Welcome Home, Cowboy

by Karen Templeton

  “Dammit, Emma—why is it so hard for you to let somebody take care of you?”

  “Probably the same reason it is for you?”

  That one landed right between the eyes. Instead of making him mad, though, Cash almost laughed. “Point to you. But you know…for somebody who says she takes things as they come, you sure seem to be mighty picky about which of those things meet your personal criteria. Not that I’m any expert or anything, but I don’t think it works that way. Why is it okay if I do other stuff around the farm, but not if I sleep in the barn and keep an eye on the goats?”

  Emma stared at him for a moment, then let her head drop back against the stall partition, her mouth pulled into a rueful grin. “I’m being a pain in the butt, huh?”

  “That pretty much covers it.”

  She pushed out a heavy sigh. “Took me five years to talk Lee into the goats. Even so, it was my project. Then after he died…I guess I got stubborn, breeding them when I knew how bad the timing would be.” A tear slipped out. She swatted it away. “And now I’m exhausted and hormonal and uncomfortable as hell, but I made this particular bed and, dammit, it’s mine to lie in and nobody else’s!”

  Sniffling, she dug a tissue out of her pocket and loudly blew her nose. “Oh, crud, I’m a mess,” she said, laughing a little when Bumble laid his head on her lap, nearly knocking her over in the process, and a sudden wave of…of caring nearly knocked Cash sideways.

  Between being so wrapped up in himself and a talent for picking whiny, helpless women who’d go apoplectic over a broken fingernail, sympathy had never been one of his strong suits. About the only effect women’s tears had on him was to annoy him no end. But if it was one thing Emma wasn’t, it was whiny. Or helpless. And seeing her this frustrated melted something inside him.

  Knowing he was venturing into dangerous territory and completely incapable of stopping, Cash crouched in front of her again, shoving the dog’s face out of his. “What you are, is human. And turning yourself inside out to hold it together for everybody else isn’t good, for you or the baby. Or anybody else, if you…”

  If you end up losing it entirely. Like my mother did.

  “So no arguments,” he said, letting the sentence dangle. “At least this way you might get some sleep. Not to mention I wouldn’t have to rat on you to Patrice.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Oh, believe me, I would.” He nodded toward her belly. “He turned yet?”

  “No,” she said on a sigh, palming the sides of the bulge. Underneath her gigantic sweatshirt, Cash could see movement. Hard to imagine a living human being in there. How tiny it had to be. It occurred to him he’d never actually seen a real live newborn—

  “If he’s this ornery now,” Emma said, her slight smile as she stroked her tummy melting Cash even more, “I can only imagine what he’s gonna be like once he’s out.” Then she chuckled. “I can’t wait.”

  “The term ‘glutton for punishment’ comes to mind.”

  “Tell me about it,” she said, lifting her eyes, all soft in the hazy light in the stall, and Cash wanted to kiss her so badly, he actually ached.

  Instead, he leaned one hand on the bale to balance himself, steering his gaze away from her mouth. From temptation. “Okay, little guy…your mama’s kept you warm and safe all for all these months, so there’s no reason you can’t return the favor. You be good to her, because…” He looked up, caught her startled expression. “Because I know she’s gonna be good to you.”

  Emma flushed a deep scarlet, then looked down. “He got real quiet while you were talking, like he was listening…” She sharply inhaled, her eyes closing. “Early contraction,” she got out, her nostrils flaring before she pursed her lips, her breath exiting in a slow, steady stream.

  “Looks painful.”

  She shook her head. “It’s all up here,” she said, rubbing her palm over the top part of her belly. “So it’s just a tightening sensation. No pain. Oh, I forgot! How’d the lesson go?”

  Cash stood, her words rekindling the bone-deep satisfaction working with Hunter had given him. “Took a half hour, but Hunter can now play a decent G chord. Tomorrow we’ll tackle the C. He already knows the words to the song, though. Although every time he sings it he cracks himself up.”

  “Sounds about right.” Grunting, she flapped about for a second or two, then sighed in disgust.

  “Need some help?”

  “Gravity sucks,” she said, thrusting out her hand. Once on her feet, she dusted off her bottom, then briefly squeezed Cash’s arm. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this for him. It means a lot, having a man to hang out with. Since Lee died, it’s just been us females. Hunter doesn’t say anything, but I know he feels a little lost.”

  Cash frowned. “He got any friends?”

  “A couple, from school. But everybody’s so scattered and busy, it’s hard for the kids to get together. There’s a summer camp…” She cleared her throat. “It’s for special-needs kids, it wouldn’t cost us anything. I’m thinking of sending him for a week. Maybe two.” She looked up, her eyes shiny. “He wants to go.”

  “But you’re not sure he’s ready?”

  “No,” she said, looking away. “That I am.”

  Cash crossed his arms to keep from touching her hair, catching a few threads of fire between his fingers. And when he said, “Why don’t you go on inside for a while?” his voice didn’t sound right. “Get some more rest, if you can. If anything happens,” he said when her mouth opened, “I’ll come get you. Promise.”

  “Okay, deal.” She hesitated, her eyes fixed in his, for a couple of seconds before cupping his arm, then reaching up to kiss his cheek, her lips every bit as soft and smooth and warm as they looked. “I sure hope this is half as good for you as it is for me,” she said with a twinkly grin, then turned to go, leaving Cash feeling like he’d been clobbered by a thunderbolt.

  From one little cheek kiss? Damn.

  Damn! He’d forgotten to tell her about his chat with the Garrett brothers.

  Then again, Cash thought as he crossed his arms along the top of the stall, watching the kids explore their new world on rapidly strengthening legs, why give her a chance to say no?

  Right?

  Chapter Seven

  “Are you insane?” Emma said. “No!”

  Once she got her voice back, that was.

  She supposed three more nannies’ kidding in the past two days—two of which she actually got to witness—might account for Cash’s neglecting to mention he’d hired Noah and Eli Garrett to finish up the job her husband had started. Nothing like walking out her front door this morning to find the brothers leaning against the side of a big, bad, black truck, sipping coffee and shooting the breeze with her, her…whatever the heck Cash was. Farmhand? Savior? Resident pain in the patoot?

  “Least you can do is hear me out,” Whatever-the-Heck said, shadowing her down rows of lettuces inside the humid greenhouse, only to nearly stumble when she reeled on him, a butter lettuce in each hand. Because, yes, her avoidance method of choice that morning involved seeking succor in the salad greens.

  “Why would I do that, when the answer would still be no?”

  He scowled. Naturally. “I thought we got this problem about you accepting help cleared up a couple days ago?”

  “About you sleeping in my barn, yes. Spending major bucks to remodel my house? No. And why would you do this when you knew how I’d probably react?”

  “Because I did it before I knew how you’d probably react. Oh, come on, Emma—” His footsteps crunched on the gravel behind her as she tromped over to the next bed. “Give me one good reason why this isn’t a good idea.”

  Emma gently set the lettuces in a bushel basket, then returned to her chore, her knife blade flashing as she efficiently severed the lettuces an inch above the growing point. “Because,” she said, wanting to concentrate on lettuces and not crazy, silver-eyed country singers whose generosity was tied to something much deeper inside them
than Emma had the wherewithal to explore. She twisted again, meeting those eyes. Drat. “Because it doesn’t feel right.”

  “I said a good answer.”

  By this point she wasn’t sure who she was more annoyed with, him or herself for being annoyed. “Sorry, it’s the only one I’ve got. For heaven’s sake, Cash,” she said when he snorted. “I can’t let you spend that kind of money on us.”

  “Why the hell not? Not like I’ve got anything else to spend it on.”

  Through the greenhouse’s open door she could see the brothers—both younger than her, both good-looking, one still in his wild stage, the other recently tipped over into settled— patiently waiting for the go-ahead. But how was she supposed to explain something she didn’t fully understand herself?

  She set the soft, frilly heads in the basket before finally looking at him. And yep, there it was in his eyes—the boy still desperately seeking approval. But for what? And why from her? “Because…because it’s like you’re trying to buy your own absolution. Or something.”

  He took the full basket from her, setting it next to the three she’d already filled. “I told you, the money means nothing to me—”

  “My point exactly!”

  “Dammit, Emma—it’s a gift!”

  “But it’s not a gift from your heart. Only from your wallet.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake—”

  “And I’d sincerely appreciate it if you didn’t take the Lord’s name in vain!”

  He actually looked startled. “Sorry—”

  She swatted away his apology, thinking this conversation was getting more knotted up by the second. Especially since who knew better than she how big Cash’s heart actually was, whether he did or not? Still and all, she sensed something seriously amiss about the whole thing, even if she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “Now, if you’d consider this a loan or something…”

  Right. As it was, she’d be paying off the uninsured portion of Lee’s medical bills until her old age. Taking on more debt was the last thing she needed.

  “Not gonna happen,” Cash said, right before Gotcha! bloomed in his eyes. “You really want me to tell the Garretts to cancel the order? When business has been slow this past year and Eli has a kid on the way, too?”

  Emma’s own eyes narrowed. “That’s low.”

  “Yeah. Wanting to give Annie a place of her own so you can reclaim your living room, not to mention goosing the local economy, makes me a real bastard.” When her voice failed her again, he exhaled. “Maybe you’re right, that my wallet’s all I got right now. Maybe it’s all I’ll ever have. What difference does it make to you?”

  Emma shut her eyes, shaking her head. Weakening. “It just feels so…lopsided. Like I couldn’t even begin to reciprocate.”

  “You expect people you do things for to reciprocate?”

  “No, of course not—”

  His gaze nailed her to the spot.

  Oh…heck.

  The brothers—two of four, all involved in some way in the family business except for the oldest, an accountant— straightened at her approach, offering matching grins. Eli, the newlywed, was the older and more slender of the two, his hair slightly darker and shaggier than his brother’s. Noah, whose advice Lee had sought out for help with estimating the materials for the project, was shorter, more solid, and a known heartbreaker, his smile cocky underneath his ball cap’s brim.

  “You still got the plans Lee drew up?” Emma said to him.

  “Right here,” he said, wiggling the tube clutched in his hand. “Although…” When his gaze swung to Cash, Emma turned to see Cash trying to shush him. She sighed.

  “What?”

  “I figured you may as well expand the master bedroom at the same time. Add on a nursery. And maybe a bigger master bath?”

  A startled laugh erupted from her throat. “Have you lost your mind? I can’t have all that going on with a newborn! And unless y’all are planning on pulling an Extreme Home Makeover number, I’m not seeing it happening within the next two weeks, either.”

  “Um, Mrs. Manning?” Deep brown, puppy-dog eyes met hers. Strangely, Noah was still grinning. From what she’d heard, that grin made mamas nervous from here to the Colorado border. “Mr. Cochran’s already suggested we split up the job, tackling the original remodel project first, starting the other one whenever you’re ready. By the time we’re finished,” he said with an even bigger grin, “you won’t even recognize the place. It’ll be like having a whole new house!”

  Ah.

  “Excuse us for a moment, won’t you?” she said to the Garretts before steering a confused Cash back to the front porch. “I can’t believe it took me this long for the light to dawn,” she said, not sure whether to be mad or feel sorry for him or what.

  “What light is that?”

  “I can understand you wanting to erase the house’s bad memories, Cash, I really can. But don’t you think erasing the house itself is a bit drastic?”

  Cash was so flabbergasted he barely knew what to think. Let alone say. And, oh, it was tempting to think her advanced pregnancy was wreaking serious havoc with her brain function, but not even he was dumb enough to suggest that.

  Especially when it occurred to him that maybe she wasn’t all that far off the mark.

  He sank onto the top step, whisking his hand along his jaw. He hadn’t shaved for a couple of days, and the stubble was bugging the hell out of him. Same way the woman currently towering over him was, like some damn redheaded Madonna.

  “In my own defense,” he muttered, “it wasn’t a conscious decision.” Perturbed, he squeezed shut his eyes, then lifted them to her. “It’s not like I’m ever gonna live here again. And y’all really do need more room. At the front of my brain,” he said, tapping his forehead, “this was only about finding some way to do right by Lee, by you, before I returned to my hedonistic ways. That’s all. But if I’m being totally honest… the idea of changing the place into something totally different? Doesn’t bother me one bit.”

  She awkwardly lowered herself to sit beside him. “Cash—”

  “Yeah, I know…I’m a couple bricks shy of a load.” When she looked at him, he shrugged. “Just saving you the trouble.”

  “That’s not what I was gonna say. Even if I might’ve thought it,” she said with a smirk. Then she sighed. “I think it’s pretty clear we’ve both got issues about this remodeling thing. For me, it comes down to…to feeling like I’m being railroaded into something I’m not ready to deal with. For many reasons. Letting go of it as Lee’s project being at the top of the list. The timing being seriously bad, for another.”

  Cash leaned forward. Scratched his head. Sighed. “You’re right. I should’ve thought of that. All of it.”

  She touched his arm. Briefly. “The thing is, I’d love more room. Someday. Just not now. Not…yet. And you—”

  “I’m not doing this for myself, Emma,” Cash said softly. “I swear. I really was only thinking of you.”

  “I believe you. No, I do. I was overreacting.”

  “To what?”

  Swiping back her hair, she angled her head. “You’re an incredibly generous man, Cash. All that eagerness to please… it can be kind of overwhelming.”

  His face heating, Cash got to his feet. “I’ll tell the Garretts to hold off, then, until you’re ready. Don’t worry, they can keep the deposit. Since they were going to fit in the job as a favor, anyway, later might be better for them, too.”

  Her eyes softened. “Thank you.”

  “No problem,” he said, walking away, thinking if all good deeds were this hard to pull off, no wonder so few people bothered.

  Thirty-eight weeks and still not engaged.

  The baby, that was. Little booger was still upside down, too, far as Emma knew, but as long as he was still floating, there was hope.

  “Annie?” Emma called down the hall. “You about ready?”

  “One last tinkle and I’m good. You go on ahead, I’ll meet you at
the car. My stuff’s by the door.”

  Feeling like a wind-up toy run up against a wall—going and going and getting nowhere fast—Emma inched toward the front door, grabbing her purse and keys off the hall table before lugging Annie’s paint box and canvas out to the car. As she shoved everything inside, though, she took a moment to savor the bright blue sky, fields greening up, her emperor tulips swaying in the warm breeze. All baby goats were birthed and doing well, including three sets of twins. Sales had been brisk, her CSA clients seemed pleased, and overall things were improving.

  Well, except for that pesky falling-for-the-help thing, she thought as she looked toward the north field, where Cash and a couple of locals he’d Pied Pipered in from Ortega’s a few days ago were mulching the berry canes to keep their little tootsies from freezing during the still-cold nights.

  He looked up and waved, his smile tenuous. Emma waved back, her dumbbutt heart pitty-pattying inside her chest. She’d meant what she’d said, about his overwhelming generosity. Whatever his motives, the effect was the same on her heart, worn down from grief and worry and loneliness. Not desperation, though. Praise be, she was still clearheaded enough not to act like a fool, even if she felt like one.

  To recognize, for instance, that his new “thing” of performing for them in the lengthening evenings, before he returned to his place, was only a signal that the real world, his real world—illusive or not—had begun tugging him back.

  That the more he healed, the less reason he had to stay.

  Which was why part of her sorely wished he’d just go away, already, and let her get on with things…before that paper-thin barrier between silly and stupid dissolved completely.

  Annie and several cats burst through the front door, derailing Emma’s train of thought to nowhere; some twenty minutes later Emma dropped her off at her art teacher’s house in town, a funky little adobe with a studio out back.

  “Now remember,” Annie said as she wrestled all her paraphernalia out of the car, “pick me up right at two! Can’t miss Oprah!”