Just Like a Cowboy

by Delores Fossen

  “You could have left town and gone on the rodeo circuit with me, you know,” he said, as if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking.

  No. She couldn’t have done that, and it was time to put an end to this tit-for-tat conversation. They were in a narrow hall, too close and barely dressed. Heck, she was just wearing one of his old T-shirts and a pair of skimpy panties. That was it. If he managed to keep spinning this heated web, clothing removal wouldn’t take nearly long enough for her to think and rethink this.

  “Guess you never got around to buying any PJs,” Wynn commented. “When we were together, you always preferred wearing my t-shirt to bed.”

  She still did. Best not to mention that having something of his next to her body had helped her sleep better. No. She definitely wouldn’t admit that.

  She started to step around him, but Wynn blocked her path. “I was a little surprised yesterday when Roman showed up,” he said.

  Carlene waited for him to say more, but he was apparently finished. This seemed to be yet another of his fishing expeditions, and she thought maybe she knew what he was after.

  “Roman’s a friend,” she explained. “I’ve never slept with him, if that’s what you’re asking. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  She expected to see some kind of spark of relief. Or anger that she’d tacked on that last bit. But he just kept staring at her.

  Oh, mercy.

  What had Roman told Wynn? If Roman had spilled that, then she was going to have a serious word with her friend about keeping secrets.

  “I’d like to get in the shower now,” she insisted. And then she could give Roman a call.

  This time, Wynn got out of her way, but before she could go into the bathroom, there was a knock at the door. “For Pete’s sake,” she grumbled. “Who the heck is that this time of morning?”

  “I’ll check.” With cocoa in his hand and his boxers fitting his butt like a glove, he headed in that direction.

  “You might want to put on some pants.”

  “Anybody inconsiderate enough to come calling at this hour doesn’t deserve pants.”

  She partly agreed with that, though she hoped whoever it was didn’t think Wynn had climbed out of her bed that way. No need to help Joe’s matchmaking by letting the gossips think that she and Wynn were back together.

  Carlene went into the bathroom, took a quick shower and got dressed. She made that quick, too, since she didn’t want to linger with barely any clothes on. Not with Wynn in the house. Plus, she wanted to find out who their visitor was. Once she stepped out of the bathroom, though, she had no trouble figuring that out. Because she could hear his voice.

  Birch.

  Oh, man. Not this.

  She doubted it was a coincidence that Birch had come over so soon after Wynn’s return. That was more than a simple guess, because in all the years she’d known Birch, he’d never visited her here. Once he’d brought her home from a party, but he’d stayed in the car. Having him walk her to the door hadn’t seemed like a good thing to do, since he might have thought it was an invitation to come inside.

  And spend the night.

  Something Birch had never done.

  As usual, Birch was dressed for work in his jeans, boots and cowboy hat. A hat he was now holding in front of him like a shield. There always seemed to be something downtrodden about him, as if he’d just lost something or expected to lose it. Hardly a ray of sunshine and definitely not a people charmer like Wynn.

  Carlene made her way to the living room, and she didn’t have to listen hard to hear the anger in Birch’s voice. And his specific words. Words that weren’t exactly true.

  “I was working things out with Carlene,” Birch insisted.

  “So you’ve said,” Wynn answered, not sounding angry at all. It was more like he was bored. “But I’m not sure she plans to work out things with you—”

  “Sure she does. I don’t want you getting in my way, either. Especially not in my way while wearing just your underwear.”

  That stopped her from going to the front door, and Carlene decided to head into the kitchen where she could listen a moment longer without Birch seeing her. Or Wynn. Judging from Wynn’s tone, he probably wanted her to come in and put an end to this visit, but it wouldn’t hurt to let him suffer a little longer.

  “Carlene was warming up to me,” Birch added.

  Another lie, but she kept listening anyway.

  “Just a couple months ago, we had a really long talk,” Birch went on. “She got drunk at Sophie Granger’s engagement party, so I drove her home. Carlene told me what happened.”

  Crap on a cracker. Carlene had enough fuzzy memories of that night to know that Birch was about to blurt out something she preferred not to be blurted.

  “Birch, why are you here so early?” she asked. Carlene didn’t exactly run to the front door, but she didn’t poke along, either.

  Birch blinked, as if surprised to see her. Or maybe he was just surprised that her eyes were narrowed in the warning stare she was giving him. A warning that she hoped he got, so he would stay quiet.

  “Uh, I stopped by on my way into work. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Birch said. He paused between each word. Apparently, he hadn’t understood her warning, after all, and was trying to figure it out.

  Birch went to her, took her by the shoulders and cast a frown back at Wynn. “Are you getting back together with Wynn?” he whispered. But he didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Because you gotta remember how bad he hurt you last time.”

  Oh, she remembered, all right. And now, thanks to too much booze at Sophie’s party, apparently Birch knew it, as well.

  “Wynn and I aren’t back together,” she assured him.

  Birch shot Wynn another frown. “But he slept here last night, and now he’s wearing just his underwear.”

  “Because it’s early and he hasn’t dressed yet. Don’t read anything into it, Birch. And don’t tattle to anyone in town or at the Granger Ranch about it. People will get the wrong idea.”

  His mouth twisted. “I don’t tattle. Besides, folks will get the wrong idea on their own if he’s walking around the house in just his underwear.” Birch paused. “Wynn said he kissed you yesterday.”

  Now she frowned at Wynn. There was no good reason to tell Birch that. But Wynn probably thought of it as marking his territory, even though she wasn’t his territory to mark.

  Wynn lifted his shoulder. “Well, we did kiss.”

  They had. A little bitty brush of the lips that was still more of a kiss than she’d ever gotten from Birch. Since she couldn’t deny that except by lying, Carlene went with a diversionary tactic. “Are you going to be late for work?” she asked Birch.

  He checked his watch. “I got a minute or two to talk.”

  “Well, I don’t. I’m sorry,” Carlene added, because she’d sounded harsh. With Birch, though, you had to spell things out. “I need some coffee and then I have to check on the calves.”

  “Fine,” Birch sputtered out, “but I’ll be by later to make sure you’re okay.”

  She was shaking her head before he even finished. “No need. I have a full day.”

  There were no signs that what she’d said had sunk in. “Then I’ll be by tonight. Maybe by then Wynn will have found his pants,” Birch added, walking away.

  “One can only hope.” Carlene shut the door and headed for the kitchen.

  “There was a time when you liked me without pants,” Wynn joked.

  There was a time when she liked him without boxers, too, but she kept that to herself. Carlene was more than ready to start a pot of coffee, but Wynn had obviously already made it. She poured herself a cup, had a sip and frowned.

  “It’s chocolate flavored,” she said.

  He came toward her
then, much as he’d done outside the day before. And he had that look in his eye. The naughty one that seemed to ask if she wanted to fool around. Apparently, Wynn had a way of pushing aside unwanted visits, calf chores and unresolved issues. Especially the unresolved stuff, since they had plenty of that.

  Some heat, too.

  She got a reminder of that when he reached around her for a piece of toast and ended up grazing her stomach with his hand. He noticed, too. Probably because she sucked in her breath before she could stop herself. Their gazes connected, and for one body-tingling moment, she thought he was going to try to kiss her again.

  And he did.

  He leaned in and brushed his mouth over hers. Mercy, it packed a wallop, and a wise woman would have just stepped back. Carlene wasn’t feeling so wise right now, though. In addition to the scalding-hot attraction, she was feeling as if she needed to set some boundaries with him. If she didn’t, she would be in a perpetual pattern of stepping back or avoiding him.

  “I don’t know what you think is going to happen between us—” she started. And it was a darn good start, too. Her jaw was tight. She was semiglaring. Both good facial expressions to convey she wasn’t happy about this. But Wynn conveyed some things, too, by interrupting her.

  “Sex,” he said. “That’s not much of a guess, though. Can you name a single time since adulthood, or even near adulthood, when we were together and didn’t have sex?”

  No. But she wasn’t going to let that spoil her chance to make a point here. “I know you think sex is going to happen, and you’re basing that assumption on past behavior, but I do have a fully functioning brain. One that has memories of why sex can’t happen.”

  He seemed to have been expecting the answer, because he made a suit-yourself sound and went back to eating his toast. Some women might have thought that meant Wynn was giving up on the notion, but Carlene knew differently. Wynn was eyeing her and ready to say something she probably didn’t want to hear.

  “All right,” he said. “No sex.”

  She pulled back her shoulders, and now she was the one eyeing him. And she was doing that with plenty of suspicion. She hadn’t really expected him to give up so easily. After all, they did have that history of not being able to keep their clothes on whenever they were around each other. But she had changed in the past three years, and maybe Wynn had, too.

  Carlene didn’t want to think about why that made her a little sad.

  But she thought about it anyway. It had been that throw-caution-to-the-wind spontaneity that had caused her to fall so hard for him. When the spontaneity wasn’t annoying, it was like a breath of air. Not the breath-of-fresh-air kind, either. The kind she needed to feel, well, as if she was alive.

  They kept eyeing each other, and just when Carlene thought she’d won this particular dispute, Wynn spoke. “What did you tell Birch that time when he brought you home when you were drunk?” he asked.

  She nearly got choked on the sip of coffee she’d just taken, and Carlene wished she’d taken that step back from him, after all. A big step, as in one that would have put her in the barn doing those chores she should be doing.

  “I don’t remember,” she said. It was the truth. “I told him drunk stuff, I’m sure.”

  And that was her cue to get moving. No breakfast for her. She threw down some more coffee and grabbed her coat, ready to head outside to start work. Since Wynn wasn’t dressed, that would assure her at least a few minutes to compose herself before he came outside to try to get a real answer to his question. Or to lure her back to his mouth.

  Carlene had already opened the back door when her phone rang, and she saw Joe’s name on the screen. She’d expected him to call today, just not so soon.

  “Is Wynn there?” Joe asked the moment she answered.

  “Yes.” In fact, he was literally right there. Wynn had already walked over to her.

  “Good. Put the call on speaker so you can both hear what I have to say.”

  Suddenly, there was a butterfly swarm in her stomach. In the next few seconds, Joe could crush her hopes and dreams if he’d flip-flopped again on who was getting the ranch.

  Carlene closed the back door, and because she didn’t feel too steady on her feet, she sank down at the kitchen table before she put the call on speaker. Wynn continued to stand, and she didn’t think it was her imagination that he seemed to be trying to brace himself for bad news, as well.

  “First of all, I’m very sorry about all of this,” Joe started. “When Wynn told me he was finally quitting the bull riding and settling down, I got all excited and spoke before I could think this through. I’d forgotten to take into account that Carlene loves the ranch, too.”

  “Are you taking back the place?” Wynn came out and asked him.

  “No. But I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans. I’m signing over the ranch to both of you. Half to Carlene. Half to you.”

  Both Wynn and she groaned. Obviously, this was a compromise, Joe’s attempt to make them both happy, but this wasn’t the way to go about it.

  “Now, I know what you’re thinking, Wynn,” Joe went on. “That Carlene isn’t actual kin and probably shouldn’t be part owner.”

  She flinched. Of course, Carlene had known she wasn’t blood kin, but she hadn’t realized that would be a sore point for Wynn if Joe did, indeed, give her half. Wynn probably thought that, as Joe’s only living relative, he shouldn’t have to share it with anyone.

  “But Carlene worked the place just like it was hers,” Joe added. “I’m hoping you can both call it home.”

  “You’re matchmaking,” Wynn spat out.

  “I was. At first,” Joe readily admitted. “But I’ve been thinking on this all night, and it’s not about getting the two of you back together. I don’t believe that’ll happen. There’s been too much hurt, too much water under the bridge, but that shouldn’t stop you from making the ranch the place it should be.”

  But it could.

  After looking at Wynn, she was almost certain he felt the same. Which meant they had to find a way around this. Maybe she could even scrape together enough money to buy Wynn out.

  “Carlene, I figure you’re already trying to find a way to run the ranch by yourself,” Joe went on a moment later. “Well, don’t. Because when my granddaddy left the place to me, I told him I wouldn’t sell off the land like other folks were doing.”

  “I wouldn’t want to parcel it out,” she assured him.

  “No, but you’re probably trying to come up with a way to get rid of Wynn. Again, don’t do that.”

  Joe had just put her in an impossible place. One with a man she still wanted, but who’d crushed her heart.

  Joe had never been exactly, well, focused. Carlene had seen it time and time again when he’d bought too much of one thing and too little of another. He’d often missed appointments or gotten so involved with reading a book that he’d forgotten about the chores. Simply put, he was a dreamer, but right now, Joe was dreaming the wrong dream.

  “Here are the only two conditions I have,” Joe continued a moment later. “You can’t sell your halves, not even to each other. And you have to live there together.” Joe paused before he delivered the final blow. “If one of you moves off the ranch, then you forfeit your half to the other.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WYNN USUALLY CONSIDERED himself a happy man, but he damn sure didn’t fall into that particular category right now. Nope. He was mad at his uncle Joe for reneging on the deal for him to have the ranch. He was mad at the cold weather, with those blasted iron-gray clouds that were spitting down sleet on him.

  And, yep, he was mad at Carlene, too.

  Unlike him, she didn’t seem to be seething, though, and hadn’t been since Joe delivered his verdict. Her lack of a reaction was probably because, unlike yesterday, she was now half owner
of something she’d thought she’d lost. Still, she was just half.

  No way would the place actually be hers, but she was sure as heck acting as if it was. She’d gotten on with her chores as if nothing had changed.

  Along with ignoring him.

  He guessed that was her plan—just pretend he wasn’t there for the next fifty years or so. Well, Wynn had done that, too. He’d spent a good chunk of the cold-ass day fixing fences. Normally, it was something he liked to do—the solitude, working with his hands—but it hadn’t given him much solace today.

  Plus, there were the aches and pains. Too many of them, considering he was only thirty. Riding bulls had definitely taken a toll on his body, what with two concussions, four broken bones and a dislocated shoulder. The pain wouldn’t interfere with the work he had to do, but each twinge was a reminder that being a bull rider had cost him more than just Carlene.

  Wynn finished up a fence repair and rode his horse back through the pasture so he could check on the herd. There were plenty of hay bales all around. Plenty of water from the creek, too. In other words, the Santa Gertrudises had everything they needed to thrive, even in the winter.

  But Roman had been right. There was enough land for these cows, but not for the bulls Wynn had wanted to bring in. For Wynn to get what he wanted, he’d have to upset a good balance that Carlene had obviously managed to work out with the cattle-to-land ratio. He’d have to screw up her plan. Since he’d already done that once, he wasn’t so inclined to do it again.

  Well, if her plan had truly been to be married to him, that was.

  At the time, it’d sure seemed that way. His plan, too. Now, though, she was much wiser, and she almost certainly didn’t have him on her “dream” list. He might make her crap list, though, if he didn’t talk this out with her and let her know that things could stay as is. He wasn’t sure how he would fit into “as is,” which was another reason for them to have a chat.

  When Wynn rode back to the house, he didn’t have any trouble finding her. She was in the log cabin behind the main house. It was his grandpa’s old place that was now being used as a storage shed. Or, at least, it had been. But, like the boxes in his room, there was stuff out here, too.