Falling For A Cowboy

by Anne Carrole

  She also learned they had some different tastes, like in movies. She liked romantic boy-meets-girl movies, he preferred action flicks with a fair amount of violence.

  He’d spent the first Sunday teaching her how to lasso the grill. The next Sunday, she’d taken him to a craft fair in a nearby town and he’d bought a hand-tooled belt for himself and a beautiful turquoise and mother of pearl necklace for her. Life had gotten very good. So good that hope was now a consuming fire inside her. The realization that she had fallen in love with him was taking shape. She prayed he felt the same.

  Last Monday, her mother had come home and read her the riot act because the house was a mess, she’d yet to find a job though the Fort Davis school district had called to schedule a second interview, and Delia Parker had apparently filled her mother in about the cowboy who’d been staying over. Her mother hadn’t been as upset over that tidbit of gossip as Dusty expected. She’d only insisted she meet him and asked if Dusty was happy. Dusty had answered truthfully—she was.

  Today she’d finished her work at Sweet Water early so she could be in time for his ride and she’d actually watched. No near panic attack ensued, even though he’d gotten bucked off four seconds in. He’d jumped to his feet, waved his hat in her direction, and trotted off. Now she was waiting for him in the picnic area as planned. And looking forward to a reunion tonight, in his room at The Corral, since her mother had returned.

  The new black lace bra and silk panties, courtesy of the Victoria’s Secret catalog, felt deliciously sinful against her skin. As did the weight of the necklace he’d bought her. She felt sexy, womanly, and wholly feminine. Swinging her leg back and forth in time with the Trace Adkins tune blaring from the speakers, she turned her attention toward the opening where the cowboys entered and exited the arena and prepared to wait. A steady stream of people flowed in and out of the tented area. Kids ran and parents walked. Young, old, and in-between, the rodeo drew them all.

  Even with sunglasses on, Dusty had to shade her eyes as she scanned for Clay. Her heart was hammering to beat the band. She bit her lip as several cowboys emerged from the black opening, carrying their saddles. None was Clay. Then the form of a tall, lean cowboy materialized, a saddle over his shoulder. Alongside was another, slightly shorter cowboy. Clay and Jesse.

  Clay had said Jesse was mending nicely but surely he wouldn’t be riding bulls in his condition. He couldn’t want boots that badly.

  She stood and waved. Clay gave a nod and headed toward her, his stride visibly lengthening. She wanted to run into his arms, but with the crowd closing in, she was afraid to give up their table. No doubt Clay was hungry—he always seemed to be—and he’d want to catch a bite.

  “Hey, honey,” he said as he dropped the saddle to the ground with a thud and removed the shades from his eyes. He tucked the sunglasses into his shirt pocket before he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. Leather and horse and fresh air greeted her as she buried her nose in the soft fabric of his white shirt. She felt like she’d come home. He kissed her hair.

  “Well, well, well.” Jesse stood beside Clay. With those sunglasses on it was hard to tell if Jesse was glad to see her. “Is this how it is now?”

  Clay grimaced as he gazed at her. “He’s not too happy. I told him we were dating. I don’t think he believed me.”

  Dusty turned a smile on Jesse. Jesse had never really had a chance, but she couldn’t tell him that. It was flattering though to know they’d both been interested. Wonders never did cease. Jesse met her smile with a frown.

  “He took advantage of my being out of commission.” Jesse scowled. “Some friend you are, Clay.”

  Clay stepped back, keeping one arm around Dusty’s shoulders and motioned toward the table. “All’s fair,” he said, but the smile he’d plastered on his face didn’t quite meet his eyes, as if there was tension between the two friends.

  Jesse climbed over the bench and sat down on one side of the table, leaving Dusty and Clay on the sunny side. Dusty cuddled close to Clay’s hard body. He gave her a chaste kiss on the head. Jesse’s pique must be an act, Dusty thought. They’d only had one dance together.

  Jesse removed his hat to the table and finger combed his blonde hair. “So am I to assume we’ve got separate rooms at The Corral tonight? Or am I just supposed to high-tail it to the Beehive and stay put all night? Alone.” He stared hard at Clay.

  Clay’s Adam’s apple moved with a hard swallow. “I’ve paid for separate rooms.”

  Jesse nodded with a tight-lipped smile. “Oh you paid, did you? Anticipating my hundred dollars, are you?”

  “No. That was just funnin’, Jesse, and you know it.” Clay’s voice had gone gruff. Something was going on between them. Something to do with her. Dusty shifted from Clay’s arm.

  “What hundred dollars?” she asked.

  “This hundred.” Jesse pulled a bill from his pocket and slapped it onto the rough-hewn table. A hundred dollar bill. “I was going to put this toward those boots Shirley May is making me, but here.”

  Clay’s face had turned red—and angry. He glowered at his friend. “Put that money away, Jesse. You don’t owe me anything and you know it.”

  “Sure I do. A bet is a bet. I lost, but I’m not sure it was fair and square.”

  Heat climbed Dusty’s back like lava from an erupting volcano. “A bet? What bet?”

  Jesse leaned forward, his arms folded on the table. “He did say it was just a good time right? No commitments or anything?”

  “Dusty, don’t believe anything he says. He’s just goofing on you.” Clay’s voice was hard as steel. Something was very wrong here.

  “Don’t suppose I can blame him for not ‘fessing up. Clay wouldn’t want to ruin a good thing—and I’m sure you’re all that.” Jesse gave her a look up and down.

  “Jesse, I’m warning you,” Clay bellowed.

  “No. I want to hear what he has to say. What bet?” Dusty’s stomach suddenly felt like it had been hollowed out, along with her heart.

  That tight-lipped smile clung to Jesse’s face. “We bet a hundred dollars as to which one of us you’d choose to have a good time with. I tend to fall in love pretty easily and Clay never does, so he made it a condition we couldn’t propose to you or suggest it was anything more than a good time.” Jesse’s gaze bore into her like a dentist drilling a cavity. Only no Novocain was going to blunt the pain. “He didn’t say it was more than a good time, did he?”

  Her heart seized up, her palms went sweaty, and the pounding in her head told her to flee.

  “Jesse, you asshole. Dusty, Dusty, look at me.”

  Clay’s voice sounded like he was in a tunnel somewhere. She felt the pressure of his fingers circling her wrist. She wrenched free and stood. She had to get out of there. Fast.

  “Dusty, it’s not like that and you damn well know it.”

  “You can’t say I’m lying, Clay. Hey if it was just a good time what is everyone so upset about?”

  She barely heard Jesse’s words as she stumbled away from the table. The sounds of spurs jangling and boots hitting dirt came from behind her.

  “Dusty,” Clay grasped her wrist; this time his grip was tighter.

  “Let me be.” Dusty heard the shrill in her voice. Several faces turned in her direction. She didn’t care. Tears welled in her eyes. “Don’t ever touch me again, Clay Tanner. Don’t come near me again. Ever.”

  Her legs were moving, fast. Across the hard-packed earth, toward her truck. Toward home. Alone.

  * * *

  “I should kick your ass all the way back to the ranch,” Clay hollered. Feeling his blood pressure rising, he stood by the old pick-up parked in the lot, clenching his fists to keep from using them, and glared at Jesse’s expressionless face. He wanted to knock those sunglasses right off of him. Instead he tossed his saddle into the truck bed.

  “Don’t take your anger out on me, cowboy. You should have told me.”

  On that score and only that score, Jesse was right. C
lay had mentioned he’d been courting Dusty and Jesse had been none too happy. In fact, Jesse had insisted on coming today even though he was still in no condition to ride. Clay hadn’t gone into the particulars of just what courting meant, but Jesse had to guess.

  “You should have known.” Clay held himself rigid to contain the fury that threatened to shake his body. He fought for control because he was about ready to haul off and punch his best friend. The only explanation for Jesse’s coming was that he wanted Dusty to know about the bet. But why?

  “No, you should have told me not to say anything. You should have told me that you lied to her to get her in bed.” Now Jesse sounded angry and that was just plain ridiculous.

  Clay threw up his hands in frustration and leaned back against the door of the cab. Several people had already given them interested stares. They were putting on a show for everyone. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down as he folded his arms across his chest. “How do you know I lied? You don’t know what I said. You don’t know how I feel.” And that was the truth because Clay didn’t know himself.

  Jesse’s eyes narrowed. “I know you and Dusty doesn’t deserve your brand of romance, Clay. One look at her today and it was obvious. She’s in love with you. She may not be feeling too good right now, but it’s better than she’d feel in a few weeks when she was hearing wedding bells, if she isn’t already.”

  She was in love with him? Wedding bells? Moisture pooled under his arms.

  “Hell, I did you a favor. And Dusty, too.” Jesse slapped at his denim-clad thigh as if he was trying to rid it of some imaginary dirt. “You’ve got no business toying with that girl. I told you before she’s made for marrying not dallying. Girls like that don’t understand your kind of fun. They get hurt. Badly hurt. The scarred-for-life kind of hurt and then guys like me—decent guys who want to get married and settle down—don’t have a chance because they won’t trust anyone.”

  What the hell was Jesse saying? The scary thing was he was making some kind of sense. But how come Jesse was the good guy and Clay was coming out as the bad guy?

  “She thinks she was part of bet, God damn it.” How could that be good for anyone? “I’d forgotten all about the damn bet. You know I didn’t go after her for your hundred dollars.”

  Jesse shoved his hands in his pockets. “Hell, every time you see a pretty girl, you make a bet with yourself. It’s a challenge with you. You may not be playing for the hundred dollars but you sure as hell were playing.”

  Is that what he’d been doing? Betting with himself? Was that what it had been with Dusty? A challenge? She had been challenging, for sure. He’d never met a woman more reluctant to go to bed with him. That had hurt his ego. No doubt about it. But loving her had been one of the most beautiful things he’d ever experienced. He’d felt honored, like it had been a great gift, not a mark on his belt. She’d called up feelings he didn’t know he had. Protective feelings, tender feelings, sensitive feelings. Feelings.

  He hadn’t been able to think about anyone or anything but her. That curvy redhead had called several times and he’d absolutely no desire for her size D fundamentals. His mind had been occupied by a size A with a sweet smile and a sassy line. A little spitfire that lit him up every time.

  “What if I wasn’t?” Clay ground out. “What the hell if I wasn’t? What if I actually love her, Jesse?”

  Jesse’s face paled. “You serious?”

  Clay closed his eyes. All he saw was Dusty. With tears streaming down her face. How the hell was he going to right this one?

  Chapter Eleven

  Whitey jumped from the bed and started to bark.

  “It’s me, Dusty, open the door.” Tara Lynn’s voice carried through the sealed off room. “Your mom’s worried about you. Let me in. Please.”

  Dusty barely stirred from under the covers of her bed. It felt like a 200 pound anvil was sitting on her chest, the pain was just as intense. “Go away.” The words came out in a strangled gasp.

  “No. I’m not going away. So open the darn door.”

  Dusty pulled her body upright in a slow jerky movement. She swung her legs over the side, flung back the covers, and stood. The cool air of the air-conditioning chilled her skin. Passing the mirror, she caught sight of the lace bra and panties she was wearing and the necklace around her neck. Tears burned her eyes. How could she have been so stupid? How could he have been so calculating?

  “Dusty, open this door. Your mama is worried.”

  With robotic movement, Dusty made it to the door, threw the latch, and cracked it open. “I’m alive. Now go away.”

  The door slammed into Dusty. With a yelp, she staggered back and Tara Lynn stepped into the room. Whitey did a jig around her feet. Hands on hips, pursed lips, Tara Lynn looked as angry as Dusty felt. No it wasn’t anger Dusty felt. It was more defeat, closer to self-loathing. How come she hadn’t listened to her brain? Why had she let a smooth-talking cowboy get past her defenses? Why had she been so needy?

  Dusty shoved the door closed and padded back to her bed. Her bed, where Clay had made love to her too many times to count. No. Correction. He’d had sex. Filled an elemental need. Had a good time.

  Tears clogged her eyes. She climbed in, the soft bedding still warm from her body, and pulled the covers over her head. Whitey followed and snuggled close.

  “Oh Dusty.” Tara Lynn’s voice had softened. “Look at you. You’re a mess.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  The bed shifted as Tara Lynn sat down. “Okay. Clay Tanner loves you.”

  Cruel. She was deliberately being cruel. “Tell me something true that I don’t know.”

  “He’s all torn up. He’s been trying to call you. Did you know that he came here? Your mother wouldn’t let him in.”

  No, she didn’t know. She’d been in bed with the pillow over her ears wondering how long she could stay in her room without having to use the bathroom. But what did it matter? Nothing he could say would change the facts. He’d bet on bedding her. Had lied to her about his intentions. Had never cared for her beyond a good time.

  Tara Lynn shook Dusty’s legs. “Did you hear me?”

  “Yes. Now go away, Tara Lynn. I just want to be left alone.”

  “I believe him. I think he does love you.”

  She did not want to have this conversation. “I don’t love him so what does it matter.”

  Tara Lynn let out a deep sigh. “Yes, you do or you wouldn’t be so broken up. Look, he was just doing what guys do—before he fell in love with you.”

  Dusty shot up in bed so fast the room swam in front of her. She held her head until Tara Lynn’s face came into focus. “Doing what guys do? Making a bet with another guy as to who could get in my pants first?”

  “Shush. Your mother will hear.” Tara Lynn had the nerve to giggle. Giggle!

  “What kind of man is he? He knew I wasn’t interested in a one-night stand. He knew I… He took advantage of me. Plain and simple.”

  “Does he look like a guy who needs a hundred dollars from his best friend?”

  Dusty folded her arms over her chest and felt her temper flare hot. “Yes. He said he needed money. Riding horses and betting on women are obviously his way to get it.” She couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. They ran down her face like a gusher had just come in.

  “Won’t you even listen to him? He’s planning to leave for home. I asked him to give me an hour to see if I couldn’t talk some sense into you.”

  Her best friend was working for the enemy. “Absolutely not. There is nothing he can say.” She struggled to contain the sobs that were choking her throat.

  “Ah, how about I’m sorry, forgive me, I love you. I think he has a lot to say to you.”

  Dusty swiped the back of her hand at the wetness covering her cheek. “Look, why would I want some guy who even considered betting on such a thing—even if he did care for me—which he doesn’t. What kind of egomaniac is he? What decent guy would bet on such a thin
g? What kind of guy would lure a woman into believing there was more just to win a bet? That will teach me. Because no gorgeous hunk of a guy would want scrawny little me. Only if he could win a hundred dollars.” Her body shook as the emotions she’d held inside released like a dam breaking. “Oh Tara Lynn, I’ve been a fool.” The sobs broke free as she felt the stab in her heart.

  Tara Lynn shifted closer and Dusty felt her friend’s arms around her. Never again.

  * * *

  “This better work,” Clay said to Jesse as he climbed into the announcer’s booth. It was Saturday at the Lone Star Arena and he and Jesse had come back, not to ride, but to see if he could make one last bid for Dusty’s forgiveness.

  He’d screwed up. Big time. Seven bouquets of flowers delivered, over 25 phone calls unanswered, and more than double that amount of text messages sent over the last week. If it wasn’t for Tara Lynn keeping him informed, he’d have gone plumb crazy. He finally understood the whole “absence makes the heart grow fonder” thing. He’d didn’t need any more time away from her to know she was the one for him. When he fell, he apparently fell hard, and this time right on his head. She just had to forgive him.

  Tara Lynn had said Dusty didn’t believe him and no longer trusted him. Okay. He deserved all that, if he looked at it from Dusty’s point of view. But he had to get her to see things differently. She thought he’d used her to win a bet. She didn’t think he was serious. He was out to prove just how serious he really was.

  Jesse waited outside in the hallway, hands in his pockets. It had been Jesse’s idea. His friend had come to Langley during the middle of the week to set this up and had made sure Dusty was working today.

  “She looks like she hasn’t slept in a while, but she’s here,” he had reported just a few minutes earlier.

  Clay’s heart had clutched at the reminder of how much he’d hurt her. He made a silent oath to never hurt her again. He do everything he could to protect her. He didn’t want to be that player anymore. He wanted to be one thing. Her husband—with the right to hold her at night, the privilege of having children with her, and the joy of making her happy. That’s what he wanted. Now it all depended on what she wanted.