Craving the Cowboy

by Liz Isaacson

  And there was only one way to find out.

  An hour later, armed with a plate of cookies, Felicity went down her front steps and across the lawn. She paused on the sidewalk, glancing left and right and facing forward again. She had three options.

  Which way should I go? she prayed, sure the Lord didn’t care who she gave cookies to on a Sunday morning.

  She heard nothing, felt nothing. As usual, God didn’t concern Himself with her and her relentless begging. But she couldn’t stand on the sidewalk like a statue forever. She turned to her right and went to the cottage next door.

  A woman answered it only a few seconds after Felicity knocked. “Hello,” she said brightly. “I moved in next door last week. I’m Felicity Lightburne.”

  The woman’s smile was instant, and she accepted the cookies with a grateful, “Thank you. My son has been sick, and well, there’s nothing worse than a cold in the summer.” She leaned in the doorway, wearing her capri sweatpants and an orange tank top. Her blonde hair was piled into a messy bun on top of her head, and she seemed gracious and generous and very Texan to Felicity. “I’ve been fixin’ to make him breakfast, but well, I haven’t done it yet.” She laughed a little, and Felicity liked her.

  “I hope he likes the cookies,” Felicity said, unsure of what to do next. She’d had friends in high school, of course. Friends around town in Marysville. But she didn’t spend weekends or evenings with her girlfriends. She’d spent them with her family, or her horses, or by herself.

  And oh, how she was tired of being by herself.

  “You want to come in and meet him?” she asked.

  “Oh, if he’s sick, I’ll just be in the way.”

  “It’s fine.” The woman turned and called over her shoulder, “Jonah, come meet our neighbor.” She looked back at Felicity. “I’m Capri Calhoun.” She beamed down at a little boy who was probably eight or nine. “This is my son, Jonah.”

  Felicity smiled at them both. “Nice to meet you. Have you lived in Grape Seed Falls long?”

  “Just since Dad died,” Jonah said.

  Felicity sucked in a breath and her eyes flew to Capri’s. A twinge of hurt passed across the other woman’s expression, but she wiped it away quickly. “Motorcycle accident, almost six years ago,” she explained. “We’ve lived right here in this house ever since.” She kneaded her son closer, her hand strong and tight on his shoulder.

  “I’m so sorry,” Felicity said, the grief from her father’s death flowing freely now. She usually kept it so boxed up, held it so tight, but she couldn’t seem to get a grip on it at all. The pain in Capri’s eyes…and it had been six years since her husband’s death.

  Would Felicity have to suffer for that long with this crippling sadness?

  She shook her head as if that alone could rid her of her thoughts. “Well, it was nice to meet you Carpi. Jonah.” She smiled again, but it felt wobbly around the edges. “I should go get ready for church.” She started down the steps.

  “Where y’all goin’?” Capri called.

  Felicity turned back to her. “I’m not really sure. My…boss is coming to pick me up, me being new in town and all.” She’d almost used another B-word for Dwayne, but holding his hand and eating lunch together didn’t make him her boyfriend. She wasn’t sure what would, as she hadn’t really ever had a man she’d label as her boyfriend.

  “I hope it’s the one on Elberta Street,” Capri said. “That’s the best one.”

  “I guess we’ll see.” Her voice shook a little, and she wasn’t even sure why. Probably because her mind couldn’t get past Dwayne becoming her boyfriend.

  Dwayne. Boyfriend.

  Boyfriend. Dwayne.

  Her heart started galloping in her chest, and she practically sprinted back to the safety of her bungalow. She pressed her back into the closed door, trying to catch her breath. She let her eyes drift shut, and she imagined what it would be like to kiss the tall, handsome cowboy. Would his hand tremble as he held her face in his palm? What would he taste like? How would she stay standing, seeing as her knees had just gone weak with the very thought of kissing him?

  Felicity exhaled slowly, deliberately pushing out her breath. First things first, she told herself, and that included seeing how Dwayne would react to her when she was all made up, looking like a Southern belle and not a country cowgirl.

  Chapter Ten

  Felicity cried out when knocking sounded on her front door. And she’d been ready and waiting for the past fifteen minutes. She strode on sandaled feet to the door and opened it.

  The simple sight of Dwayne stole her breath. She stared at his clean-shaven face, his charcoal-colored cowboy hat—clearly one that didn’t get worn every day around the ranch—and his tall, trim body decked out in a white shirt, a blue paisley tie, and dark gray slacks.

  He gazed right back at her, the electricity popping and zipping between them as if someone had thrown a switch.

  “You’re—” His voice came out strangled and hoarse, and he cleared his throat. “What a pretty dress.”

  “I like your hat,” she said, playing along to a game where she didn’t know the rules.

  He offered her his elbow. “Should we go?”

  She slipped her hand over his bare forearm, a thrill riding all the way down to her toes and back.

  “Somethin’ in your house smells good,” he said as she joined him on the porch and pulled the door closed behind her.

  “I made chocolate chip cookies this morning.”

  “Is that so?” He gave her sideways look as the walked down her sidewalk toward the truck.

  “We can come back here after church and eat them,” she said. “I mean, if you want.”

  He opened the passenger-side door of his truck but didn’t move out of the way so she could get in. “I was hopin’ to take you to lunch over in Cleargrass,” he said. “There’s a really great barbeque place there that does brisket and pork ribs on Sundays.”

  “Brisket and pork ribs?”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t like barbeque.” He gazed at her evenly, and she sensed her answer would mean a great deal to him.

  “Who doesn’t like barbeque?” she asked.

  “There are some people.” He didn’t so much as blink.

  Felicity felt the words damming up behind her tongue. She couldn’t quite order them, but when she opened her mouth, she said, “My father made the best smoked brisket in the whole state.”

  Dwayne’s eyebrows went up. “Is that right?” He reached up and trailed the back of his hand down the side of her face. “Your father…you miss him?”

  “Very much.” Felicity felt like she’d cut herself open and letting him in. It hurt, but it felt good too. “He…was my best friend.”

  Dwayne cocked his head and studied her. “Really? That’s interesting. Usually daughters are best friends with their mothers.”

  Felicity considered him, considered how much to tell him. If she wanted him to be her boyfriend, wanted to kiss him, she’d need to share things with him. “My mother was, well, let’s just say she was disappointed that I was more cowgirl than girl.”

  He scanned her from her nearly bare feet to the waves she’d put in her hair. “She obviously hasn’t seen you on your way to church.” He leaned forward, and Felicity froze as if someone had poured liquid nitrogen into her bloodstream. She inhaled, taking in the masculine scent of his skin, the minty quality of his breath.

  Her eyes drifted closed as if she’d receive his kiss, but his mouth moved past hers. His hands encircled her waist and he embraced her, his face in the hollow of her neck. She felt strong and weak at the same time. Happy and sad. Beautiful and tired.

  “Let’s skip church,” he said, his voice husky and sending tremors through her torso.

  “All right,” she whispered. “Want to go to Cleargrass right now?”

  “Yeah.” He pulled back and finally stepped to the side so she could climb into the cab. He helped her up, closed the door and rounded the fro
nt of the truck while Felicity tried to sort through the tangled mess of emotions in the back of her throat.

  Dwayne wasn’t one to skip church just because. But something told him that Felicity didn’t need a sermon today. She just needed to be…free. Needed someone to talk to. Needed somewhere to just be herself.

  He didn’t think she could look any better than she did in a pair of jeans, but the floral dress had definitely got his pulse pounding. She curved and swelled in all the right places, and Dwayne couldn’t help reaching for her.

  She slid over on the bench seat and twined her fingers with his. After they’d left the town of Grape Seed Falls behind, she laid her head against his shoulder, and the tension he’d sensed from her disappeared completely.

  He hummed along to the song on the radio, content to be with her even in the silence. He hadn’t felt this way about anyone in so long, he wasn’t sure if he could trust the tranquil feelings or not.

  “You have a beautiful voice,” she said, interrupting him in the middle of a chorus. He hadn’t even realized he’d started singing.

  Dwayne squeezed her fingers and ten minutes later, they pulled up to the restaurant. The term “restaurant” was generous, but there was already a line, and it was barely lunchtime yet.

  “Honey’s Hickory,” Felicity read once he’d helped her out of the truck. She gazed up at the sign that had weathered five decades of brutal Texas sun, wind, and probably the occasional hailstorm. Her eyes met his, and he saw a hint of trepidation in her dark depths.

  “It’s good,” he said. “C’mon.”

  They joined the line, and the silence didn’t feel so comfortable anymore. “My sister is gonna call any second,” he said.

  Felicity’s eyebrows went up. “How do you know?”

  “Because church started a few minutes ago, and I’m not there. Just wait and see.”

  “Does she keep tabs on you all the time?”

  His phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket and turned it toward Felicity. “See?” He swiped the call to voicemail. “And no, she doesn’t keep tabs on me. But I told her I was bringing you to church, so when we don’t show up….” He shrugged. “She’s not usually too nosy. I think you’d like her.”

  Felicity hadn’t properly met any of his family yet. A quick nod before ducking out of his hospital room didn’t count. His parents had been gone all week, and Heather didn’t make it a habit to come out to the ranch during the week all that often.

  “This might surprise you, but I don’t have a lot of girlfriends.”

  Dwayne tucked her hand into his. “As long as you don’t have a lot of boyfriends either.”

  She laughed and nudged him with her shoulder. Sobering, she said, “Not a lot of those, no.”

  “No?” He tugged her closer, and she came. “Not interested in a boyfriend?”

  She glanced up at him and got stuck in the moment with him. He couldn’t look away, and everything surrounding him faded into nothing. There was only Felicity, and the tender, vulnerable vibe streaming from her eyes.

  Dwayne’s brain felt like it had during the years he was recuperating from his traumatic brain injury. Slow, and sluggish, and stale. His body seemed to know what to do though, because his free hand settled on her hip, and his back bent down to get his mouth closer to hers.

  Someone spoke, but Dwayne couldn’t make sense of it. His nerves fired every nanosecond, and the only thing moving was his feet so he could get closer to Felicity.

  “Dwayne,” she said, but it wasn’t in the low, sexy voice he’d expected right before he kissed her.

  He became aware of her grip on his hand pulling him forward at the same time a man said, “What are you? Brain dead? The line is way up there.”

  Dwayne came back to reality, and he only had time to swing his head toward the man before Felicity stepped past him. “It’s ten feet. Back off.”

  “Look, you guys need to stop—” He stopped when she held up her hand, and Dwayne would’ve too. The anger streaming from her sent a shockwave through him.

  “You need to stop,” she said in a freaky, calm voice. “We’re moving. And no one is brain dead.” She glared at him for another three heartbeats, and then she spun and stalked past Dwayne, closing the distance between them and the line that had moved forward.

  “Can you believe that guy?” she asked when Dwayne joined her, certainly loud enough for the man to hear.

  “It’s fine,” Dwayne muttered. He tucked his hands in his pockets, foolishness racing through him. Had he seriously almost kissed her in a barbeque line? With dozens of people watching?

  Humiliation joined the tantrum happening in his chest. He was aware that sometimes he needed extra processing time. Sometimes he required extra periods of rest. But it had been almost eight years since his injury, and he functioned pretty well most of the time.

  “It’s not fine,” she said. “No one should go around calling someone else brain dead.” She shot a dirty look behind her, completely unafraid of the man there. “Have you ever met someone who was brain dead?” She cocked her hip and folded her arms. “They don’t eat barbeque, I can tell you that.” Her chest heaved, and Dwayne realized her reaction wasn’t about him at all.

  He watched her, watched the storm as it marched across her face, watched as the anger and the bravado faded, leaving only sadness and tears.

  He didn’t need extra processing time to know what to do. Dwayne stepped closer to her and drew her into his chest.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, stroking her hair while her tears stained his white shirt right over his heart. Her arms came around him, and she held onto him tight, like she might not be able to hold herself up without his assistance.

  He caught the eye of the man behind them, and the other guy looked ashamed and uncomfortable. Dwayne wasn’t sure why Felicity had acted the way she had and then broken down. It didn’t really matter. She stood in his arms, and she belonged there.

  He inched her forward when the line moved. “You know, for a minute there, I thought you were defending me.”

  She sniffed and pulled away enough to look up into his face. “You?”

  He hadn’t planned on detailing his injuries while in line for brisket, but he figured now was as good a time as any. “Yeah, my arm and hand shake from permanent nerve damage because of a traumatic brain injury I sustained in the Marines.” He marveled at how smooth his voice said the words. How calm his pulse beat in his chest. He normally felt a lot more embarrassment when talking about his time overseas and how it had ended.

  She blinked, her tears sticking to her eyelashes and making her beautiful and vulnerable. She slipped her hands along his sides and stepped away from him, glancing around at the crowd outside the restaurant.

  “I didn’t know you were in the Marines.”

  “Yeah, I told you when we were waiting for the ambulance.”

  Felicity cocked her head like she was searching her memories. “I guess you did. And Atlas, he was your dog.”

  “Military combat dog,” he said. “Trained with—”

  “Explosives,” they said at the same time.

  Felicity wiped her face and gave him a shaky smile. “I remember. You didn’t mention getting hurt.” Her eyes screamed her curiosity, her desire to know the whole story.

  “No, I didn’t.” Dwayne gazed past her into the brilliant sunshine and Texas landscape that ran for miles. “Atlas was the best at finding buried IEDs. One day, we’d been out for hours, and he’d found one every few feet.” He stepped forward when the line moved. Only a few people remained between them and the order counter. Maybe he could get this story out and over with by then.

  “We came under fire, and we had to take shelter off the road. Well, we didn’t have time for Atlas to locate the buried bombs, and we triggered one. We were both injured.”

  He’d come home after that injury—his first and only incident in Iraq. While he wasn’t glad he’d experienced the explosion
, things had turned out okay. Atlas had been on his last mission anyway, and Dwayne was able to adopt him after the military retired him from service. They’d lived a good life on the ranch since, even if Atlas couldn’t participate in driving the herd from one place to another because of his anxiety, and Dwayne’s fingers shook.

  Felicity stepped closer to him. “You were brain dead?” Her voice came out hushed, reverent almost.

  “I was in a coma for eight days,” Dwayne said. “I have a traumatic brain injury. It took me three years before I finally felt like I was thinking clearly again.” He lifted his hand, which shook from the elbow down. Tremors he used to hate, to hide, but that he was beginning to…something. He didn’t hate them anymore, he supposed.

  “This is the biggest evidence of the injury now.”

  “How long ago did this happen?” she asked.

  “Eight years.” The line moved forward again, and Dwayne fell silent, relieved that story was out between them. He hadn’t had to share it with anyone in a long time, and giving some of the burden to Felicity felt cleansing. Freeing. Bonding.

  Felicity felt as though she’d boarded a roller coaster when she’d gotten in line for a simple plate of barbeque. First from the highs of being so close to Dwayne. They’d almost kissed, right there in line. Then to hearing the words “brain dead.”

  Her anger had been swift and consuming. She hadn’t meant to be snappy and rude to a stranger, but really, it was a matter of a few feet.

  She was still surprised she’d cried. She hadn’t cried over her father’s death since the day of his funeral last October. She’d vowed she wouldn’t live under that cloud the way her mother had. She’d survived the holidays by taking Linus and Lucy out to a cabin on her family’s property and avoiding everyone. That was when she knew she needed to find somewhere else to work.

  She’d talked with her brother, Gordon, and together, they’d planned her departure from the ranch. Parker, her youngest brother, had discovered her plan and supported her too. Her mother…well, her mother was still coming to terms with a lot of things. Felicity leaving home was only one of them.