It Started with a Cowboy

by Jennie Marts

  * * *

  The sun glimmered on the fresh layer of snow, which crunched under their feet as they walked out of the house and through the yard. The air still had a bit of a bite, so Chloe zipped up the front of her coat as she followed Colt to the garage where he kept the ATV.

  It was a newer model, yellow and black with silver chrome trim and sleek in design. He patted the seat. “I call him Bumblebee.”

  She grinned. “Nice. Does he turn into a butt-kicking alien robot?”

  He huffed and gave her a derisive look. “Not around civilians.”

  He held up a black helmet. “I usually wear this when I’m going on a longer ride, but not if I’m just going across a couple of fields to Mom’s. The path is pretty easy, and I don’t go very fast since Watson likes to run along beside the quad. But you’re welcome to wear one, if you want.”

  She touched the side of her hair—she’d done pretty well duplicating the look Carley had created, and she wasn’t thrilled about messing it up. But she did value safety first. Vanity won—she passed on the helmet. But there was still the matter of her fairly large purse. “What should I do with my bag? Stuff it inside my coat?”

  “We can put it in the dry box with the other stuff I have to bring.” He opened the heavy plastic box affixed to the back of the ATV, and she put her purse inside. He added his items, then buckled the box shut and climbed onto the four-wheeler.

  She still had his scarf, and she looped it around her neck and pulled it up over her cheeks as she straddled the seat behind him. She wrapped her arms around his middle and held on as he revved the engine and pulled out of the garage, clicking the automatic door closed behind them.

  The snow crunched under the wheels, and Watson ran alongside the ATV, appearing to revel in the race and the occasional spray of snow in his furry face.

  They cruised over the fields, occasionally pausing for Colt to point out a favorite horse or something he had done on the ranch. The land owned by the Triple J Ranch was far-reaching, starting with fields and pastures and moving up the side of the mountain behind it.

  As they drew near the house, Colt pointed to a road leading up the mountain behind the ranch house. “That’s the road leading to Rock and Quinn’s new house. It’s on the other side of that ridge.” He’d told her Quinn wanted to stay near family, so Rock had a house built for them that summer. They’d only recently moved in, and they split their time between the house up here and his house in Denver when he was in the middle of the season. Colt gestured across the fields to the neighboring ranch. “That’s Rivers Gulch, where Logan and Ham live. It was fun growing up so close to other kids. Although our parents didn’t always get along.”

  Quinn had told her that Rock had caught Vivi and Ham seeing each other on the sly, so it would seem they got along just fine now.

  They bounced over a small dip in the trail, and Chloe held on, pressing her head against Colt’s back as he let out a whoop. She was tempted to give a whoop herself. She’d been apprehensive about going to Vivi’s, but Colt didn’t seem worried at all. He made everything seem fun, and his outlook was contagious. Letting go of her anxieties, she surrendered to the moment and let herself simply enjoy it. She felt alive and adventurous—totally different than the normal Sunday afternoons she spent curled on the couch with her cat, a knitting project, and a series binge on Netflix.

  Cruising past a corral filled with cows, they pulled up in front of the house and climbed off the ATV. Holy Cheez Doodles. Her heart pounded in her chest. So much for letting go of her anxieties. Her feelings of freedom floated off in the winter breeze, replaced with feeling as though she’d just shown up to church in her undies.

  She retrieved her purse and twisted the straps in her hands as she followed Colt up the porch steps. This was it. Showtime.

  “Hey, Mom,” Colt hollered as they walked into the house. He hung his hat and coat on the rack inside the door, and helped Chloe with her jacket before crossing to the kitchen. The inside of the old farmhouse had obviously been renovated, with new carpet and tiles and gorgeous new cabinets and appliances. The room appeared to have been opened up to make the kitchen and living room one, and a giant island sat in the center.

  Colt set the plastic bag he’d been carrying on the counter next to a cookie jar shaped like a smiling, chubby pink pig. “I brought some of that venison jerky you asked for.”

  Vivi had been at the sink, and she dried her hands on a towel as she came around the center island. “Thanks, honey. I’m glad you’re here.” She gave her youngest son a big hug.

  Hadn’t she just seen him a few days ago? Chloe’s dad had only doled out one or two hugs a year, usually around Christmas and her birthday.

  “Welcome, Chloe,” Vivi said, her arms outstretched as she enfolded Chloe in a hug as well. “I’m glad you’re here too.” Colt’s mom held on an extra moment, and Chloe was struck with a sudden longing for her own mother. Or for the woman she imagined her mother could have been. If she hadn’t left.

  “Thank you,” she choked out, surprised by the emotion clogging her throat.

  Vivi pulled back but didn’t let go of Chloe’s arms as she studied her face. “I was so sorry to hear about the incident with Rank. Are you okay, hon?”

  Chloe nodded, not sure she could trust her voice. What was up with her? Why was she getting emotional over every comment out of this woman’s mouth? She’d spent time with the James family before. But that had been at a rowdy hockey game, not a family dinner after she’d spent the last day and a half playing hide the salami with the youngest son.

  She was saved from having to say anything by the arrival of Ham and Logan. They brought in a gust of cold air as they stomped their boots and took off their jackets. Ham headed for the kitchen to drop off a nine-by-thirteen pan, but Logan headed toward her and drew her into a hug.

  Geez-o-pete. What was with these people and all the hugging? Not that she was complaining. It felt kind of nice.

  “You okay, Chloe? I’ve been worried about you after the other night,” he said.

  “I’m fine. How is Tina? And the kids?”

  “They’re doing okay. She hasn’t heard from Rank. And neither have the police, I guess. They think he’s lying low, but I’m hoping he left town. They’re all anxious to get back home. I think they’re going back tonight so the kids can go to school in the morning.”

  Chloe nodded, knowing she’d be going home tonight as well, her weekend of playing house with Colt almost through.

  “That was really sweet of you to help them.”

  Logan shrugged. “It’s the least I can do. We’ve known Tina a long time. Right, Colt?” He nudged Colt’s arm and gave him a teasing grin that implied a secret joke they shared.

  What was that about? “Oh,” Chloe said, going for casual nonchalance. “How did you know her? Were you involved?” Gah, what a stupid question. She tried to play the question off like a joke, but she was sure it fell flat. She was terrible at jokes. It was none of her business anyway.

  “Uh, no. Not hardly,” Colt said with a chuckle as he swung a punch toward Logan’s arm.

  “But you wanted to be.” Logan ducked the punch, then waggled his eyebrows at Chloe. “She used to babysit us when we were kids. Our Colt had quite the crush on her.” He turned back to Colt and jabbed him a couple of times in the ribs. “And now she’s just your type—wounded sparrow in need of saving. Perfect pickings for a do-gooder like you.”

  “Yeah right. I was a little kid,” Colt told Chloe, then turned back to cuff Logan on the shoulder. “That was a long time ago. And the last thing I need right now is another person to save.”

  Chapter 16

  Colt and Logan’s words hit her like a punch to the stomach, and Chloe reached out to grip the chair in front of her. Wounded sparrow in need of saving. Perfect pickings for a do-gooder like you. Another person to save. Was that what Colt had been do
ing with her all weekend? Did he see her as a poor damsel who needed saving? Was she just one more of his projects—another way to do penance for his stupid notion of a curse?

  All the pieces of the last few days came rushing back to her. She’d kissed him and he’d backed off. She’d been in the tub and he’d backed away. He’d almost kissed her, then pulled back. They didn’t actually go to bed together until she straight up offered him her naked body. Maybe he was just too polite, and too much of a man, to decline the offer of a naked woman in his bed.

  No, he’d said he liked her, said he wanted her. But liking and wanting someone didn’t mean the same thing as a relationship—didn’t mean anything more than a roll in the hay.

  She thought back to everything she’d told him about herself, how she’d been chubby as a kid, how her dad had treated her. Colt was a great guy, always doing things for other people. Maybe this weekend, maybe she was just another one of those things, and he was having sex with her because he felt sorry for her and wanted to do her a favor.

  Bile rose in her throat at the thought. She glanced at the door, thinking she should just leave before she embarrassed herself, or Colt, anymore. But she couldn’t leave. Number one, because she had no vehicle, and she didn’t think stealing the quad and hightailing it back to her house was a very sound plan, notwithstanding the fact that she had no idea how to start the thing. And number two, the door was currently occupied as Rock, Quinn, and Max came through it in a gust of wind and laughter.

  A huge, brown furry dog tramped in after them and raced around the room, greeting everyone with sloppy kisses, including her. She knelt on the floor, hoping the act of stroking the dog’s back would quiet the tremble in her hand.

  Get ahold of yourself. Colt wasn’t like that.

  How do you know? her spineless inner conscience asked. You barely know him.

  But she did know him. At least she felt like she did. And he wouldn’t have spent the whole day in bed with her just to be nice. He wouldn’t have done that thing in the shower, and he certainly wouldn’t have done that thing with his tongue out of kindness or sympathy.

  “Miss Bishop,” Max cried, running toward her and practically falling on top of the dog as he threw his arms around it. “This is Truman. He’s my dog. He’s all mine. Aren’t you, buddy?” He ruffled the dog’s neck. “Isn’t he so cool? We’re not sure what kind he is. Rock calls him a Heinz 57 ’cause he’s a mix-up of different breeds, but some people say mixed breeds are healthier. And this guy sure seems healthy. You should see him eat.”

  Chloe’s cheeks flamed as she pushed away the thoughts of Colt and the thing he’d done with his tongue. She buried her face in the dog’s furry neck, then turned her focus to the boy. She loved Max—loved to hear him talk in that too-old-for-his-age way of his, and she got a kick out of the random trivial facts he often dropped into a conversation. “I like him. He’s very friendly,” she said, cringing at the wet tongue Truman had just licked up her cheek.

  Max lowered his voice. “He’s kind of in trouble because he ate a pair of mom’s underpants this morning.” He screwed his mouth into a disgusted grimace. “I love him, but he’s kind of a goofball.”

  Wasn’t that true of all of them? She looked past the dog to where Rock and Colt were immersed in some kind of wrestling match. Rock had his younger brother’s head clamped under his arm in a headlock.

  “Wow. Chloe, I love your hair,” Quinn said, crossing the room to give her a hug, then leaned back to admire her new style. “It looks great. So cute.” She cut her eyes slyly toward the wrestling brothers. “What did Colt say? I’ll bet he liked it. It’s so trendy and stylish. And fresher and hipper than your last style.”

  Chloe shrugged, trying to keep her smile in place as her withered ego took another hit. How untrendy and out of style had she looked before?

  “What? Did he say something?” Quinn asked, too intuitive for her own good. She leaned in, lowering her voice as Max and Truman tumbled off to join the wrestling fun. “Did he hurt your feelings? Are you two having trouble getting along? Do you want me to talk to him? Want me to slug him?”

  Chloe chuckled, not used to having a woman friend who was so ready to go into battle for her. “No, he said he liked it. Everything is fine. You don’t need to slug him. We’re getting along great.” Or they had been until a few minutes ago, when doubt and insecurity reared their ugly heads.

  Quinn narrowed her eyes, studying Chloe’s face, then an impish grin curled her lips and she waggled her eyebrows. “Ohhh, I see.”

  Heat flushed Chloe’s cheeks, and her own lips tugged up at the corners. “It’s not like that.”

  Quinn chuckled. “Oh yes, it is. It’s exactly like that. I can tell. Colt doesn’t date a lot of women, and he doesn’t do casual, so I know you’re special. And I can see by the blush on your cheeks that you took the Colt out of the stables and went for a ride. How was it? Was it like a quick jaunt around the corral, or was it like a long ride through the mountains with a stop at a lake?”

  “Shhh,” Chloe hushed the other woman, a giggle rising in her throat. Quinn had just said Colt doesn’t do casual—so he wouldn’t just be throwing her a bone—ahem—so to speak. She had to mean something to him. Whether or not they were true, she grabbed Quinn’s words and held on to them like a lifeline.

  “Oh, come on. One detail. You gotta give me something.”

  Chloe pressed her lips together, then finally gave in and whispered, “Okay. It was more like a ‘hold-on-for-dear-life bucking bronco’ kind of ride.”

  Quinn covered her mouth, holding back her laughter. “Attaboy, Colt.”

  Mason and Tess arrived then, ushering in an elderly woman wearing a bright-purple coat and hot-pink snow boots.

  Quinn wrapped her arm around Chloe’s waist and leaned in as they walked toward the door. “I’ll expect more details after we get a couple of margaritas in you Tuesday night.”

  “Who’s this?” the older woman said, eyeing Chloe. Mason had taken her coat, and she fluffed up the soft cloud of silvery-blue curls circling her head. “I don’t think we’ve met, but you must be somebody if you’ve made it to Sunday dinner.”

  Colt had extricated himself from Rock’s armpit and crossed to give the woman a hug. “Hey, Aunt Sassy.” He pressed a kiss to her wrinkled cheek.

  “Hello, darling.” She fondly smoothed his mussed hair from his brother’s headlock, then gave him a keen side-eye. “Are you the one who brought a lady friend to dinner?”

  He chuckled. “Guilty.” He took a step toward Chloe, a proud grin on his face as if he were showing off his prize pig at the county fair. “Aunt Sassy, this is my friend, Chloe Bishop. She’s Max’s teacher, and she’s also helping me coach the kids’ hockey team this season.”

  The pride with which he introduced her gave Chloe a warm feeling in her chest and helped ease her earlier insecurities. Not that being likened to a prize pig seemed like a good thing, but he appeared genuinely pleased to present her to the grand matriarch. Having been in Max’s life the year before, she’d heard stories about Sassy and seen her at some of Max’s events, but hadn’t ever had the occasion to meet her. She seemed both warm and intimidating.

  Chloe held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  Colt’s aunt kept a straight face as she held on to Chloe’s hand, her eyes narrowing in a shrewd study. “Have you ever coached hockey before, Chloe?”

  “No, never.” What an odd first question to ask her.

  “Are you a big fan of the game?”

  “I’m becoming one.”

  “What’s your favorite subject to teach?”

  “Reading.”

  “What’s your favorite book?”

  “Harry Potter.”

  “Which one?”

  “All of them.”

  “Are you a morning person or night owl?”

  “Morning.�
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  “Favorite color?”

  “Pink.”

  “Coke or Pepsi?”

  “Diet Coke. Hands down.”

  “Favorite season?”

  “Spring.”

  “If your house caught on fire, what’s the one thing you’d save?”

  “My cat,” Chloe answered, without hesitation. Sassy’s rapid-fire questions hadn’t fazed her a bit. She was used to school-age children asking why seven thousand times a day. One little old lady with a few easy lobs didn’t even compare.

  A grin curved across Sassy’s lips, and she patted Chloe’s hand, then finally released it. She gave Colt a wink. “She’ll do.”

  He chuckled and leaned down to speak into Chloe’s hair. “She does that to everyone. You were awesome.” His breath tickled her ear, and she wanted to lean into him, to wrap herself around him and go back to that warm feeling of being next to him.

  Instead, she felt awkward and unsure of herself, afraid to touch him or give away the closeness they’d shared. Although she did feel pleased with herself about the Sassy introduction, like she’d somehow passed an important family test.

  Despite Quinn’s words, that pleasant feeling warred with the insecurity of how many other girls before her had run the auntie gauntlet and of Colt introducing her as his “friend.” But I am his friend. And really—what else was he going to say? This is Chloe—she’s my latest lover, my weekend flame, my new mattress-mambo mate. Was she expecting him to say: She’s my sweetheart, or She’s my soul mate, or how about She’s my bae?

  Okay, Chloe wasn’t sure she knew exactly what that last one meant, but she’d heard the high-school kids say it. One of the girls had told her it meant “before anyone else,” which sounded sweet, but the girl could have been making that up and it actually meant something more lurid. Either way, Chloe couldn’t really imagine Colt using the term. But what term had she expected him to use? They’d only been together a day and a half. It’s not like she was his girlfriend already. And soul mate felt a little daunting, even to her. Maybe friend was the best choice, and it wasn’t a bad term. It was sweet. And they were friends. They’d just transitioned to friends with benefits.