The Cowboy Meets His Match

by Jessica Clare

  “So . . .” Hank said as he stirred the pancake mix, “that was Greg.”

  Ugh. Did she want to talk about Greg? To air out all her dirty laundry? To show him just how clingy a woman she was? But was it even worth trying to hide it? It’d come out no matter who he asked, and he already knew the bitter end of what had happened, as she had told him foolishly many months ago. Even Doc knew all about her sad love story. She supposed it was best for him to hear the whole thing from her. Becca sighed. “It’s a long story and not a great one.”

  Hank leaned over past the cabinets, glancing into the living room to check on his daughter. “I’ve got time. Nemo and Dory don’t get home for at least another hour.”

  Her lips twitched with amusement. “You on a first-name basis with a kid’s fish movie?”

  The look he gave her was solemn. “That movie is a classic . . . and no one sings in it, which means I tolerate it a lot more than most kids’ movies.”

  She bit back a giggle at that. “Don’t like it when they sing?”

  He shuddered. Actually shuddered. “No.”

  All right, that was adorable. The thought of torturing Hank was strangely enticing. “So I shouldn’t tell her that I have F-R-O-Z-E-N on DVD—” She cut off, breaking into laughter at the sharp look Hank cast her way. “Okay, okay.” She laughed.

  He leaned in close to her. “It’s all fun and games until you hear ‘Let It Go’ sixty times a day from a four-year-old who only knows one line.”

  She burst into giggles. Why was this the most charming, most heartwarming thing ever? Why did it make her ache with affection for both of them?

  “You’re stalling,” Hank told her after a moment, pushing a pat of butter around in the skillet. “If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to.”

  Was she stalling? She probably was. Becca took a deep sigh, bracing herself.

  “Painful?” he asked.

  She nodded. It still felt like an aching, open wound sometimes. There were a lot of feelings packed into her relationship with Greg, but a lot of what was left was shame. Shame that she’d been led on and betrayed by the person she’d loved the most in the world. Shame that everyone knew about it. Shame that she hadn’t been enough for him, and it was somehow her fault.

  “Want to take a shot?”

  A shot? “I don’t have alcohol.”

  He nodded and pulled a small glass flask of amber liquid from a back pocket. “Brought you something.” He took out a glass from her cabinet and then poured a half inch or so into the bottom. The liquid was thick and rich and looked strong as hell.

  “Drink up,” he told her, holding it out.

  Okay, maybe she did need a shot. Becca took the glass and took a hefty swig—and choked. “Is this maple syrup?”

  “Well . . . yeah.” Hank gave her a sly grin. “You needed a distraction.”

  She sputtered, coughing. She’d just taken a shot of liquid sugar, and her mouth felt like it was utterly coated. He just grinned at her, delighted, and her coughing turned into laughter. This really was the most ridiculous situation.

  Shots. Maple syrup shots.

  “Something tells me there’s no alcohol in that,” she managed, wheezing.

  “Of course not. I’m driving my daughter home later.” He pointed at her fridge. “And you have nothing but heavily processed syrup. That stuff’s terrible. I thought I’d bring you some real stuff.”

  Becca chuckled again and set down her glass. “You’re a strange man.”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes you get bored in the long winters up north. You learn to amuse yourself.” He glanced over at her again. “You feeling better?”

  She was, oddly enough. With a sigh, she leaned against the counter and watched as he expertly flipped a pancake over. “Greg was my first boyfriend. I grew up with him and it seemed like I always knew him. But when I turned fourteen, he asked me out. I was delighted to be dating the cutest boy at school. My father said no.” She smiled at the memory. “And that was that. He said I couldn’t date until I was eighteen, because I wouldn’t know my ass from a hole in the ground until then.”

  Hank grunted. “Smart man.”

  Becca laughed. “Strict man. I know those were the longest four years of my life, as I dated no one and it seemed like everyone else around me was holding hands and going on dates. Greg went out with other girls during that time, but it felt like I was all alone. Then I turned eighteen my senior year, and Greg just happened to break up with his last girlfriend at about the same time, and the next thing I knew, we were finally a couple. I was so happy. We dated until graduation, and then my father wanted me to go away to college. He hoped to sell his ranch after I graduated, and retire from ranching. He’d always wanted to move somewhere around water. It was his dream. My dream was to be Greg’s wife.” She grimaced at the memory. “We had a big argument. Greg was taking time off before he went to college, you see, and my father wanted me to go off to school. I wanted to stay in Painted Barrel to be near the man I loved, because I was so sure he would propose marriage.” God, she had been young and stupid then.

  “Did he?”

  “Yeah, no. I ended up compromising with my father—I’d get an apartment in a nearby town, go to beauty school to get a cosmetology certification, and start my own business. He wasn’t thrilled with it—I think he wanted me to be some high-powered suit, but that’s not me. And by the time I graduated and set up my salon, Greg moved in. I think I was twenty.” She shrugged. “And then within a year, he moved back out again. Said it was too much too soon, that I was clingy and stifling him.”

  Hank frowned.

  “And maybe it was. We were both really young, so it wasn’t so bad. We kept dating, but we slowed things down. And after our five-year mark of being together, I started hinting that I wanted to get married. I wanted to start a family with him. I loved him. He said he wasn’t ready.”

  Hank flipped the pancake out of the pan and slid it onto a plate, then poured batter for another pancake. “Because he was busy with college?”

  “Greg didn’t go to college, actually. He kept finding excuses not to go. Or to get work. He drifted between a lot of jobs, trying to figure out who he was—”

  “While you supported him, right?”

  Ugh. He saw right through her. “Yeah. I figured I was making money and was happy with what I was doing, and he was still trying to figure himself out. I thought it couldn’t hurt, and at some point when he decided what he wanted to be, it wouldn’t matter.” She raised a hand in the air. “Don’t tell me how dumb I was, because I already know.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  His voice was surprisingly gentle, and that just made her ache a bit more for the young, headstrong, desperate girl she’d been. “My father and mother were a weird couple, you know? He married her because he got her pregnant and it was the right thing to do, but I don’t think he ever loved her. She loved him desperately and did everything she could to get his attention, and it was never enough.” Becca thought of them, shaking her head. “They’re still married, and my father still acts like my mother is a burden to him. Like she’s holding him back from being whoever or whatever he wanted to be. They’re not happy, either of them, but I guess the Vancouver seaside helps.” She smiled awkwardly.

  Hank said nothing, just watched her.

  “Anyhow, after a few more years of dating, I got really upset with Greg. I wanted kids. I wanted a big family. And he was still figuring out who he was, drifting from job to job. I told him I wanted to get married, and he said he wasn’t ready. So I threw him out. Told him if he wasn’t ready to get married, I wasn’t ready to support him for the rest of my life.”

  He gave her an approving nod, flipping another pancake.

  “That lasted about a week. Greg came back, apologized very sweetly and brought me flowers, and told me he was ready to get engag
ed and we could go pick out a ring.”

  “That you paid for?”

  Becca sighed. “That I paid for, yeah.”

  He made a noise that wasn’t approval but indicated he was listening.

  She went on. “So we were engaged, but every time I tried to set a date, he wasn’t ready. It was a bad time, he was trying to get his real estate license, all kinds of things. That went on for a few years, and I kicked him out again. He came back within a day and we set a date. And then as the date got closer and closer, he started acting weird.”

  “Weird?”

  “Weird like he spent a lot of nights out with the guys, or he’d go and spend hours talking to Sage, a friend of ours from school who also never left town.”

  A low growl escaped his throat. “He was cheating on you.”

  “I’m not sure that he was.” Becca crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, watching him work. It was a pleasure to see his slight movements, the way he expertly made pancakes, all without a single hint that she should take over for him. “Sage is the nicest girl, and she’d had a crush on Greg ever since we were kids. The entire town knew about it. Anyhow, I’m sure Greg liked the attention. He just showed no interest in anything wedding or family and would find an excuse to leave the moment I wanted to talk about anything. I should have seen it for what it was, but I was very stubborn and positive I was finally going to get my wedding. We could figure everything else out after we crossed that finish line, you know?” She shook her head. “But then Sage started dating someone and didn’t have time to be Greg’s buddy, and I think that made him panic. I think he liked the idea of having his cake and eating it, too, and he liked being the center of Sage’s world as well as having me. When Sage moved on, he freaked out. She was never pushy like his awful fiancée, you see.” She grimaced at the memory. “And to be fair to Greg, I was being pushy.”

  Hank gave her a disbelieving look. “You’re defending him?”

  She took the spatula and flipped the pancake before it could burn, since his attention was now focused solely on her. “Not at all. I just know what I was like. I was very, very, very focused on getting married. A bridezilla, you might say. At any rate, Greg decided he was in love with Sage and broke up with me two days before the wedding.” Her voice took on a bitter note. “After I’d paid for everything. The church, the reception, the catering, the honeymoon, matching wedding bands, all of it. He humiliated me in front of everyone, because the whole town was invited. It’s all anyone’s been able to talk about ever since. I closed my shop for days, went on the honeymoon by myself, cried buckets, and came home early.” She shook her head. “I don’t think I wanted Greg as much as I wanted this picture in my mind of what my life should be like. I wanted a family. I wanted children. Maybe some of that was loneliness, because even when I was with Greg, I still felt like I was alone. Like he never really got me.”

  “You were alone. He didn’t get you,” Hank growled. “The man’s a user.”

  “He is. He’d rather get by in life with a pretty smile than a day’s work.” Becca sighed ruefully. “And I still would have married him, so that makes me an idiot.”

  “And now?” He took the spatula back from her.

  This felt good, working together, making dinner together and talking. It was easy. It felt right. It wasn’t hard or awkward, like the date had been. “Now I think I’m mostly just resentful of how he wasted my time and how pigheaded I was. I don’t miss him. That was two years ago, and every so often he tries to reconnect. I’m not sure if it’s guilt or habit for him, but I’m done.” She shook her head. “I still want a family. I still want love . . . but now I’m thinking maybe I’ll just get a dog.” She chuckled, as if her sad joke was funny.

  He didn’t laugh.

  She kind of wished he would. Sympathetic laughter she could deal with. “So . . . that’s my story. The whole, psycho, clingy lot of it.”

  Hank shot her a look. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. I fully acknowledge that I’m the type that gets attached fast.” Becca bit her lip. “I’m trying to do better.”

  “Maybe you weren’t the problem,” he said slowly. “Maybe he should have made his ideas about your relationship clearer so you knew he wasn’t ready to settle down. Maybe he didn’t say anything because he wanted you to keep supporting him. Or maybe he was the problem and not you.”

  That was nice of him to say, even if it wasn’t true. “Oh, come on. If you were dating someone for a few years and they got fixated on getting married? What—”

  “I’d say yes.” He flipped a pancake. “If we’ve been dating for years I must see something in that person I love, so, yes.”

  She was stunned by his quick answer. “Is that what happened with you and Libby’s mom?”

  The look he gave her was uneasy.

  “I won’t judge you,” Becca said softly. “Even if it’s terrible. I shared my ugly, embarrassing past. Can’t you share yours?” She bumped his hip with hers in a flirty way. “Maybe you need a shot, too.”

  That made him chuckle. “I guess that’s fair.” He handed her the spatula.

  She took it while he poured himself a small amount of maple syrup, and she grimaced in memory at the cloyingly sweet taste as he downed it. Then he sighed, looked at her, and sighed again. It was clear he didn’t want to talk about it. At all.

  Which made her all the more curious.

  Hank glanced in the living room again to check on Libby, then turned back to her. “My land is north of Fairbanks, just outside a place called Foxtail. Not a big population. Very remote. Once a month, someone flies in some supplies, but for the most part, when you needed stuff, you drove down to Fairbanks for about a week. Sold your furs, restocked your pantry, let off some steam. Adria lived in town, and apparently her way of making a living was to pick a particular man, hook up with him for a few days when he was flush with money, and get him to pay for things. When that ran out, she’d find a new guy.” His jaw clenched. “I didn’t know this about her until it was too late. Went back to town about a year later and she handed me Libby. Said she was mine, and she couldn’t be bothered raising a kid. It’d ruin her lifestyle. So I took Libby home and that was that.”

  Becca was silent. Shocked, a little. The story had been short, but she suspected there was a wealth of hurt and embarrassment in his tale, too. He didn’t know he’d been used by this Adria woman until it was too late, and she could only imagine how he’d felt at the discovery. And then to find out he had a baby with her? After being shamed by her? He was a good man, because it was clear his little girl was his world. “So you and Adria were never a couple?”

  He snorted and gave her a wry look. “We were for about a week. Then I ran out of money and she ran out of interest.”

  “Has there ever been anyone else?” she couldn’t help but ask.

  “Just one.”

  “Oh?”

  Hank nodded. “She got the gum out of my daughter’s hair one night.”

  She melted at those sweet words. Totally melted. “You said no when I asked you out, though.”

  “Thought it was a joke, honestly. Pretty things like you don’t ask out guys like me.”

  Now she was blushing. “I admit I did have an ulterior motive. I asked you out because I figured if I dated someone else, maybe people would stop throwing Greg in my face.”

  He stiffened. “And I was the first one that came along?”

  Uh-oh, was he thinking she was just like his ex? “Actually, I liked how good you were with your daughter. You were the first guy that appealed to me in a long, long time. Still are.”

  “Even though I wasn’t very nice to you for a while? Told you not to come by the ranch?”

  Becca smiled. The mountain of pancakes was mostly done, so she pulled a few plates out of the cabinet and looked over at him. “I figured I was being a
nuisance. Did I mention that I’m headstrong? I’m also a bit of a control freak. I think that’s why I was set on having my own salon—I like being in charge. So it hurt my feelings a little that you told me to leave, but I also figured I deserved it.”

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” he told her, plucking the plates out of her hands. “You helped out a lot, and I know watching Libby is a full-time job on its own.”

  She hesitated, feeling shy. “I like her. And I like you.” Their fingers brushed as she let him take the plates, and for some reason that felt more electric than anything she’d ever done with Greg. “Is it true you’re moving back to Alaska soon?”

  Hank shot her a curious look. “Who said that?”

  “Libby. Is it not true?”

  He was silent for a long moment, holding on to the plates. “That’s the plan.”

  “Oh.” For some reason, she found that crushing. Here she thought they were truly bonding, getting somewhere, and she was getting attached . . . only for him to be planning to go back to Alaska. He was going to be leaving her behind. “I see.”

  “Does that change things? You and me?” He stared at her with intent, dark eyes.

  Becca thought for a moment. Her lips parted. She fought back her disappointment and tried to look at it logically. Did it really change anything? They’d been dancing around officially dating, but nothing had been declared other than they liked each other. Nothing had been promised. It was just her nature to think that a date or two led to more. But . . . did it have to? Couldn’t she just like him and enjoy being with him and take it day by day? “I guess we can be casual, right? Have fun with this thing until you leave?”

  He nodded once, but the heat in his eyes made her feel like this thing was anything but casual.

  “We’ll just take it one day at a time.” She smiled at him.

  “One kiss at a time,” he agreed.

  And, god, wasn’t she the most impatient of women, because just hearing that made her want to kiss him right then and there.