Must Love Cowboys

by Cheryl Brooks

  “I’ll take your word for it.” I watched the horse for a few moments anyway. Nick was right, though. He didn’t budge an inch.

  Nick opened the rear door on the passenger side. “What’d you do? Buy out every store in Rock Springs?”

  “It’s not my fault,” I said defensively. “Dean gave me a pretty long list.”

  The only things I’d bought for myself were tampons, condoms, a bottle of personal lubricant, and dog food. I’d considered getting a home pregnancy test and a one-dose treatment for yeast infections, but I figured those things could wait until I actually needed them. Hopefully, I never would. Drawing attention to myself certainly wouldn’t have been an issue. I could’ve bought all that, plus another six boxes of condoms, and the yawning, gum-popping cashier probably wouldn’t have noticed, much less commented.

  I wasn’t that jaded. The cashier couldn’t have cared less about my purchases, but as hot as my face felt, my blush must have been epic.

  By the time Nick and I had lugged everything inside, Mr. Kincaid had gone back to the main house and Angela had Calvin settled in front of the mess hall television with a cup of coffee and the remote. Somehow, I doubted spending Sunday afternoon in a recliner was typical behavior for him. The trick would be to keep him there.

  Nick had just left when Angela came into the kitchen. “Want some help putting all this stuff away?”

  “Absolutely.” I surveyed the mountain of bags on the corner table with dismay. “It’s a little overwhelming.”

  “I know the feeling. Whenever I go to town for supplies, I try to time it so the guys are here to help out when I get back.”

  “Good plan,” I said. “Wish I’d thought of it.”

  “You’ll know better next time.”

  We’d been busy for several minutes when she peered into the mess hall. “Looks like Calvin’s doing okay out there.” She sighed. “Bet he’ll be glad when the men come in for dinner. He’s probably sick to death of me.”

  “I doubt that.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe not, but I’ve been hanging around his bedside for days. He’s bound to be ready for some male company. I was hoping Dad would sit with him for a while longer, but he seemed kinda worn out himself.” She didn’t say it aloud, but no doubt she suspected she would be hanging around her father’s bedside before long.

  “Does Calvin know we read his letters trying to find his family?”

  “No,” she replied. “I couldn’t bring myself to ask if he knew his sister had died, either.”

  “I don’t blame you. Talk about bad timing.”

  “No shit. We did discuss setting up a power of attorney for health care and a living will so we would know what to do if this sort of thing happened again. He seemed agreeable.”

  “That’s good.” I wasn’t surprised. Until that first brush with death, most people didn’t think too much about dying. Fortunately, Mom had seen the need for that sort of planning with Grandpa long before I did.

  “We’ll have to break the news to him at some point. Might be best if we play that by ear.”

  “I guess so. Although I should probably tell him we read his letters before one of the guys lets it slip.” I was already wishing I hadn’t promised to sit down for a chat with Calvin before dinner. Considering those letters had been sent to my grandfather, I was the one who needed to confess. Then again, Grandpa had never said I shouldn’t read them. He’d only asked me to give them to Calvin along with his medals.

  Hmm…

  Then there was that old adage that you might as well tell the truth because people were bound to discover your secrets anyway.

  I finished up in the kitchen and headed into the mess hall where Calvin was watching CNN.

  He glanced up when I came in and muted the sound. “Hey, Tina.”

  I took a seat in the chair across from him. “You look comfy.”

  “I’m a whole lot more comfortable here than I was in that hospital,” he declared. “They were real good to me, but I’m happy to be home.”

  “I know what you mean,” I said. “The guys will be glad to see you. They’ve been pretty worried.”

  His eyes misted slightly. “They’re a good bunch.”

  I certainly couldn’t argue with that. In a very short time, they’d not only grown on me, they had nearly cured my shyness. “Yes, they are.” Resting my hands on my knees, I leaned forward. “While you were in the hospital, Angela asked us to try to locate your family. The guys helped me read through the letters you sent to Grandpa in the hope that we might find some names.”

  He reacted with a disgusted snort. “Like anyone would care. Besides, I’d much rather have Angela or Dusty making decisions for me than someone I haven’t seen or spoken to in years.”

  “Then you need to write that down and make it perfectly clear what your wishes are. Don’t leave any room for guesswork.” I started to quote all the things Mom and I had done with respect to Grandpa’s affairs, but I doubted I would need to.

  He nodded. “I told Angela I would. I’ve already caused her enough worry.”

  One obstacle left to overcome… “We did find out a few things about your family—some I think you should know.”

  “Go on.” His tone was casual—even disinterested—but I caught a glimpse of curiosity in his eyes.

  “Once we figured out your sister’s name, I ran a search to see if we could contact her.”

  He snorted again but didn’t comment.

  “We found several things—the record of her marriage to Franklin Caruthers, newspaper articles about charity work she’d done, stuff like that. In the process, we ran across her husband’s obituary.” I paused, letting that sink in. “And then we found hers. She died this past January.”

  A slight frown was the only visible indication he’d even heard me. “S’pose I could’ve expected that. She was a good bit older than me. Would’ve turned seventy-four this year.”

  “She was your only relative?”

  He nodded. “Far as I know, she was—’cept for that grandson that got taken away from her.” Arching a brow, he added, “But I guess you read about that in my letters.”

  “Yeah. Sorry for invading your privacy, Calvin. But those letters were all we had to go on. Under the circumstances, we felt it was justified.”

  Smiling, he leaned forward and patted my arm. “I’m not fussin’ at you, Tina. I know how much pain it probably caused you to read them.”

  “No kidding, although reading them helped me understand a few things about Grandpa.” I sat up straighter, shaking off the tendrils of melancholy that threatened to bind my lips together. “There’s one other thing I ought to tell you. In Jeannine’s obituary, you weren’t listed as one of her survivors. It made me wonder if the Jeannine Caruthers we found really wasn’t your sister after all.”

  “Married to Franklin Caruthers, the oil baron, or whatever they call themselves these days?” He nodded. “Yeah. That’s Jeannine, all right.”

  “Seems pretty tacky not to even mention you.”

  His indifferent shrug suggested the initial pain, if any, had already worn off. “Maybe whoever wrote the obituary didn’t know she had a brother. To be honest, I’m not too surprised.” A fleeting frown furrowed his brow. “I’d like to take a look at it, though. Just to be sure.”

  “No problem.” I rose from my chair. “I’ll get my computer and be right back.”

  Rushing into my room, I unplugged the laptop with trembling fingers. I shouldn’t have been nervous about any of this—after all, it was nothing to do with me—and yet I was. Returning to the mess hall, I set the computer on the coffee table and clicked the bookmark.

  “Here,” I said, turning the screen toward him. “The only survivors mentioned are from the Caruthers side.”

  He studied it carefully. “Yep. Every last one is a Caruthers. ’Course, wi
thout knowing that grandson’s name and ignoring me for most of her life, there aren’t any others she could’ve listed.”

  “No cousins or anything?”

  “I’m sure there are some, but none we ever knew. As I recall, my mother had a brother who lived somewhere back east with the rest of her family. I never saw any of them, and my dad was an orphan.”

  I reminded myself once again that not all families were alike, and that family ties could sometimes be more irksome than comforting. Some were downright dangerous. Spotting a link to an online guestbook, I clicked on it, without giving a thought to whether Calvin would want to add anything to it or not.

  As soon as the page loaded, my jaw dropped—and not only because of the vast number of entries in the book. At the top of the page in bold red lettering was a request for Calvin Joseph Douglas to please contact the legal firm of Jamison and Markovitch. There was even a hyperlink.

  A glance at Calvin proved he was as astonished as I was. “Interesting,” he said after a few moments’ scrutiny. “Wonder what they want me for?”

  “No telling. What I can’t figure is why this would be on the guestbook when there was no mention of you in the obituary. Do you…” I hesitated, unsure how to put it. “Do you think the reason you weren’t mentioned in the obituary was because no one knew you existed until after her will was read?”

  This time, his jaw dropped. “What? You think she actually left me something?”

  “Kinda seems that way, doesn’t it? After all, you are her nearest living blood relative. And she was a very rich woman.”

  Chapter 18

  “But we haven’t spoken in years,” Calvin protested.

  I shrugged. “Maybe she wanted to reconcile but didn’t know how to contact you. She could’ve stipulated in her will that you needed to be found.”

  “Seems like she could’ve done that before she died, doesn’t it?”

  “Maybe she tried and couldn’t find you—or died before she had the chance. I found you in a White Pages search without any trouble, but I had a recent address to begin with. She wouldn’t even have known which state you were living in.”

  “I’ll grant you that,” he said. “I never told anyone where I was headed when I came here, except your grandpa. Far as I was concerned, he was the only one who needed to know.”

  No wonder they’d kept in touch. “If you were one of Jeannine’s beneficiaries and she’d left a record of your address, the executor of her estate would’ve sent you a letter when she died.” I’d had some recent experience with wills and such, my current whereabouts being the result of another document in which Calvin had been named. “That is, if she named you as a beneficiary. If so, I can’t believe this is all they’ve done to try to find you. I mean, what are the odds you would ever see this?”

  “Not very good,” he agreed. “’Specially since I didn’t even know she died.”

  “There’s one way to get all the answers.” I slid the mouse pointer over the hyperlink. “All we have to do is email her lawyers.”

  I might’ve been dying of curiosity, but Calvin didn’t seem particularly interested. He leaned back in his chair, looking a bit more haggard than he had earlier. “Let me think about it for a while.”

  Given his current state of health, I didn’t want to push it. After copying the law firm’s web address, I closed the computer. “No problem. I bookmarked the page. We can go back to it anytime.”

  God only knew what Jeannine might have left Calvin, although I seriously doubted it would have been her entire fortune. Her husband had children and grandchildren from his previous marriage, which meant she would only have the portion she received after his death. Still, even that could’ve been pretty substantial unless there was a really stringent prenuptial agreement in place.

  I couldn’t wait to hear Wyatt’s take on the matter.

  “Guess I’d better get back to the kitchen.” I picked up my computer and nodded at the television. “See anything interesting on the news?”

  “No,” he replied. “Nothing good, anyway.”

  No news is good news. There was a boatload of truth in that. Happy times and status quo had never been newsworthy. Unfortunately, reporters rarely had to look very hard to find something to talk about, even on a peaceful ranch in Wyoming.

  I paused in the doorway. “Ever make Yorkshire pudding to go with the roast beef?”

  “Might have,” he replied, grinning. “That is, if I knew what it was.”

  “It’ll be a surprise.” Never having made enough for a bunkhouse full of cowboys, I figured I might even surprise myself if it turned out okay.

  I knew the recipe by heart, but mentally doubling the quantities as I headed back to my room was a bit of an eye-opener. At least I knew there were enough pans and sufficient oven space in which to bake such a huge amount.

  I had the second batch in the blender when the door swung open and Wyatt stepped inside. One glimpse of his tall figure—hat, boots, chaps, and all—had my uterus twisting into a tight knot that suddenly burst, flooding my senses with a shot of nirvana that doubled me over.

  A spontaneous orgasm? Was there really such a thing?

  I had no idea, but any man whose mere presence could do that to a woman was a force to be reckoned with. Dean had certainly never had that effect on me. No wonder Wyatt had made me so nervous in the beginning. How on earth had I ever kept from throwing myself into his arms?

  However, instead of being pleased to the point of cockiness, he seemed concerned. “You okay, babe?”

  Not wishing to give him any more power over me than he already had, I gasped out the first word that popped into my head. “Cramps.”

  Under the circumstances, it might have actually been true. But if I’d ever had a cramp like that one, my monthly period would’ve been something to look forward to rather than grudgingly endure.

  A moment later his hands gripped my shoulders, pulling me upright and into his arms. The kiss that followed turned me to mush and would have relaxed any internal spasms my uterus could dish out short of labor pains. I was floating, drifting on a cloud—until I realized my feet truly had left the floor.

  “Been waitin’ all day to do that,” he said as he set me back on my feet.

  His voice sounded rough, almost desperate. Was he really as anxious to see me and make love with me as I was to be with him? It seemed impossible. I’d had enough to keep me busy for most of the day, but during the drive to Rock Springs, he’d been on my mind constantly.

  “Me too.”

  He kissed me again, then leaned forward, touching his forehead to mine. “Cramps, huh? Does that mean I can’t, um, see you tonight?”

  His disappointment was transparent, but thanks to the sexy novels I’d read, I knew all sorts of things a woman could do to a man without actually having intercourse. I aimed what I hoped was a beguiling smile at him and nodded. “Unless you’re out chasing bad guys all night.”

  “Don’t plan to be, but you never know.” He seemed to hesitate, shifting his weight from one booted foot to the other. “If it wasn’t for bad guys, we might not have had any reason to get together.”

  Now it was my turn to hesitate. What did he mean by that? Was he thinking the passion had only sparked between us because of all the mystery and intrigue? Maybe. To be honest, I’d wondered about that myself—what with the whole heat-of-the-moment thing and all.

  I opted to play it cool. For once. “I’m sure we would’ve found an excuse eventually.” I followed that up with a wink. “Can’t fight fate, you know.”

  His posture relaxed slightly. “Is that what you think this is? We’re fulfilling our destiny or something?”

  “Could be,” I replied. “Either way, I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

  There. I’d said it. I was leaving myself wide open to whatever happened between us—and I hoped it wo
uldn’t end anytime soon.

  A glimmer of a smile enhanced his slow nod. “Me neither.”

  He drew in a breath as though about to make an additional comment, but seemed to think better of it, stopping before his mouth formed the first word. With a barely perceptible shake of his head, he leaned closer and kissed me again, momentarily disrupting my train of thought and eliminating anything else I might have said.

  My lips tingled and my heart was still doing flip-flops as he turned and sauntered from the room.

  It didn’t take a mind reader to know there was something he wasn’t telling me—or at least didn’t want to tell me—and he certainly knew the best way to keep me from plaguing him with questions. Those kisses of his were enough to silence a magpie. Still, I couldn’t help wondering whether his secret had some bearing on his decision to give up firefighting to become a cowboy.

  Maybe.

  Probably.

  Oh, bloody hell… I didn’t have the first clue as to what went on in his head. Men might claim their thoughts were simple and straightforward, but I knew better. They could twist events and react to them in even more bizarre ways than women did. Wyatt would tell me what the problem was at some point. Until then, I would simply have to wait. Whatever happened, I had no intention of holding that lack of communication against him. Considering our first meeting, it was a wonder we’d come this far.

  I finished fixing dinner with the scent of Wyatt McCabe filling my head, which might have been responsible for the enormous salad I threw together. I preferred to chalk it up to Calvin’s return, especially since I wound up making a broccoli and cheese casserole in addition to the roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. After all, it wasn’t every day a guy got out of the hospital after nearly dying. He needed at least one option that didn’t contain enough fat and cholesterol to give him another heart attack.

  With a sigh, I realized the days of cooking without regard to anyone’s health were over. From now on it was back to the heart-healthy diet I probably should’ve been serving up from the start. No more pie and cookies for dessert. No more baked potatoes with butter and sour cream. I drew the line at eliminating red meat—not that I could’ve gotten away with that on a cattle ranch—but the other restrictions would take a lot of the fun out of the job. I wondered how many accolades I would receive for serving up sugar-free Jell-O for dessert instead of peach pie.