How the Cowboy Was Won

by Lori Wilde

  “Is that another joke?”

  “Uh-huh.” Wow this was awkward. What now?

  Fiona managed a halfhearted laugh. “I’ll take a cup of tea.”

  “Sure you don’t want a shot of bourbon with it?” For God’s sake, shut up, Ember.

  “Ha-ha.” Fiona forced a chortle. “Good one.”

  Ember was beginning to wish she did have bourbon in the house. “Be right back.”

  She returned with a teakettle of hot water, an extra cup, and tea bags. She gave the cup and a tea bag to Fiona, topped off both of their cups with hot water, and settled the kettle on a coaster in the middle of the coffee table.

  “Thank you.” Fiona took a polite sip.

  Ember leaned back on the cushions and got straight to the point. “What’s up?”

  Fiona stayed perched on the edge of the couch, looked uneasy at Ember’s direct approach. “I’m not really sure how to broach this.”

  “Just say it.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Speak,” Ember nudged as if trying to teach an old dog a new trick.

  “Shoot from the lip?” Fiona smiled like she meant it.

  “Yup. What do you need?”

  “I need . . . I need . . .”

  “What?”

  “Help,” Fiona whispered.

  Music to her ears. Ember loved helping people. Her mother would laugh and say she loved telling people what to do. “How can I help?”

  “I . . . mmm . . . well, I don’t know how to start . . . I . . . er . . .”

  “They’re just words. Use them.”

  Fiona glanced over first one shoulder, and then the other, as if Edward Snowden was hiding behind Ember’s couch taking notes of secrets to leak.

  “It’s only you and me here,” Ember assured her. “Well, and Samantha, but she’ll never tell. What’s up?”

  “I realize it’s a bit rude dropping by your house so late, but I wanted to talk to you privately.”

  Good Lord woman, spit it out, Ember wanted to holler, but sat on her hands so she wouldn’t.

  Fiona moistened her lips. “I want . . .”

  Ember leaned forward. Now they were getting somewhere. “Yes, yes?”

  “To buy a home.”

  That was the big secret? What a letdown. Ember sank against the cushions again. “I can meet you at the office on Monday morning and show you some listings. I’d do it tomorrow except—”

  “You have Ingrid’s christening. I know, I’ll be there. Assisting Father Dubanowski.” She wriggled a foot, circling her ankle in the unexciting beige pump. “Please bear with me. This is a rather new development, and I wouldn’t have come by if I hadn’t heard Susan’s toast.”

  Aha. At last. “This is about more than buying a house.”

  Fiona nodded, her chin tipping up and down. “I want to make room for a man in my life and buying a house feels like the right move.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “In a house?” Fiona asked, paused, ventured, “Or a man?”

  “Either. Or. Both.”

  “I want a ranch-style home. Not too modest. I need room for a man after all. But not too big either.”

  “Say eighteen hundred to two thousand square feet?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Fixer-upper or turnkey?” Ember took a notepad from the end table drawer and started writing.

  “Fixer-upper.” Fiona paused, added, “Like me.”

  “You have DIY skills?”

  “No,” she said. “That’s why I’m here to see you.”

  Ember clicked the ballpoint pen. “To be clear, are we talking about the house or your love life?”

  “Cards on the table?” Fiona asked.

  “Please.”

  “I do want a house, but I want love more. I feel so drab and boring and you’re so vibrant and interesting and you know so many people and you hooked Susan up with Bryant and I was hoping . . .”

  “What?”

  “You’d give me some pointers.”

  “About what?”

  “How to attract a man. Men buzz around you like honeybees. Teach me how to do that.”

  “You want me to give you a makeover?”

  “I’ll pay,” Fiona said, reaching for her purse. “I know your time and knowledge is valuable—”

  What was going on here? First Chriss Anne, now Fiona. Ember held up a palm. “I couldn’t possibly take your money.”

  Fiona’s face shattered like a china plate dropped on a concrete floor. “You won’t help me?”

  “Of course I’ll help you, but I won’t accept money. My matchmaking skills are a calling, not a vocation.”

  Seriously, Alzate, do you realize how ego-y that sounds? Walk it back.

  “What I mean,” Ember quickly amended because she hadn’t meant it the way it came out, “is that while I haven’t had any luck in the relationship department myself, I do seem to have a knack for putting together people who click and stick.”

  “It’s because you’re a connector.” Fiona nodded. “And you understand human nature. It’s a rare talent.”

  Hmm, Ember wasn’t so sure about that.

  “Please, can you show me how to be like you?” Fiona pressed her hands together at her heart in a prayer pose. “I’d be ever so grateful.”

  “You don’t want to be like me. Instead, you want to be the best version of yourself.”

  “Yes.” Fiona’s head bounced up and down. “That’s it.”

  Ember rubbed her palms together. Hot dog, a project. “Do you still want to buy a house?”

  “Oh yes, but maybe after I’ve found the man.”

  “Good choice.”

  Fiona sat up straighter, squared her shoulders. “Great. Thank you. Where do we start?”

  “First things first. We need an assessment of two things. What do you want in a man and what do you bring to the table?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean. I have a good job and a nice inheritance, but beyond that . . .” Fiona hesitated again, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “What are some of your interests?”

  “I love to read.” Fiona’s face lit up like the Vegas Strip. “My house is stacked with books.”

  “You sound a lot like my best friend, Ranger. The man stores books everywhere, including a microwave someone gave him.”

  Fiona laughed. “I like the sound of him.”

  “Anything more active?” Ember prodded. “A date revolving around reading books doesn’t generate many sparks.”

  “I see your point.” Fiona shrugged, dipped her head, looked shy. “Well . . .”

  “What?”

  “I do enjoy acting in community theater.” Fiona went on to list the dozen or so plays she’d been involved in.

  Hmm. They still hadn’t cast the female lead in the Cupid Chamber of Commerce film. Initially, the mayor’s wife, Melody, was going to play Mary Beale, but then she got pregnant with twins. Anyone else in town who was right for the part either couldn’t get the time off from work, or couldn’t afford to perform for free.

  “You didn’t hear about the casting call for the Chamber of Commerce film?” Ember asked.

  “I heard,” Fiona said. “But I didn’t think I was qualified.”

  “Around here? With those creds? You’re overqualified. Would you be interested in auditioning for Mayor Nielson?”

  “Really?” Fiona curled her fingers around the purse in her lap. “Oh wow. Oh yes.”

  Ember warned her about the three weeks of all-day filming, Monday through Friday and no pay until, and unless, the film earned something from showings at the Fort Davis theater and various other venues around the Trans-Pecos.

  “It’s actually perfect,” Fiona said. “Father Dubanowski is going abroad for the summer on a ministry mission, and his temporary replacement is bringing his own assistant. This feels like divine timing.”

  Indeed, it did, almost as if the universe were one hundred percent behind Ember’s en
deavors. Her mind started walking an interesting trail. Ranger needed to start dating in order to find a potential wife who could be his partner in fund-raising, and Fiona seemed quite sensible and unassuming and she liked reading. Put a check next to her name in the possibility column. If nothing else, Fiona could be his starter date.

  “Tell me more about yourself,” Ember urged.

  Once she got talking, Fiona revealed she had a master’s in business administration, but was drawn to the clergy because she loved helping people more than making money. She’d left Pennsylvania for a new start after her mother passed away, leaving her with a tidy sum of money, and she’d been drawn to the wide-open spaces of the Trans-Pecos after reading Edna Ferber’s Giant.

  Score! Fiona was business-minded and kindhearted and she was on the hunt for a husband and she liked the Trans-Pecos. Win-win-win-win.

  “What do you think?” Fiona asked. “Do you know any men who I’d fit with?”

  “There’s time to figure that out. Meanwhile, we have got to get you out of brown.” Ember swept a hand at Fiona’s clothes. “With your coloring, brown makes you disappear into the woodwork.”

  Fiona nodded. “I wear brown because it’s understated. I don’t want people noticing me.”

  “And yet, you like acting.”

  “I hide behind the costume.”

  Wow, low profile, under-the-radar, indistinct. Fiona would fit in nicely with academia. She was not the type to ruffle feathers.

  “But now you want people to notice you. Or at least men.” Ember studied Fiona, tapped her chin with an index finger. “I’m thinking red. It will play up your ivory complexion.”

  “Red?” Fiona crinkled her nose. “Red feels way too bold.”

  “There’s a reason red birds catch people’s attention, and the wren gets ignored.”

  “But red?” Fiona bit her bottom lip. “It’s just not me.”

  “Your choice.” Ember shrugged and lifted both arms, palms up. “You can keep doing things the way you’ve always done them, or you can take a step outside your comfort zone. You’ve got to ask yourself, is finding my perfect mate worth a little discomfort?”

  Fiona nodded as if she could snag a man by the sheer force of head bobbing. “Red it is.”

  “Perhaps a new haircut . . .”

  Fiona looked panicked, touched the bun pinned to the top of her head, clichéd librarian style.

  “Comfort zone,” Ember said. “Kick that envelope open. If not a haircut, at least wear your hair down more often.”

  “This doesn’t feel like me.”

  “Just pretend that you’re Diana Prince turning into Wonder Woman.”

  “Wonder Woman, huh?” Fiona pressed a palm to her chest as if she was unsure of Ember’s plan, but a wild smile crept to her lips.

  “Leave it to me.” Ember rested a hand on Fiona’s shoulder. “We’ll transform you into Wonder Woman.”

  “A fantasy come true.” Fiona sighed dreamily.

  “Have you considered wearing contacts?” Ember reached over and plucked the glasses off Fiona’s face. “Omigosh, you’ve been hiding under those dark frames. Time to let your light shine.”

  Fiona clasped her hands in her lap and squinted at Ember, but she looked pleased. “Do you really think I can catch the right man’s eye?”

  “When we’re finished with you, your perfect mate . . .” This was where Ember mentally tried out the image of Ranger and Fiona as a couple and found it acceptable, if not entirely palatable. This wasn’t about her. It was about finding Ranger a mate who could make him happy. “Is not going to know what hit him.”

  Chapter 4

  “It is very difficult for the prosperous to be humble.”

  —Jane Austen, Emma

  The next afternoon, Ember sat in the front pew of the First Episcopal Church of Cupid, squeezed in next to her sister Aria on one side and her mother on the other. Somehow the entire Alzate clan, also including her father, her brother, Archer, and his wife, Casey, and their twenty-month-old son, Tyler, her other sister Tara, and Granny Blue, had all managed to sandwich themselves into one row.

  Ranger and Rhett, along with their father, Duke, and his wife, Vivi, sat on the other side of the aisle. It was just as it had been all their lives, the Lockharts, lords of the manor, opposite the servant Alzates. Ridge and Kaia’s marriage had bridged that divide, and now, with Ingrid’s birth and christening, the two families truly became one.

  But they were still sitting on opposite sides of the aisle. Old habits died hard.

  Ridge and Kaia waited at the front of the church with Father Dubanowski. Kaia was holding a wriggling, three-month-old Ingrid, dressed in a white lace christening gown handmade by Granny Blue and enthusiastically sucking on her sweet baby fingers.

  If Ember was the maudlin type, she might have gotten a lump in her throat at the touching scene, but she wasn’t, so she didn’t. Instead, she shot a glance across the aisle at Ranger, who—no surprise because they were usually on the same wavelength—was grinning at her.

  He winked.

  She winked back. Welcome home, my nerdy cowboy friend.

  Ranger smiled big, as if smiling only for her, and her heart did this peculiar swoopy thing it had never done before. Seemingly diving deep inside her chest as if searching for rare pearls.

  “It’s so heartening to see everyone gathered for the christening of our beloved Ingrid Blue Lockhart,” Father Dubanowski said, and read a passage from the Bible. He explained the significance of the christening and then started the liturgy of baptism.

  The liturgy went on for several minutes; Father Dubanowski’s voice was a monotone drone.

  Ember tried her best to pay attention and not get bored, but she found herself mentally listing off the lovers she’d had in her life, as she often did when she needed a time killer. There was Steve, who took her down to Lake Cupid at midnight when she was seventeen and officially plucked her virginity on a large flat rock underneath a half-moon. She’d loved his left coast smile and bohemian stride. There was Vic, who’d given Ember her first orgasm in the backseat of his father’s Plymouth on a cold night in February. She still remembered the purr of that heavy engine when he’d started it up, felt the heat even now, low in her pelvis. And Pete, who’d taught her how to tie a cherry stem and do other wonderful things with her tongue. He’d tasted of the peppermint Altoids he’d kept in a tin in his front pocket. Bob, who—

  “Godparents,” Father Dubanowski said, cracking through her trip down memory lane.

  Ember jumped, guilty. Surely thinking about past lovers in church reached some level of blasphemy. She slid another glance over at Ranger, who looked as if he knew exactly what she’d been doing.

  She crossed her eyes at him.

  Ranger let out a short bark of laughter.

  Father Dubanowski frowned and motioned to Ranger and Ember, cleared his throat in a testy harrumph. “Please join us.”

  She and Ranger got to their feet, reaching the altar simultaneously, and she caught a whiff of his scent—sandalwood soap, sunshine, and man. God, he smelled good. She tried not to think about that and positioned herself beside Kaia and baby Ingrid.

  Ranger stepped over to join his older brother.

  Everyone had gotten dressed up in their finest clothing for the christening, and it was only one of a handful of times in her life that Ember had seen Ranger in a suit. Normally, he was like everyone else around Cupid, all boots and jeans and Stetsons.

  He cut a dashing figure in the navy, tailor-made cashmere blend suit and smart red tie. It looked like sangria, dark and sweet. He’d remembered to get his hair trimmed, although she was a bit partial to his shaggy, head-in-the-clouds, rumpled professorial look. He was wearing his favorite pair of bespoke Rocketbuster boots and yay! They matched. The vamp, toe box, and counter were a decorous black, but she knew if he were to lift the leg of his pants, it would show off a kitschy, brightly colored royal flush inlaid into the upper part of the boot.

  Em
ber grinned, remembering the morning they’d strolled into Rocketbuster Boots in El Paso after an all-night, backroom poker game with some of the city’s wealthiest clientele to order the boots with Ranger’s winnings. He’d bought her a pair to match, although she rarely wore hers. She wasn’t that good of a poker player, and the boots practically dared an impromptu poker game to break out.

  Ranger was the rocket buster, not she. Ember shook her head. Pay attention, dammit. Your first niece gets baptized only once.

  The solemn ritual continued. Ingrid was baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Father Dubanowski gave a little lecture to Ridge and Kaia, and then to Ranger and Ember, detailing their sacred duties of raising a child to love and serve God.

  It was serious stuff, and Ember couldn’t help believing that Kaia might have been better served to have picked someone more pious to be Ingrid’s godmother. Their sister Tara, perhaps, who was a pediatric nurse. But Ember had agreed to do it, and she couldn’t bail out at this late date.

  Prompted by Father Dubanowski, she vowed to do her best, and by the time it was over, sweat ringed the collar of her white lace blouse.

  Father Dubanowski presented a candle to Ingrid at the end of the service and said, “Shine as a light in the world to the glory of God.” Once upon a time, this priest had said the same thing at her baptism. Ember couldn’t help feeling she’d been something of a disappointment to Father Dubanowski. In the blister of the moment, she vowed to be a better person and put other people first and foremost.

  Helping Ranger find a wife counted on that score, right? All she wanted was his happiness.

  But the thought of seeing Ranger married was a knife to her spine. Selfish. She was such a selfish wench. As much as she loved her best friend, she couldn’t keep clinging to him. He deserved the best that life had to offer. A true friend would let him go free.

  Her heart slumped along the bottom of her stomach. Then again, maybe she should rethink this whole mission. Ranger hadn’t asked for her help. In fact, he’s expressly told her that he would handle it. Just because she had a knack for hooking people up didn’t mean she had to do it, right?