He glanced over his shoulder to where Anna was fiddling with a latch on a stall across the barn aisle. Gina sat in an empty stall nearby, playing with a doll and singing to herself.
"No. I've never ridden."
"He won't hurt ya," Mikey said, and darn if he wasn't wearing that hopeful look he'd given his mother just this morning.
Kelly wanted to tell him thanks, but no thanks, but the boy had been earnest and funny all morning. And made Kelly feel stirrings he hadn't felt in a long time.
So he found himself stepping forward under Mikey's guidance and rubbing along the horse's smooth nose, just under the tuft of hair falling over its forehead.
The animal made another of those whuffle noises, but this time Kelly didn't step back. Even though he wanted to.
"He likes you." Mikey seemed happy about it, which made one of them.
Kelly glanced back to see Anna still struggling with the latch. She grunted and finally it popped free.
"I could look at that for you," he said.
She shook her head, not really answering.
"I got a great idea!" Mikey exclaimed.
He was almost afraid to ask.
"I could teach you to ride. Every cowboy needs to know how to ride."
He opened his mouth to explain that he wasn't a cowboy, but Mikey had moved further into the barn. "C'mon, the tack room is down here."
"I don't think—" How was a boy going to teach a grown man to ride?
"Mom can help. Won't you, mom?" Mikey turned his charm to his mother again, but when Kelly looked, Anna's gaze was on him.
And she looked to be stifling a smile, her lips pinched together.
His stomach flip-flopped just seeing the mirth in her eyes—even if it was directed at him.
He shook his head in silent beseechment, opening his palms toward her to show he didn't know how to deny her son.
"I'll help." She stood with her hands casually on her hips. Her eyes hadn't left him this whole time. "If you promise to really get on the horse."
Then the horse nudged him in the back with its nose, propelling him forward a step.
It seemed everyone thought he should do it.
* * *
Anna hadn't thought this through.
She'd seen Kelly standing there with a help me look on his face, frazzled, and she'd been so glad to have their roles reversed that she'd spoken up—agreed to Mikey's plan—without really thinking about it.
Hadn't thought about having to dust off Ted's old saddle, because Kelly's bum wouldn't fit on Mikey's child-sized one.
Hadn't thought about standing close, heads bent together as she showed him the reins.
Hadn't thought about their fingers tangling or the zing that traveled up her spine and down every nerve ending.
She clearly hadn't thought about being eye-level with his muscled thighs or adjusting the stirrups for each of his feet. Touching him again, even if this time it was through layers of denim and leather boots. It was too intimate.
She blamed her son and the charm he'd inherited from his father.
While Gina played with her doll in the shadow of the barn, Mikey rattled off instructions on how to tell the horse what you wanted it to do, how to turn it, and even more, so much information than Kelly wouldn't possibly be able to remember.
When she stepped back, Kelly shifted in the saddle. Probably out of nerves, but it sent the horse forward a step, and, unprepared for the movement, Kelly weaved in the saddle.
"Whoa, boy," Mikey said, stepping in and taking hold of the bridle. Samson stilled, though his skin quivered.
She should have had Mikey take him out for a ride first to get some of his pent-up energy out. Although he was gentle, the horse liked to move, and he'd been cooped up in the stall since morning.
Kelly looked a little green.
"You okay, cowboy?" she asked. If he fell, he could be hurt, and what would that mean for finishing her kitchen?
"Fine," he said tightly.
But he wasn't the usual easygoing Kelly.
"You ain't afraid of heights, are you?" Mikey asked, intuitive as ever.
"Only a little," Kelly admitted.
And now she did have to stifle a laugh. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, but the motion didn't hide anything from Kelly, whose eye's flicked to her, then narrowed.
"You'll be fine, cowboy. You're only five feet off the ground."
She patted his leg and turned to go back to the barn. She had intended to take one of the other two mounts out for an afternoon ride before she'd gotten distracted by Mikey's idea.
She took Gina along with her as she circled the big field, keeping one eye on Kelly as he rode in stops and starts, Mikey trailing on the ground.
She couldn't hear him from this distance, but no doubt her son was chattering away.
She left them to it, confident that Samson would behave himself and that Mikey was horseman enough to keep Kelly from falling off.
She wrapped one arm around Gina sitting in front of her and let the mare have its head. Wind whipped through her hair, and Gina laughed with joy as the horse galloped over the property. Anna laughed with her.
They took their time, the movement and freedom a release that Anna definitely needed after having Kelly around the past few days.
But her mind kept circling to his nervousness around the horse, those moments of uncertainty. That he hadn't blustered his way through it, pretending confidence, surprised her. The old Kelly would've.
Ted had been a city boy, too. After college and their wedding, they'd come back to Redbud Trails, were she'd grown up. Her dad had passed the year before Mikey was born and had left them the farm. Because there weren't that many jobs in Redbud Trails, they'd been thinking of looking for work in Oklahoma City, about two hours away.
But when Dad had passed, it had made sense to stay.
Plus, she'd loved it here from her earliest memories.
They didn't have enough land for a huge herd, and the cattle didn't make that much money, but she was able to supplement most years with a large garden that provided fresh vegetables, and she did some marketing freelance work on the side.
They'd done okay, but Ted had chafed under the pressures of running the farm. Not knowing if the weather would hold to provide a good crop through the growing season. Late nights during calving season when they might have to pull a calf.
She loved the lifestyle, loved the outdoors, but Ted had never really acclimated.
She hadn't seriously thought about remarriage since Ted's death two and a half years ago, but if she was thinking about it, she knew she didn't want another city boy for a husband.
It might take all her effort to run this place and take care of the kids, and sure she didn't have time for every job—like the fence that was falling down along the south side of the property—but she loved it.
If she were looking, she'd be looking for someone to partner with here, on the farm.
Good thing she wasn't looking.
* * *
Anna returned to the yard at a slower pace. Gina, having been lulled by the ride, had fallen asleep against her. Her arm had started to ache, holding the little girl steady, but she knew she wouldn't have many more moments like this. Both kids were growing up too fast—Mikey was already outgrowing the nicer jeans she'd bought him to wear to church on Sundays—and soon Gina would be riding on her own.
She was surprised to see Mikey on Pepper, the older gray mare that had been in her stall when Anna had taken off on her ride. He and Kelly ambled along, their mounts dallying across the field.
She could see Mikey's mouth moving, still chattering, though she imagined Kelly would be tired of it by now. She was surprised he hadn't taken off. What about his normal Saturday plans? Surely they hadn't included hanging out with a bright eight-year-old.
She reined in near the pair, noticing that Kelly's nose was a little pink from being in the sun. And his seat was more relaxed now. He looked more natural in
the saddle, his thighs flexing. She averted her eyes, but her thoughts weren't as quick to follow.
She was just in time to hear Mikey expounding on the merits of a sturdy oak at the edge of the woods.
Still talking about his treehouse.
A lump rose to her throat. It was the last conversation he'd had with Ted before her husband had died unexpectedly of a brain aneurism.
She'd thought he'd forgotten about it until recently, when he'd learned Kelly was a builder. And now he seemed fixated on it.
If she had money to burn, she'd hire someone to build him a treehouse.
"I think you're right about that being the one," Kelly agreed. "The trunk is nice and wide and would support a structure like the one you want."
Mikey pushed his cowboy hat back on his head. "Do you think you could help me build it?"
"Mikey," she warned.
He knew better than to ask for something as huge as that.
But Kelly waved off her warning. "I'll build you one."
She gasped, his words like a punch to her solar plexus.
"Promise?" Mikey's jaw had firmed, and his tone spoke of his intensity in the request.
"I promise."
She wheeled her mount and headed back to the barn. She left her horse tied off for a few moments while she took the still-sleeping Gina inside and laid her on the couch. Then she returned to the barn to remove her horse's saddle and brush it down.
When Mikey and Kelly came in minutes later on foot and guiding their horses by the reins, she took the reins and sent Mikey inside to wash up.
She was too worked up to say a kind goodbye to Kelly, but, apparently, it was too much to ask for him to get in his truck and go home, because he came up beside her as she hauled Samson's saddle off.
The heavy weight strained the muscles of her arms as she turned to lug it to the small closet they used to store the tack.
Kelly was in her way.
"I can help," he said.
She brushed past him. "You've helped enough."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he called after her.
She ducked into the tack room and deposited the saddle on its pommel, stopping to take a moment and breathe through the ache in her chest.
She didn't want to say something she'd regret, but when she returned to the barn proper, words spewed out before she could temper them.
"You shouldn't have promised Mikey you'd build a treehouse," she snapped.
He looked so earnestly confused that for a moment, a completely different pain took her heart.
"You don't want me to build him a treehouse," he repeated slowly. "But you're letting me reno your kitchen...?"
His words trailed off in a question.
"If you stick around to finish it."
Her barb struck true. She saw the light dim in his eyes. "You still think I'm going to flake out," he said flatly.
She shrugged and crossed her arms across her middle, looking past him. She still needed to brush both horses and put them away with grain and water, but she couldn't do that with him here.
"I can't make you believe me, but I will finish this job," he said. The warmth had gone out of his voice, replaced by something else she couldn't identify. "And that tree house is important to him."
"I know it is!" Without meaning to, she was almost shouting the words at him, and she was surprised to find her vision blurred by tears.
Of course the treehouse was important to Mikey. It was a link to his dad. But she didn't want Kelly to be the one to give it to him.
* * *
Kelly slammed into his truck, shaking and unable to catch his breath.
He'd followed Anna into the barn, hoping that with the way she'd opened up today—she'd even smiled at him once!—she would be receptive to hearing him out and maybe start working on the forgiveness he craved.
Instead she was angry and tearful about the promise he'd made to Mikey. He didn't understand where her emotions were coming from, but he was smart enough to realize he'd stepped in something.
He should've found a different way to make amends. Should have just sat her down and said what he needed to say.
And not tried to prove anything to her.
That was his big mistake here, wanting her to see, to believe he'd changed. That and letting his heart engage.
He liked Mikey. He hadn't interacted much with Gina, who seemed content to play in her own little world, but Mikey had welcomed him. Made him feel wanted. Kid had even invited Kelly to the church picnic tomorrow.
And if that didn't open up old wounds...
He drove back to the tiny motel in Redbud Trails, mulling it over in his head.
His was still the only vehicle in the parking lot. Probably the only room rented.
He showered away the day's grime and thought about walking down Main Street to the diner, but he wasn't hungry.
He let his hands run down his face.
He wasn't hungry, he was hung up on Anna.
Again.
And she—still—didn't want him around.
5
The little church in Redbud Trails had a potluck dinner about every quarter, and this go around it just happened to be a picnic in the small community park where there was plenty of room for the kids to run and play. The ladies of the church—including Anna—had laid out the food under the pavilion's shade, and folks had spread their picnic blankets and lawn chairs across the grassy field. The rain the weatherman threatened seemed to be hanging back, though gray clouds dotted the sky.
Anna had seen Kelly in the worship service that morning, but he'd stayed to the back and kept his distance.
And it helped that Mikey had been too busy chattering with his best buddy Drew about the grand treehouse he was getting to notice Kelly's presence.
Which is why she was surprised to see Mikey towing him by the hand toward the picnic table she and Lila and Melody had appropriated. Gina had begged off to sit with a friend on a picnic blanket nearby. Melody and Lila went suspiciously silent, even as Kelly pulled back several feet away from the picnic table.
Then Paul appeared, clapping a hand on Kelly's shoulder. "Saw this young man trying to sneak out of the church building and twisted his arm to join in our potluck today."
Judging by Kelly's hesitation, arm-twisting was right.
"C'mon, I'm hungry, aren't you?" Mikey said, and she realized Kelly held a heaping paper plate and had a red plastic cup hanging precariously from his finger and a bottle of water tucked beneath his arm.
"Sure, why don't you sit with us?" Melody offered.
Anna swallowed the denial that rose to her lips.
One side of Kelly's mouth lifted in a rueful smile. "I'll find somewhere else."
"No!" Mikey whined, showing a rare unpleasant side.
"Mikey," she warned.
"Aw, c'mon Mom, please? Mr. Kelly's been so nice, and I want to talk to him about some modifications for my treehouse."
Heads turned, including Lila and Melody's. Probably wondering why she wasn't welcoming the handsome contractor with open arms.
Her face flushed with heat. Just what she needed—her son causing a scene.
"It's fine," she said quickly.
She was shocked when Kelly set his plate and the bottle of water on the table and then squatted down face-to-face with Mikey.
"It's not respectful to whine at your mom if she tells you something you don't want to hear. I think that's a cowboy rule or something."
Mikey shot a look at her. "Sorry, mom," he mumbled.
If her face had been warm before, it was on fire now, watching Kelly having a talk with her son. Like his father might've, if Ted had still been alive.
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him it wasn't his place, but he had been telling her son to respect her. That wasn't a message she wanted mixed in Mikey's mind.
Kelly's eyes cut to hers and then away as he maneuvered his long legs onto the concrete picnic bench and sat.
Mikey pulled a fo
lded piece of notebook paper out of his pants pocket, but before he could spread it on the concrete surface, she interrupted. "Mikey, you need to eat."
Mikey stuffed a fresh strawberry from his plate into his mouth, tapping the paper with his other hand. "Thith va labber."
"Mikey," she admonished.
"Sowwy," her son said, finally chewing and then swallowing.
Kelly's eyes met hers, and they shared a smile. The pit of her stomach flip-flopped, and she focused her attention back on her plate.
She let Mikey carry the conversation for a few moments, but finally Mikey's appetite kicked in, and he attacked the hot dog on his plate. Without Mikey's voice filling the space, the silence seemed to spread.
A tall shadow fell over the table, and Anna looked up to see Ben Taylor, the foreman that ran the Andrews ranch, approach Lila. He was dressed in a cowboy's Sunday best, a button-up shirt over Wranglers with a white dress hat and a shine on his boots. He bent to talk to her.
With Lila on the opposite end of the table and caddy-corner, Anna couldn't make out his words, but Lila's face filled with color and her eyes sparked as she hissed something back to the cowboy.
The cowboy stuffed his hat on his head and strode away, tension in each line of his tall form.
Anna knew her brows were raised as Lila turned back to the table, her color still high. But Lila didn't offer up an explanation, just turned to Kelly with a wide, false smile. "Anna says you're doing a good job on the remodel."
His eyes cut to Anna's and then away. "She does, huh?"
* * *
Kelly didn't think Anna had said any such thing. Not after the way they'd left things yesterday, with him stepping in a minefield he hadn't even been aware of and her in tears.
"Nothing much to see yet," he said. "The interesting parts come later, putting it all together."
Her friends at least wore open and friendly gazes, even if Anna's was conflicted.
"Are you going to do granite for the countertops?" the auburn-haired one—Melody—asked.
"Yep."
Anna's interest was piqued. He could tell by the way her head lifted slightly, even though she didn't look directly at him. "I can't afford that," she said to her plate.
Cowgirl for Keeps Page 4
