First Kiss with a Cowboy: Includes a bonus novella

by Sara Richardson

  “You sure? I’m happy to talk to her. She takes everything way too serious. She needs to lighten up a little.”

  Yeah, talk like that definitely wouldn’t help. “I’m sure. The last thing your sister wants right now is to be ambushed with a lecture.” Toby didn’t plan to lecture her. Hell, he didn’t plan to say anything. He just wanted to make sure she was okay.

  “I guess you’re right.” Wes pulled out into the street and headed back to the brewery. “Why do you think she’s at the library?”

  Toby didn’t think she was at the library. He knew. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. “Just trust me. She practically lived there back in high school. Don’t you remember?”

  “Yeah. My mom used to send me over to drag her home.” Wes swung the truck into a parking spot and Toby hopped out before he could cut the engine. “See you later,” he called, digging for his keys. He got into his truck and drove to the library, parking out front. They were only open until eight, which gave him twenty minutes to find her. He slipped through the doors and strode to the counter. Luckily, Lucinda was working. She happened to be one of those take-no-nonsense librarians who kept a watchful eye on everyone who walked into her space.

  “Toby!” She rushed around the counter to greet him. Though he’d done his best to keep his donation for the rebuild anonymous, he knew people had their suspicions. Still he’d never admit to it or everyone would find out about the loss his family refused to acknowledge. It was better to let everyone speculate. “So good to see you! What brings you by this evening?”

  “I’m looking for someone.” Lucinda likely wouldn’t recognize Jane, being a recent transplant to Silverado Lake, so he went with a description. “Long dark hair, about the same height as you, and she was wearing jeans”—which hugged her curves nicely—“and a light blue shirt.”

  “Oh, I definitely saw her,” the woman said with suspicion. “Didn’t recognize her as anyone I know.”

  “She’s a friend,” Toby told her. More than a friend? A friend he wanted to kiss every eight years? There was really no good way to describe their relationship.

  Lucinda’s scowl softened. “Well I tracked her to the romance section, but then I had to help someone with the research database, so I lost her. You can start there though. She couldn’t have gotten too far.”

  That was the same thing he’d been thinking for the last half hour. And she hadn’t been too far. If only he would’ve realized it sooner. “Thanks, Lucinda. I’m sure I’ll find her.” Unless she’d somehow slipped out without being seen. He walked past the kids’ section conducting a quick search in the rows of colorful picture books, then continued past reference to the back where they kept the fiction collection. There were only a few people milling around. No one he knew well. Once he reached the romance section, he moved row by row. At the very end of the last section Jane sat curled up in a chair. She had a book suspended in front of her face as though she didn’t want anyone to see her. There was no disguising those legs though.

  Toby headed to her, keeping quiet until he stood right in front of her. “A Farewell to Arms,” he read from the cover. “There’s some light reading for you.”

  Jane didn’t lower the book. “Some say it’s Hemingway’s greatest masterpiece,” she said, her voice muffled behind the pages.

  Toby sat in the overstuffed chair next to her, but she shifted the book so he still couldn’t see her face. “I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “I found A Farewell to Arms depressing.”

  “It’s tragic,” Jane corrected. “Not depressing. There’s a difference.” Even with the book muffling her voice, that competitive edge still came through.

  “I think Old Man and the Sea is his greatest work.” Hemingway had gotten a Pulitzer Prize to back up that argument.

  Slowly, slowly, slowly, the book began to lower. “He wrote forty-seven different endings for Farewell to Arms.” Her eyes held a challenge. “Forty-seven. Just to get the perfect ending.”

  “And yet it’s still a little depressing.” Toby settled in. He could argue with this woman all day, watching her face color, passion brighten her eyes. Though he wasn’t nearly as well read as her, he liked to try to keep up. “Old Man and the Sea has a better theme—a person can be destroyed but not defeated.”

  Jane dropped the book into her lap, her eyes zeroing in on his. “And in A Farewell to Arms, Hemingway explores the violent pull between two polar opposite positions—love and violence.”

  “Love and violence,” Toby repeated. “In that book, it’s hard to tell which one wins out.” He studied her face and smiled. “Most people would like to think love always wins.”

  “And some people would argue that love is dangerous. That it hurts too much. That it always ends with loss.” Shadowed emotion seemed to darken Jane’s eyes.

  “Those people would be right. It definitely hurts.” He let her see it in him—the emotion, the understanding. “But I’ve heard people say if the love is deep enough, it’s worth the loss.” He’d tried to use his loss for good. It had driven him to ride, to accomplish things his brother never could. But like Wes had said earlier, he hadn’t come out of it unscathed.

  “I suppose it is,” Jane murmured, studying him. “But that doesn’t make it any less painful.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Something clicked inside of him. An instinct to take away her pain, to show her a different side of love. It was a new feeling for him. What the hell was he supposed to do with it? It’s not like he was qualified to show anyone a thing about love.

  After a few seconds, a long sigh dropped Jane’s shoulders as though she simply wanted him to leave her alone. “What’re you doing here anyway?”

  “Finding you,” he said casually. No need to spook her. He’d keep things light. That’s what he did. That’s what he was good at.

  “I don’t want to be found.” Jane started to raise the book back up, but Toby reached over and lowered it to her lap.

  “Why?” He genuinely wanted to know, to understand. “Why’d you run out?”

  “It wasn’t my scene.” Jane shrugged. “And let’s be honest, there was some awkwardness between us in high school, but you don’t have to apologize. You don’t have to make it up to me by being all nice and flirty. I don’t need that.”

  “I know you don’t need it.” She didn’t need anything from him. That’s not why he was here. “I wasn’t saying what I thought you wanted to hear.” For once he’d said what he felt. “But you don’t believe me.”

  “Why would I?” She sat up straighter. “You’ve always had it all. You’ve always been outgoing, charming, smart, funny. Everyone has always liked you.” She stopped abruptly like listing off his attributes embarrassed her. “You’ve never dealt with anything difficult.”

  That showed how little she knew about him. How little most people knew. Though she was right about one thing. “I don’t know how to deal with anything difficult.” He couldn’t let her continue to believe his life had been all sunshine and roses. That wasn’t a fair assessment. He knew something about loss too. “So I don’t deal with things. I tend to ignore things.” After Tanner had died, he’d tried to make everything okay. He’d tried to make his parents happy. He’d tried to fill the hole his brother had left, and he’d never stopped trying. For the first time he considered what that burden had cost him.

  “Sometimes I wish I knew how to ignore things.” Jane slowly raised her head again. “I’ve never been good at that.”

  “And I’ve never been good at apologies.” He hadn’t taken the opportunity to practice much. “But the one I gave you was still real.” Something about Jane made him want real.

  A small smile softened her expression. “It was a fine apology. Just unnecessary.”

  He wasn’t so sure about that. If he hadn’t been so obsessed with his reputation back in high school, he might’ve realized Jane had been hurting. He might’ve thought about how hard those years after her dad’s death had been for her. H
e should’ve. He’d been through it himself.

  The lights flickered. “The library will be closing in ten minutes,” the librarian’s pleasant voice warned over the loudspeaker. “Please make your way to the checkout desk.”

  Jane abruptly stood, looking almost as relieved as he was to escape this conversation. She walked over to the shelf in the classics section and wedged the book she’d been holding back in among the other Hemingways.

  Toby stood too. “You’re not going to check it out?” he asked, nodding toward A Farewell to Arms.

  She shrugged. “I’ve read it four times.”

  “Maybe you should read The Old Man and the Sea again.” He came to stand by her. “Or better yet, maybe you should check out something from the romance section.”

  “Why do you say that?” Jane’s eyes went a little too wide.

  “I don’t know.” He thought back to their earlier conversation. “Isn’t a romance all about how love is risky but also worth it?” He walked to the end of the long shelf and glanced at a display of books. Looked like historical westerns judging from the mountains and the cowboys on the covers. “Take this one for example…” He picked one up. Mountain Destiny by E. J. Mattingly. “Maybe you’ll find it inspiring.” Toby went to hand it to Jane, but she’d frozen in place.

  “We should go.” She turned away from him, walking briskly toward the exit, but Lucinda stepped out from behind one of the shelves.

  “Toby.” She checked her watch. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid it’s time to clear out.”

  “We were on our way.” He looked ahead to where Jane had stalled.

  “That’s a wonderful book.” Lucinda pointed to the paperback he still held in his hands. “A real favorite around here, that’s for sure.”

  Jane slowly crept back to them.

  “I’m dying to get the author in here for one of our quarterly author visits,” the librarian said. “Unfortunately, no one will reveal the writer’s identity. It definitely has to be someone from Colorado though.”

  “What makes you say that?” Jane asked, inching closer. Toby watched her. She was acting strange. Almost afraid…

  “Well it’s obvious.” Lucinda picked up another copy of the book. “You should read the descriptions of the mountains. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the author was talking about our mountains right outside.”

  Jane’s jaw dropped open, and Toby didn’t miss the way her eyes shifted like they had before she’d run away from him at the bar. Something had her spooked again.

  “No one knows the author, huh?” He studied the book’s back cover and read the short, nondescript bio: “E. J. Mattingly is a writer, history buff, and a college professor. This is the author’s first novel.”

  Toby looked up and caught Jane’s desperate stare. Was she embarrassed because she’d read the book and didn’t want anyone to know?

  “I’ve been doing a lot of research trying to track down the author.” Lucinda carefully set the book back on the display. “Think of what it would do for our little library if we were able to host the elusive E. J. Mattingly.”

  “It can’t be that hard to find out who it is.” Toby tucked the book under his arm.

  “What’re you doing?” A look of panic flared Jane’s eyes wider.

  “I’m going to check this baby out. Maybe I can help find the person who wrote it.”

  “That would be wonderful!” Lucinda gushed.

  “You’re going to read a romance novel?” Jane’s expression walked the line between skepticism and dread. “You won’t like it. There’s no way.”

  “How do you know?” He flipped through some of the pages. What had her so freaked out?

  “I’ve read it.” Jane’s face colored. “Trust me. It’s not your kind of book.”

  “Not so sure about that. I’ve been in the mood for something different. I mean, I know it’s not A Farewell to Arms, but the cover looks promising.” And maybe if he read it, he could figure out why Jane obviously didn’t want him to check it out.

  Chapter Ten

  Jane’s fingers flew over the keyboard, barely able to keep up with the swift current of ideas that had carried her away.

  After Toby had dropped her off last night, she’d sat down at her computer and hadn’t moved since, minus a few trips to the bathroom and to refill her tea. After making all her phone calls to get things in order for the party, she’d opened up a new document and started a whole new draft of her novel. Her eyes were dry and her hands were cramping, but a giddiness rose through her as she watched the words spill across the computer screen.

  Toby drew her in closer…

  Whoa. Hold the horses. She backed up the cursor to make the critical correction. Amos. Amos was the hero in her story, not Toby. She shook her head. She had that same jittery sensation that had overtaken her when Toby had caught her in his arms at the brewery. She’d take the jitters, though, since they seemed to have brought her writing mojo back to her.

  If only she could keep her mind from wandering. She kept replaying that moment in the brewery—she’d almost kissed him for god’s sake. She’d run out so she could get herself together. And then she’d about dropped her book on the floor when he’d shown up at the library looking for her. She’d figured his fans at the brewery would’ve kept him occupied for hours.

  A text buzzed on her phone and showed up in the top corner of her computer screen. Dang it, she should’ve turned it off. Only it was Beth.

  SOS—need backup ASAP!!!!!!!! Grandma B is in the house!!!! See you here in 10?

  Her maid of honor duties were calling. How about 30? Jane typed back. She should take a few extra minutes to shower and make herself presentable.

  It took more like thirty-five minutes, but finally she pulled up in front of Beth and Ethan’s house.

  “Oh my God, save me.” Beth bolted out the front door the second Jane parked next to the curb.

  “Having fun?” Jane called through the open window.

  Her friend opened the door and climbed into the car. “Why didn’t we elope? Seriously, Janie. What was I thinking? So far all my grandmother has done since she got to town was talk about how inappropriate it is that Ethan and I are living together before the wedding.”

  “That’s what grandmothers are for,” Jane told her. Or so she’d heard. With her father’s parents moving to France before she was born and her mother’s parents passing away in a car accident when Jane was two years old, she’d never gotten to know her own grandmothers.

  “I don’t know how she manages to do it, but she can judge you without saying a word.” Beth let her head fall back to rest against the seat. “And she’s here for a month.” Wide panicked eyes found Jane’s. “A. Month.”

  “Well, I suppose it’s not too late to elope.” Jane cut the engine. That wasn’t an option and they both knew it. Still, they could dream for a few minutes. “We could kidnap Ethan, drive to the airport, and fly to Hawaii.” Now that was Jane’s idea of the perfect wedding—barefoot on the beach somewhere.

  “You know we’d have to bring Toby too, right?” Beth asked.

  Oh right. There was that.

  Jane lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It would be fine if Toby came.” She wouldn’t be as opposed to it as she would’ve been once.

  “Really?” Beth’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, someone is sure changing her tune.”

  “I don’t hold a grudge.” Especially when he happened to be feeding some serious inspiration into her writing. She’d written more compelling scenes after spending a few hours with Toby than she’d written in the last six months. She’d better not hold a grudge. She needed the ideas to keep flowing.

  “Seriously, though, Jane.” Beth’s friend’s eyes filled with tears. “We should’ve done a destination wedding. It would’ve been so much less stressful.”

  “Don’t worry.” She squeezed her friend’s hand to remind her she wasn’t in this wedding business alone. “Everything will be fine.” In the last two months, Ja
ne had read everything she could about being a maid of honor. She’d never been asked before. Unlike many of her female acquaintances, she didn’t have a whole closet full of hideous bridesmaid dresses she’d never wear again.

  In all the articles she’d read, she learned that one of her main jobs was to offer the bride emotional support and do whatever she could to lessen the stress. Since she’d made so much progress on her rewrites she had the whole day to emotionally support her friend. Besides, hanging out with Beth would distract her from wondering if Toby had read her book. He couldn’t know she’d written it—she’d been too careful—but, still, what if he recognized Beau as a fictional relative of his? Okay, not so much a relative as a spitting image? What if he discovered she was getting inspiration from him now?

  “I really appreciate you coming.” Her friend flipped down the visor mirror and started to dab at her eyes. “Of course, my parents won’t get here until next week, so they can’t run interference. Their beach house in the Bahamas is getting a new roof this week and I can’t do this alone.”

  “You’re not alone,” Jane reminded her. “We’ll just have to keep your grandmother happy and calm until they arrive.” Jane said it as though that would be the easiest task in the world.

  “Okay.” Her friend inhaled deeply through her nose and then exhaled as though trying to rid her body of all the tension. “We have to go back in there. If I leave her unattended too long, she’ll start to snoop through my things. All hell will break loose if she finds my lingerie drawer.”

  Jane couldn’t hold back a giggle. “I’d actually like to see that. We’ll probably walk in to find a bonfire in your bedroom. She’ll be burning your lacy bras and G-strings.” They both climbed out of the car laughing.

  “Thank goodness you’re here.” Her friend linked their arms together as they walked up the sidewalk. “Seriously. I don’t know how I’d get through any of this without you. I’ve missed you so much.”