This Cowboy's a Keeper (Unlikely Cowgirl Book 3)

by Kimberly Krey

  Her conversation with Luke included, she realized, scratching a line through the difficult task she’d achieved. A few more to go and, if all went according to plan, she’d be in a very good place to start a relationship.

  She was glad Luke hadn’t pried too much where her intentions were concerned. He’d need to be patient with her, but if they stood a chance at having a future together, she needed to pursue a life outside of Hollywood, outside of her business, and even her parents for a time.

  She thought back on her trip to Montana. What a wild ride it had been. She’d set out to put her brother back on course. Who knew her own life would shift courses so dramatically as a result of those two weeks? Because of Jason, Payton had been guided to a place where she’d discover at least a taste of who she was meant to be. And she couldn’t wait to experience it.

  She imagined the little home she’d put an offer on. The adorable place that needed new carpet and new paint and probably smelled like cats. She pictured the barn and the ideas she had centered around it. About the long talk she had with Dee about going into business with her. The excitement in the woman’s voice had given life to Payton’s plans, and lent a sense of confirmation. She was doing the right thing. It might be radical and risky, it might even be crazy, but she was ready to give it a try nonetheless.

  She sighed as a sense of assurance took over. Payton Keller had finally had a taste of the good life; she couldn’t let anything stop her now. Which was a good thought to lead with, since today she’d contend with one of the biggest roadblocks of all—well, make that two—her parents.

  Chapter 27

  “I’ve never met anyone more determined to mess up their life,” Olivia declared. Surrounded by her entourage, the woman went from sitting to pacing in half a blink. She whipped the long trail of her scarf behind her back, the wispy fabric waving behind her as she strode away from the group, then back. She put a hand to her hip and surveyed the others in the room. Her parents’ office. Two desks at opposite ends separated by a large sitting area, a fireplace, and, of course, a well-stocked bar.

  Payton hadn’t opted for the plush couch or matching love seat. She’d settled on a leather wingback chair. Stiff, decorative pillows prevented her from leaning back, so Payton remained at full attention, ready to defend herself as need be.

  “Well …” Olivia droned, pacing before the massive fireplace mantel, “don’t any of you have something to say about this?”

  Payton should have seen this coming. Of course Mom would invite backup. That being her and dad’s PR reps. The two of them sat at opposite ends of a spacious couch.

  Tasha Milton, Mom’s sharp-tongued rep, kept a narrow gaze on Payton. “I’m not allowed to counsel someone who already has a PR rep of her own. One whom—despite her obsession for miniskirts—I happen to admire.”

  Payton’s eyes grew large. As outspoken as Tasha was, she hadn’t expected her to squelch her mother’s request so quickly. All eyes drifted to Dad’s rep, Conner Mcgowen, who—as always—looked as if he were headed for a golf match.

  He adjusted his argyle sweater vest and coughed. “I wasn’t aware this would be the topic of today’s meeting,” he said, his eyes set on Olivia. “But if you could kindly give me a recap of issues that concern you, I’ll tell you what I would advise Ms. Payton if she were my client.” He swirled his glass of scotch before taking a sip. An action Dad—seated in the nearby love seat—repeated.

  Payton grabbed a notepad and pen off the coffee table nearby. She planned to make note of each concern, and jot down any rebuttals she had prior to Mr. Mcgowen offering his advice. He may as well go off facts, not the fiction her mother often wove in some dramatic spin.

  Olivia waltzed over to the wingback chair matching Payton’s, but stood behind it rather than taking a seat. She mimicked Payton’s poised posture and smiled like all was right with the world. “To recap,” she said, “Payton took off to Montana to bring Jason home, since we didn’t want him throwing away his education. And then, instead of convincing him to come home, she set up camp there herself.” Olivia had started off with a slow, even voice, but toward the end of that very complaint, her voice began to escalate in volume and pitch.

  “Mmm, hmm …” Mr. Mcgowen urged.

  “And then we find out that that little Kendall worm cheated on her. And while the press had a heyday with the scandal, posting pictures and making accusations, Payton remained in hiding, not so much as a statement about what she plans to do because not even Roz could get ahold of her.”

  The look Mr. Mcgowen gave her was a scolding one. PR reps—possibly more than anyone out there—don’t like being ignored. He took another sip of his drink. which again urged her dad to repeat the action.

  Payton dropped her gaze to the open stationary page of the notebook, blank save the family crest printed on it, and scribbled a few things she wanted to address:

  ~ Didn’t plan to stay. Was trying to get Jason to change mind.

  ~ Why should I have to speak about what somebody else did?

  Olivia barked out a loud throat-clear before continuing. “And who knows what’s happening with Shades and the upcoming fashion show around the corner.”

  Payton scratched onto the sheet once more.

  ~ Chloe has things at Shades under control.

  “And then,” Olivia continued, “after nearly two weeks of worrying that my only children had been eaten by wild coyotes, I tracked them down myself, only to find that she’s been shacking up with some ill-mannered cowboy.”

  Payton’s eyes might have gone wider than saucers, but she kept quiet and wrote a rebuttal for that as well.

  ~ Mom’s only concern was salvaging a wedding that shouldn’t have been planned in the first place. And she crossed the line by meeting with the Kendalls on her own.

  Before she could write the next one, her father spoke up. “When do we get to meet this cowboy of yours?”

  The pen slipped out of Payton’s grip and tumbled onto the plush rug at her feet. “What?” Michael Keller wasn’t one to show interest in … well, in anything other than business.

  He tipped his head back, emptied his glass, and smacked it squarely on the table. “If you like him and he likes you … don’t you think your mom and I should get to know him?”

  “Michael,” Olivia interrupted. “We’re trying to get some advice—”

  “From people who aren’t even family, Olivia, are you kidding?” Michael gave Tasha and Mr. Mcgowen a nod in turn. “No offense, but this is a personal matter and I don’t think we need to drag anyone else into it. So let’s excuse these two and listen to what our little girl has to say.” The look he gave Payton, accompanied by the protective tone of his voice, planted warmth in her heart.

  She sat there, stunned, as he thanked their reps and escorted them out through a private exit leading to a covered outdoor portion of the estate.

  Her father gave Olivia a knowing look before walking back to his place on the love seat. He lowered his elbows onto his knees and faced the floor as he spoke.

  “Having you two gone like that really got me thinking,” he said, gaze still cast to the marble floor. “It made me realize that I didn’t have much of a relationship with my own kids—not outside of what you planned to do for a living, that is. I started looking through old family albums and noticed that … well, I’ve missed out on a whole lot.”

  Payton watched, stunned, as he smeared his palms over his eyes and sniffed.

  “I don’t want to miss out on any more of it. I mean, I’m not trying to guilt you into coming back and doing what we want you to do. I’m just asking you to let me have another chance at being part of your life. No matter what you choose to do with it.” He lifted his chin, light glistening off the tears in his eyes.

  “Okay,” Payton breathed. “I’d love that, Dad. Of course.” When Payton had landed back in the Golden State, her life felt like a giant mass of roadblocks. The route to freedom was so tangled, she didn’t even know where to start. B
ut Chloe’s visit had given Payton the encouragement she’d needed to start clearing the way.

  Payton figured there’d be no way of remaining in her parents’ good graces through it all. But perhaps she’d been wrong.

  The hope in her heart swelled at the thought. Could things really wrap up so nicely?

  Olivia stood beside the mantel. Somewhere in the back of her head, Payton realized she hadn’t moved since the PRs left, but Payton couldn’t take her eyes off her dad.

  “And …” He paused to clear his throat. “I think you should know what’s happening in our lives too.” He shot a glance at Olivia, causing Payton to do the same.

  There was no missing the glare Mom aimed at him, but even still her posture dropped. The form of resignation.

  “Your mom and I have been seeing other people.”

  If someone were to inject a shot of acid into her heart, it would probably feel the way it did then. A violent burn that made her shoulders curl over her chest. The child in her wanted to cry out in protest. To start making promises to fix things or change things or never leave again.

  She put her head down, clenched her eyes, and summoned for the first source of solace that came to mind. Lord, please help me let go.

  A vision of Luke came to mind, reminding Payton of her own future. Her own path. The only one she had control of.

  And suddenly the weight was gone. Sure, the pain was still there. A sadness for accepting something she’d been too stubborn to see. But she no longer felt the need to fix it. That wasn’t her job.

  She took a moment to mentally release her family members in turn. Mom. Dad. Jason. They had their own lives to live, and so did Payton.

  She glanced up, gave a soft smile to her mom, then set her eyes on Dad’s searching face. “So when do I get to meet these other people?”

  Chapter 28

  Luke rode hard over the land, eyeing the old barn. A line of cars approached for the Harvest Celebration. How a sight so harmless could cause such an ache in his heart was a mystery to him.

  The trouble was, he’d expected Payton to call by now. Sure, she’d asked for space—said she was getting things taken care of on her end with the hopes of exploring things between them—but what did that even mean?

  He shook his head, changed direction by steering ornery old Ruth toward the stalls. If Luke could go back to that conversation he’d ask for clarity. He deserved that much, didn’t he? He wanted to know what she had in mind, what “exploring a relationship” actually looked like to her. Last he checked, it didn’t mean cutting someone out of your life.

  Similar musings ran through his head as he removed the saddle and brushed Ruth down. By the time he’d made it home, the sun had started to set, its orange glow spreading over the horizon. Another glance toward the restored barn told him the harvest gathering was now in full swing.

  Still no word from Payton. Jason once razzed his sister about wanting to surgically implant the phone onto her head. For the first time in his life, Luke could relate. He hadn’t stepped away from it for even a minute, resting it on the counter while he showered, checking to make sure the sound was fully engaged.

  It had occurred to Luke that he was finally on the other side of the coin. Since Lizzy hurt herself so long ago, he’d worried that a similar thing might happen in reverse. That his love might outweigh that of the one he’d fallen for.

  And now, it had.

  Luckily, Luke wasn’t tempted to take drastic measures, but he could understand now, more than ever, why people sought to escape their suffering.

  Of course, Payton hadn’t made anything official, but it was hard not to assume that she’d changed her mind. Perhaps she’d decided to stay where she was, the pressures of the life change too great for her to bear. Still, the decent thing to do in a situation like that would be to tell Luke about the choice she’d made.

  Back at home, he wasted no time hitting the shower. In less than thirty minutes, Taylor and Jason would be there to pick him up. He’d agreed to go to the Harvest Celebration with them—not because he wanted to, but because he owed it to his dear mom after all the hard work and effort they’d put into it. Least he could do was put on a happy face and greet their guests.

  Still, things had come to a head, he realized, his muscles working to relax beneath the shower’s stream. It was time to confront Payton, ask what she intended to do. You have to do it, Luke. No more putting it off.

  The acknowledgment shoved his relaxation process into reverse fast and hard, his body becoming rigid despite the soothing heat and sound of the running water. Luke had set his mind on the task a few days back, giving himself until this very evening to call her and ask just what was going on.

  But he hadn’t expected to have to follow through.

  Can’t believe she hasn’t called.

  He dropped his head, watched the constant stream of water slide down the drain, taking his stored-up hope along with it.

  Tears formed as he let it sink in. Tears that were quickly swallowed by the steady stream. A complicated blend of loss and love.

  Loss, because he may not ever get Payton back.

  Love, because he would love her whether she returned or not.

  Among it all was an odd sense of relief. Because even if the worst-case scenario came to pass, Luke knew he’d survive. He might not go looking for love again anytime soon. Heck, who was he kidding? He’d probably pine after Payton Keller for the rest of his life, like half the male population in the country. But he’d pine after the part of her that they didn’t know. The part that belonged to him. He’d cherish that rare and precious glimpse of who she was forever.

  With that thought, he decided to give in to the daydream just one last time. Late-night horse rides beneath a starlit sky. Picnics at Blightendale Pond, stretched out on a blanket in the fresh Montana air. He envisioned lighting birthday candles on a frosted cake in the dining room where Payton rescued the dying chick, the great love she’d have for their children shining in her deep brown eyes.

  She’d no doubt stash a box of Red Hots in her nightstand. And when the lights were low and the kids tucked in bed, he’d taste hints of cinnamon while they gave in to the passion between them.

  Without a conscious thought to the task at hand, Luke dried off, got dressed, smacked aftershave on his face, and strode down the hall.

  The blast of a horn honking out front pulled him from the daydream once and for all. After today, he’d have to stop indulging. Starting tomorrow, he’d have to move on.

  Sure, the dreams in his head might not ever happen, but he was thankful for them all the same. And no matter how things ended up—a year from now, or even two—Luke could never regret loving Payton Keller, even if it had broken his heart.

  Jason and Taylor sat in the front seat of Jason’s new Camaro. A booming bass blasted as Luke hurried onto the porch. The driver’s side window slid down in one seamless shot, revealing the sight behind the tinted glass.

  “Come with us if you want to live,” Jason said, slaughtering an impression of Schwarzenegger.

  Luke shrugged into his jacket, eyeing the quickly darkening sky. “Maybe I should drive separate,” he said. “I don’t feel like staying out all night.”

  “Tell you what, little feller,” Taylor said from the passenger seat. “Once the festival’s over—you know, when all the old folks and tiny tots go to sleep for the night—we’ll bring you right back here to your comfy beddy-by before we head out to the club.”

  Jason chuckled and shook his head. “Brutal.”

  Luke rolled his eyes. “Fine. As long as Curly hops into the back seat.” Luke was surprised to see Taylor unbuckle and squeeze into the back without a fight.

  “Front seat’s all yours, brother.”

  As Luke climbed into the sports car and clicked his buckle in place, he hoped the boys wouldn’t get a good look at his face—catch signs of the tears he’d just shed. The last thing he wanted was a pity party.

  No, tonight was a ti
me of sharing the wealth of harvest, the joy in community, and the good food folks had prepared.

  For Luke, it’d be different. His thoughts would be dominated by the woman who’d taken time from her life to decorate the place. She was at her show today, watching as models strode down the famous runway in her clothing line while everyone clapped and cheered. A life—it seemed—she’d chosen over him.

  The chandeliers glowed bright in the vaulted roofs of the glowing structure, like a lighthouse among a sea of golden cornfields and swaying wheat. The massive barn doors were propped wide open, and already the crowd had come. Folks in denim jeans, boots, and hats entered the scene, each carrying a plate or pot of goodies. A few older couples, namely the Jenkins and the Smiths, came dressed for square dancing, something Lyle Jenkins famously deejayed, all while he danced with his wife.

  Luke strode inside with slow steps, overhearing one conversation from the next: “… heard that Payton Keller helped decorate this place for the festival.”

  “… the nicest location we’ve had this side of Wilson Street,” another declared.

  “… always get a dozen or so loaves of Dee’s zucchini bread. My husband can’t get enough.”

  Luke knew just what they meant. On all accounts. At a stretch of tables, samples were spread out on bronze-colored trays, with the goodies for sale nearby. He reached out, snatched a few cubes of his mom’s famous bread, and popped them into his mouth. In true Taylor style, they’d arrived casually late to the party.

  Country music blasted from the far end, a set of speakers carrying the tune throughout the spacious structure. Beneath the strewn of decorative lights, a cluster of folks danced and twirled to the music, and bystanders clapped their hands and stomped along.

  It took him a while, but eventually he spotted Mel and Pete dancing with Mojo in some sort of bunny-hop-looking line dance. Dee and Bob were nearby. Ross and Rachel, too.