Rescuing the Texan's Heart

by Mindy Obenhaus

  Scout’s tail wagged with anticipation as she waited by the door.

  “I know exactly how you feel, baby.” With a calming breath, Taryn rang the doorbell. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so eager to see someone.

  What about Brian?

  She shook the thought away. Cash was not Brian.

  The door burst open and Cash stood on the other side of the glass. The smile on his face made her insides flutter. And that had to be the best-looking flannel shirt she’d ever seen. Even though she had seen it before.

  Scout wiggled all over when he opened the storm door, half whining, half barking as she bounced at his feet.

  “Come here, Scout.” He scooped her up. The dog squirmed and licked Cash’s face. “Yes, I’m happy to see you, too.” His gaze found Taryn’s. “Both of you.”

  Emotions swelled inside her. Giddy, crazy emotions. Emotions she would have dismissed a week ago. Now...?

  “How’s your grandfather?” She walked past Cash as he held the door. A fire blazed in the fireplace and the evening news was on television. Some things never changed.

  “Better now that I’m home, young lady.” Mr. Jenkins reclined in his chair, wearing a hard plastic brace around his torso.

  Taryn couldn’t help smiling as she approached the old man. “Looks like we’re going to have to call you Turtle Man.” She knelt beside him. “So how are you feeling?”

  “I’ve been better. But I’ve been worse, too. I’m alive and that means the good Lord ain’t done with me yet.” He patted her hand.

  “Well, I, for one, am very glad to hear that.”

  Cash had set Scout on the floor and she now bounced alongside the chair.

  “No, baby. You can’t jump on Mr. Jenkins.” She ran a hand over Scout’s wiry fur. “You might hurt him.”

  “Ah, she can’t hurt a tough old coot like me.” Mr. Jenkins patted his leg, encouraging Scout to join him.

  The dog leaped into his lap, then, as though knowing she needed to be careful, settled between his leg and the arm of the chair.

  “That’s a good girl.” Mr. Jenkins stroked the dog’s head.

  Cash touched Taryn’s arm. “Come with me.”

  She followed him to the kitchen.

  “You’re not gonna believe this.” He paused at the Formica-topped table and waited. “I know I sure didn’t.” He gestured toward the counters.

  Plastic containers and foil pans of varying shapes and sizes covered nearly every surface. An outpouring of support from a close-knit community.

  “And there’s more in here.” He opened the refrigerator. Just yesterday the thing had been almost empty. Now it was brimming with pots, casserole dishes and more foil pans. He grinned. “I’ve never seen so much food.”

  “Ouray is a small town. Everybody knows everybody. And everyone loves your grandfather.” She pointed to an enameled cast-iron pot. “I hope you marked the containers that’ll need to be returned.”

  “They took care of that for me.” He closed the fridge door. “But I’ll probably need your help figuring out where everybody lives.”

  “I can do that.” She moved to the counter beside the fridge and lifted the aluminum foil from one of the pans. “Mmm. Ida Markum’s millionaire pie. Life doesn’t get much better than that.” She faced Cash. “So, have you eaten?”

  “No.” He looked confused. “I don’t have a clue where to begin.”

  “That’s easy. Just take an inventory of what you’ve got. Decide what you want to eat tonight and tomorrow, then freeze the rest. That way, nothing will spoil, and all you’ll have to do is warm things up in the oven.”

  “Spoken like someone who knows their way around the kitchen.”

  “We all have our strengths. You know business plans, I know kitchens. Now—” she shooed him away from the refrigerator and opened the door “—go get a piece of paper and something to write with. You’re my list man.” Glancing behind her, she noticed he hadn’t moved. “What?”

  “Will you stay for dinner?”

  If she said yes, there would be no turning back.

  “Cash, you just don’t get it do you? You have Ida Markum’s millionaire pie.” She gestured to the counter. “Of course I’m staying.”

  The slow grin that spread across his face said more than any words. He wanted her there. And right now, she couldn’t imagine being anyplace else.

  * * *

  Gramps was Cash’s number-one priority. Keeping him safe and as comfortable as possible topped Cash’s to-do list. Yet for some reason, Gramps couldn’t wait to get rid of him.

  “I need my mail, son. I’ve always paid my bills on time and I don’t intend to stop now.”

  Standing beside his grandfather’s recliner, he stared down at the old man, wondering why he still kept that old post-office box when home delivery would be so much easier. “But I don’t like leaving you alone.”

  “I’m not alone.” Gramps poked a thumb toward the Home Health nurse. “Melissa here plans on giving me quite a workout.”

  Cash eyed the thirty-something woman.

  “That’s right,” she said. “Today’s goal is to teach Art to get out of bed without assistance.”

  “So while we’re working on that, you can pick up my mail. Key’s on the hook by the back door.” Gramps sure was insistent. Just like Cash’s mother.

  And whether he wanted them or not, he had his marching orders.

  He glanced down at his only pair of jeans and the Henley he’d worn every other day since arriving. “Melissa, how long do you think you’ll be here?”

  She shrugged. “Hour, maybe longer.”

  “Excellent.” He turned his attention to his grandfather. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “Take your time,” Gramps hollered behind him.

  Cash donned his new jacket before stepping out into the cool afternoon air. He didn’t plan on taking any more time than necessary, but there was something he’d like to do besides getting Gramps’s mail.

  A smattering of clouds played peekaboo with the sun as he walked toward Main Street, contemplating his limited wardrobe. One pair of jeans and four shirts. Enough for three days, but three weeks?

  Not quite.

  To his surprise, Ouray was bustling this Saturday afternoon. Folks wandered the sidewalks, taking in the sights, and a steady stream of traffic moved up and down Main Street. Here he thought Ouray shut down in the winter. But the ice park seemed to keep things going year-round.

  Moving at a relatively brisk pace, he headed toward All Geared Up. From what he’d seen the day he bought his jacket, they had a nice selection of clothing, in addition to everything else. If only Taryn were there to help him. But, as he’d learned last night, she taught children’s ski lessons in Telluride on Saturdays. He shook his head with a chuckle. Was there anything she couldn’t do?

  When he opened the wood-and-glass door at All Geared Up, the store hummed with energy. It wasn’t packed but definitely busy. Several people—obvious climbers—huddled around a glass case on an elevated section of the store. Carabiners, ropes and helmets seemed the order of the day.

  Cash headed straight for the men’s clothing, though with so much stuff in one place, it was difficult to stay focused. He flipped through the hangers on the rack and quickly selected a soft flannel shirt, a long-sleeved T-shirt and another Henley. Now, if he could find a pair of—

  Turning, he spotted a short stack of denim jeans, thumbed through the pile until he located his size. All Geared Up seemed to have it all.

  Arms loaded, he studied the store once more. Even the rafters held merchandise. Skis, kayaks and one of those toboggans that Taryn had brought to the sledding hill. He could spend hours in here, but not with Gramps waiting on his mail.

  Easing towar
d the checkout counter, he recognized the man at the cash register as Taryn’s boss. “You’ve got quite a place here.” He set his items on the counter.

  “Why, thank you.” The man’s gaze narrowed. “Aren’t you Art Jenkins’s grandson?”

  “Yes, I am.” He held out his hand. “Cash Coble.”

  The man took hold. “Buck Ramsey. Good to know you.” Letting go, he scanned the bar code on the first shirt. “How’s your grandfather?”

  “As well as can be expected, I suppose. Pain is still an issue, though if you know my grandfather, you know he’ll never complain about it.”

  Buck nodded in understanding. “We’re just thankful he’s okay.”

  “You’re not the only one.”

  “I hear you’re going to be staying with him for a while.” The owner folded each item.

  Word really did travel fast in a small town. “I am. Which is why I need these.” He pointed to the clothes. “Figured I’d get something a little more suited to y’all’s weather while Home Health is with Gramps.”

  “Your timing’s good, then. They’re calling for more snow and some pretty bitter temps, even for us.” Buck loaded the items into a bag. “If you have problems with anything, just bring them back with the receipt and we’ll get you taken care of.”

  “I appreciate that.” Especially since he didn’t take the time to try anything on. Cash handed over his credit card, signed the receipt and took his bag.

  He looked around the shop one last time before stepping out into the cold. No wonder Taryn wanted to buy this place. All Geared Up had found their niche. Throw in some advanced marketing and online sales, and he could see this place doubling its sales.

  You could do that.

  Boy, would he love to.

  He continued up the street, in the direction of the post office. All Geared Up was the kind of place he could get excited about. A place he could put his mark on and actually enjoy.

  He heaved out a breath. But All Geared Up was Taryn’s. And, like it or not, his life was in Dallas.

  So, how did he and Taryn ever have a chance of being together?

  * * *

  Taryn knew something wasn’t right almost from the moment she and Scout arrived at Mr. Jenkins’s house. Last night, Cash had insisted she join them for dinner again this evening. But he didn’t appear anywhere near as happy to see her. Matter of fact, he’d barely spoken since she got there and she’d noticed him rubbing the back of his neck more than once.

  “Did you talk to your dad today?” She pulled a chicken-and-rice casserole out of the oven and set it on top of the stove.

  Cash grabbed plates from the cupboard. “No.”

  “So what’s wrong?”

  “What makes you think something’s wrong?” He set the plates on the table with a little too much force.

  “You’re rubbing your neck.”

  “So. Can’t a guy rub his neck without getting the third degree?” His gaze bore into her. “This is me, Taryn. Take it or leave it.”

  Yep, something was definitely wrong. Cash had never talked to her like that. And as tempted as she was to take him up on his offer and walk out the door, something compelled her to stay. Did she dare try to find out what was going on? Or simply save his grandfather from spending the evening alone with Mr. Grouchy Pants?

  When dinner was ready, Mr. Jenkins insisted they all eat at the table. Last night, they’d set up a TV tray beside his recliner, then joined him in the living room so he wouldn’t have to eat alone. But tonight he wanted things back to normal.

  The old man scooped a forkful of casserole. “Taryn, I want you to take Cash to church tomorrow.”

  Taryn nearly choked on the bite she’d just eaten.

  “Gramps, you know I can’t do that.” Cash looked way too serious.

  “Yes, you can. I talked with Melissa—” Mr. Jenkins’s attention momentarily diverted to Taryn “—that’s my Home Health nurse.” Then back to Cash. “She’s going to stay with me so you can go to church.”

  Taryn’s gaze darted between the two men. It was obvious that Cash wasn’t pleased, though why, she wasn’t sure. Was it because he didn’t want to leave his grandfather, didn’t want to go to church or didn’t want to go with her?

  “It’s not fair for you to push me onto Taryn like that.” Cash fingered a white paper napkin.

  “I don’t mind.” She smiled at him, trying not to take his comment personally.

  His grandfather grinned, looking somewhere between mischievous and overly pleased. “Good, that’s settled then.” He forked another bite. “So Taryn, how did things go over at Mountain Village today?”

  “Great. I had a group of four-and five-year-olds that really kept me on my toes.” She stabbed a green bean. “But they were so cute.”

  “Taryn loves kids.” Mr. Jenkins addressed his grandson, sounding vaguely like her mother. “Almost as much as they love her.” He sent her a wink.

  Cash all but glared at her. “I can see that.”

  As the meal wore on, Mr. Jenkins’s chipper demeanor seemed to wane. His smile had shifted into a grim line. He lowered his fork and leaned against the table.

  “You okay, Gramps?” Cash stood and moved to his grandfather. “Do you need some more pain medication?”

  “Help me back to my recliner, son.” Cash eased the old man out of the hard vinyl chair. “Guess I shouldn’t have insisted on sitting at the table just yet. These chairs make my tailbone ache.”

  Since his tailbone had borne the impact of his fall, it stood to reason that it would bother him. Next time, she’d recommend they put a cushion on his seat.

  She glanced at Cash. That is, if there was a next time.

  While he helped Mr. Jenkins, Taryn cleared the dishes and filled the old white porcelain sink with soapy water.

  “Why don’t you use the dishwasher?” Cash looked annoyed.

  She shrugged. “It was empty. There aren’t that many dishes. I can have these—” she gestured to the three plates, utensils and the foil pan “—washed up in no time.” She dropped the silverware into the sink. “How’s your grandfather?”

  “Better.”

  “Good.” She tossed him a towel. “Here, you can dry.”

  He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t refuse, either.

  “So, what did you do today?”

  “Nothing much.” He scowled.

  Dipping her hands in the sudsy water, she knew she had to do something. She’d never seen Cash quite like this. So discouraged and downtrodden. And yet he hadn’t talked to his father.

  She rinsed the plates and set them in the other side of the sink, eyeing the sprayer.

  Cash grabbed one dish and wiped it, his less-than-cheerful attitude still firmly in place.

  Desperate times called for desperate measures. With the water still running, she snagged the sprayer, aimed it at Cash and pulled the trigger.

  “Hey!”

  “You need to lighten up, cowboy.”

  He stood there with his mouth hanging open. “Why, you little—” He all but dropped the plate, snatched the sprayer and gave her a dose of her own medicine.

  She squealed. The collar of her turtleneck was soaked in no time as the water rolled from her face. But growing up with two brothers had served her well. Instinct kicked in. She grabbed a handful of bubbles and tossed them in Cash’s direction.

  They landed on his hair, eyebrows and nose.

  When he swiped a sleeve across his nose, she tried to wrestle the sprayer away from him, only to be hit again. Laughing, she twisted around to avoid another attack.

  He laughed, too, his muscular arms coming around her.

  “You kids okay in there?”

  With one arm holding her firmly around the waist, Cash used the ot
her to hold the sprayer just out of Taryn’s reach. “We’re fine, Gramps. Just having a little fun.” His hold relaxed and she stepped away to see those dimples she liked so much.

  He returned the sprayer to its rightful place then closed the space between them. His gaze skimmed over her before connecting with hers. “Sorry. I guess I got a little carried away.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “Good. Then my madness was successful.”

  He lifted a hand to tuck a strand of wet hair behind her ear then allowed his fingers to gently trail down her cheek.

  “Have I ever told you how good you are for me?”

  Her mouth went dry. She swallowed hard. Shook her head.

  He tilted her chin to look at him. “You have a way of making the bad stuff fade away. Until all I see is the man I want to be.” His words washed over her tattered heart like a healing balm. His woodsy cologne enveloped her, making her forget every reason they shouldn’t be together.

  Her heart pounded. Surely he could hear it. No doubt Mr. Jenkins could hear it. But, for once, she didn’t care. Pushing up on her tiptoes, she kissed Cash.

  One arm slid around his neck as he pulled her closer. Lip to lip, heart to heart, she let go of her past and everything else that stood between them, and lost herself in the moment.

  When they finally parted, Cash rested his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry for being such a jerk earlier.”

  She couldn’t seem to stop grinning. “That’s okay. We all have off days. Just don’t make a habit of it.”

  His laugh was a whisper against her skin. “I suppose I should go check on my grandfather.”

  She forced herself to take a step back, running into the counter. “Yes, you should. I’ll join you just as soon as I—”

  His cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the screen. “It’s my mother. Hi, Mom.” He listened, his expression serious at first, then the corners of his mouth lifted. “Really? Cool. All right, keep me posted.” He ended the call. “My sister’s in labor.”