How to Catch a Cowboy in 10 Days

by Kimberly Krey

  Ann gave out a quiet cheer as she stumbled on the perfect spreader. Of course, it was the last drawer she’d checked. “Hallelujah!”

  A knock came at the front door as the word escaped her lips. Ann froze in place. Should she answer it? Probably just a package or something. But then another thought came to her. A face actually. One Ann hadn’t seen at the ranch house in a few days.

  Ann approached the door slowly, grateful she wasn’t as saddle sore as she’d been the last few days. She took in a deep breath as she grasped the knob, and then held that breath as she took in the visitor.

  Yep. Jenessa. Wearing a flashy green dress, a sparkly white belt, and a pair of cowgirl boots. Of course the shocked expression she wore might count as an item all its own. Her eyes went from wide to narrow as her lip turned into a hard line.

  “Ann?”

  “Hi.” Ann lifted her shoulders a notch. She was taller than the girl, may as well use it to her advantage. “Can I help you?”

  Jenessa sniffed, tilted her head to look beyond Ann, and then rubbed at her nose. “Who’s all here?” she asked. “I kind of need to talk to someone.”

  Ann smelled hints of Jenessa’s plan. Show up on Trey’s doorstep in a moment of fake despair. She could already see the article in print. The way she told off the girl who didn’t know when to quit. “Sadly, I’m the only one here,” Ann said.

  Jenessa looked over her shoulder. “Do you mind if I come in then?”

  A sharp gulp clunked down Ann’s throat. A bitter wedge of guilt. The girl might really need someone. She nodded. “Sure, come on in. I’m just about to frost a cake. You can join me in the kitchen.”

  “Thank you.” Jenessa said with a breathy sigh. Her posture shifted then, like the weight of Montlake Bridge had been taken off her shoulders. She followed Ann into the kitchen and took a seat at one of the barstools.

  Ann slid her laptop onto the bar. “So is everything all right?” she asked, taking hold of the spreader.

  “I guess so. Not really. Aren’t you supposed to be home by now?”

  Ann laughed, amused at the blatant question. “Yeah,” she said, bringing the cooled cake over to the counter. “I decided to stay a bit longer.”

  Jenessa looked over her shoulder and then back to Ann. “I just…” she stopped there, let out a sigh that made her shoulders drop. “I just feel like I don’t have a place that I belong.”

  Ann glanced up from the frosting canister, locking her eyes on Jenessa for a moment, and then set her gaze back on the container. She stirred the cream cheese frosting with a butter knife, softening it up before spreading it on the cake. She contemplated for a moment. Should she stop the task altogether and listen to Jenessa or continue with her work while Jenessa spoke? Some people—her nieces and nephews in particular—seemed to open up most when the focus wasn’t exactly on them. During a ride in the car. Or while they played a video game. Perhaps this was best.

  She scooped the frosting onto the center of the cake in one big mound. “You don’t feel like you belong right now?” she repeated.

  “Not really. My grandparents are old. They don’t want some… failure living with them.” Her voice choked. “It’s bad enough that my parent’s stopped paying for my school. Wouldn’t allow me to go live back home with them. And now these guys don’t want me either.”

  Something about the word failure stood out to Ann. “Do you have any other siblings?” she asked, pressing the frosting over the surface of the cake.

  “Yeah,” Jenessa said. “I’ve got an older sister and a younger brother. They’re a couple of brainiacs, too. My brother’s already partway through dental school.”

  “I have a brother who’s a dentist, too,” Ann blurted.

  Jenessa sniffed. “Yeah, and he’s younger than me even, so it makes me feel like this big disappointment.”

  Ann nodded her head. She knew it all too well.

  “And then my sister, she’s this incredible elementary teacher and all the kids just love her and the principal wants to nominate her for some award, according to what my dad told my grandpa last night.”

  Ann could sympathize; with a dentist, a doctor, a bar owner, and an award-winning broker in her family, she often felt like a speck next to them. “Believe it or not, I kind of relate.”

  Jenessa tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “Really?”

  Ann spread frosting over the final corner of the cake, and then set her gaze on the girl before her. “Really.”

  The moment seemed to stretch into a deeper place in her heart, and

  Ann felt the resentment, jealousy, and pure dislike she felt for Jenessa slip away. In its place she found camaraderie. Understanding. Appreciation.

  “Try being someone who can’t keep her grade point high enough so her parents just give up on her altogether,” Jenessa said. She ran her finger over the surface of the counter, making invisible circles again and again. “College is hard. I tried, but it wasn’t enough for them. And because I got one little C+, they stopped paying altogether. That’s the rule. No C’s.”

  “Hmm. That would be tough,” Ann agreed, glancing over her shoulder to look at the clock. Trey would be walking in any moment. Through the front of the house most likely. “Hey, do you want to go in the backyard for a few minutes? We can talk out there until I have to leave.”

  “Sure.” Jenessa slipped off the barstool and tugged open the screen door.

  Ann snagged her laptop off the counter and set it out on the picnic table. The very place Jenessa sat next to Ann and Trey, ruining their quiet evening. Who would have known she was feeling so abandoned?

  “You know, for me, school wasn’t too much of an issue. What gets in my way is…” Ann glanced over, looking Jenessa over one last time. Did she really dare confide in her? The answer was yes. She did. She let her fingers trace the edge of the closed laptop. “I’m a passive person by nature. I don’t speak up when I should. Someone can wrong me, and I won’t say a word. They get my order wrong even though I specified I wanted it a certain way. Oh, well. I’ll just shut up and eat the dish that’s stuffed with onions I asked them to leave out.” Her words picked up in speed and volume. “Or how about I let an entire group of teenage girls cut in front of me at Starbucks because I don’t dare speak up. Forget the fact that I’m the only other one in line, and they just went from being one to ten people and all they’d have to do is just let me go ahead of them and they’ll be at the end of the line where they should be since nine of them would have been there already had they just gotten in line where they should have.”

  “Yeah,” Jenessa agreed, “how annoying.”

  Ann tried to get past the fact that the girls she was speaking of looked and acted a whole lot like Jenessa. “You know what I’ve been trying to do over the last few days?” she asked. “I’ve been trying to change that side of me. I’ve been trying to just… speak up more and do things that I normally wouldn’t do.”

  “That’s cool,” Jenessa said.

  “Yeah. In fact,” Ann continued, “I’ve been writing about my experience, and if my boss likes what I’ve written about it, I could get published in Walquest Weekly.”

  “No way. Have you told your family about it?”

  Ann shook her head. “Not yet.”

  “Oh,” Jenessa piped up. “Because you don’t want them thinking you failed at yet another thing if you end up not getting it?”

  “Pretty much,” Ann said.

  A smile passed between them. Not a fake one either. A genuine, I-totally-get-you smile. She and Jenessa’s situations weren’t exactly the same, but they were similar. Similar enough for Ann to feel like she suddenly knew Jenessa a whole lot better. “What were you going to school for?” Ann asked.

  “Special education,” she said. “My cousin has special needs, and I’m just crazy about him. My mom said that, while most of the cousins were sort of scared of him at first, I was the only one who never was.” She shrugged and lifted her chin, allowing the sun to
light up her eyes. “I took classes in high school where I helped out with the kids in special ed, too. I guess I want to do it because that comes naturally to me. And I know it’s not that way for everyone.”

  A spark of emotion stirred in Ann’s chest. “That’s great,” she said. “You should really find a way to get back to school then. It sounds like you have a real passion for it.”

  Jenessa straightened her shoulders and looked out over the field. “Maybe.” In the quiet moment, something caught Ann’s eye. A pattern on the dress that Jenessa wore. With as bright and flashy as the dress was, it had gone totally unnoticed. But as Ann looked closer, she could see a design of lovely swirls in the fabric, a darker shade of green. Ann tilted her head, attempting to see the dress as she had originally, one flat color minus the addition, but she couldn’t. There was no way she could un-see what she’d just discovered.

  She turned her focus to the fielded area as well, realizing it would be that way with Jenessa now, too. She’d seen a different side of her. A very lovely side that added depth and humanity and beauty. And there was no way she could see her the same now. This is what Max must see. This is what he likes about her.

  “So is that where you keep your articles?” Jenessa asked.

  Ann glanced back to Jenessa. “What was that?”

  “Your laptop. Is that where you keep track of all the things you’re trying, so you can get that writing position?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Ann said, running her fingers along the closed edges of the laptop. “But I should probably put it away for now. Trey and I are just about to head out.”

  “Where to?” Jenessa asked, and just like that, the wall between them began to rebuild. One brick. And then another.

  “Uh… we’re going to go have dinner with his family.”

  Jenessa started coming to a stand. “Is that what the cake is for?”

  Ann nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

  “Well, I better go.”

  Ann hopped up from the picnic bench and followed her toward the sliding door. “I’m sure the guys will be back soon,” she said. “You could hang out here if you’d like.”

  “No thanks.” She was already tearing through the kitchen. Her green dress nothing but a blur. Ann rounded the kitchen corner in time to see her pull open the front door. “I hope you guys have fun tonight.” There was emotion in her words; Ann heard it. She wanted to do something about it, but held back. What was she supposed to do? Say, ”Sorry you like the same guy I do”?

  But then Ann found herself darting through the front room anyway. She pushed open the screen door and hollered for Jenessa. “Wait!”

  Jenessa stood next to an old white Plymouth. It looked like a tank next to her tiny form. It also looked like the last thing a girl like her would choose to drive. She had the driver’s side door open, but hadn’t climbed inside just yet. Their gaze met, and Ann’s breath hitched as she noticed redness around her eyes.

  “I really think you’d be a great special ed teacher,” Ann said. “I hope you’re able to go back to school.”

  Jenessa nodded and lifted her chin. “Thanks.”

  Ann closed the screen door, but watched as the old white car tore down the road. There were times in Ann’s journey to discovering her proactive side that she felt tendencies rise. Most of them centered around speaking up. Saying something when a certain thing was out of place. Making herself more visible in one way or another. What she hadn’t anticipated is that she’d have moments where she’d want to say rude things, too. Impulses that rose and begged to be carried out.

  It had been a struggle sifting through them with Jenessa. But this… Ann strode into the kitchen and began rinsing out the empty frosting canister. The moment that arose with Jenessa was unexpected, but when the chance came to speak up and say something kind, she’d done it.

  Ann let out a sigh. She hadn’t changed her life or probably helped out a whole lot, but she’d overcome a barrier of sorts, and for that, Ann was proud.

  The sound of a whistled tune carried down the hallway, and Ann spun around to see Trey stride into the kitchen. The melody of his tune changed into a long, teasing whistle.

  “Dang, you look nice,” he said.

  Ann grinned as she finished drying her hands. “Thank you. So do you.”

  He stepped toward her, slow and steady, his footsteps rhythmic along the wood floor. He rested his hands on her hips. Solid and warm. “I’m starting to wonder why we made plans to go anywhere but right here.” He kissed her neck. Her collarbone. Jaw. With parted lips, he glided over her mouth, slow and teasing.

  Ann stepped back against the cabinet, pulling him with her, and pressed an impatient kiss to his lips. Full of need and desire and an element of something she hadn’t known before.

  “Should I call and cancel?” Trey mumbled between kisses.

  Ann giggled. “Maybe.” She kissed him once more. “But then I wouldn’t get to meet everyone.” Another kiss. “And I really want to meet them.”

  Trey moved to her cheek. “Yeah. I want them to meet you, too. I’ve got to show you off while I can. Get them to guilt you into moving to Montana permanently.”

  Her smile grew wider. “They’re capable of doing that, huh?”

  He straightened up and shrugged, his deep brown eyes settling on her. “Probably. They guilt me into all sorts of things.”

  “Hmm. Well,” she said, stepping around him to get the cake. “Let’s get going then.”

  Chapter 27

  Trey could hardly believe this day had come. He was bringing a woman home to meet his family. He’d gone to a lot of work over the years to shield himself from doing this very thing: inviting somebody deeper into his life. Taking this step was a milestone, and he knew it.

  The best part was, Trey didn’t feel an ounce of fear or hesitation. The voices that warned he could get hurt were gone. He could hardly remember hearing them at all. Because with Ann, it felt right. And if she was as great as he thought she was, Trey could open his heart again. Heck, he already had. Now he just hoped to spend the rest of his life with her.

  The one thing he hadn’t done is invite Al Meyer like his mom had asked him to. And though Trey said he would, he’d chickened out each time he tried. He really cared for Al, and he wanted him to meet Ann as well, but there was something holding him back. Perhaps he was afraid that it might hurt the man to see that Trey had moved on and was now interested in someone other than his deceased granddaughter. Maybe he’d have second thoughts about leaving him the ranch. No, Al Meyer knew about moving on more than most men. He’d lost his wife, after all, and even went on to remarry.

  “What are you thinking about over there?” Ann’s quiet voice drew him out of his pondering state.

  He stretched an arm toward her, and she took it, sliding her fingers through his. “I’m just wondering what it would be like if we got married one day.” He glanced over, amused by the way the truth had rolled off his tongue so easily. Would it freak her out? Her lovely complexion showed a rash of pink in her cheeks, accenting the splash of freckles along her cheekbones.

  Ann moistened her bottom lip. “Oh, really? What would it be like?” She sandwiched his hand between hers, smoothing her fingertips up the backside of his hand and fingers. It felt incredible.

  “I guess that depends on whether or not you’d like to live here, in Montana.” Vulnerability flooded him after he said it. She’d said enough to him on the subject that it seemed obvious she’d prefer to live here over Seattle, but what about her family? Her job? Would she be willing to leave all that behind?

  “Montana, huh?” Ann clicked her tongue. “Not my rainy, drizzly city?”

  Trey kept his eyes pasted on the road as the fields sped by at either side. Were his palms starting to sweat?

  “Of course I’d like to live here,” Ann continued. “It’s where you’re inheriting your ranch, right?”

  “Right,” he managed, but it came out rushed and shaky, pushed by the breath he’d held. “Well
then,” he said, flipping up the air conditioning. “I’d say it could look a little something like this: me working out in the field. You coming with me whenever you wanted. I’d teach you to rope a calf or deliver one for that matter, which is pretty incredible. ‘Course you could get a job nearby, maybe write from home if you’d like. Maybe working for some… top magazine with a regular slot on advocates and rights.”

  She let out a little giggle and squeezed his hand. “Sounds good.”

  He glanced over. “Which part?”

  “All of it,” Ann said through a laugh.

  “Good.”

  “Is that all?” The question sounded dangerous and typical all at once. She wanted to know about kids. Did he want them, and if so, how many?

  “We’ll get a dog named Ralph,” he said.

  Ann still looked at him expectedly, tilted her head while she waited for the real answer.

  “I assume we’ll want to have a few little ones running around,” he finally said.

  “How many?” He could nearly hear the smile in her question.

  Trey shook his head. “Oh, no you don’t. That’s one I think you should answer.”

  “Me?”

  “Yep. C’mon now, I answered all the rest.”

  He felt the tips of her fingers—where she held onto his hand—press into his skin in a counting rhythm. “Four, five, six, maybe seven.” She giggled. “I don’t know. I want at least a couple of kids.”

  Trey nodded. “Me too.” He slowed as he approached the turnoff for the house. A tall tree shaded part of the drive. Trey pulled up beneath it and shut off the engine. “Now,” he said, giving Ann a serious look. “If we tell my mom that we’re talking about kids and all that, she’ll start talking wedding colors before you leave, and that would just embarrass us both.”

  Ann burst out with a laugh.

  “So,” he continued, “let’s just tell her we have plans to elope tomorrow night, and we’ll put her mind to rest.”