Sweet-Talking Cowboy

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Stephanie Bond

  He made a low huh-huh-huh sound and went back to his hay.

  “I’ll take that for a yes. See you later.” Turning, she smiled at Henri. “I do think he remembers me.”

  “Of course he does. All those hours you were down here, grooming him, feeding him carrots, sketching him—that sinks in.” Henri moved away from the stall door so Lucy could come out. “Did you keep any of those drawings?”

  “I did, but they’re in storage.” She stepped into the aisle and latched the door.

  “Well, now you can make new ones.” Henri headed for the tack room.

  “Which is better, because I’ll have something handy to look at when I go home. Way easier than digging boxes out of the storage unit.”

  “I’m glad you asked about Lucky. I don’t think I realized how much you bonded with him.” Henri grabbed two scoops from a shelf in the tack room and stuck one in each grain bucket.

  “I’m not sure I realized it, either, until just now. I haven’t touched a horse, let alone ridden one, in six years. That’s ridiculous, to abandon my love of horses when being with them makes me so happy.”

  “Then you’re about to get super happy, because we’re going to see a couple of mamas who had September babies, one filly and one colt. They’re not foals anymore, but five months is still cute as hell.” She picked up one of the grain buckets.

  “Awesome! For sure I’ll come back with my sketchpad later today. Will they be turned out, do you think? I’ve never tried sketching in sub-zero weather.” She grabbed the handle of the other bucket.

  “Depends on whether this bitter wind keeps up.” Henri started down the aisle. “But even if they go out for a little while, they’ll be in their stalls by sundown.”

  “Then I might show up then, instead. Who’s your favorite of the two?”

  “Oh, I shouldn’t have favorites. They’re both special, but…”

  “Let me guess. Your favorite’s a buckskin.”

  “You know me too well. His name’s Aristotle.”

  “Like the Greek philosopher?”

  “Yes, because he’s the smartest colt I’ve ever known. And full of the devil, too. Any day now I expect him to learn to open a gate by himself.” She stopped in front of the second stall on the right-hand side of the barn. “Isn’t that right, Aristotle?”

  A leggy buckskin colt with a white blaze stuck his nose over the stall door and snorted, which made Henri laugh.

  Lucy did, too. What a cutie. “He’s adorable, Henri.”

  “And he knows it. Works that cuteness for all it’s worth.” She unlatched the door and started in.

  Lucy studied the mare in the stall with Aristotle. “His mama looks familiar. Is that Guinevere?”

  “Sure is. She’s been a wonderful brood mare for us. Leave your bucket out there and come on in with me. These two are used to visitors.”

  “That’s good, because I’ll be visiting them again this evening.” And making sketches of Guinevere and Aristotle for Henri. The prospect excited her more than any creative project she’d tackled in a long time.

  Chapter Eleven

  Matt was rattled. Lucy’s presence in the barn distracted him so much he’d lost track of what he was doing. He’d skipped Thunderbolt entirely.

  “Sorry, buddy.”

  The stallion eyed him accusingly as Matt finally carried in a hay flake and slid it into the slow feeder.

  He patted his horse on the rump. “Won’t happen again.” Shouldn’t have happened in the first place. But he couldn’t block her out. Her voice, her laughter and her brief appearances as she followed Henri from stall to stall brought an instant replay of their kiss.

  What could he possibly say to her when they had this come-to-Jesus talk that loomed ominously on the horizon? By kissing her back, he’d destroyed any pretense that he wasn’t attracted to her. Now that she knew the truth, how in the hell could he—

  “Matt.”

  He glanced at the open stall door.

  Leo stood, hands on his hips, his expression concerned.

  Matt repositioned his hat. “Is something wrong?”

  “You tell me. I asked you twice if you’d checked the weather and you just stared off into space like you were in a trance. I’ve never known you to do that before.”

  “Yeah, well…” He scrambled to deflect Leo’s concern. “I guess this thing with Lucy bothers me more than I thought.”

  “Makes sense. She was like the little sister you never had, right?”

  “Right.” He managed not to choke on the word.

  “Must be frustrating. You probably want to pound on the guy.”

  “I wouldn’t mind.” Or pound his own head on the wall. That would work, too.

  “She seems to be in good spirits, all things considered.”

  “She does, and I’m grateful for that.” He took a breath and pulled out his phone. “So you wanted to know what the weather’s doing?”

  “I can still hear the wind. If it’s gonna keep up, I vote we leave ’em in a while, at least until it warms up a bit.”

  “I’d go along with that. Let’s see what the weather gurus have to say.” He checked his app. “Supposed to slow down mid-morning.”

  “So we could go grab some chow, come back later and turn ’em out. Maybe around ten-thirty or eleven. Means mucking out the stalls later, too, but that’s okay with me.”

  “I, um, have something to do in town at eleven.”

  “No problem. You can switch with Nick or CJ. At least one of them is bound to grab the chance for an evening off.”

  “Sure. I’ll ask.”

  “Might as well head back, then. Jake’s probably got coffee on and bacon frying.”

  “You go ahead. I need to check with Lucy about something.”

  “I can wait.”

  “That’s okay. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

  Leo gazed at him. “You’re worried about her, aren’t you?”

  “Guess so.”

  “I understand, but she’s not nineteen anymore, like you said. From what I’ve seen this morning, you’re right about her being stronger. She’s handling this crisis pretty damn well.”

  Matt nodded. “She is. That’s… part of what I want to say to her.”

  “In other words, you’re hoping for a private conversation.”

  “More or less.” Mostly less, but weaseling out of it wasn’t the manly option.

  “That’s cool. I’ll see you at the breakfast table in a little bit, then. I’ll check with Nick and CJ, too, if you want.”

  “Thanks, Leo.”

  Leo smiled. “You’d do the same for me.”

  “Anytime.”

  “I’m outta here.” Leo left Thunderbolt’s stall and stopped briefly to speak with Lucy and Henri.

  “The wind’s coming from that direction,” Henri said. “I’ll follow you down and latch the door behind you.”

  When Leo went outside, the howling wind swept down the aisle, stirring up dust.

  Henri slammed the door after him and the latch clicked into place. “One hell of a wind, guys!” she called out.

  “Thanks for the warning!” Matt returned to the empty wheelbarrow he’d left in the aisle. Eerie how the wind reflected his current mood. After securing Thunderbolt’s stall door, he rolled the wheelbarrow to the back wall and propped it up next to the one Leo had used.

  He was out of things to do, but Henri and Lucy were still in one of the stalls making over Jasmine, a sweet little bay filly who was Aristotle’s playmate. Might as well go tell them he was done. Jumping from the frying pan into the fire, he walked toward them as they came out of the stall. “Hay’s delivered.”

  “We just finished, too,” Henri said with a smile. “Leo said you guys decided to hold off on turnout until the wind lets up.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “It’s a good one. Lucy had counted on walking back to her cabin when we finished, but I’ve told her that’s a lousy idea.”

  “It
is a lousy idea.” He relaxed. Lucy must have figured on asking him to walk with her so they could have their discussion, but plowing through forty-mile-per-hour gusts would make conversation difficult.

  “I tried convincing Leo to wait until we were finished so I could give all three of you a ride to your respective abodes, but he was craving coffee.”

  “The guy loves his joe.” Especially after pulling an all-nighter.

  “So I’ll make the same offer to you. Let me drive you to the bunkhouse and then I’ll take Lucy back to her cabin.”

  He glanced at Lucy. “That wind’s nasty. I accept.”

  “Yep, me, too. But first I’d like to see that stallion of yours.”

  “Oh, you should,” Henri said. “He’s a beauty. He’s bound to throw some handsome foals.”

  “Fingers crossed you’re right.” Matt led them down to Thunderbolt’s stall. “Hey, Thunder, you have visitors, big guy.”

  “Whoa, he is big.” Lucy peered into the stall. “How tall is he?”

  “Almost seventeen hands.”

  “And powerful, too. I’ll bet he can run.”

  “Like the wind.”

  “Looks like he’s finished his breakfast. Would you be willing to bring him out into the aisle?”

  “Sure.” Matt grabbed a halter and lead rope hanging next to the stall door and took them inside.

  The stallion’s ears flicked forward as he came closer and nuzzled the pocket where Matt often kept treats.

  “No snacks buddy.” He stroked Thunder’s coal-black muzzle and slipped on the halter. “I’m just gonna walk you around a bit, show you off. I know you like that.” Clicking softly with his tongue, he led the horse out of the stall.

  Lucy’s little gasp of admiration did his heart good. He glanced her way. “Like him?”

  “I love him. He moves like he’s royalty.”

  Henri chuckled. “When he arrived he thought we were his subjects and he could do as he pleased. Matt’s taught him that’s not the case.”

  “He’s coming along.” Matt stroked the horse’s glossy neck. “Getting restless in your stall, though, aren’t you, buddy?”

  The stallion gazed longingly down the aisle toward the closed barn doors.

  “Soon, big guy. Gotta put you back for now, though.” He led him into his stall.

  “Thanks for taking him out,” Lucy said. “He’s impressive. I didn’t see a bit of white on him anywhere.”

  “No, ma’am.” Matt took off Thunder’s halter before stepping out of the stall and latching it. “Pure black, unless he’s standing in the sun. Then you can pick up all the shades that go into what appears to be all one color.” Coiling the lead rope, he hung up the halter and rope.

  “Well, he’s gorgeous.” She glanced at Henri. “Guess we’d better get a move on.”

  “Yep. As Charley used to say, we’re burnin’ daylight.”

  Matt followed Henri and Lucy to the tack room and then to Henri’s truck. Since he wouldn’t have a chance to talk with Lucy this morning, he could count on having that discussion while he drove them to Tres Beau. That suited him better.

  He’d have an excuse not to look at her while they handled this loaded topic. Good thing, because every time he looked at her, he was in danger of kissing her again. With his eyes on the road and his hands on the wheel, he’d be safe from at least one of the hazards Lucy posed.

  At ten-forty-five, he pulled up in front of her cabin. She must have been listening for him because she came out before he shut off the motor. She hopped in his truck so fast he didn’t have time to get out and help her in.

  “I kept wondering if you’d chicken out.”

  “Can’t. I told you I would, so I will.”

  “I admire that ethic, but you look as if you’re dreading this.”

  “That’s because I am.”

  “The salon appointment or the discussion about our relationship status?”

  “Both. But the relationship discussion is the worst. I made a terrible mistake last night, Lucy. Kissing you like that was irresponsible and I—”

  “Irresponsible? How do you figure that?”

  “Finding your intended with another woman had to be a terrible shock. You’re in a vulnerable spot, and I’m fully aware that years ago you had feelings for me.”

  “Back up the guilt bus, cowboy. I kissed you. I started it.”

  “Why did you?”

  “I was feeling happy.”

  “What if Jake had been standing there? Would you have kissed him?”

  “No! Jake is like a big brother to me. So are the other guys.”

  “But I’m not.”

  “You never have been. But one little kiss doesn’t mean I’m ready to throw myself at your feet.”

  “On the other hand, six years ago, you—”

  “That was six years ago. And that’s enough about me. Here’s the big question. Why did you kiss me back?”

  He turned down the heater because he was sweating. “You took me by surprise.”

  “So if some woman unexpectedly kisses you, that’s your natural response? You pull her in tight and become fully involved?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Will you admit that in that moment, you wanted me?”

  He gripped the wheel. “Yes.”

  “What about six years ago? Did you want me, then?”

  There it was, the question. He took a shaky breath. “Yes, but—”

  “Oh, Matt.”

  He winced. She’d been angry six years ago, and that had been hard to take. Deep disappointment was worse. “Look, you were nineteen, had a full ride, a bright future. I had nothing to offer.”

  “Except the knowledge my feelings were reciprocated. That would have meant the world to me.”

  “And then what? The outcome would have been the same.”

  She went silent.

  Maybe he’d made his point. Or maybe she was too upset to talk. “Lucy? Got anything to say?”

  “Yes. We’re parked in front of Tres Beau. If we don’t go in now, we’ll be late for our appointments.”

  Yikes. He’d driven on autopilot and diagonally parked in front of the salon, but he had no knowledge of doing it. Scary. “Then we’d better go in.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Lucy had her answer. Matt had hidden his feelings to stop her from making what he’d considered a big mistake. She couldn’t argue with his logic. They’d been headed in completely different directions. Still were.

  But what was she supposed to do with this pesky attraction that refused to die, especially now that he’d confessed to being plagued with the same issue? Was he planning to ignore it for the next week? Next chance she had, she’d ask him.

  He handed her out of the truck and whisked her inside the salon in record time. No doubt his speed had something to do with not wanting to be caught dead going into Tres Beau.

  Miss Josette, or rather, Josette, was about Henri’s age. Unlike Henri, she refused to go gray. Last time Lucy had seen her, she’d had shoulder-length blond hair. Today it was burgundy, cut in a chic, choppy style.

  She grasped Lucy’s hand in both of hers. “It’s so good to see you again. And Matt, I’m honored that you’ve decided to join us.” Her brown eyes glinted with mischief.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” He took off his hat. “I only need a basic cut. Nothing fancy.”

  “Understood. Let me take your jackets.” She hung both coats and Matt’s Stetson on a coat tree by the door. “Lucy, you’ll be in the far chair with Eva. She’ll be in any minute if you’d like to have a seat.”

  “Thanks.” Lucy walked over and settled into the chair. How convenient. The mirror that ran along the wall in front of her afforded a perfect view.

  “Matt, you will be here.” Josette patted the chair closest to her.

  He eyed the chair as if it might explode any minute. After glancing out the front window, he eased into it.

  As Josette settled a cape over his shoulders and fasten
ed the snap, she pressed her lips together as if working to keep her amusement in check. “A basic cut. Nothing fancy. I can do that.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “Nice texture.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Clearly you take good care of it.” She threaded her fingers up the back of his head to the crown.

  “Just wash it, is all.”

  Lucy was riveted by the contrast. She’d coaxed him into an extremely feminine setting with pink cupids and hearts plastered over the front window and various colorful styling aids arranged on the counter. In this setting, his masculinity stood out in breathtaking detail.

  “Hi, Lucy. I’m Eva.”

  She tore her attention from the tableau of Matt being fussed over by Josette and shifted her gaze to Eva, a smiling, thirtyish woman who had bright blue hair. “Nice to meet you. I’m so glad you had openings today. I really need a haircut.”

  “I know that feeling.” She shook out a cape and snapped it around Lucy’s neck. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’m not sure. Something different.”

  “Would you like to add color? I have extra time if you want to consider that.”

  Color. There was an idea. “How about red highlights?”

  Eva fluffed Lucy’s hair. “I like it. You could pull off red, no problem.”

  “Then go for it. I want to look more interesting than I did when I walked in.”

  Eva laughed. “Don’t we all? I have a cherry cola shade that would be amazing with your blue eyes. Want me to bring out the color chart so you can see what it looks like?”

  “You don’t need to. I’ll go with your judgment.”

  “Then I’ll mix it up. Be back in a jiffy.”

  Red highlights would be fun, just the kind of lift she needed, but it would add time to her appointment. Did they have cabs in Apple Grove? She’d never seen one. Maybe a ride-sharing service was available. She looked over at Matt.

  Josette had swiveled his chair and his head rested on the lip of the sink. As Josette massaged shampoo into his hair, his eyes drifted closed. Letting out a slow breath, he unclenched his fingers from the upholstered arm of the chair.

  She smiled. Evidently he’d had no idea that having someone wash his hair could be a pleasant experience. If nothing else, she’d introduced him to that. Instead of disturbing him, she’d ask about transportation options when he was upright.