* * *
KYLEE WIPED DOWN the counter that ran along the back of the dance hall. Friday nights were becoming her favorite. Seeing all the families together, generations gathered together for fun and camaraderie, gave her a glimpse of what life should be. She had no illusions about her future—but there was hope for Shawn. A word she didn’t have a lot of experience with.
Shawn waved from his seat at the end of the bar, his sketchbook and pencils in front of him. He’d wandered some, enjoying the company of a few boys close to his age. But not for long. Being social was a challenge, even a little stressful. She understood all too well. Her job required her to interact with people but it was all superficial and limited. Making friends, having conversations, was different. Was it possible he’d forget? That eventually he wouldn’t be so restrained or hesitant? She wanted that for him. She wanted him to smile, laugh, to act like a kid.
Since it was Friday, Shawn wasn’t banished to the break room or the apartment. Cutter believed the dance hall was for families, not just adults.
“Need anything?” she asked, giving him a one-armed hug.
“A soda?” Shawn asked.
“What are you working on?” she asked, sliding a glass of water across the counter.
He frowned at the water, but emptied the glass. “Nothing much.”
He’d moved his arm to shield his sketch, but she’d glimpsed what looked like a kitten. “You know, you can put that away and hang out with Eli.”
“Later, maybe. Need me to move? Am I in the way?”
She covered his hand with hers. “No. You’re great.”
He grinned at her.
“Sorry if I’m being nosy or overprotective. Old habits die hard.” She shook her head. “I’m trying to lighten up.” She nodded at a girl who had been staring at her brother. “You know, you could try dancing.”
Shawn glanced at the girl, then back at his sister. “Nope.” He shook his head. “I’m good.”
“Hey, pretty lady.” A man rested his elbow on the counter. “Any chance you can get a pitcher for me and my friends over there?” He nodded at the table behind him.
“Coming up,” she answered, giving Shawn a little farewell salute. She grabbed an empty plastic pitcher and turned to the tap.
“That’s some view,” the man murmured.
She ignored the urge to pull her shirt over her butt and kept working.
He tried again. “Don’t remember seein’ you here before. And with a face like yours, I’d remember.” There was a brief pause before he asked, “How about you join us when you get your break?”
She ignored him, finished filling the pitcher and placed it on the counter. “Fifteen dollars.”
“You keep the change.” He placed a twenty on the counter. “You decide you’re lookin’ for a little fun, come on over and visit with a couple of real cowboys. What d’ya think?”
She shot him a look then. He was somewhat attractive, fit and trim, but his smile was oily and his interest in her boobs was a little too obvious. He seemed to be waiting for her answer. Was he serious? Did women really respond to this?
“Limited time offer.” His gaze swept over her face before settling on her chest again. “Just in town for the rodeo tomorrow night. Be a real shame for you to miss out on a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”
She tried not to smile. She’d had a lot of bad pick-up lines thrown her way. But the whole “once-in-a-lifetime experience” was a new one.
“Come on, darlin’, give me a smile,” the man continued. “Sure would be nice to show me some Southern hospitality.”
Fine. If it would make him shut up and leave her alone...
She smiled at him, before resuming her normal blank expression. Over the years, she’d learned the best way to handle flirty guys was with as little reaction as possible. He seemed harmless enough, just oblivious.
“That’s a start,” the man said. “How about a little more...enthusiasm?”
She shrugged. “That’s about as enthusiastic or hospitable as I get.”
“Can I get a couple of pitchers?” a woman’s voice interrupted.
“Enjoy your night,” Kylee murmured before heading down the bar to the woman waiting. Kylee had seen her before—with Fisher. The woman had to be a Boone—she looked too much like Fisher not to be. “Two pitchers?” Kylee asked.
The woman just smiled at her. “Hi. I’m Renata Boone,” the woman said, holding out her hand. “Fisher’s my twin. Fraternal, of course. It’s really nice to meet you.”
“You, too.” Kylee shook hands with the woman. “Kylee James. Two pitchers?”
“No rush. I was mostly trying to get rid of Mr. Belt Buckle over there. I was worried he was going to go for your boobs any second there, the way he was staring at them,” Renata said, sliding onto the bar stool.
Kylee couldn’t stop her laugh, she was too surprised. “Mr. Belt Buckle?” she asked when she’d recovered.
“Think he’s overcompensating?” Renata nodded at the table where the cowboys sat. “Look at the size of that thing.”
“Um, I’d rather not. Don’t want him to get the wrong impression.” Kylee wrinkled her nose.
“Oh, right, good call. Then he’d start the boob staring again,” Renata agreed. “So, what do you think of Stonewall Crossing?”
Kylee glanced at Fisher’s twin; she could see a lot of similarities. The green eyes, the easy smile, the lively conversation. She liked Renata instantly. “It’s a nice town.”
“Isn’t it?” Renata smiled. “Fisher said you’re from Las Vegas so this must be a change.”
“He did?” Fisher had mentioned her? How did he know she and Shawn had come from Las Vegas? She was careful who she shared private details with.
“Not too small for you? Or too quiet?” Renata asked, watching her closely.
“I like the small and the quiet.” Kylee shrugged, her gaze sweeping the room before she admitted, “Honestly, there are times I do feel a little out of place.”
“We need to fix that.” Renata shook her head. “I hope you got the scholarship letter for Shawn’s camp tuition. I hear he loves horses and that’s what camp is all about. Learning how to take care of them, ride them and a little bit of everyday, hands-on know-how.”
“He wants to go,” Kylee said. “I was worried there might be more to it? A fee or deposit?”
Renata shook her head. “Nope. He just has to get there and home, we’ll take care of the rest.”
Renata’s words made Kylee uneasy, but she didn’t have too long to dwell on things because Fisher arrived. She didn’t turn her head or acknowledge his presence, but she knew he was there—just out of her peripheral vision.
Fisher’s voice washed over her, warm and oddly comforting. “Hey bartender-lady,” he called out. “Is this woman harassing you?”
She bit back a smile as she turned to face him. “Doc.”
“I am not harassing her,” Renata argued. “Since no one introduced me, I decided it was high time to meet the girl you keep talking about.”
Keep talking about? She looked at Fisher, but he was leaning against the bar without a care in the world. “Can I get a bottle, please?” He glanced her way, smiling. “And thank you.”
She popped the top of his beer of choice and placed it on the counter. But his attention had shifted to the table where Mr. Belt Buckle and his friends sat. Everything about him changed. His posture was tense, his expression was hard, his jaw rigid and eyes intent. She followed his gaze, shaking her head when Mr. Belt Buckle and his friends raised their glasses of beer at her. “Friend of yours?” she asked.
“No.” He turned back to her, his gaze a little too intent. “Busy night?”
She nodded.
“It’s like two full-time jobs,” Renata jumped in. �
�The bartending part and the warding off sleazy guys looking for a hookup. Not that I’m talking about you, brother of mine.” She smiled sweetly.
Kylee laughed again, then shrugged. “It’s part of the job. Believe me, Mr. Belt Buckle wasn’t a problem.”
“Guess things are a little rougher in Las Vegas?” Renata asked.
Kylee nodded. Rougher was an understatement. She’d learned how to fend off the more aggressive ones, physically if she had to. But it had been just as hard when she wasn’t working. The one time she’d stood up to Jesse, told him they wouldn’t work for him anymore, he’d kicked them out—onto the street.
What followed were days of hiding. Nights of bitter cold. And hunger so strong she hurt. She’d fed Shawn out of a dumpster more than a handful of times...before she’d gone back to Jesse and begged him to take them back.
Jesse had found the three of them a room in Miss Millie’s boardinghouse, but it wasn’t much better. The more drugs Jesse used, the more unpredictable he was. She and Shawn knew fear, fear of the unknown. Jesse was going to expect payment for taking them back...
She shook off the memories to find Fisher and Renata staring at her. “Sorry. What did you say?” she asked awkwardly.
“Thank you.” Renata’s gaze was thoughtful and assessing, but kind. “I’ll get these back to the table,” she murmured, carrying the two pitchers to the table the Boones inhabited across the dance hall.
“You okay?” Fisher asked, setting his beer bottle on the bar. “That jackass cowboy say something to upset you? Need me to chase him off?”
Kylee looked at Fisher, really looked at him. His gaze was so focused she felt lost. The longer he stared, the more off center she became. It unnerved her to see his concern for her well-being. Like he really cared about her...like she mattered to him.
She swallowed, holding on to the bar with both hands for support. He didn’t care about her, he didn’t know her. Why would he try to protect her? Didn’t he know she didn’t need protecting? She drew in a deep breath and said, “No. I’m fine. He didn’t do or say anything wrong. He was just being...friendly.”
Fisher’s brow furrowed deeply. “Not too friendly?”
Kylee shook her head. “Doc, I can take care of myself.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t, Kylee.” He let out a slow breath, his eyes searching hers. “I’m just saying you don’t have to. There are other people here looking out for you, too.” He tilted his beer bottle in salute.
The thumping of her heart drowned out everything else. Jesse had said he’d look out for them. He’d made big promises, then left big injuries. But she was beginning to believe Fisher Boone was the kind of man who would honor his word, protect his family, and take care of those he cared about. The kind of man she wanted Shawn to grow into. The kind of man she’d dreamed of finding—but would never deserve to have.
Chapter Five
“It’s a closet,” Kylee argued.
“We don’t have anything to put in it,” Shawn argued. “So why can’t I use it as a bedroom?” She and Shawn hadn’t collected much stuff over the years. If it couldn’t fit into one of their backpacks, they didn’t need it.
Kylee peered into the closet. It was a decent size, she supposed. And there was a small window in the top. Why there was a window in the closet, she didn’t know. A clothes rod ran along the length of it, but there were no hangers or garments stored here. All of their clothes fit inside the large chest of drawers in the main room.
“It is a closet.” Shawn agreed. “Or it could be my room.”
Kylee wiped at the smudge of paint on his forehead. They’d spent most of the day painting the dark wood paneled walls a nice yellow-buttercream color—the only color on the discounted paint shelf that she and Shawn had agreed upon. Their little studio had gone from dark and dingy to—almost—light and airy. She turned, assessing the work they’d done. The apartment was clean but bare.
At one end of the apartment was a wall of cabinets, a stove and a banged-up white refrigerator that hummed loudly but kept things cold. The only furnishings in their apartment had been there when they moved in. There was a worn, but comfortable, leather sectional with a reclining end chair that Kylee slept on each night. The large chest of drawers and double bed were behind the sectional, wedged into a corner. Shawn slept in this makeshift bedroom...and now he wanted to sleep in the closet.
“What will you sleep on?” she asked.
“I don’t need to sleep on anything.”
“You’re not sleeping on the floor.” Kylee sighed. Shawn didn’t complain. Not about their regular diet of ramen noodles, peanut butter crackers and cereal. He never said a thing about needing new clothes or the hole in his shoe, being left alone while she worked, the odd hours they kept or being lonely. Now he wanted his own room—even if it was a closet. Why not? “You can sleep here—”
Shawn did a fist pump and called out, “Yes!”
“But not until we get you something to sleep on. We’ll look at the rummage sale,” she finished, watching his enthusiasm deflate. “And we should see about getting you a fan in there so you don’t get overheated.” She peered inside. “There’s no air in here.”
Shawn laughed. “No air? Guess we’ve come a long way from when we were with Jesse...” He broke off, shrugging. She knew he was imagining some of the places they’d slept and lived. She was, too.
And she hugged him close as he said, “Things have changed. For the better.”
She nodded. “I agree.” She glanced at the clock and released him. “But we better hurry or we won’t have time to go to the rummage sale before I have to go to work. You need a shower,” she teased, poking several dots along his nose and cheek.
“You do, too.” He grinned.
She glanced down at her white shirt, which was spattered with paint. So were her arms and chest.
“It’s in your hair, too,” he offered up.
“Great.” She pulled one of her two pairs of jeans from the chest of drawers along with a black T-shirt. She held it up, frowning at how thin the fabric was getting. The seam under the arm looked ready to give at any moment.
“You need clothes,” Shawn offered. “They sell clothes at rummage sales?”
Kylee shrugged. “I’m not really sure what we’ll find. Guess we’ll find out together.”
Twenty minutes later she and Shawn walked across the town square to the community center parking lot. She tried not to get caught up in the panic that the crowd stirred. She tried not to assess who’d be best to bump into in order to steal their wallets or—if Jesse had someone casing the cars—car keys. She’d been pretty good at it, her hands were small and she was fast. Shawn was better. Her chest hurt at the memory of his smile when he brought home a sack full of wallets from walking the Strip. But that was the past.
The parking lot was covered in canopies, the small tents spilling onto two empty adjoining lots. Tables were crammed close together, covered with everything from dishes to linens, shoes to books. Kylee thought about the money in her pocket. Not much, but just enough.
She let Shawn wander, making him promise he’d keep his hands to himself and only tell her if there was something he really needed. He knew the difference between need and want.
Kylee paused by a clothing rack, fingering the lightweight fabric of a filmy blue blouse between her thumb and forefinger. It was soft, silky and completely impractical.
“Hey, Kylee.” Renata peeked over the top of the rack. “Nice day for shopping.”
Kylee nodded. The summer sun was hot, but there was a refreshing breeze that made the temperature bearable. “Hi, Renata.” If Renata was here, maybe some of the other Boones were, too. Namely, Fisher. She’d dreamed about him. Dreams so vivid she’d expected him to be beside her when she opened her eyes. His words replayed when she least expected it.
Was he looking out for her? Because even though she knew it shouldn’t matter, it did.
She glanced around, nervous and excited, searching. If he was here, she’d spot him—head and shoulders above the rest.
“Looking for someone?” Renata asked.
Kylee felt her cheeks go hot. “No...nobody.” Why was she looking for Fisher?
Renata nodded, smiling. “So, what are we shopping for? Anything you buy at our booth goes to help the women’s shelter.” Renata took the shirt Kylee had been admiring and held it up to her. “You’d look nice in this. The blue does awesome things for your eyes. And it’s pretty,” Renata continued. “A girl needs something pretty now and then.”
Kylee couldn’t think of a single thing to say about that. It would be nice to feel pretty. It would be nice for Fisher to think she looked pretty...
She swallowed, firmly shoving aside that train of thought. She didn’t need anything pretty. She needed a couple of shirts and maybe another pair of jeans. Shawn needed that plus some.
“No?” Renata asked.
Kylee shook her head. “It is pretty but I need clothes for work.” She pointed at her shirt. “Practical work clothes.”
Renata cocked her head, nodding. “Follow me,” she said, leading her through a row of racks and into the booth. A tall blonde girl was hanging more shirts on the rack. She smiled at Kylee as Renata made introductions, “Kylee, this is my cousin Tandy. Tandy, this is Kylee.”
“Oh, I know who she is.” Tandy grinned.
“Hi,” Kylee mumbled, catching the grin between the cousins.
“Tandy’s new in town, too, sort of. She’s visited before but now she’s officially a Texan. She’s from Montana—my dad’s sisters all live there.” Renata chatted, flipping through shirts.
“All?” Kylee asked.
“Four,” Tandy answered. “We Boones tend to have large families. I mean, we as in the family. Not we as in me.” Tandy shook her head. “Have yet to find a fella that can keep up with me.”
Courted by the Cowboy Page 7
