The Last Cowboy

by Crystal Green

  As the kids munched on salted peanuts and cheered as Toby scrambled to his feet, chaps flying away from his legs in his haste, Jack kept shaking his head.

  “I’ve seen longer staying time with a frog popping on a skillet,” he said. He hadn’t been too ecstatic to find out that Felicia’s ex was in town anyway; this just gave him an excuse to vent.

  She tried not to smile at Jack’s apparent jealousy as Toby hightailed it back behind the barrier, his horned foe in hot pursuit as a rodeo clown attempted to distract the animal.

  Instead, she latched her pinkie through Jack’s, watched his face grow ruddy in acknowledgment.

  This was enough for her right now, she thought, holding pinkies with him in public. Soon she would make him love her so much that he wouldn’t be shy about kissing her in the middle of a crowded Wycliffe sidewalk.

  Soon.

  Because, after all, progress was being made.

  Content for the moment, Felicia smiled at Carlota, who was sitting in the middle of all the children, eating just as many cotton candies and churros. She turned around, giving a discreet nod toward Felicia and Jack’s linked pinkies, looking pretty darned smug at the evidence of another prediction going right.

  Felicia winked at her and Carlota went back to making sure Michael Henry didn’t stuff himself too full before dinner and that Cissy Duarte wasn’t fretting about the doll she’d gotten dirty when she’d dropped it below the bleachers and Jack had retrieved it for her.

  Then Felicia’s gaze settled on Bobby, who was sitting right below them. He was jumping up and down, as active as any six-year-old, excited about the rodeo and the fact that he’d met new friends tonight. Joel and Noel Tate, sons of a fellow Oakvale housekeeper. The platinum-headed twins were a couple of years older and wiser, so Felicia was keeping her eye on the spirited boys.

  But Bobby was having a lot of harmless fun, laughing and high-fiving with them. She wasn’t about to break up the first peer relationship he was forming in Wycliffe.

  After the rodeo, Cissy was heading for a nap and Joel was starting to throw peanuts at everyone, but they still made their promised stop at the Burger Barn, Wycliffe’s greatest and only “soda shop.”

  The aroma of grilled meat, hot fudge sauce and French fries greeted them as Felicia, Jack and Carlota escorted their charges to a long Formica table with red-cushioned metal chairs. The room bustled with bow-tied waitresses carrying trays of ice creams. Tourists nursed their sunburns while wearing khaki shorts and cameras. Rodeo cowboys sat at the bar, grabbing a snack. A player piano tinkled out ragtime tunes from a corner while a clown carried around a batch of colorful balloons.

  Jack seemed distinctly uncomfortable as he took a chair on the far side of Felicia—a seat that assured him some distance from Oakvale’s pumped-up kids.

  “I’m—” he jammed his thumb toward the door “—thinking it’s a good time for a lungful of fresh air.”

  “No, you don’t.” Felicia grabbed his hand as if she were going to chain him to the table. “You’re mine for the next hour, and Bobby’s ride home, to boot.”

  That smile he’d been developing for the last week and a half claimed him, and Felicia’s tummy did the happy dance.

  But why couldn’t her brain be doing it, too? Why was it nagging at her that even though Jack had come a long way, it wasn’t far enough?

  Under the table, he slipped his hand into hers and she was assuaged for the moment.

  “You know, Jack,” she said, “you seem like a natural in this setting. I’ve always imagined you wearing an arm garter and a striped vest just like the soda jerks.”

  “And running around the room with my arms full of greasy grub. Believe me, it’s a fantasy I’ve been keeping well hidden.”

  She laughed. “Careful. Your sense of humor’s showing.”

  “Can’t have that.”

  He squeezed her hand and she scooted her chair just a little closer to his.

  There. Near enough to breathe him in.

  After ordering, Joel and Noel appointed themselves ringleaders, telling loud, silly jokes only an eight-year-old could appreciate. Or a boy just slightly younger.

  Bobby was doing his best to keep up with his new friends, to impress them. But when he turned goofball and “accidentally” spilled salt all over himself, Jack motioned the boy over with one crook of his finger. And with a gently quelling glance from Felicia, the twins settled down, too.

  From the abashed look on Bobby’s face, he knew he was about to get a reminder about how to act in a restaurant—even if it was a madhouse like the Burger Barn.

  Jack let go of Felicia’s hand, leaving her skin to cool, to feel really lonely without his grip to warm it up.

  “Having fun?” Jack said to the curly-headed boy.

  Bobby nodded and Felicia brushed the salt from his red-and-white striped top. He sent a little grin to her, owning her heart once again.

  “Bob,” Jack said, “see your friends down there?”

  He gestured toward the blond twins, who seemed perpetually hopped up on sugar with those rubber-faced expressions they were making at each other.

  “Yes,” Bobby said.

  “You want people to go around with that sort of image of you for the rest of their days?” Jack asked, his tone mild. “Or do you want them to have respect for you? Because sometimes, what people see is what people get. You understand what I’m saying? You show them a fool by how you handle yourself and, more than likely, there’s a fool to be shown.”

  Right. What people see is what people get, Felicia thought. Except with Jack himself.

  Bobby took another peek at the jokers down the table then turned back to Jack. “If I go around making those kinds of faces, people might think I’m a dork.”

  Jack gave the boy’s hair a fond ruffle, avoiding Felicia’s stunned gaze.

  “That’s right,” he said, “and you’re no dork.”

  Seeking a second opinion, Bobby glanced at Felicia. She rubbed his back in agreement. He was no dork.

  “Say…” Jack reached into his jeans pocket, extracted something, wrapped his fingers around whatever it was. “I’ve got a prize for you.”

  He held out one of those sticks he’d been whittling at for as long as Felicia could remember. But this particular piece had taken the shape of a rough T. rex dinosaur. It was no work of art, yet at least she could identify it.

  “Wow.” Bobby took it from Jack, running his index finger over the stumpy tail, the big head, the tiny claws.

  When Felicia caught Jack’s eye, he looked away. Another blush?

  She didn’t know what was going on here, but it seemed as if a door had been broken down, allowing her a glimpse into Jack’s soul.

  He did love kids, and it made her wonder all the more when he would allow her to get close enough to start having theirs.

  “When I was young,” Jack said to Bobby, “I carried around a chunk of wood my dad carved. A totem, he called it, with ugly faces that were supposed to protect me. Now, this isn’t much more to look upon, but it should do the same for you, Bob. Look out for you, I mean.”

  “A T. rex is tough,” the boy said. “He won’t let anyone mess with me. Thanks, Mr. North.”

  “You’re welcome. A tough totem for a tough guy. Now go show those twins how to act in an eating establishment.”

  “I will.” Bobby started to dash off, then stopped, flashing both Jack and Felicia a huge smile. Then he was gone, immediately showing his treasure to Joel and Noel, who were fascinated. But another watchful glance from Felicia kept them mindful about the consequences of snatching it away from the younger boy.

  “That was…” She searched for a word powerful enough to cover what she’d just witnessed. Couldn’t think of one.

  “Yeah.” Jack shrugged off the compliment, grinning from ear to ear nonetheless.

  The wood had finally taken form for him, she thought. He’d finally been able to create something special, to give a piece of himself to another person.


  Could he ever do the same with her?

  “I’ve got to get that fresh air I was talking about,” Jack said, standing, obviously doing his best to downplay his kindness. “This place is battering at my head.”

  “You do what you need to do,” she said, touching his thigh.

  She hadn’t meant anything sexual by it. She’d only wanted to tell him she would miss him for even the few minutes it would take to pull his alpha genes back together. But a fire in his eyes had been rekindled, and she knew he was thinking of all their kisses and what they had the potential to turn into someday.

  If he would only let them.

  “I won’t be gone long,” he said, voice graveled.

  “I hope not.”

  She watched him go, appreciating the way he filled his clothing—from the wide shoulders straining against his shirt to the work-honed butt filling his jeans.

  Boy. Jack North. The biggest mystery this side of heaven.

  As she chatted about “tough animals” with Joel, Noel and Bobby, the parents of three of the children met them for dinner, as planned. She and Carlota had already agreed to take home the twins and Cissy Duarte, so that left Bobby in Jack’s care. All accounted for.

  Then their waitress brought their burgers, but Felicia merely poked at hers, hungry for something much more substantial than food. Jack hadn’t been gone for more than ten minutes and she was already yearning for him as if he was dessert.

  Well, she might as well take advantage of his absence and make a washroom run to freshen up.

  She signaled to Carlota about where she was going, then got out of her chair, her purse in tow so she could use lipstick and run a comb through her hair.

  And that was when she saw him. Toby Baker, laughing with his friends near the entrance while they waited for a table.

  Wonderful.

  It was too late to go back to the kids, where she felt so comfortable and needed. So instead, fate decreed that Toby catch sight of her as his group was seated at a table near the front windows. It ordained that he tell his friends he would be along in a minute.

  Zero choice in the matter, she told herself that Toby was just like any of her other exes and walked over to him.

  “Good to see you,” she said, half meaning it. She couldn’t hold a grudge against any of her exes. Life was too short to play those sorts of games and bringing herself down to such a petty level wasn’t appealing to her. But she would get out of this just as soon as was polite.

  “Good to see you, too, Felicia.” Hat off, he revealed shaggy blond hair.

  He’d obviously showered and changed after his bout at the rodeo, but nothing had washed away the memory of how he’d treated her. Fighting it, Felicia still couldn’t overcome the deadening of her self-esteem all over again, couldn’t help reliving the awkward look on his face after she’d told him her painful secret.

  A hint of that rejection was hiding in his gaze right now.

  Funny how Carlota and Emmy had first thought Toby was Felicia’s last cowboy. If they’d known how he’d treated her, they would have hunted him down and smacked him silly. But Felicia believed in being kind to all manner of God’s creatures.

  Including animals.

  As they stared at each other in toe-tapping silence, Felicia held back the need to tell him a thing or two.

  I know a man who could care less about my condition. His name is Jack. He’s my future. And he’ll never treat me the way you did.

  But was that true?

  “You look great,” Toby finally said. “How’ve you been?”

  “Wonderful. And you?”

  Another party of tourists walked through the front door and Toby moved to the side, grasping her elbow to guide her with him.

  No tingle. No heat.

  “Fine,” he said, “even if I’m not managing eight seconds in my event, but other than that, life is good.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Wow. This man had wanted to go to “the next level” with her a couple of months ago and now they could barely manage a conversation.

  “I could be much better in some areas, though,” he said, smiling at her and using all the charm that had made her like him in the first place.

  Felicia got a bad vibe from that smile.

  Was he hitting on her? Had her infertility changed her from marriage material into some kind of buckle bunny who wasn’t worth more than a tumble in a run-down motel room?

  Or was she reading too much into this, as usual?

  She decided to take the high road. “I’ll let you get back to your friends now. Best of luck.”

  The door opened again to let more people inside, and the crowd pushed her and Toby backward.

  “God, Felicia.” He stared down at her, looking genuinely sorry. “Do you know I can’t get to sleep some nights because of how things turned out?”

  Was this the apology she’d been waiting for?

  He continued. “I keep thinking, if things had only been different…”

  He stopped there and she didn’t move, still waiting.

  And waiting.

  Was that it?

  “Different?” she asked.

  “You know.” He used his hat to motion to her stomach. “Your problem.”

  “Problem?” She chuffed, all her frustration coming out in that one I’m-about-to-turn-into-the-Hulk sound. “You mean,” she whispered, just to make her point, “endometriosis?”

  He shrugged, the womanly issue forcing him to look as if he wanted to shrivel into himself.

  “Thanks for the explanation, Toby. You really improved my opinion of you.”

  She tried to get away again, but her ex hitched on to her arm.

  “Let’s talk about this….”

  A deep, angry voice interrupted him.

  “Let go of her.”

  Jack, his gaze dark and livid, parted the bodies behind Toby and pointed at the bull rider’s grip on Felicia.

  “Let go means let go,” he reiterated.

  Toby complied, holding up his hands in sheepish surrender. “Done.”

  “Now get.” Jack sounded as if he were talking to a bad dog.

  Toby sent her a glance now. Yeah, like she was going to ask him to stay.

  “You need me to tell you to scram with a phone call?” Felicia asked.

  Cringing at the reference to how he’d broken up with her, Toby backed off, going to join his friends.

  He never was a fighter, Felicia thought. And not actually a lover, either.

  Jack seemed as if he was about to go after him.

  “He’s not worth it,” Felicia said, too drained to put much energy into explaining everything.

  “What he said to you…” Jack fisted his hands. “I could hear every word from where I was standing.”

  “It’s nothing. Forget about him. I already have.”

  Ha. Even now she was still stinging from the reopened wounds.

  Resting his hands on her arms, Jack came around to face her. There was such care in the way he held her, such restrained anger about what she had to live with.

  “I’ll go in there and get Bobby so I can take the two of you home now,” he said.

  “But Carlota was going to see to that.”

  “She can handle three kids from what I’ve witnessed. Besides, I…Well, the night’s still young.”

  She could tell he wanted to be with her, soothe her, and that was okay in her book. Any time she could steal with him was good time.

  “Don’t go messing with Toby on your way to get Bobby,” she said, meaning it.

  “Me?” Jack tried to look harmless as he gave her arms one last rub. “I’m coming right back.”

  She watched him go, a lump in her throat.

  He would come back. But how long would it be before he stayed away for good?

  After helping Rip tuck Bobby into bed at the Hanging R, Jackson drove Felicia back to Oakvale, taking the winding back roads past streams lined by cottonwood and oak tre
es, past meadows and high ridges shadowed by the night.

  He’d been so very proud of himself for not back handing that pseudocowpoke back at the Burger Barn. When Jackson had first come through the door, looked over the heads of the gathered crowd and spotted Toby Baker grinning and making time with Felicia, he’d gotten a little angry.

  But then Jackson had come close enough to hear what Felicia’s ex had been saying. The disrespect Baker had shown her had been like flint against Jackson’s skin, and he’d lost his temper.

  It was that simple.

  But not really simple at all.

  Not when he couldn’t sort out these feelings he was having for Felicia. Not when he was having such a hard time coping with everything she was stir ring up inside of him.

  Right now, Felicia was in the middle of giving him the details about Toby: how they’d met on a Wycliffe sidewalk during last year’s rodeo and he’d wooed her right into the Burger Barn for an ice-cream soda. How he’d tried to teach her to rope and how hopeless she’d been at it. How he’d broken up with her on the phone like a coward.

  By the time Jackson drove past Oakvale Mansion, a mammoth house that overlooked the landscape from a hilltop, he was fit to be tied.

  “I should’ve knocked that poke upside the head when I had the chance,” he muttered, steering down a lane toward the cottages nestled below the big hill.

  “I don’t think Toby can sustain much more brain damage.” As usual, she was trying to lighten things up. “But he proved one thing to me.”

  “What’s that?”

  Jackson pulled in front of Felicia’s place, the white planks trimmed with green woodwork and shutters. Hand-painted flowers laced the doorway and windows.

  “It proved he’s not my last cowboy,” she said, “even if he did come in at the bottom of his event.”

  Last place. The last cowboy.

  As Jackson cut the engine, the ominous phrase rang in his ears. “That just goes to show you, then. Predictions are best used as compost.”

  When she didn’t respond, he turned to see that she was as stunned as if he’d slapped her. Instinctively, he laid a hand on the back of her head, cradling her.