The Forgotten Cowboy

by Kara Lennox

  Soon they were safely in Nana’s car, a twenty-year-old Ford Taurus she kept in immaculate condition.

  “Cottonwood is full of nice young men,” Nana said as she pulled out of the parking lot. “Maybe your mystery man was that nice sheriff’s deputy, Luke Rheems. He’s handsome and eligible and I noticed him watching you.”

  “Or he might have been Orville, the garbage man.”

  “I think you would have noticed if he was missing several teeth. Anyway, he was young, wasn’t he?”

  Willow shrugged. “Age is one of those qualities I have trouble with. I can tell a child from an old man, but those ages in between tend to look a lot alike. Oh, Nana, what if he’s someone I have nothing in common with?”

  “You won’t know until you spend time with him.”

  “How can I go out with a man,” Willow tried again, “if I don’t know his name?”

  That stumped Nana for a moment. Then she got a decisive look on her face. “This isn’t a problem. When he comes to pick you up tomorrow, I’ll be there to greet him. Before you leave, I’ll have a private word with you and I’ll tell you who he is. Then you’ll at least be able to call him by his name.”

  “What if you don’t know him?”

  “Then he’ll introduce himself and the problem will be solved another way. Willow, darling, you spend way too much time worrying. It will all work out. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? You admit to him that you have a bit of a problem recognizing faces—”

  “No! I can’t tell him that. I can’t tell anyone that. Then it would get all over town, and people would feel sorry for me even as they’re avoiding me—”

  “Oh, Willow,” Nana said. “Like I said, you worry too much.”

  CAL WAS MORE NERVOUS about his date with Willow than he could ever remember being. He still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to go out with him. Or that he’d kissed her. Or that she’d kissed him back.

  And what a kiss. It wasn’t like he remembered from five years ago. He’d always enjoyed kissing Willow, of course. She’d been shy about it at first, very inexperienced. She’d confessed that he was only the third boy she’d ever kissed, and the first two had been just little pecks. But he’d persevered, and pretty soon they were making out every chance they got—any time they could escape the watchful eyes of her overprotective parents.

  He’d been crazy for her, just about as horny as an eighteen-year-old boy could get. But he’d never gotten the idea that Willow was similarly inflamed. She went through the motions and her technique improved. But Cal never sensed that she was getting carried away.

  Last night at the wedding, however, had been a whole ’nother story. The woman had been on fire, just as he’d been. Maybe that was the difference between the girl he’d fallen in love with and the woman she’d become. The girl had kissed him because she loved him and wanted to please him. The woman had kissed him because she’d wanted to.

  He wondered what else about Willow had changed. She was taller and she’d filled out slightly, though she still had that reed-slim body and waist-length hair that haunted his dreams. But had she changed inside? Could he push his outdated memories of Willow into the past where they belonged and fall in love with the woman she’d become?

  He looked forward to finding out.

  Her grandmother’s house looked the same as it always did when he pulled up out front. The large, two-story frame house, almost a hundred years old, had a wide, inviting front porch with a swing. The front yard was practically overrun with roses in every color, blooming like crazy. Willow had grown up in Mooresville, on the other side of Town Lake. Her parents owned the bank there, and they both worked there full-time. So Willow had spent summers living with Clea.

  Clea Marsden was the perfect grandmother. She baked cookies and made fresh lemonade and sewed quilts and grew roses. But she was a modern thinker and a lot more liberal than Willow’s parents. While Willow’s parents had disapproved of her romance with Cal because of the age difference, Clea had encouraged it. She’d told Cal once that she could tell from the very beginning that the two of them belonged together. So Cal had run tame at Clea’s big, homey house all summer long.

  Even after Willow had broken up with him, Cal had stayed close to Clea. He did odd jobs for her now, fixing little things around the house, checking the oil and tire pressure in her car, mowing the lawn. She’d been a widow for a long time, and she was pretty self-sufficient, but everyone needed help now and then.

  Now it was seven o’clock on the nose. Willow had always valued punctuality, so Cal had made sure he wouldn’t be late. With one final glance in the rearview mirror, he got out and headed for the door, his stomach tumbling with nerves. Those weren’t butterflies in there; it felt more like a herd of rhinoceros.

  He rang the bell. Heard footsteps. Swallowed, his mouth suddenly full of cotton. The door opened, and Clea stood there, a pleasant, welcoming smile on her face. Her smile faltered a moment when she recognized Cal, but then it returned, even bigger than before. Had Willow not told her grandmother to expect him?

  “Come in, come in, Cal. It’s so good to see you. Willow’s just finishing her hair—she’ll be down in a minute.” She showed him into the living room, where a plate of cookies sat invitingly on the coffee table. “Would you like a cookie?”

  Cal groaned. “Are those your oatmeal peanut-butter cookies?”

  “Mmm-hmm. Just baked them this afternoon.”

  “I don’t want to spoil my—okay, just one.” He couldn’t resist. He took a cookie and bit into it, savoring the sweet, rich taste that brought back a thousand memories. He and Willow used to pack picnic lunches and hike into the woods that ran through the back of the Hardison Ranch. They would spread out a quilt by the creek, gorge themselves on fried chicken and potato salad and at least half a dozen cookies each, then swim in the creek.

  Clea disappeared briefly, and when she returned, she had her purse in her hand. “I hope you won’t think I’m rude, but I have bingo tonight. You kids have fun!” She waved and disappeared again. Moments later, Cal heard the back door open and close.

  Less than a minute after Clea’s departure, Cal heard another door open and close, then footsteps coming down the stairs.

  He bounced to his feet just as Willow entered the living room. She looked like a goddess in a white gauzy summer dress. It wasn’t short or clingy or low-cut, but Cal found it sexy as hell, the way it gently conformed to her breasts and the curve of her hip. Her dainty feet were encased in high-heeled white sandals, and she’d woven her long hair up into a sophisticated twist of some kind.

  “Hi,” she said with a shy smile.

  “Hi, yourself. You look gorgeous.”

  She looked around. “Where’s Nana?”

  “Oh, she said she had to go to bingo.”

  A look of panic overtook Willow’s face. “What? You mean she’s gone?”

  “Yeah. Is something wrong?”

  Willow headed for the kitchen. Cal followed, curious as to why her grandmother’s departure would upset Willow. Was Clea in ill health? Willow opened the back door, stared out, then slowly shut it. She turned toward Cal, looking very upset indeed.

  “You’re right. She’s gone. Bingo? I didn’t know the church had bingo on Sunday nights.”

  “She could have gone somewhere else. The Elks Lodge, maybe. Willow, is something wrong?”

  Willow seemed to pull herself together. “No. I just didn’t realize she was leaving, that’s all. She surprised me.”

  Apparently so.

  “We should probably go,” Cal said. “I don’t want to miss boarding.”

  WILLOW COULD NOT believe her grandmother had run out on her like that. Had she forgotten she had an important mission? How was Willow supposed to go out on a date with a man when she didn’t know his name?

  Well, she supposed if her mystery date were a known ax murderer or recently released from the mental hospital, Nana would have said something. Unless he did away with Nana while W
illow was primping….

  Now she was being paranoid. Willow supposed it was safe to go out with him. But how could Nana have forgotten to tell Willow who he was?

  Was Nana getting senile? Something else to worry about.

  She would try very hard to put her worries out of her head for now, however. She was going out dining and dancing with a handsome—at least, she thought he was handsome—man, and she was going to enjoy it. She decided to assign him a fictitious name, just until she discovered what his real one was.

  Let’s see. Bill? Fred? No, those weren’t right.

  Hank. She would think of him as Hank.

  “Just let me get my purse and I’ll be ready.”

  Hank drove a truck, she soon discovered. An old brown Chevy, sturdy and utilitarian, recently waxed and immaculate inside. He helped her into the high seat, his gaze lingering on her leg when her dress rode up a few inches. She gave him a look that let him know she’d caught him, but at the same time, his frank interest caused something to ignite deep inside her.

  Oh, Lord, it was too early in the evening to deal with those kinds of feelings. She had to keep her wits about her, be alert for any sort of clue to her date’s identity.

  His job. She would ask him about his work. “So, how is your work going these days?”

  “I’m off for a couple of weeks. I don’t know if you heard, but that tornado knocked me around a bit, too. I didn’t have the sense to get out of my truck and find cover when the sirens went off. But, you know, we get so many warnings that never amount to anything, I just wasn’t worried when I should have been.”

  “I know. Mick was sure we could make it home before the storm hit. I hope you weren’t seriously injured.”

  “I got sucked right out of my truck, then pinned under it.”

  “Oh, my God, I’m surprised you’re walking around.” Willow tried to remember whether she’d heard of any other serious injuries. But those first few days after her accident, she’d been so focused on her own recovery she hadn’t thought much about others’ misfortunes. And if she had heard about this man’s injuries, she probably wouldn’t remember, she thought grimly. Her week in the hospital was mostly a blur.

  “I broke some ribs, punctured a lung,” he said, as if that were no big deal. “It could have been bad, ’cause the ambulances couldn’t get through, but Dr. Stack came along. He knew what to do.”

  “That guy gets around. He helped rescue me, too.”

  “Anyway, Jon gave me a couple of weeks off to recuperate. He also loaned me this truck, until I can get mine replaced.”

  John Who? Willow wondered. She decided to go out on a limb. “You mean Jon Hardison?”

  “Yeah. That’s where I’m working now.”

  Willow’s breath caught in her throat. The Hardison Ranch was where Cal worked, last she’d heard. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask “Hank” if he knew Cal, which of course he would, but she stopped herself. She did not want to be one of those tedious women who talk incessantly about old boyfriends they hadn’t quite gotten over.

  Anyway, she’d gotten over Cal. Completely.

  All right, so her mystery man was a ranch hand. Nothing wrong with that.

  “It’s good, honest work,” Hank said, almost as if he’d heard her. “I thought I’d do it just temporary, but I found I like it. Well, not all of it. Castrating calves and putting up fences and hauling hay—that’s just work. But I like hanging out with horses and cows. And I seem to be pretty good at it. In fact, Wade’s got me over at his place half the time, working with the green horses. I got to show some of his campers how I halter-train a colt once. That was a hoot.”

  Wade was Jonathan’s younger brother, a national rodeo champion. He’d started a horse-breeding operation on his portion of the ranch, and he also ran a rodeo camp for city kids, which was gaining a national reputation.

  Willow smiled at the image of “Hank” working with the kids. Oh, she was liking him more and more. What wasn’t to like about a guy who had an affinity for animals and kids?

  Cal was kind to animals, she reflected. She’d always admired him for that. She’d been so proud of him when he’d gotten accepted into vet school. Not that anyone had been surprised. Cal was so smart, a straight-A student without even trying. The surprise had come when he’d dropped out after a year. And while it didn’t bother her at all that “Hank” worked on a ranch, because he was obviously suited to it, it seemed like a huge waste that someone with Cal’s intellect and abilities, and enough family money to pursue any endeavor in the world, chose menial labor.

  Oh, hell, here she was thinking about Cal again.

  “I didn’t mean to go on and on,” Hank said apologetically. “My work might not be glamorous, but it’s worthwhile. I wanted you to know that.”

  “I have no problem with your work,” she said, be-mused. Did he think she was a total snob, that she wouldn’t be seen with someone who didn’t drive a Mercedes and wear a tie every day?

  “I want to talk about you,” he said.

  “Nothing about me is very interesting.” Besides, if they focused on her, she would never find out who he was.

  “I beg to differ.” He gave her a smoldering look that could have set her panties on fire. Oh, come on. What was wrong with her that she reacted so strongly?

  He must not be a stranger, she reasoned. Her subconscious must know this man. That was the only way she could explain her strong sexual response to him.

  They parked in the lot, got their reserved tickets at a booth, then stood in line at the dock to board the gleaming white barge. The sun was still out, and it was warm. She hoped they wouldn’t have to stand in the heat for long.

  Hank immediately sensed her discomfort. “Why don’t we sit at one of those picnic tables in the shade?” he suggested. “We’ve got our tickets. We don’t really have to stand in line.”

  “But I want a good table,” she argued. “I’ve fanta-sized about doing this for years. I want it to be perfect.”

  Hank winked. “I know the maître d’. Our table is reserved.”

  Just then the gangway was opened and everyone started boarding, so they remained in line. Hank and the maître d’, whose nametag identified him as Ken, shook hands and did a little backslapping. Willow listened attentively in case Ken used Hank’s real name, but he didn’t, darn it. They were shown to a lovely table for two, tucked away in a private corner. But they had a good view out their own little porthole.

  “Oh, this is perfect,” Willow said.

  And it was, every nuance of the evening. As the barge got under way, beginning its languorous journey around the glass-smooth lake, Hank ordered some expensive French burgundy. Willow was only sorry she didn’t know enough about wine to fully appreciate it, but it tasted wonderful and she didn’t object when Hank refilled her glass.

  She sipped slowly, savoring the deep, dark flavor. Every bite of her tender prime rib melted in her mouth.

  And of course they danced. Hank was a really good dancer—not flashy, not a show-off. Just smooth. Her heart felt like a balloon inflating in her chest every time the band started up a slow song.

  He pulled the same trick as he had at the wedding reception, dancing her into the shadows. But instead of pulling her more tightly into his arms and kissing her, he guided her out the hatch and onto the deck.

  The deck was almost deserted. They found a secluded portion of railing and leaned against it, watching the shoreline slip by as the flaming sun settled behind a distant hill.

  “It’s so pretty out here,” Willow said on a sigh. “I tend to take the lake for granted. I know it’s here, I cross over the bridge every time I go to my parents’ house. But I don’t think much about it.”

  “It’d be nice to have a little sailboat out here,” Hank said. “With just the sound of the wind and the lapping water, you could really think. Clear all the junk out of your head.”

  “And what sort of junk would a man like you have to clear out?”

 
“Oh, you know. Baggage. Bad habits. Regrets.”

  “Surely you don’t have many of those.”

  “Only one, darlin’.” And then he kissed her, and she didn’t resist at all.

  This really wasn’t like her, she thought yet again as she returned his kiss in full measure, their tongues dancing, her breath rising and falling in tandem with his. His hand brushed against her breast, almost as if by accident. He did it again, turning the incidental contact into a tender caress. Her nipples hardened, thrusting against the silk and lace of her bra, the sensation so intense it was almost painful.

  The assault on her senses was so overwhelming she had to put a stop to the embrace. If she didn’t, she was afraid what might happen. With determination, she pulled away, pushing slightly against his shoulders for good measure.

  The effect was like a bucket of cold water. Hank looked so crestfallen, she wanted to take it back, to return to his embrace and just let him do whatever he wanted.

  “Willow, I’m sorry. Please, don’t be mad. You’re just so beautiful tonight, I can’t hardly control myself.” His words came in an urgent whisper, even huskier than usual. “I’ll be good. I will. The last—the very last thing I want to do is rush you.”

  Good heavens, didn’t he get it? She wanted to be rushed. She wasn’t upset about his behavior, only a bit bewildered by her own. The last thing she needed was an apology. How could a man apologize for making her feel so special, so excited, like a top just before someone pulled the string and sent it spinning out of control?

  “Will the cruise be over soon?” Her own voice sounded a bit hoarse.

  He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Guess that means you are mad.”

  “No. I just—I’d like to be alone. With you, I mean. Alone with you.”

  Chapter Three

  Cal was sure he was dreaming. He’d counted himself lucky that Willow didn’t throw things at him when he approached her at Mick and Tonya’s wedding. He’d thought divine intervention must have been responsible when she let him kiss her the first time, and when she’d agreed to go out with him, he’d thought he must be the luckiest man in the world.