by Marin Thomas
“It’s on me.” Travis tossed thirty dollars on the table.
“This isn’t a date,” she insisted.
He leveled his lethal grin at her. “Can’t a friend pick up the tab this once?”
Friend? Travis Cartwright was dangerous to her health and heart. She had no intention of becoming friends with him.
Chapter Five
“Ms. Sanders says if I get all my spelling words right next time, she’ll put my picture on the shining-star wall.” Charlie dragged a chair to the kitchen counter, where Juanita measured ingredients for cookie dough.
This was the first Travis had heard of any wall. “What’s a shining-star wall?”
“Kids who do something good get their picture on the bulletin board.” Charlie rolled her eyes. “Bethany always gets her picture on the wall.”
Ah, so his daughter was jealous of Bethany. “I’ll quiz you on your spelling words after supper.”
“That’s okay. Grandpa said he’d help me when he gets home.”
Travis ignored the sharp sting of Charlie’s words. They’d lived at the Lazy River for two weeks and already his daughter believed Dominick walked on water. Travis and his father, on the other hand, were still feeling their way around one another—as if one wrong look or word would sever the invisible truce between them.
When Dominick had departed on his recent business trip, Travis had breathed a sigh of relief. He’d spent Monday and Tuesday at Cartwright Oil’s corporate office in Tulsa, familiarizing himself with the various company oil rigs and their operational logs. No one had voiced an objection to Travis working for the company, except one field supervisor who made little effort to disguise his displeasure at being forced to relinquish some of his duties to Travis.
“Ms. Sanders says I’m as good a reader as Bethany and she’s the best in the class.” Charlie snuck a pinch of cookie dough when Juanita retrieved two eggs from the fridge.
“Ms. Sanders is a smart teacher,” Juanita said, cracking an egg against the side of the sink.
Ms. Sanders this. Ms. Sanders that—the very woman responsible for Travis’s grumpy mood. At the end of their impromptu dinner date at Beulah’s this past Friday, he’d invited Sara out for coffee the following morning. His intention had been to show how harmless he was. He was confident that once he’d gained her trust, he could persuade her to do business with Dominick. Sara had turned down his invitation.
Not easily discouraged, he’d phoned the school on Monday and had left a message on the teacher’s voice mail, inviting her to join him and Charlie for pizza that evening. She’d never returned his call. He’d phoned Sara Tuesday and had received the same response—none.
Travis wasn’t a vain man, but most of the women he asked out jumped at the chance to be with him. That the schoolteacher had given him the cold shoulder both amused and frustrated him. Travis had to be careful how hard and heavy he pursued Sara—he didn’t want to give her the idea he was romantically interested in her. Sara wasn’t his type and he doubted she was into flings.
“Ms. Sanders said just ’cause I’m not big like the other kids it doesn’t mean I’m not smart.” Charlie wrinkled her nose.
“She’s right. Size has nothing to do with brains,” Travis said.
“Tell that to stupid Trevor. He thinks I have a tiny brain.”
“Want me to beat Trevor up?”
Charlie’s giggle warmed Travis’s heart. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d made his daughter laugh.
“Ms. Sanders made Trevor stay after school and wash all the desks.”
Good for Ms. Sanders.
“And Ms. Sanders said she didn’t get tall ’til high school.” Charlie took the spoon Juanita handed her and scraped the remaining cookie dough off the sides of the mixing bowl. “Do you think I’m gonna be as tall as Ms. Sanders?”
Obviously Charlie was infatuated with her new teacher. “I don’t think so, Charlie. Julie was only five feet three inches.” Sara would tower over Charlie’s birth mother, but if she stood toe-to-toe with Travis she’d almost stare him in the eye. Perfect for kissing.
Whoa. Where had that thought come from? Friends didn’t kiss—not in the way Travis had envisioned a moment ago.
“Think I’ll go for a drive.” Since Sara hadn’t returned his calls he’d head over to the Bar T and pay a visit to her brothers—maybe they’d be easier to sway than their sister. “Want to come along, Charlie?” He grabbed his jacket from a hook by the back door.
“Nope. I’m gonna help Juanita put the lights on the Christmas tree after we bake cookies.”
Speaking of Christmas trees…“Think about what kind of tree you want to make for the class party this Friday. When I get back, we’ll talk about it.”
The Bar T Ranch was due north of the Lazy River. Travis drove along a frontage road, keeping his eyes peeled for the entrance. He’d gone a mile when he noticed Sara scuffling with a cow behind a barbed-wire fence. He checked the rearview mirror, then pulled onto the shoulder and shifted into Park. I’ll be damned.
Sara was a sight to see in her hip-hugging blue jeans as she flailed her arms in the face of the steer and stomped her boots. The stubborn animal chewed its cud and stared right through her.
There were no other cows in sight, save the one receiving a dressing down from the schoolteacher. He turned off the truck and sidled up to the fence for a front-row view of the show.
“Blasted animal,” she muttered. “Stupid brothers.” A second later…“Damn all males to hell and back.” She kicked a petrified cow pattie sky-high.
Travis backpedaled a few steps.
“Are you going to stand there and watch or help me convince this beast to head back to the herd?” Slowly, as if she didn’t trust the bovine not to charge, Sara peeked over her shoulder.
“Shouldn’t you be grading papers or something?”
“Gabe took off the day after Thanksgiving.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “I came over after school to help Cole.”
“What’s wrong with the cow?”
“He’s a renegade. No matter where the herd grazes, he wanders off.”
“Why can’t he eat where he wants?”
“Cole’s inoculating the herd and this guy needs to be vaccinated.”
Sara’s car sat parked on the dirt road running parallel to the pasture. “You could tie the steer to the bumper on the car and drag him back to the barn.”
“I’m tempted to, but this guy is so bullheaded I’d end up breaking his legs before he budged an inch.” She waved her hands but the cow only blinked.
“How come you won’t return my calls?” Travis asked. “I thought we had a nice time at Beulah’s.” Silence. “I was hoping we could get to know one another better.” After watching her amusing struggle with the cow, he decided Sara might turn out to be a fun friend.
“Becoming friends isn’t a good idea.”
Was she on to him already? “Why?”
She gaped as if he’d lost his mind. “Dating the father of one of my students isn’t…isn’t…acceptable.”
Dating? Who said anything about dating? At least she hadn’t guessed his real motive. “Is dating the single father of a student against school rules?”
“No, but that’s beside the point.” She perched her hands on her hips. “Charlie’s liable to get hurt.”
“How do you figure that?”
A red flush crept up Sara’s neck. “She won’t understand when things don’t work out.”
They’d gone from getting to know one another to dating to breaking up in the span of sixty seconds. Taking pity on her, he dropped the subject and motioned to the steer. “Tell me what to do.”
“Never mind. I’m sure you have better ways to spend your time than wrestling a cow.”
“Not really. I was on my way to the Bar T to introduce myself to your brothers.”
She balled her hands into fists and Travis wondered if she intended to punch the cow or him. A moment later, the steer moved—in th
e wrong direction. “Hey, come back here!” Sara trotted after the cow.
Now what—stand here and do nothing? Or make a fool out of himself and run after the animal? What the hell. Travis hopped the fence, then zigzagged around a minefield of cow patties as he sprinted ahead of Sara. He shouted and waved his arms. The cow stopped. Snorted. Changed directions and took off toward a gaping hole in the barbed wire.
“Don’t let him get to the road!” Sara hollered.
The steer picked up speed and damned if Travis’s lungs didn’t burn trying to keep up. Tired of running, he launched himself at the animal, flinging his arms around its neck. He locked his knees, but the cow kept trotting and Travis swore his boot heels would be worn down to nothing by the time the beast gave in.
All of a sudden the cow did a three-sixty and Travis went airborne. He hit a patch of rocky ground, then sat in a daze, his butt numb, his palms skinned. He didn’t have time to get on his feet before Sara’s scream reached his ears.
“Travis, watch out!”
The demented steer charged. Travis rolled sideways in the nick of time, saving himself from being trampled. He crawled to his knees but had to pitch himself forward when the steer headed for him again. This time Travis ended up sprawled on his stomach.
Okay, bad boy. I’m pissed. He hauled his aching body upright and glared at the animal. The steer lowered its head and walked toward Travis.
Yeah, that’s right. Surrender, you stupid side of beef. Feeling damn proud of himself, Travis turned away and shouted, “I got him to give up!” No sooner had the words left his mouth than he felt a hard shove from behind. Travis fell to the ground—again.
Sara screamed like a banshee and harassed the steer until it backed off. The schoolteacher sure had a set of lungs on her. Once the animal stood at a safe distance, she dropped to her knees and patted him from head to toe. “Any broken bones?”
“I’m fine.” His face inches from Sara’s chest, Travis was more than fine. How had the schoolteacher’s voluptuous bosom escaped his notice?
“Did you hit your head?”
Travis didn’t have a chance to answer because Sara’s eyes widened, then she pinched her nose and stumbled back.
“Eew!”
“What?”
She scooted farther away. “You smell like…poo.”
He sniffed, then cringed. His clothes were covered with cow-patty debris. “You don’t have to talk to me like I’m one of your third-graders,” he teased.
“What do you mean?”
“Poo? You’re a big girl. Use a big-girl word.”
“Fine. You smell like…like…”
“Say it.” He grinned. “I dare you.”
Sara’s cheeks puffed up like a blow-fish. “You smell like shit.”
“Say it again.”
She rolled her eyes. “Shit. Shit. Shiiit!”
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
She giggled, then kept giggling until the sound turned into a belly-laugh that led to a snort, then a gasp of embarrassment, which brought her right back to giggling.
Fascinated by the change in Sara’s usual cool demeanor, Travis leaned forward, grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her. When she didn’t pull away, he pressed his lips more firmly to hers, nuzzling her cold cheek with his nose.
A horn rent the air, shattering the intimate moment. He studied Sara’s dazed expression. Damn. He was out of his mind kissing the schoolteacher. Okay, he found her attractive—so what? That didn’t mean he wanted to become romantically involved with her. Hoping she wouldn’t jump to conclusions, he apologized. “Sorry, I got carried away.”
Sara winced as she rose to her feet. Crap. Had he hurt her feelings or had she hurt something else when she’d come to his rescue?
“That’s Cole.” She waved her hand.
Her brother parked his truck and headed in their direction. When Cole reached them, he sniffed, then made an ugly face. “What stinks?”
“Travis, this is my brother Cole.”
“I’d shake your hand but as you can see, I’m covered in—” Travis crawled to his feet “—cow poo.”
Cole nodded, then spoke to his sister. “I was worried when you didn’t come back right away.”
“Travis stopped to help, but the steer got the better of him.”
“Not much of a rancher, I guess,” Cole said.
“I’m what you’d call a roughneck cowboy. I prefer to chase oil, not cows.”
“So I heard.” Cole spoke to Sara. “It’ll be dark soon. You might as well head home.” He tipped his hat to Travis, then walked back to his truck, where he grabbed a rope to lasso the steer.
“Talkative guy,” Travis muttered.
“Thank you for trying to help.” Sara made a move to follow Cole, but Travis snagged her arm.
“Have dinner with me tonight.” Afraid she’d assume the kiss meant more to him than it had, he added, “I’d like to discuss how Charlie’s doing in school.”
“Call Rosie and she’ll set up a conference during my planning period.”
“I was hoping to talk to you today.”
“I’m sorry, Travis. I’ve got a roast in the Crock-Pot at home.”
He’d never heard that excuse before. “Let your brother eat the roast.”
“The roast and the Crock-Pot are at my house not the ranch.”
“You don’t live at Bar T?”
“No, I bought a home in town across from the railroad tracks and the grain depot near the school.”
“You mean, that block of old Victorians?”
“The one missing all its shutters is mine.”
Sara Sanders owned the run-down gray-and-white Victorian. Why was she living in a money pit that would take at least three or four decades to renovate? “I like roast.”
“Pushy man.”
He chuckled. “I’ve been called worse.”
“Didn’t I mention that dating isn’t a good idea?”
Damn, he’d guessed right. Sara believed he was interested in her. He was, but not for the reasons she assumed. “It’s not a date—it’s a parent-teacher conference.”
“Six o’clock at my place.” She walked off, then stopped. “Travis.”
“What?”
“I’m serious about the dating part.”
Me, too. “I understand.”
“And, Travis?”
“What?”
“That kiss never happened.”
“I know.” At least he and Sara were on the same page about their relationship. If only he hadn’t kissed her—now there was no denying he was attracted to her. Acknowledging his attraction to Sara would force Travis to keep his guard up and remain focused on his mission.
Easier said than done.
HE’S EARLY.
Sara moved the living-room curtain and watched Travis park his truck in front of her house. Today had been the most embarrassing, wonderful, worrisome, exciting day in recent memory—and it wasn’t over yet.
Her first glimpse of Travis beneath the glow of the streetlight stole her breath. She replayed in her mind the kiss they’d shared in the pasture, and her heart skipped a beat. She’d been kissed a few times in her thirty years but never had a man’s mouth triggered mini-earthquakes in all her X-rated places.
Her reaction—rather, overreaction—to a simple kiss served to remind her that she had no business lusting after Travis. It didn’t matter if he’d grown up away from the powerful influence of his father. Travis was a Cartwright—the enemy. She’d been fooled once by a smooth-talking, handsome man—no way would she travel that road again. This time she intended to keep her wits about her and not fall victim to a man’s flirty compliments.
Before Travis shut the truck door, he reached into the cab and removed…flowers? Darn him. This wasn’t a date.
She hurried into the front hall and checked her appearance in the antique mirror she’d purchased at an estate sale. Most days she wore little makeup, but tonight she’d dusted a smoky gray shadow over
her eyelids and had added a touch of mauve color to her lips. Worried Travis might believe she’d dolled herself up for him, she’d skipped the perfume and dressed down in a pair of jeans and a navy crew-neck sweater.
The bell bonged. She drew in a steadying breath, then opened the door. “Hello, Travis.”
“Wow that’s ugly.”
For a split-second she thought he meant her, then she caught him staring at the cat. She’d thought she’d locked her roommate in the laundry room. “That’s Walter.” She scooped up the cat and stepped aside so Travis could enter her home. “He adopted me.”
One morning she’d opened the front door and found the black cat with orange spots lying on her porch, beaten and exhausted. There were bald spots in his fur, one eye had been damaged and couldn’t be saved, so the vet had sewn it shut. A chunk of flesh had been missing from his ear, and his tail had been broken.
Once she’d nursed Walter back to life, Sara had intended to release him into the wild, but the cat had refused to leave the house. The one time she’d set him outside, he’d clawed deep scratches in the front door. Since then, he’d remained an indoor cat.
Travis lifted a hand to pet Walter, but yanked it back when the cat hissed.
“Not too friendly, huh, Walt?”
Sara closed the door, then set the cat on the floor. Walter ran off. She motioned to the standing coat rack in the corner and Travis hung up his jacket. The earthy scent of aged leather and musky cologne drifted beneath her nose—much more appealing than the eau de poo he’d worn earlier.
“For you.” He held out a bouquet of daisies.
Daisies. Not roses. Roses were for lovers—daisies for friends, which she and Travis could never be.
“Thank you.” Sara led the way into the kitchen. Travis hovered in the doorway while she arranged the flowers in a vase she confiscated from beneath the sink.
“Smells great. Do you cook real meals all the time?”
“Depends on what you call a real meal?” Sara wasn’t a svelte woman. She liked three squares a day and saw no sense in starving herself thin when there were no men around that she was interested in. She placed the vase in the middle of the kitchen table.
