too, because the old man grinned as he watched the activity. Maybe today wouldn’t be as stressful as Will anticipated.

  He called for the boys to stand in the shade of his grandmother’s favorite tree—a twenty-five-foot desert willow. “The first thing we have to do,” Will said, “is build a platform so the doghouse doesn’t sit directly on the ground.”

  “How come Bandit’s house can’t sit on the ground?” Miguel asked.

  Pastor Bugler put his hand on Miguel’s shoulder. “If it rains, son, the floor of the doghouse would flood and Bandit would have to sleep on a soggy dog pillow.”

  Javier inched closer to the pastor. “Bandit likes water. We taught him to swim in the pond.”

  “Swimming is one thing, but I don’t believe Bandit wants to sit in a muddy puddle,” the pastor said.

  “Bandit likes taking a bath.” Miguel joined the conversation. “He shakes his bubbles all over us.”

  The pastor chuckled at the twins’ chatter. While the boys entertained Marsha’s father with Bandit stories, Will spoke to Ryan. “Have you ever used a nail gun before?”

  Ryan shook his head.

  He held up the nail gun and pointed out its features, then handed it to Ryan. “I’ll hold these two boards together and you shoot the nail into the wood at a downward angle.” Will aligned the ends of the boards but Ryan hesitated.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “If the nail doesn’t go in the right way, we can remove it and do it again.”

  Ryan hesitated—what was the teen afraid of? When Will was his age, he’d been allowed to use his grandpa’s hunting rifle and he’d put it to good use—shooting the occasional snake that nested under the front porch. Believing his son needed encouragement, he said, “It’s like shooting a BB gun.” When Ryan didn’t respond, Will asked, “You’ve shot a BB gun before, haven’t you?”

  Ryan shook his head.

  “Then we’ll put BB-gun shooting on our list of things to do this summer.” He nodded to the boards. “Give it a try.” Ryan’s hand shook when he pressed the nail gun against the wood. Will steadied his wrist. “You can’t squeeze the trigger if your hand shakes. The nail might miss the wood and hit the boys or the dog.” He winked. “And I don’t think you want to shoot your mother with a nail.”

  Instead of finding humor in Will’s words, Ryan set down the gun. “You do it. I don’t want to.”

  “C’mon, Ryan, it’s not a big deal.” What was the kid so afraid of?

  “Why don’t I hold the wood together and you demonstrate how to use the tool?” Marsha said.

  Will wasn’t fooled by the calm tone in her voice. Her pretty blue eyes fired off warnings faster than the gun could shoot nails. What the heck had he done wrong now? “Sure.” He handed the wood to Marsha, careful not to touch her—it was already difficult enough smelling her perfume and fresh-from-the-shower scent. In a matter of minutes the platform had been constructed. And during that short time the pastor had retreated to the porch where he sat on the swing with the twins and Ryan had gone off to play soccer with Bandit.

  Marsha touched his arm. “I guess building a doghouse isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

  Her words barely registered with Will as a tingling sensation spread across his skin. His gaze shifted to her mouth and caught Marsha’s tongue sliding over her lower lip. A sharp ache attacked his chest as he imagined kissing her...tasting the shiny gloss. Marsha’s fingers slid off his arm, ending his fantasy.

  “I put too much pressure on him, didn’t I?” Will said.

  She shook her head. “Being raised by a single mother has a few disadvantages. He hasn’t been exposed to many traditional guy activities.” Her gaze softened as she watched Ryan play with the dog.

  Will might not have been there for the teen, but his son was fortunate to have a mother like Marsha—an idiot could tell how much she loved the kid.

  “Haven’t any of your boyfriends spent time with Ryan?”

  “Boyfriends?” Marsha scoffed. “I’m too busy with my job and driv
ing Ryan to and from all his school activities. If I have free time, I use it to catch up on sleep.”

  Marsha’s confession shocked Will. With her looks and her body he’d have expected men to knock down her door to get a date with her. He had to know. “How many boyfriends have you had?”

  “A couple.” Her flirty smile faded. “I came close to saying yes to one man, but...”

  Marsha had almost married? “What happened?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. He got along well with Ryan and Ryan liked him, but—”

  “Hey, Will!” Conway’s wife, Isi, stepped onto the porch and waved. “I put on a fresh pot of coffee. Why don’t you let Ryan’s mother come inside where it’s cooler and we can visit.”

  Saved by the bell. Marsha had almost told Will he’d been the reason she hadn’t married. After seeing Will again, she could no longer fool herself into believing she didn’t have feelings for him.

  “I’d love to sit inside for a spell.” She walked off before Will had a chance to object. “I’m Marsha Bugler.” She motioned to the swing. “This is my father, Pastor Bugler.”

  “Nice to meet you both. I’m Conway’s wife, Isi.” She smiled. “Pastor Bugler, I baked gingersnaps yesterday, would you like a few to go with your coffee?”

  “I sure would, thank you.”

  “Will installed central air in the house a few months ago. You’re welcome to sit inside,” Isi said.

  “No!” The twins pulled on the pastor’s arms. “Stay here.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll take my coffee and cookies on the porch.”

  “If you need a break from my boys feel free to join us in the kitchen.” Isi held the door open for Marsha and they entered the house.

  Marsha took a seat at the table. She’d never been inside Will’s childhood home but from the looks of the kitchen there had been a lot of love inside the walls.

  “Conway and I are in the process of remodeling the house—one room at a time. We’re saving the kitchen for last.”

  “If you wait long enough the wallpaper might come back in style,” Marsha said, admiring the miniature white-and-blue teapots against a rose-colored background.

  Isi pointed to the black spot on the floor in front of the sink. “Can you imagine how many dishes their grandma Ada must have washed over the years to wear away the linoleum?”

  “More than I would ever want to do.”

  “I hope your father doesn’t mind the boys pestering him. Miguel and Javier can be a little overwhelming. Having a big family is new to them and they can’t get enough of everyone’s attention.”

  Marsha admired Isi’s long black hair and pretty brown eyes. “Will mentioned that you and Conway married this past spring?”

  Isi set a cup of coffee in front of Marsha, then poured a mug for herself. “That’s right. And I have Will to thank for bringing us together.” She carried a plate of cookies and a mug of coffee outside.

  When Isi entered the kitchen again, Marsha asked, “Did Will fix you up on a date with Conway?”

  “Heavens no. Conway and I had been friends for a couple of years.” Isi smiled. “Unbeknownst to Conway he was falling in love with me, but he was running scared. He set me up with Will, thinking his brother was a safe bet.”

  “Was Will a safe bet?” Marsha cringed. She hadn’t meant to speak the question out loud.

  “No sparks. Will and I knew right away nothing was going to happen between us.” Isi waved a hand in the air. “We tried a kiss to be sure.”

  Marsha ignored the burning sensation in her stomach. She assumed Will had kissed plenty of women since he took her to the prom, but she never expected to sit across the table and talk with one of them.

  “It was obvious to me and Will that we were meant to be friends, but he made sure Conway believed he had romantic feelings for me.”

  “What did Conway do?”

  Isi smiled. “He proposed.”

  At least Isi got her happily-ever-after. “Is Will dating anyone?”

  “No, he hasn’t had a girlfriend in a long while.” She offered a hesitant smile. “If I can be nosey...what happened between you and Will? Conway said Will just learned Ryan was his son.”

  “It’s a long story. I believed I was doing what was best for everyone by raising Ryan alone.”

  “But you changed your mind?”

  Marsha nodded.

  “Did Ryan ask about his father?”

  As much as Marsha enjoyed Isi’s outgoing personality, she wasn’t sure what Will wanted his family to know about the situation.

  “Don’t answer that,” Isi said. “I didn’t mean to pry, but—” her gaze shifted to the door “—the twins’ father refused to claim them as his. I didn’t find out he was married until I was four months pregnant.”

  “I’m sorry, Isi.”

  “I couldn’t have picked a better father for my sons than Conway. We’re lucky he loves us.”

  “I’m glad it worked out for you.” Marsha stared at the inside of her coffee cup. “How did your parents take the news that you were marrying a Cash brother?”

  The light dimmed in Isi’s eyes. “My mother and father are deceased and so are my twin brothers. I’m all that remains of my immediate family, but I know in my heart my parents would have approved of Conway.”

  “What about Aimee Cash and the fact that all her sons were fathered by different men?”

  “Does that bother you?” Isi asked.

  “No, but my father isn’t as understanding.”

  “Aimee’s lifestyle turned a lot of heads in Stagecoach and of course you know better than me because you went to school with the Cash brothers, but I hear they took a lot of ribbing about their names.”

  “I’m hoping my father eventually comes around but...”

  “But what?”

  Marsha couldn’t believe she was confiding in a practical stranger who wasn’t familiar with her and Will’s past relationship—if you could call a date to the prom a relationship—but Isi genuinely cared about the Cash family and Marsha sensed she could trust her. “My father’s concerned that Will might replace him in my son’s affections.”

  “Then we have to show the pastor that there’s enough room in Ryan’s life for him, Will and the rest of the Cash family.”

  “And how do we do that?” Marsha asked.

  “For starters we’ll have a cookout this afternoon. Once your father gets to know all Will’s brothers and what great men they are, he’ll relax his guard.”

  “A barbecue sounds nice,” Marsha said.

  “I’ll tell Conway what we have planned and he’ll contact his sister and brothers, then you and I will cook up a storm.”

  Marsha clanked her cup against Isi’s. “I like you, Isi. You’re easy to talk to.”

  “Conway thinks so, too.” Isi grabbed a cookbook off the counter and set it in front of Marsha. “Page through this and pick a few recipes that sound good while I check the pantry for supplies.”

  * * *

  WILL EYED THE DOGHOUSE and shook his head. He’d built the damn thing for a dog who’d hijacked his day with his son. Ryan and the twins had disappeared over an hour ago and Marsha had yet to come outside after going into the house with Isi.

  “Finished?”

  Will faced the pastor. “Debating whether or not to add an overhang off the front for shade.”

  “Might come in handy if the dog rests his head outside the opening.”

  “Where’s Ryan? Maybe he could help me with it,” Will said.

  “He’s on the front porch with the twins, showing them the books on his Kindle.”

  “Ryan can’t go anywhere without that damned thing.” As soon as he spoke the words, Will realized his mistake.

  The pastor’s eyes n
arrowed. “Are you opposed to reading or just education in general?”

  The slap in the face, although deserved, sent Will reeling. It was bad enough that he only possessed a high-school diploma when the mother of his son had earned a doctoral degree. “All I’m saying is that there’s more to living than burying your head in a book.”

  The pastor nodded to the bunkhouse. “What exactly has all that worldly experience gained you?”

  Will braced himself for an argument that had been fourteen years in the making. The pastor had never been able to give Will a piece of his mind because Marsha had kept Will’s identity a secret up until now. Like any protective father the pastor felt justified in knocking Will down a peg or two for getting his daughter pregnant.

  “You and your brothers don’t know the value of an education.”

  In self-defense, Will lashed out. “Book learning is great but man’s inventions would be useless without workers to build them.”

  The pastor nodded as if conceding a point to Will. “College isn’t right for everyone, but it is right for Ryan. I better not ever hear that you tried to talk my grandson out of earning a higher degree. I don’t want you glamorizing construction work, rodeos or whatever else you do for fun.”

  Earning the pastor’s approval was essential if Will intended to establish a healthy relationship with Ryan. His son idolized his grandfather and if he hoped to earn Ryan’s respect, he first had to earn the pastor’s.

  “Ryan has the right to make his own decisions about his future. If he asks why I didn’t go to college, I’ll tell him that a person can learn a lot from books and teachers, but until you do the work yourself—like pound nails and saw boards—you’ll never appreciate how complex and remarkable something as simple as a house is.”

  The old man stared long and hard at Will, then nodded. “Let’s put the overhang on.”

  “You don’t have to help.”

  “Are you kidding?” The pastor chuckled. “After that speech you gave? Pass me a board.”

  Still rattled by their conversation, Will secured the first piece of wood to the roofline while the pastor held it in place. After he nailed the final board, both men admired the structure. “That’s a fine doghouse,” the pastor said.