This Cowboy's a Keeper

by Kimberly Krey

  But her resiliency kicked in strong. Her determination did too. “You know what, Luke? I don’t think I’m going to do that. In fact, I’m not leaving here without my brother.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, you’re going to be waiting a mighty long time, because I’m not firing him and he doesn’t want to leave.”

  “Fine. Hope you don’t mind me sleeping on your couch.”

  “No, no,” the cowboy said. “I’ve got a much better place for you.” He flung the sheet off his body, revealing the empty spot on the mattress beside him.

  “You wish!” Payton hissed.

  Luke climbed off the bed. “Don’t flatter yourself, honey,” he said, moving toward the adjacent wall. He reached an arm out and widened a crack in the blinds. “There’s plenty of room out in the barn. You’ll fit right in out there.”

  “You’re a jerk!” Payton spun around and strode down the short hall in four long strides.

  “Hey, Jason,” the cowboy called from behind. “Put your sister up in Doug’s bed for the night, will you? Can’t have her getting lost on the way to her fancy five-star resort.”

  Jason, who’d been sitting on the end of the couch with his arms folded, came to a stand. “C’mon, Payton. Let’s get you settled in.”

  The door at the end of the hall slammed once more.

  “I’m not about to stay in the barn,” she snapped.

  “Doug’s room isn’t in the barn,” Jason grumbled. “It’s across from mine.”

  “He is the most inconsiderate, unbelievably mean man I have ever met.”

  Jason chuckled under his breath. “I doubt that.” He walked over, shut the front door, but then spun back to face her. “Do you have luggage or bags you want to bring in?”

  She wasn’t sure. All she knew is that her adrenaline was racing too fast and too furious to let her stand in one place. Which explained why she was shifting her weight and twisting the strands of her hair.

  Suggesting she stay in the barn … how insulting.

  So the cowboy liked having her brother around here, did he? Would he still like having Jason here if his annoying sister came along with the deal?

  “Yes, actually,” she said, walking back to the front door. “I do have bags that I need brought in. Thank you.”

  Chapter 8

  A buzzing sound pulled Payton from her sleep. She knew the sound well, the vibration of her phone when she put it on silent. Her initial thought to dismiss it was trampled by the memory of Chloe’s video of Archie at the pool.

  She pried herself off the mattress and stretched an arm toward the buzzing. She might have fallen asleep, but Payton hadn’t forgotten—even in the thick of her dreams—just where she was. A quick look at her phone said it was Chloe on the other end.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh. My. Styles.”

  Payton rolled her eyes. “Would you stop with the blaspheme?”

  “You know Harry is my everything. Leave me alone about it. And why didn’t you call me back? I thought you were dead.”

  “I texted you,” Payton said.

  “Yeah, but anyone can send a text. You could be kidnapped and murdered and lying in a gutter and some creep could send me that exact text from your phone.”

  Payton pulled the phone from her face to read the text she’d sent aloud. Judging by the pale light in the room, it was dawn out, but the unearthly glow of her device made her squint. “I’m here. Talk to you later. Please don’t tell anyone about Archie. How would anyone know to text that?”

  “Tsk, by watching the video I sent. How do you think?”

  Poison—the mere mention of Archie’s affair was like some sort of deadly snake venom. The recollection of that horrible woman with her arms and chest and face all over her fiancé. “Chloe?”

  “Yes …”

  “Can we just pretend it didn’t happen?”

  Dead air came through the line.

  “Please?” Payton urged.

  “For how long?”

  The pit of Payton’s stomach felt dull and achy, like a giant bruise. But as it moved, the pain turned sharp and hot, like acid shooting up her throat, through her head, and into her ears. “I can’t deal with it right now, okay? I met Jason’s boss last night, and it’s not going to be as easy as I thought it would be to get him out of here.”

  “What’s his boss like?”

  An image of the mean cowboy shot to her mind. “Ornery and rude.” She left out gorgeous and buff, because flattering the guy wasn’t on her list of to-dos.

  “Is he old?” Chloe asked. “Toothless? Does he use words like ain’t and fixin’?”

  Payton shook her head and gave in to a stretch, lengthening her arms and legs as she yawned. “Let me see … what did he say? It was something like that. Oh, yeah, he said he was going to call the sheriff on me.”

  Chloe laughed. “Watch it, missy,” she said in a deep country twang. “I’m fixin’ to call the sheriff, cuz this here ain’t going to fly in my town.”

  Payton giggled. “You’re such a nerd. It’s not like that.”

  “So tell me, what it is like? Does Jason seem happy there?”

  Payton knew that Chloe—master of distraction—was only respecting her wishes about Archie. Attempting to take her mind off things. And while she appreciated her efforts, she couldn’t help but feel like they were meandering beneath the towering elephant in the room. The slightest misstep and they’d be crushed. Or at least Payton would. “You haven’t shown anyone else that footage by the pool, have you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Good,” Payton said. “Would you please delete it? I have a copy, and that’s all that matters. I just really want to make sure it doesn’t get out.”

  “Okay,” Chloe said. “I’ll delete it right now while we’re talking.”

  “How’s business holding up?” she asked.

  “Payton … things are perfect here.” Chloe’s tone was scolding. She could just picture the sway of her friend’s sleek, black hair as she told it to her straight. “You’ve been gone for, like, twenty-four hours. You’ve traveled to Milan, Paris, and Berlin, for crying out loud. You’ve left for weeks at a time where we didn’t exchange so much as a text.”

  “True,” Payton mumbled. Her friend’s snarky reply offered just the assurance she was looking for. Chloe was amazing. And probably running the business side of things better than Payton ever could.

  “You’ve got enough going on in your life that you can’t afford to throw one more concern into the mix, especially when it’s of no concern at all. And if you insist on fretting over something you’ve put me in charge of, I’ll have no option but to be terribly offended and stop being your friend.”

  A chuckle jumped off Payton’s lips before she could stop it. “Okay,” she said. “Thank you.” In the quiet moment, Payton set her eyes on a painting across the room she’d slept in. A herd of gentle cattle roaming in a field of green, a gorgeous blue sky behind them. It looked so simple. So serene compared to what she faced.

  “Okay,” her friend said. “I erased the video.”

  “Thank you.” Payton pulled her eyes off the painting and sighed. “It feels like a bomb went off in my heart.”

  “You really need to tell Roz about it. Soon.”

  “I know.” Roz would lose it when she heard. But then her PR rep would come up with the perfect way to spin the scandal in Payton’s favor. She was a certified genius, after all, one who—most would argue—used a larger percent of her brain than the rest of the world. Not that she dressed the part; the almost fifty-year-old favored flashy jackets, short skirts, and wildly colored hair that changed with the seasons. Her shoulder-length bob had been striped last Payton had seen it. A wash of overall white with streaks of blue and red weaved throughout.

  “Payton?” Chloe came from the other line. “Did you hear me?”

  The answer to that was no, but Payton was sure she could guess the gist of what Chloe had been saying. “I just need a little time,�
�� she said. Time for it to all disappear.

  “I’m so sorry,” Chloe said. “You’re going through so much right now. I wish I was there to help.”

  “You are helping.” She looked back at the painting on the wall. “I think I’m going to go off-grid for a while. If I have to stay an extra day or two to get Jason to come home with me, I will. But I don’t want to deal with my parents, and I definitely don’t want to talk to Archie. So I might shut my phone off. Do you think that’s a bad idea?”

  “No,” Chloe said. “Being away might just prove to be your saving grace. You should at least call Roz, though. Warn her about Archie.”

  Payton stayed silent on the subject. She couldn’t take the thought of discussing the whole Archie thing with even one more person. “Thanks for being such a good friend to me,” she said in a whisper.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “And thanks for doing a great job with Shades. You were made for this.”

  A small sniffle sounded from the other end of the line. “Thanks for saying that. I never imagined that I’d actually get my dream job. It’s amazing. So thank you, for having so much faith in me.”

  Now Payton was the one sniffing back tears. “You’ve earned it. Really, you’re amazing. I’d be insane without you.”

  “Good luck with getting your brother back.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But will you consider one thing?” Chloe asked.

  Payton let her silence speak for her.

  “Consider that … that maybe this is actually Jason’s path.”

  If someone else dared say that to Payton, they’d hear a mouthful. And while Payton wasn’t willing to consider what Chloe had said, she could at least bite her tongue about her annoyance. “I sent you an email with an emergency number here. Jason gave it to me when he arrived. Told me if I used it to call and someone hadn’t died, he’d see to it that I did.” She chuckled under her breath. “I decided to fly out instead.”

  “In true Payton Keller style,” Chloe chimed. “Try to relax. Forget about what’s going on here for a while, okay?”

  Payton nodded. “Okay. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  After giving in to another yawn, Payton forced herself to climb off the bed. She hadn’t wanted to pull back the covers last night, since there was no telling who this Doug guy was or if the sheets had been washed since he’d slept there. So she simply smoothed out the bright blue quilt, evening up the edges as a bronze picture frame on the bedside table caught her eye. She picked it up to see the photo inside. Two guys in red-and-white uniforms stood before a neatly trimmed baseball diamond.

  She squinted her eyes and pulled it closer, studying the faces beneath the rounded bills of their baseball caps. The younger one on the right with the mitt on his hand had Down syndrome. His contagious smile went so wide it reached his eyes. So cute. Probably in his teens. The taller one on the left, who looked to be in his twenties, must be the kid’s brother. Most likely this Doug guy. He was handsome. Very handsome. And there seemed to be a kindness in his eyes too. He loved the kid next to him. Was proud of him.

  I bet he wouldn’t cheat on his fiancé if he had one.

  Payton placed the frame back onto the nightstand. What a dumb thing to think. Assuming she could tell what kind of person someone was by his picture alone. Heck, Payton had spent two years with Archie Kendall and still hadn’t known what he was capable of.

  The light peering into the room turned brighter suddenly, seeming to beckon her with sunlight beyond the blinds. She’d heard Jason and Luke clattering about in the kitchen a few hours earlier. It was probably time for her to get going as well.

  She started with a shower, moved on to a cup of coffee (Jason had left a note telling her to help herself), and then explored the home.

  The basement was giant, cold, and unfinished. Jason’s room, like the rest of the home, was spacious and bare, lacking decorative embellishments. Despite that, there was an overall theme in the decorating. An earthy feel. The copper faucets in the bathroom and kitchen were accented by handles shaped like twigs, a dark glaze picking up on the knots and crevices. The wood floors, made from wide, staggered slats, boasted natural-looking scuffs, dents, and a weathered, rusty tone that complemented the brown flecks in the Berber carpet. He may have gone with a minimal approach, but he had good taste.

  By the time Payton became hungry enough to scout out the fridge, the back door creaked open. The sound of cheery whistling proceeded whoever stepped in.

  Payton backed up toward the fridge as she closed it, cradling a glass bowl of eggs in one hand. She tipped her head as a tall man in jeans and a snap-up shirt paused in the mudroom to inspect an odd little case she’d seen in there earlier, the happy tune still at his lips. She could tell—by his blond, curly hair alone—that it wasn’t Jason or his boss.

  The stranger took his gaze off the case, straightened his shoulders, and proceeded through the door. He stopped mid-stride, eyes widening as he saw her, then let out a slow, breathy whistle.

  Payton laughed. “Hi,” she said, charmed by the kid’s confidence.

  “Well, hello there, Ms. Payton Keller,” he said. “I’m Taylor Branson, Luke’s better-looking brother.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she said with a nod. “You’re a lot nicer than your brother, too,” she said.

  Taylor stretched his muscled arms to his side, a cocky grin at his lips. “That’s what all the girls say. So, uh, when did you come into town?”

  “Last night,” she said, sliding the bowl onto the counter. “I’m here to get Jason.” She hunched down and opened the cupboards, expecting to see a wide selection of pots and pans, but the shelves were nearly as bare as the walls. One frying pan, one pot, and one cookie sheet barely made a dent in the space.

  “To get him … how do you mean?” Taylor asked.

  She moved to the stove. “It’s just time for Jason to come home. My parents let him take summer semester off school, which I totally had to beg them for, but he needs to get back before the fall one starts.”

  “I’m sorry,” Taylor said, shaking his head. “Why would anyone have to beg their parents to take a semester off school? Seems by the time a kid gets to college he’s old enough to make decisions for himself.”

  Maybe he wasn’t going to be any nicer than his brother. Payton shook off the annoyance and waved a palm over the heated pan. “Do you know if these guys have any cooking spray?”

  Taylor stepped into the brightly lit kitchen, pulled open a cupboard next to the sink, and produced the spray can.

  “Thanks.” While she coated the pan, he retrieved salt and pepper shakers and set them on the counter beside her.

  Payton set her mind back on his question. “It’s probably different for you guys,” she said. “But in our family, there’s a lot to live up to. Plus you don’t just drop out of Stanford. That’s unheard of.”

  Taylor tucked his hands in his pockets and wandered back into the mudroom. He hovered over that box thing again, seeming to inspect what was inside. The container reminded Payton of the box they’d kept Jason’s lizard in when he was young.

  Payton found a spatula and flipped over the egg. “What’s in there?” she asked.

  “Eggs. It’s an incubator.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Means it takes the place of a mother hen. Instead of having her sit on the nest, this thing provides the right environment for the eggs to thrive. Pretty soon we’ll have a bunch of chicks on our hands.”

  Payton’s eyes went wide as she looked at the egg she’d fried, then back to the bowl on the counter. “Wait, I didn’t use the wrong eggs, did I?”

  Taylor let out a laugh. “No, those are for eating. It’s just these ones in here that I’m talking about.” He stayed hunched over, inspecting them for a while longer before coming to a stand once more. “They’re not hatching yet. But you might want to keep an eye on them if you’re going to be here a while. It’s a pretty awesome
thing, watching them crack out of their shells.”

  “You’re kidding. You actually get to watch them do that?”

  “When they’re in an incubator, you do.”

  “Wow,” she said in a whisper. “I can’t imagine.”

  Taylor gave her a nod, then started to whistle again as he headed toward the door. “Oh, and one last thing,” he said. “If they start hatching, and there’s a stubborn one that doesn’t join in, don’t help it out.”

  Payton shrugged. “Okay.”

  Taylor shot her a grin. “All right, then. See you later,” he said, then whistled his way out the door.

  Payton abandon her breakfast to check out the incubator. A bulb glowed from within the box, which could explain the small, buzzing noise. Wow, there was actually a way to simulate a mother hen on her nest.

  She leaned down to better see. There, beneath the yellow-tinted light, several eggs rested on a mesh screen. She could hardly imagine what it might be like to watch actual chicks hatching. Breaking out of their shells with their tiny beaks.

  “Let’s see, how many of you are there?” She gave them a quick count. “Nine, ten, eleven. Eleven chicks, huh?” Some were white, maybe more off-white, while others in the bunch were light brown. Which one would hatch first? She thought about that as she measured one against the other. It seemed logical that the biggest one would hatch first, and the smallest would hatch last. The one that came last would be strong though.

  They were all pretty close in size, but the egg closest to the edge in front stood out from the others. Brown and small. Likewise, an egg on the back row seemed to be the largest. Excitement stirred in her chest at the thought of seeing them hatch. Holding the tiny puffballs once they were out.

  If she was still here.

  Payton made her way back to the kitchen, working to redirect her mind. She had a phone meeting later today with Roz, though she wasn’t set on telling her about Archie’s fling just yet. What she needed was to come up with a plan—some sort of fail-proof tactic to get Jason out of there. No victory came without a plan of attack, meaning strategy and ammunition were necessary. But that never had scared her away before; if anyone could do it, Payton Keller could.