The Trouble With Cowboys

by Melissa Cutler

Lisa handed him a cheese-topped cracker. “Try it.”

  Vaughn complied, stuffing the entire cracker into his mouth at an angle. He hummed in appreciation and flashed a thumbs-up to Lisa, then reached for a second cracker. “You think city folks have any idea how gourmet we country hicks can be? I’m sitting here eating some of the best cheese ever produced, about to have a steak dinner grilled for me by one of the top beef purveyors in the nation.”

  Chris snorted. “And what do you add to the party, Cooper?”

  “Entertainment,” Lisa and Kellan said at the same time.

  Kellan chuckled and settled on the sofa to watch the last few minutes of the quarter before he got busy grilling steaks at half-time. Having the gang over on Sunday afternoon was his favorite time of the week. He loved every minute of it—talking football with Chris, Lisa setting up a plate of cheeses from Binderman Dairy, and Vaughn doing his fake-machismo act. He loved Daisy’s squeals of delight filtering in through the window and Rowen’s occasional yawn or hungry cry.

  He never experienced that growing up, not even when his mom and dad had the same day off work. They were too world-weary to do much more than lie around and smoke weed. Holding a family dinner, much less entertaining friends, had been out of the question. Even his brief stint in a foster home, as loving as his foster parents had been, hadn’t satisfied his craving for family, for warmth. It was an absence that registered in his bones more like a loss, one he’d been working to make up for the better part of his life.

  Vaughn rapped Kellan on the knee with his knuckles. “Heard you invited Amy Sorentino here yesterday.”

  Lisa looked up, an incredulous grin playing on her lips. “I saw you two talking at the doughnut table this morning. Her sister, Jenna, told me you gave her a bag of celery. Really?”

  There was going to be no getting around this conversation, Kellan could tell. He could deny an attraction to Amy until his face turned blue, but his closest friends wouldn’t buy a word of it. “Onions too.”

  Vaughn tipped the neck of his beer in Kellan’s direction. “I’m betting he bagged more than her groceries.”

  There was a collective groan from the room.

  “You’re not going to let this drop, are you?”

  “Nope,” all three of his friends chimed in.

  “If that’s the way you’re going to be, then I suppose it’s my obligation to set the record straight.” Kellan leaned his elbows on his knees, cleared his throat, and waited for their undivided attention. “I do not appreciate the implication that Amy Sorentino is anything less than a lady. At all times. That you would besmirch the Sorentino family name with such a flagrant rumor is insulting—”

  “Did you say besmirch?” Vaughn cut in.

  “Yes, I did say ‘besmirch.’ Weren’t you all in church this morning? Is this any way for good Christians to think? Shame on you all and your filthy minds.”

  Lisa let out a low whistle. “You dog.”

  Vaughn burst out laughing, “I don’t know how you do it, man. You’re my hero.”

  Daisy and Max came bounding into the room. Vaughn snagged her hand. “Daisy, when I grow up, I want to be just like your uncle Kellan.”

  She gave him a bright smile. “Me too. Then I could ride Pickle all the time.”

  Kellan raised his hand for attention. “I don’t want this spread around, but today after church, I asked Amy to dinner.”

  “Against my advice,” Chris added.

  Kellan held his hand up. “Let the record show I asked her out against Chris’s advice. Happy now?”

  “Not really. Did she agree this time?”

  “Not at first. She declined my offer twice. But I finally brought her around to my way of thinking.”

  Lisa patted Kellan’s knee. “I wouldn’t take her refusal too personally. Those Sorentino sisters have a lot on their plates, with their mom’s poor health and their money troubles.”

  “Money troubles?” That caught Kellan’s attention. “I haven’t heard mention of her finances, only of the restaurant Amy’s opening at their farm.”

  Chris shifted Rowen to his other arm and sat up straighter. “She and Lisa have an appointment this week at the dairy. She wants to contract with Binderman Dairy, which I think is great.”

  “True, and I’m happy to do business with the Sorentinos,” Lisa said, “but word is the restaurant and inn they’re opening are a last-ditch effort to save their farm from foreclosure. My cousin Isabel, who works for the bank in Albuquerque, said Amy, Rachel, and Jenna were in a few months ago applying for loans and meeting with a foreclosure agent. I bet their mom’s care is bleeding their bank accounts something terrible.”

  Dread rippled through Kellan. Sorentino Farm was on the verge of foreclosure? A terrible possibility took shape in his mind as he thought of the manila folder hidden above his refrigerator. If Amy and her sisters were the subjects of an Amarex lawsuit, a personal relationship with her would not only be unethical, but against Kellan’s moral code. And if she discovered his link to the company fighting to squeeze her family out of their home . . .

  Oh, man, he couldn’t even think about how she’d react. He choked down a swig of beer, fighting the urge to rip open the file and assuage his rising anxiety.

  “What about royalties from oil leasing rights?” Chris asked. “Amarex contracts keep most of the ranches and farms around here afloat. Including ours.”

  Chris’s question put his mind at ease. No way could Amy and her sisters be the victims of his uncle’s latest bullying attempt. The very reason they were in financial trouble rendered the possibility of Amarex’s interest in purchasing the land unthinkable.

  He shook his head and relaxed back into the sofa cushion. “The Sorentino land is as dry as mine. Both are Quay County anomalies. No crude oil underground to be had. And you can bet your bottom dollar Amarex has explored every inch of both our properties in search of a source.” Probably, he should’ve tried to sound less joyous about that. “I read the reports on Amarex’s contract negotiations with Gerald Sorentino years ago because the guy was too cheap to spring for a lawyer to look out for his interests—exactly the sort of stupid choice Amarex salivates over. Exploration crews scoured his land and came up empty. No oil, no lease money.”

  Lisa sighed. “What horrible luck that family’s had. It’s a shame Amy didn’t fare better on Ultimate Chef Showdown. The winner took home three hundred grand. Did you watch it, Kellan?”

  “Nah. You know me; I don’t have much use for television. But I remember hearing a lot of chatter that the competition didn’t go well for her.”

  Vaughn winced. “That’s putting it mildly. A word of advice? Don’t bring up the show during your date. It wasn’t Amy’s most flattering moment. But here’s what people don’t know—her dad, Gerald, died a matter of days before Chef Showdown began filming. And the episode she lost her marbles on was after her mom’s collapse. She never allowed anyone on the show to mention it—didn’t want people’s sympathy vote—but those are the facts.”

  Chris shook his head. “Man, that’s rough.”

  “How do you know all that?” Lisa asked.

  Vaughn peeled the label on his bottle, looking uncomfortable. “I spent a lot of time at Sorentino Farm during the investigation into Gerald’s car crash, then Bethany’s breakdown. In my job, you learn people’s secrets. Most of them aren’t of the positive variety.”

  Kellan’s jaw clamped shut and refused to budge. Impotent frustration coursed through him, thinking about what Amy and her family had gone through. She deserved so much better than the hand she’d been dealt.

  “I see the wheels turning in your head, Kellan,” Chris said. “What gives?”

  “I’m working hard to keep myself from driving to her house with my checkbook and taking charge.”

  Vaughn scoffed. “If you tried, I’d probably get called out to arrest you.”

  “That’s why I’m still here.”

  “Well, I think it’s a good thing you’re havi
ng dinner with Amy,” Lisa said. Rowen stirred with a dissatisfied whimper and she scooped him from Chris’s shoulder. “Maybe a night out is what the lady needs to take her mind off her worries.”

  “I doubt that,” Chris grumbled.

  Kellan stood and walked to the glass door of his deck, looking at the rolling acres of desert chaparral dotted with cattle. A kick of dust on the nearest slope told him someone had driven the dirt road leading to his property. The doorbell chimed.

  Vaughn pushed up and strolled toward the door like he owned the place. “Expecting someone?” He peered through the peephole.

  “Nope.”

  Vaughn drew a sharp breath and slunk to the far end of the room, swabbing a hand over his face. “You answer, Kellan. It’s your house.”

  Kellan eyed his friend suspiciously and opened the door to Rachel Sorentino. Despite the chilly weather, she wore a short-sleeved T-shirt and her hair was damp, like she’d come straight over after taking a shower. She shared Amy’s doe-shaped brown eyes and freckled, pert nose, but though both women were easy on the eyes, the two sisters gave off completely different vibes. Rachel acted and looked every inch the no-nonsense, born-and-raised cowgirl she was, from her athletic build and darkly tanned skin to her work boots and blunt fingernails.

  “Rachel, what a surprise. Come on in.” He held the door wide open for her to pass.

  “Sorry to stop by unannounced like this, but I need a word with you—” She spied Vaughn and ground to a halt. “Sheriff Cooper.”

  “Miss Sorentino,” Vaughn said softly, folding his arms over his chest.

  Kellan looked to Chris, a brow raised in question, baffled by Vaughn and Rachel’s formality. Chris responded with a shrug of confusion.

  With what seemed like tremendous effort, Rachel pulled her gaze from Vaughn and turned to Kellan. “Is there someplace private we can talk?”

  “How about the porch?”

  “Works for me.”

  “You want a beer?”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  Glancing sideways at Vaughn, who still looked shell-shocked by Rachel’s sudden appearance, Kellan snagged a beer from the fridge and ushered her out the door. She’d never been to his ranch before, as far as he could recall, and he couldn’t imagine a single reason for her to visit unannounced on a Sunday afternoon.

  Bottle in hand, she walked the porch like she was checking to ensure every window was closed. Kellan’s curiosity mounting, he kept quiet, giving her time to check the windows and collect her thoughts.

  Sitting on his porch, watching Rachel’s agitated pacing, he realized she was the only member of the Sorentino family who wasn’t a Catcher Creek gossip staple. In all the years he’d lived there, he’d never once heard tell of Rachel whooping it up at bars or rodeos, or even church socials. They ran into each other every now and then, at feed stores or livestock auctions, and she was pleasant enough, but aloof. Typical solitary rancher so common in the sprawling, untamed wilderness of Eastern New Mexico.

  When Kellan rolled into Catcher Creek fourteen years ago, a scruffy, dirt poor twenty-year-old with a chip on his shoulder the size of a meteor, he’d steered clear of women for a while, particularly the young, jail-baiting set like the Sorentino sisters had been at the time. But still, he’d borne witness to plenty of the youngest sister, Jenna’s, raucous partying. That is, until she got pregnant at nineteen and settled down on the family farm. Four years later and folks still whispered their theories about Tommy Sorentino’s mystery daddy and why he hadn’t stepped up to his responsibility.

  Amy had dropped off the radar for years—and, frankly, Kellan had forgotten she existed—until the Ultimate Chef Showdown fiasco lit up the gossip circuit like a lightning storm. About the same time, their mother, Bethany, succumbed to a series of very public breakdowns, including one Kellan witnessed at Walmart, followed by a mysterious health crisis many folks believed to be the result of a botched suicide attempt. But not one of them, not Bethany or even Jenna during her wild days, had anything on the stories told of their drunk, gambling, good-timing father.

  Rachel stopped moving and hunched over the porch rail, fiddling with her beer bottle.

  “Might as well spit it out, Rachel. What’s on your mind?”

  She sniffed. “My sisters are so smug. They think I’m oblivious, sheltered. Like I couldn’t possibly relate to their worldly sensibilities or the drama of their social lives.”

  Okay.

  Angling her face over her shoulder, she shot him a kids-these-days grin. “Contrary to their opinion of me, for the most part, I know them far better than they know themselves.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  She took a hit of beer and shoved off the railing, dropping to a chair. “You’re not good for Amy. I want you to stay away from her. From now on, with regards to Slipping Rock’s supply contract, you can deal with me.”

  Apparently Rachel was aware of Kellan and Amy’s date . . . and possibly Saturday’s tryst. Seems she’d come to his ranch to assert her role as big sister. The problem was, why would Rachel think Kellan was no good for Amy? He was of a mind it was the other way around.

  “Hold on. Is there something being said about me that I’m not aware of—an unflattering rumor or something? Because I don’t understand your opinion. I’m a model citizen, a responsible business owner, and a good man with friends who’d vouch for me. What do you find so bad about that?”

  “Oh, please. I don’t deal in rumors. And I don’t have anything against you as a person. Hell, I don’t even know you.”

  Crisis averted. “Then what gives?”

  “The thing about Amy is that she feels too much, too fast. She’s spinning in all directions at once and looking for a man who’s steady, someone to be the calm center of her tornado life. I’m not sure how the notion got stuck in her head, because our dad was a farmer and she never got on with him, but for some reason, she thinks she can find what she needs in men like you. And maybe she will someday, but now’s not the time.”

  “Men like me?” Ah. Now he was on to her line of thinking. “Cowboys, you mean?”

  “Exactly. God bless her, she’s still optimistic about finding that ideal cowboy of her imagination, despite how many times she’s been hurt.”

  “I’m not going to hurt her because we’re not having a relationship.” That probably sounded harsh, but truthfully, was there any way to tell a woman he was only interested in sleeping with her sister without sounding like an ass?

  Someday he’d settle down—he wanted kids too badly not to work toward that end—but his ideal wife would be drama-free. A homemaker and peacemaker. A woman in good standing with the community. He’d built his perfect life from the ground up, brick by brick, carefully choosing his friends and his lovers, and molding his career as a rancher. He had every confidence that, when the time was right, he’d select the perfect woman to be his life-partner. And she wouldn’t be a tornado. Even if that tornado was a curvy brunette who set his blood on fire.

  “Not having a relationship? You slept with her yesterday.”

  Kellan rotated his jaw to ease the tension gathering there. “For the record, Rachel, casual sex between consenting adults is perfectly legal. Hence, the words consensual and adults.”

  “You’re such a man to believe sex can ever be casual to a woman.” Something in her tone spoke of her personal experience in such matters.

  “Look, Rachel. There’s no hurt to be had. Amy and I have an understanding. Neither of us wants a relationship. We’re just having fun.”

  Her gaze, knifelike in its resolve, finally met his. “All the same, see that you stay away from her in the future so you don’t hurt her. Or, more to the point, so you don’t encourage her to hurt herself, jumping headfirst into shallow water, as it may be.”

  Ouch.

  Rachel pushed to her feet with a sigh and handed Kellan her empty bottle. “Amy’s been damaged enough. If you lead her into more hurt, you’ll answer to me. And that’s a
promise you can take to the bank.”

  He stood, nodding. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m glad we understand each other.” She offered him her hand to shake, which he took. Her grip was firm, her palm and fingers calloused. Rachel Sorentino was one tough lady.

  “I’ve got something for Amy in the kitchen, if you wouldn’t mind passing it along.”

  She snorted. “What did I tell you?”

  “It’s produce, Rachel. Relax.”

  He held the door open, then followed her in and rustled through the fridge for the bag of produce he’d selected from his greenhouse that morning. “I was going to deliver these tomorrow, but since you’re here, she might as well use them while they’re at their freshest.”

  Rachel felt the bag. “Vegetables?”

  “Cabbage, garlic, and two bunches of celery. In case she runs low before the stores open tomorrow,” he added with a wink.

  Rachel nodded solemnly. “Guess you know her better than I gave you credit for.”

  “You want to stay for dinner? I was fixing to barbecue some Slipping Rock steaks when you showed up. We’ve got plenty of food to go around.” He knew she wouldn’t, but found himself interested in gauging her reaction.

  She cast a wary look toward the living room, mashing her lips into a straight line. Kellan followed her gaze to the sofa. Chris and Lisa smiled encouragingly. Vaughn stared at the television, his expression blank. “Thanks anyway, but I’m expected home for dinner.”

  Kellan closed the door behind her. Vaughn wandered to the window, watching Rachel’s truck disappear over the hill.

  “What was that about?” Lisa asked.

  Kellan rubbed his neck. “She wanted to be sure I understood that if I hurt Amy, there’ll be a reckoning.”

  “Gotta admire her,” Chris said. “Rachel takes care of her own. Always has. We were in the same grade, kindergarten through high school graduation. All those years, no one bullied Amy or Jenna more than once, I can tell you that.”

  Kellan walked to Vaughn and slugged him in the arm. “You all right?”

  A muscle in Vaughn’s jaw twitched; his eyes remained fixed on the horizon. “That woman sucks the air out of a room. I can’t believe you invited her to stay for dinner.”