by Cat Johnson
He grinned. In horses passing gas was a good thing, but it could still make him grin like a schoolboy. So he was immature sometimes. Whatever.
“So it was the walking that helped, you think?” She glanced up. Her eyes, big and blue like pools of cool water, were still filled with concern.
Shooter shook off the idea of skinny-dipping with Ellen the image of a pool of water had put in his mind.
“Uh, yeah. That and a little home remedy.”
“What home remedy?” She pulled away to frown up at him.
“An old farmer taught me to give a horse whisky for colic.” He let his arm drop. There’d be no more back rubbing or anything else now, he was sure.
Ellen wasn’t going to like his remedy. Shooter knew her well enough to know that. She was always judgmental about his drinking. Finding out he’d given whisky to her horse would really piss her off. Though he kind of liked pissed-off Ellen—at least he was used to her. He could handle her. It was more familiar than teary-eyed Ellen.
“Whisky? You got my horse drunk?” She pivoted to look from the horse to Shooter, an angry glare in her eyes.
“Two shots of whisky are not going to get a twelve-hundred-pound horse drunk. And it worked, didn’t it?” When she crossed her arms and continued to glare at him, he returned her look with a scowl of his own. “Next time call the damn vet and pay for a farm visit if you don’t like the way I handle things.”
He tried not to watch her chest rise and fall as she let out a big huff.
“I’m sure it’s the walk that fixed him up, not the whisky.” She shot him another nasty look before turning her attention back to the horse.
And Shooter was quite sure of the opposite, since the horse was still acting like he was in pain until he’d went out and bought the bottle of whisky. In any case, the walk had also been his idea. He didn’t bother reminding her of that. Once her mind was set, there was no changing it.
He thought of the message he’d sent her from his secret online profile. That had been pretty pointless, because once it was set Ellen didn’t change her mind. She hated him as Shooter and she’d probably hate him as Buddy too. Even if Buddy did somehow melt her heart, if she ever learned it was really Shooter behind the messages she’d freak the hell out. Things between them would be worse than usual.
She leaned her forearms against the stall door again and watched the horse through the window bars. “He does look much better.”
Jumping on the fact she sounded less angry, he said, “Yeah. I think so. I pulled his shavings back into the middle and he hasn’t been circling in the stall since. And like I said, his digestive system is working. I picked the load he dumped out of the shavings before he trampled it. I told the kid to hold off on his feed for a bit and just give him hay until I was sure he was all right, but I think he’ll be comfortable for the night.”
Ellen turned to look at him, her expression softening. “I’m sorry I jumped down your throat before. Thank you. For everything you did today. Missing work. Spending all this time with him.”
Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe Ellen could change her mind. Maybe she’d change it about him. “You’re welcome.”
She glanced at her watch. “I better get back to work.”
“I was gonna head home too. Unless you want me to stick around and keep an eye on Bucky.”
“No, I couldn’t ask you to do that. You’ve done too much already. I’ll stop by at the end of my shift and check on him.”
Shooter frowned. “That’s like at midnight.”
She shrugged. “I get off at eleven, but yeah, by the time I sign out and get over here it will be late.”
“You sure you should be roaming around here alone that late?”
“It’s fine. Who’s going to bother me? It’s a barn.”
“I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel safe for a woman to be wandering around alone in the middle of the night.”
Ellen cocked her head and looked at him. “I never took you, of all people, as the over-protective type.”
There seemed to be a veiled—or maybe not so veiled—insult in her comment. He scowled at that. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”
She let out a short laugh. “I guess there are, but most of them I’d be afraid to know anyway. Okay, I’m gonna get. See ya.”
With one last look at Bucky, Ellen flounced off, out of the barn and to her car, leaving Shooter to pout on his own.
He watched her go, unable to decide if he’d gained or lost ground in Ellen’s esteem. Glancing back to Bucky, he reached out and ran a hand down the animal’s muzzle.
“Stay healthy, okay? I don’t mind winning a few points with your pretty little owner, but I don’t need to be doing it over you laid out in the field. Got it?” The horse’s gaze twitched toward Shooter, then away to look for more hay. That was all the thanks he was going to get he supposed. “And you’re welcome for the Jack Daniels.”
He shook his head and followed Ellen’s path out of the barn and to his truck. Next time, if there was a next time, he should buy the damn animal the cheap whisky. Though actually, there was still plenty left in the bottle and it was Shooter who would be finishing it.
Time to finally head home, get something to eat for himself and maybe even crack open that bottle of Jack.
Barely half an hour later, Shooter sat in his apartment devouring his second fast food hamburger of the meal as he waited for the computer to finish doing its thing. He shouldn’t even bother checking the matchmaking site. She probably didn’t respond. Why should she? A looker like Ellen, showing that much boob in her profile picture, probably got like a hundred messages a day from perverts wanting to take her out. Why would she respond to “Buddy”?
When finally the browser loaded his page, there it was—a message in his inbox.
“Wow.” He breathed in and braced himself.
Maybe it wasn’t from her. Maybe some other chick liked Buddy’s profile. And if it was, what the hell would he do about it? There was only one way to find out, he guessed. Shooter clicked it open and Griffin Girl’s message sat there waiting for him.
Hamburger remains abandoned, he read the message twice before sitting back to digest it. Judging by her message, Ellen liked Buddy. But Buddy was Shooter and she didn’t like him.
It was enough to make a man’s head hurt. He took a sip of his Jack and Coke and mulled the situation over. He’d have to respond to her. Then what? Where was this thing going to go? It had started out with him spying on her because she didn’t want him to know she was on this site. It had morphed into him wanting to protect her from the weirdoes who would be all over her there. Now it seemed he didn’t want Ellen to like Buddy. He wanted her to like him—Shooter, the guy she hung out with, and fought with, at least a couple of times a week.
When and why had things changed in his mind? He had a horrible feeling it started with that damn sex dream. And today’s bonding over her horse had only made things worse as far as his feelings were concerned. Now it felt like he was on a quest. He was going to get Ellen to like him, the real him, as a man, or go down trying.
But right now, he had this message to respond to. He’d finish the response then take a quick nap, because he had every intention of setting an alarm and waking up in time to text or call Ellen just after her shift ended to make sure she was okay at the damn barn alone in the middle of the God damn night—if he didn’t end up driving over there.
Women were a lot of work. Setting fingers onto the keyboard, he sighed, wondering if she’d really be worth it all in the end and knowing the answer was yes.
Dear G.G.,
Yes, I’ve been known to ride a horse a time or two…
Chapter Five
Ellen jumped and let out a tiny squeal as her phone vibrated in her hand. She was only holding it because Shooter had freaked her out being concerned about her coming back to the barn alone after work. Instead of leaving it in her purse in the car, she clutched it in a death grip in her
fist like the too-stupid-to-live and about to be killed heroine in a bad horror movie. Glancing at the lit readout, glowing brightly in the dim barn, she saw it was him.
“Speak of the devil.”
“Were you speaking about me? To who? Bucky?” He laughed.
“I wasn’t talking about you, I was thinking how you scared me by getting all worried about me being here when I would have been perfectly fine if you’d just kept your mouth shut.”
“Yeah, well, keeping my mouth shut isn’t my strong suit. And if I happened to be using my mouth on you, you’d be very appreciative of that point.”
She heard the smile in his voice. “Shooter Welles, stop being a pig.”
“All right. For now. Don’t freak out, but I just parked the truck and I’m about to walk into the barn. I didn’t want to scare you…you know, in case you’re packing a pistol or something.”
“You’re here?” Even as she asked, she heard the slam of his truck door and the crunch of boots on gravel.
“I am.” He walked in and flipped the phone shut with a smile. “How is he?”
Acting as if they met here near midnight all the time, Shooter sauntered over to the stall and glanced in.
“He seems okay.” Still in shock, Ellen managed to answer him. “What are you doing here?”
He tilted his head and she could just see the bottom of his jaw beneath the shadow of his hat. “Making sure you don’t get yourself into trouble. I figure Wes would be pretty pissed off if I knew his sister was creeping around alone in the dark and I didn’t do anything to protect her.”
“You could have just tattled to Wes I was coming here and stayed in bed with the girl du jour instead of coming here.”
He knocked his hat back a bit and she got a glimpse of more of his chiseled features.
“I did tell Wes. He said you’d be safe enough here alone. And I’ll have you know I don’t have anywhere near the amount of women in my bed as you seem to think I do.” His mouth twisted and she noticed how perfectly shaped his lips were and how dark the stubble marking his chin and cheeks looked in this low light.
Ellen dragged her gaze away from his mouth. “You have enough.”
Shooter folded his arms. “That was in the past. I’m thinking it’s time I settled down with one woman.”
Her eyebrows shot up high. “You? Settle down with one woman?”
One woman per night maybe, but definitely not one woman for the rest of his life, or even for the rest of the month.
“Yeah. Wes did it. Why can’t I?” Shooter frowned down at her.
“Because you’re…you.”
“Meaning?” His voice took on a sharp tone.
“Meaning you like to play around. A lot.”
“And as a single man that was my right to do so. That doesn’t mean I can’t settle down and be faithful to one girl. The right girl.”
This conversation was going nowhere and she was dangerously close to insulting him. She could see that just by the way his body had stiffened. Another time, another place, she’d tease him until he got pissed off and left, but after today with what he’d done for Bucky, and tonight with his checking on her safety, she didn’t feel right torturing him as fun as it might be.
“No comment?” He challenged her when she didn’t say more.
“Nope. You’re right. You’re free to do who ever you want, whenever you want, or not. Up to you.”
“That’s not the point. The point was I’m serious about settling down and when I set my mind to something, I do it. You should know that about me by now.”
“In the rodeo, yeah, you do. You set your mind on a buckle, you go and get it.”
“Go on, finish the thought. I know you pretty well too, Ellen.”
“What?” She played innocent.
“You’re thinking if I set my mind on a buckle bunny, I get her as well.” He scowled at her.
“I didn’t say that.” But she sure as hell had been thinking it. In almost those exact same words. He did know her pretty well. That was scary.
Shooter took one step closer. “And what if I set my sights on you? What would you say then?”
Ellen took a step back. “I’d say you’re drunk.”
“Am not.” His gaze dropped down her body. “I’m glad you changed out of those ugly scrub things.”
Shooter was not only noticing what she wore, but he was making moves on her. And not the usually piggish, lewd comments he always made to get her going. This felt different. Like he was serious. “Shooter, what’s this about?”
“I honestly don’t know.” He laughed and shook his head, then took a step back from her. “So are you happy Bucky’s okay so I can go back to bed?”
He had backed off and wanted to leave? That was even more confusing. “Um, yeah. I think so.”
He glanced inside the stall. “The shavings look like he’s been quiet so far. I think he’s good. I’ll be here in the morning before work anyway, giving mine his morning carrots. I’ll check on him again for you.”
And just like that, he was all business again.
“Um, okay. Thanks.” Ellen nodded.
“Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Okay.” Feeling a little shell shocked, Ellen said good night to Bucky and followed Shooter into the parking lot. He walked her right to her car and waited as she unlocked the door. But before she could get in, he put one hand on the frame of the open door. She stopped and looked back at him, wondering what was up.
He lowered his head toward hers, hovered there for a second during which her heart began to pound, and then his lips met hers. It was gentle and soft and over before she could even respond.
Shooter pulled back, but not very far. “Hmm.”
“Hmm, what?” Her voice sounded husky in her own ears.
“Just wondering what it would be like.”
“And?” What was wrong with her? She must be in shock. She should be slapping him for kissing her out of the blue, not asking him how he liked it.
“It was nice.”
Her brow rose. Why was she insulted by that? “Nice?”
He grinned. “Nothing wrong with nice, Ellen. I’ll text you rather than call in the morning after I see how he is in case you’re still asleep. Have a good night.”
With that he walked away, got into his truck, and sat there until she’d started her engine and driven out of the parking lot, then he followed, turning the opposite direction toward his place. Even after his truck was long gone from view, her pulse still raced and her mind kept running over that kiss.
What the hell had just happened?
Ellen was too confused about not only Shooter’s behavior, but also her own reaction to it, to be able to go to sleep when she got home. She poured herself a glass of milk and decided to check her inbox to get her mind off the strange turn of events. There was a message from Buddy. When it rained, it poured. How long had there been a total drought in her life of interesting men, and now, all in a matter of a day, this incredibly nice guy was talking to her online and her brother’s best friend was suddenly showing an interest in her.
What were the odds?
She opened the message and tried to put Shooter out of her mind, even though that was proving surprisingly difficult. She read through how Buddy did know how to ride and how he too one day hoped to own a place where he could keep animals since he enjoyed spending time with them even though he didn’t get to do it as much as he’d like now. He asked when she was competing again, which showed he wasn’t on the rodeo circuit or he’d know about the rodeo this weekend. That was good. Animal lover was fine. A rodeo buckle bunny magnet was not. Which brought her mind right back to Shooter. What the hell? He could, and had, been with a ton of girls. Why was he interested in her? Had he run out of new women to lure to his bed—or the bed of his truck when that was more convenient? Was she just a challenge and he was bored with the women throwing themselves at him?
Though he had been really sweet lately. Fixing her
car. Taking care of Bucky. Taking a day off of work to do it, then getting up in the middle of the night to check on her. It was almost as if he really did care. But a leopard didn’t change his spots. She had to remember that. Though what he’d said was true, he was a single man and could do what he wanted. It wasn’t as if he had a girlfriend and still picked up other women. Would he though?
This was all making her head hurt. Ellen closed the lid of the computer. She couldn’t deal with any more men tonight. Not the one online and not the one in real life. Maybe tomorrow things would be less confusing. She could only hope.
Ellen heard the text come through to her phone early in the morning. Normally she would have ignored it, but she knew it would be Shooter from the barn. She grabbed for the phone on the nightstand and had to focus her bleary eyes to read it.
Good morning. Bucky’s fine. Eating and pooping like a champ!
She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was crazy. This man of all men should not be having her leaping for the phone. This man was dangerous. As much as she’d like to make herself believe she was only anxious to see the text from Shooter because it was about her horse, she knew better. He’d opened the can of worms with his hint that he’d like to set his sights on her and then that damn kiss. And now that it was in her mind, it was all she could think about—all night long during a restless night where she’d barely slept. She was exhausted and more confused than ever.
It was still early. She heard Wes moving around out in the apartment. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Ellen padded to the kitchen. “Hey.”
Coffee pot in hand, he glanced over his shoulder. “Holy cow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you up this early. What’s going on?”
“Um, nothing. I…it’s just…well Bucky was colicky yesterday and I was worried about him so Shooter texted me this morning from the barn to let me know everything was okay.”
Wes’s sandy-colored brows rose. “Hmm. He called me yesterday, worried about you going there last night.”
“So he said. And that you weren’t at all concerned.” She crossed her arms.
