* * *
Country twang, neon lights and drunken, dancing couples. The perfect blond, buff and bronze cowboy sat in the booth beside Natalie. The perfect cure for what ailed her.
She closed her eyes and tried to lose herself.
A rough hand clamped on her bare knee. “Hey, babe, let’s get this party started. Your place or mine?”
Bile rose in her throat. She swallowed and picked up the untouched strawberry daiquiri he’d bought her. The whiff of alcohol brought the bitter taste into her mouth. She set the glass down.
Her words of wisdom for Brittany haunted her. Stop the cycle. Was it too late for her? Her chin trembled.
“Uh.” He scrubbed his fingers over his stubbly beard. “You gonna cry or something? I’m not looking for anything heavy. Just a little fun.”
Fun. Exactly what she needed. To forget her cares and worries in this guy’s arms. But she couldn’t do it.
“I’m sorry. I can’t.” She shivered and slid out of the booth.
The man followed, grabbed her and pulled her against him. “Maybe I can warm you up.”
She pushed away from him. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Does it matter?”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“It’s a bit late for that.” His hand clamped on her wrist, his fingers biting into her skin.
“I’m feeling sick. I have to go.”
His grip on her wrist tightened, and then he flung her away from him.
She stumbled, her stiletto turned. Sharp pain shot through her ankle, but she caught herself.
“You best watch who you mess with, lady,” the cowboy growled. “You could get yourself in a heap of trouble toying with the wrong man.”
“Is this guy bothering you?” A deep voice thundered over her left shoulder.
“No. I was just leaving.” Natalie turned to see her would-be rescuer.
Mitch Warren. Her sister’s high school sweetheart.
“Natalie?” His eyebrows rose.
“Hi, Mitch.” Straight-and-narrow Mitch. Texas Ranger Mitch. “What are you doing here?”
The cowboy stalked back to the booth they’d abandoned.
“Let’s just say—” he lowered his voice “—I’m on duty.”
“Oh.”
“Listen, Natalie, this isn’t the kind of place you should hang out in. I’ve made a lot of arrests here.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Need a ride home?”
“No, I’ve got my car, but thanks.”
“I’ll at least walk you out and make sure Marlboro Man doesn’t follow.” Mitch stared into her eyes. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?”
“Not a drop. Scout’s honor.” She blew in his face.
A smile cracked his cop mode and he offered his arm. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Mitch hustled her outside to her car. She unlocked it, slid in and lowered the window.
“Make sure it starts okay.”
She turned the key and the engine caught.
Mitch leaned his elbows in her open window. “How’s Caitlyn?”
“Okay. Her two clothing stores keep her busy.”
He nodded. His mouth tightened. “Tell her I said hi.”
“I will.”
“And, Natalie, don’t let me see you around here again. It’s beneath you.” He patted the car and stood watch as she pulled away.
Mitch had tried to do for her what she’d tried to do for Brittany.
* * *
The headlights of her lone car illuminated the abandoned streets of Aubrey, but Natalie didn’t remember driving here. Had she stopped at red lights? Stop signs?
What was wrong with her? Was she going crazy? She’d left the cowboy at the bar.
Considering his reaction to her refusal, maybe that was a good thing.
Natalie touched the raw skin on her wrist and shivered despite the seat warmer. But now she’d spend her first night back in Aubrey alone. A cowboy would have been much better than tissues and chocolate.
Not so long ago, it had all been a fun game when she was bored—or lonely. Go to a bar, get drunk, take a nameless cowboy home. But now it turned her stomach.
If Mitch hadn’t shown up, would the cowboy have followed her?
Her engine stuttered. Her gaze flew to the gas gauge. Well below the E.
“No. No. No.” Just what she needed to top off this horrid day. She slammed her open palm against the steering wheel. The sting of the blow throbbed through her hand.
The engine choked and coughed, then died. She blew out a sigh, coasted to the shoulder of the road, and laid her head on the steering wheel. Drawing in a big breath, she flipped on the dome light and dug in her purse for her iPhone. Her hand clamped over the smooth, familiar shape. She jabbed the screen. Nothing. Great. She’d forgotten to charge it. Again.
She opened the door and stepped out into the night air. Though the temperature had been in the seventies today, the evening had cooled to the low fifties. The skimpy little black dress she’d changed into after the wedding didn’t help much.
Stars spangled the big Texas sky. The lights of Aubrey glowed in the distance. No traffic at midnight. She’d walk to the old farmhouse at the edge of town. It had been empty for a few years, but evidently someone lived there now. Probably someone she or her parents knew. Everybody knew everybody in Aubrey.
Caitlyn would come get her from there. No questions asked between sisters. She’d have to come up with a little white lie to cover where she’d run into Mitch. Or maybe she shouldn’t mention it. Caitlyn was still nursing Mitch-inflicted wounds from ten years ago.
She hugged herself and trudged along the shoulder of the road illuminated only by the moon. At least it was still too cool for rattlesnakes.
The little black dress had done the trick tonight—attracted a cowboy as she’d planned. Why couldn’t she go through with it? Because she was sober?
The smell of alcohol had turned her stomach ever since she’d gotten pregnant. And it couldn’t be that again; she’d lived like a nun since her pregnancy. For too long. She’d needed a cowboy to help her forget. About Hannah. About Wyatt. About Lane.
A dog barked. She froze.
Something scurried through the field to her right. She bolted.
The dog barked again and a cacophony of canines joined in.
She could see the house now and charged toward it.
Her breathing ragged, she cut across the yard, turned her ankle again, and felt her way up the unlit porch steps. A low growl, deep and menacing, stopped her in her tracks.
The dog growled again, then barked from the porch. It sounded big. She backed down the steps. Her heel caught. She gasped and fell back, sprawling in the cool grass.
Light blinded her. She shielded her eyes with one hand.
The door moaned as it opened.
“What is it, Barney?” A gruff voice. A huge man with bulging muscles framed by the open doorway. Wearing a ribbed undershirt and basketball shorts, he ran his hand through sleep-tousled dark waves. The dog growled again.
Natalie shivered. Her eyes adjusted to the porch light. A rottweiler. A huge, backlit man. Had she gone from simmer to inferno?
“Barney, heel.” The baritone was less gruff now. “Hey, you okay?”
That voice again. For the second time in one day. Move, feet. Run before he recognizes you. Awkwardly, she tried to stand, but her ankle gave out.
“Natalie, is that you?” Lane opened the screen door.
Too late. It was too much—seeing Lane at the wedding, the confrontation with Wyatt, advising Brittany not to end up like her. Then the cowboy, Mitch’s stern advice and her ankle. Punctuated with the dogs and Lane ag
ain to top off the evening. Tears stung her eyes.
“Hey. Are you hurt?” He took the steps in one leap. He knelt beside her and his hands settled on her shoulders.
She shuddered.
Lane helped her up and pulled her into his arms.
The arms she’d dreamed of for nine years. She pressed her face into his solid chest. He smelled like Irish Spring soap and sleep.
“Nat, you okay?”
Chapter 2
“I’m afraid of dogs,” she sobbed against his shoulder. Like a complete ninny.
“What happened?”
“Just let me call Caitlyn.”
“Not until you calm down and tell me what happened. This seems like more than a dog.” He didn’t say anything else, just held her.
Her life kept getting better and better. It would be worth it to commute to work from her apartment in Garland just to avoid him. She didn’t have to live here.
But she was tired of her self-inflicted exile. Tired of hiding in shame. And she wanted to see Hannah again. Up close. The glimpse of her daughter at the wedding had only made her want more. If she could find closure where Hannah was concerned, maybe she could pull herself together.
She reluctantly stepped back from him. Striving to be casual, she patted his shoulder. Firm muscle. She jerked her hand away. “Sorry, I got your shirt soggy, but it sounded like a whole pack of dogs.”
“You gonna tell me what happened now?” Gently, he took her hand.
The rottweiler took a step closer.
“Is he safe?” Her hand trembled in Lane’s.
“Barney, in your house.”
The dog wagged his tail and headed for his doghouse.
Lane led her inside. The living room was neat, masculine and functional—except for one corner filled with tools, paint cans and a kitchen cabinet. Lane was remodeling. In for the long haul.
“Sorry for the mess. I gutted the kitchen and it’s slow putting it back together.” His gaze settled on the red mark around her wrist where the cowboy had grabbed her. His eyes narrowed.
“Just let me use your phone.” Her voice cracked. “I’m fine.”
“I’ve seen fine, and it doesn’t look like this.” He turned her wrist over. “Sit down and tell me who did this to you.”
She sank into the man-sized taupe couch and scrubbed her hand across her eyes. “Some guy at the bar. He got a little rough when I refused his ride home.”
He stiffened. “How rough? Who was it? Maybe I should pay him a visit. Or call the police.”
The police were already there. She shook her head. “I didn’t get his name.”
“Where’s your car?”
“I ran out of gas an eighth of a mile or so from here.”
“You walked from there? In those shoes?” He sat beside her.
“It was no big deal. Except for the dogs.”
His arm came around her shoulders.
She pulled away. “Just let me use your phone.” She sounded scared—weak—even to her own ears.
Why couldn’t she pull it together? Pretend she was self-sufficient. Self-sufficient enough to remember to buy gas and charge her iPhone. Pretend she hadn’t thought about him in years.
“I’ve got a gas jug,” he said.
“Leave it. The car’s well off the road. I’ll call Caitlyn to come get me and we’ll worry about my car tomorrow.” She shrugged. “It’s not like it’ll get towed—or stolen—in Aubrey.”
“You headed to your folks’ place?”
She blew out a big sigh. “Actually, I’m headed to the house my parents built for me next door to theirs.”
“I’ll take you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Why wake Caitlyn this time of night when I’m already up?” He stood and grabbed his keys from a table near the door.
Out of options, she followed. “Sorry for waking you so late.” Why hadn’t she agreed to let him put gas in her car? Now she’d be stuck in his truck. With him.
“Not a problem.” He opened the door and waited for her to step through.
“Um, is Barney on a chain or anything?” Her voice was tremulous.
“He’s harmless as long as I’m around or he knows you.”
“Still I...”
“Let me put him in the backyard.” He strode toward the rear of the house. A door clicked open, then closed. “Barney? Come here, boy.” His faint voice, outside.
She scanned her surroundings and saw dark wood floors and walls, splashes of Southwest patterns for accent, and a huge flat-screen television.
A few minutes later, the door opened and closed again. Lane strode back into the living room. “There. Safely inside the fence.”
“Thanks.”
He threaded his fingers through hers, and she limped a few steps alongside him.
“You’re hurt.”
“I turned my ankle a little, that’s all.”
“Here, lean on me.” He settled her arm around his waist, nestling her against his side.
She trembled. “Are there any other loose dogs around?” Please let him think she was uneasy about dogs instead of his nearness.
“I’ll protect you. I promise.” He supported her weight down the porch steps, all the way to his truck, and opened the passenger door for her.
She climbed in, feeling safer than she had all night. But she had to remember who Lane was. More dangerous than any rottweiler.
* * *
Lane’s engine rumbled to life and he snuck a glance at Natalie.
She leaned back against the headrest. Vulnerable and tired. But at least she wasn’t crying anymore.
Thank You, Lord, for letting me be here to help her.
What might have happened to her if he hadn’t been around? His insides quivered. “Do you go to bars often?”
“What I do is none of your concern.” Her voice shook.
“Maybe not. But it could be dangerous.” His words were sharp.
“Listen, I appreciate your help, but if I want to take some cowboy home from a bar without even learning his name, it’s my business. Got that?” Anger sounded in her tone, not tears.
Lane’s stomach bottomed out.
Natalie had every right to hate him. But did she really take men she didn’t know home with her? And if so, why hadn’t she tonight? Because the guy got rough? Or had she made up the whole thing to dig at him?
“You should be more careful.” Lane glanced her way. Please let her be making up the scenario.
“My drive’s coming up on the left. Right before my parents’ place.” She pointed. “Right here. I could have walked the rest of the way. But the dogs—”
“No need to walk, and I’m glad to help.” Natalie Wentworth, a mere mile down the road from his house. He turned into the drive. The road took him to a dollhouse. Just like her parents’ place.
He killed the engine, got out, and came around to open her door. He offered his hand, but she didn’t take it and climbed down from his truck without help. She winced when the weak ankle bore her weight, but with a determined set to her jaw, she didn’t limp.
He fell into step beside her. “I’ve thought a lot about you over the years.”
Sarcasm laced her laugh. “Yeah, I bet.” She stopped and faced him.
“Really, Natalie.” His hand cupped her cheek. “I mean it. I’m sorry for the way I treated you back then. You deserved better.”
She stepped back. “No biggie. I’d forgotten you existed.”
His hand dropped to his side. “I hope I didn’t do this to you. Make you this hard.”
“You give yourself way too much credit.” She stalked away.
He waited until she was safely inside before driving away. Had he done
this to her? She’d been innocent until she ran into him. Did she make a habit of leaving bars with nameless men she’d just met?
Oh, Lord, forgive me. Please keep her safe. In spite of herself.
* * *
Finally, Monday. Work. Exactly what Natalie needed to keep her mind occupied.
She propped her hands on her hips and scanned the store, while her sister helped a young woman with her purchase. Twangy country music played in the background. Not loud enough to create distraction, just a nice ambience. It was a step in the right direction, but the maze of overflowing racks had to go. Caitlyn had stayed away too long. Left the care of her store—her baby—to another.
Figuratively, instead of literally, as Natalie had.
Her heart hitched.
Concentrate on the store. No wonder sales were down. Caitlyn’s store would never get the rodeo contract at this rate.
But the location—right in the middle of the Fort Worth Stockyards—was priceless. Streamlined, appealing, top-of-the-line cowboy gear. Natalie would have it in shape by the end of the week if her sister would listen to her.
Once she saw Hannah again and got all the businesses in order, she could submit her publicity plan and work from Garland. Return to her no-worries life, without seeing Lane.
But after the wedding the other night, then happening upon his house and the ride home—her heart hadn’t returned to a normal beat yet.
The bell over the door jingled as the customer left with a large bag.
“Okay, I’ll admit my store got out of hand while I was busy opening the one in Dallas, but do you really think it needs that much work?” Caitlyn sounded nervous at the prospect.
Bless her heart, Caitlyn had always been a small thinker. Content with her rinky-dink store, when it could be so much more. She’d never have opened the second store if Natalie hadn’t pushed her.
“Definitely, but we’ll have our work cut out for us. I think a clearance sale is in order so we can bring in more upscale lines.”
“That sounds expensive.” Caitlyn nibbled her lip.
“If you get the contract, you’ll have plenty of funds.”
“Really?” Caitlyn’s eyes lit up.
Maybe she would catch Natalie’s vision.
Rodeo Regrets Page 2
