The Cowboy Says I Do

by Sinclair Jayne

  “So…” The server’s husky voice brought him back to reality. “How ’bout I bring you a margarita while you wait for your friend. And if she doesn’t show, I have a break coming. I could join you.”

  “Thank you. Yes, to the margarita, but I’m expecting my girl. We had a bit of a…” How to define what was going on in a handful of words? He helplessly gestured, and her face creased in sympathy.

  “I hope you work it out,” she said kindly. “Shall I bring two margaritas then?”

  Normally, he would say yes. Ash didn’t drink much, but she did love a margarita on the rocks with chips and salsa and guacamole. He looked at the fresh guac. He hadn’t dipped into it yet to save it for her. It was weird to feel hungry but also sick to his stomach. But since she thought he wasn’t attuned to her needs, he should let her order her own drink.

  “Just one to start. And check back when she arrives.”

  If she comes.

  And there she was, her blue-black waves tumbling over her shoulders, swinging free like she was in a shampoo commercial and catching the last of the sun’s rays as she carefully looked both ways before crossing the street.

  She wore a yellow sundress that hugged her small frame, a cropped denim jacket, and a diaphanous multicolored long scarf from one of her salwar kameezes was draped gracefully around her neck and flowed down her back. She ran her hand through her hair as she entered the restaurant, and the henna tattoo from the wedding looked so elegant and elaborate drifting over her hands and up over her wrists.

  Beck stood. His knees felt weak, his heart pounded.

  “Don’t let her know she’s getting to you.”

  How was he supposed to do that? He couldn’t breathe. She looked so beautiful and elegantly stylish. And he wasn’t the only one who noticed. The room quieted. More than a few people stared. Ash caught sight of him, but her eyes didn’t light up. She didn’t smile.

  Usually Beck would walk toward her. Take her hand. Hug her. But he felt rooted to the floor in misery.

  I’m losing her.

  He could feel it.

  “Ash.” He managed to squeeze out the syllable. He took her hands in his much larger ones. They were chilled. His shook. He didn’t even try to dredge up a smile.

  He held the chair for her as Ashni gracefully sat, perching on the edge almost like a bird about to take flight.

  How had this misery and strangeness happened? It seemed impossible. He knew her as well as himself. She was part of him, yet tonight she was a stranger.

  Hell. I feel like a stranger.

  His drink came.

  “Margarita?” the server asked.

  Ashni hesitated. Looked at his. Worried her bottom lip then shook her head. “No, thank you. Water is fine.”

  “I got your favorite, guac,” he said unnecessarily.

  Ash didn’t eat. She played with her fork. Moved her water glass around. This was awful.

  “How was your class?” Surely, that was a safe topic.

  “Good.” She stared at her water glass. Still no eye contact. Then she pressed her palms on her thighs. She only did that when she was nervous, bracing herself for something hard or unpleasant.

  Calm down.

  His mind raced as fast as it had when he’d been in elementary school when sitting still had been dang near impossible and learning even harder.

  “The kids. They seemed really excited to be there,” he offered desperately.

  She nodded.

  “How did you enjoy your first day of teaching them?” He better get a lineup of questions to fire at her, anything to get her to talk, to look at him, to tell him what he really needed to know. “Was it what you expected?”

  “I was nervous.” She touched her fingertips to the water glass and ran her thumb up and down the side. Beck felt a jolt of heat to his chest and then lower as his stupid cock perked, noticing her move because she had often stroked him the same way.

  Even her lips—pursed in a frown—looked sensuous and tempting. He shifted in his seat. She wasn’t doing it on purpose to tease him by jacking him up. She’d never had to try.

  “I’d been anticipating this for a couple of months now.”

  Beck felt nailed to his chair with guilt. He’d forgotten about the class. Bodhi had had to remind him.

  “Thinking of different ways of doing things, researching.” Her voice warmed, and her expression lit with enthusiasm.

  I’ve been such a selfish jerk.

  He had been taking her for granted. Not paying attention to her or her needs. He’d been so caught up in his own worries about his dip in points and earnings, watching Bodhi soar ahead but behave more recklessly. And Bowen had drifted further away every day.

  She’s talking, moron. Listen.

  “I had so many ideas and so many imaginings of how things might work or the disasters that might happen. But it was easier than I thought. I worried I’d blank out or feel self-conscious, but the kids made it easy. Everything flowed, and the plans I made for the first lesson worked.”

  She finally looked up into his face.

  He felt another jolt to his chest from that liquid-black gaze. He covered her small hands that still played up and down on the glass.

  “All the kids were engaged, and they’d filled out their journals, and we talked about what Marietta means to them. The kids seem really lit.”

  “I’m not surprised, Ash. You’re good at everything you do. I knew you’d be a spectacular teacher. The kids are lucky to have you.”

  “Marietta always seemed to be a bit magical.” She tilted her head and seemed to look at him more deeply. “The way you always talked about it. As if it’s where you are truly happy. Where you belong. Marietta always seemed like where your heart is.”

  “Ash, you are where my—”

  “I feel lucky,” she said quickly, interrupting him. “This opportunity…” she paused and moistened her upper lip with the tip of her tongue “…came at a really good time.”

  He stared, fascinated at her unconscious sexy move then yanked his mind out of the gutter.

  “Yeah?” he encouraged even though everything she said made him feel more and more unworthy. He’d been on the brink of telling her that wherever she was, was his home, which was so not the way to play it cool.

  “I loved planning out the class, and teaching the kids really centers me in the moment. I can’t think about anything else, and I feel part of a team—a little bit how the drama productions and band made me feel in high school—part of something bigger than myself, with a common purpose. I’ve missed that.”

  Silence between them. Awkward, when it had never been before. Ash had filled the silences with warmth, humor and intelligent observations.

  And now it was his turn to build her up.

  “Ash, I’m so sorry,” he breathed. His wants had pulled her so far away from what she wanted.

  “Have you decided what you want to eat?”

  The server popped in with the worst timing ever.

  Tell her you’ll quit the tour.

  Ask her to marry you.

  His inner voice was urgent. And maybe more than a little crazy.

  Beck sat back in his chair and watched her jump all in with the interruption, whereas he wanted to send the server away. Heck, he wanted to pick up Ashni and rush her to his truck and just keep driving.

  Yeah. That would go over well. So much for being a supportive partner. And it hit him then that this awful part, this aloneness, this cold emptiness was his to fix. He had to breach the gap, not by getting her to change her mind, but by becoming the change she needed.

  He stared at Ash as she smiled at the server and quickly scanned the menu. The server pointed at some menu items, but Beck just felt blindsided by his own realization and what it meant.

  “I am so stupid.”

  Both women stared at him.

  “Lucky.” The server smiled at Ash. “Not all men can admit when they F it up. Something to eat?” she asked him.

&
nbsp; “Tacos.”

  Because tacos made everything better. Except this.

  And tacos wouldn’t get him out of the hole he’d dug. He felt ripped in half. He wanted to give her the time and space to build the life she wanted, but he also wanted to hold on to her. Trust that his love for her and hers for him would be enough to keep their marriage strong so it wouldn’t be a revolving door like his mom’s marriages. Maybe he should propose. But he could hardly pop the question over a basket of chips after more than thirteen years and no sparkling ring that would demonstrate the depth of his love. Her specialness and how crucial she was to his next breath.

  So what was his plan? Give her the space she claimed she wanted or propose now?

  Marriage was what she wanted last Christmas, but now he was contemplating a proposal in an unromantic Mexican restaurant without a ring while his cousins played a Rodeo Bride Game—which he could win if he proposed.

  Or get a basket of chips thrown at him.

  The server and Ash stared at him.

  “What?” What had he missed after announcing he was stupid and tacos? Surely, he was done screwing up for the night.

  “How about the taco special?” Ash suggested.

  “Sounds good,” he managed.

  The server walked away.

  Silence.

  He stared at Ash, feeling like he was meeting her for the first time all over again. She was beautiful—even more so as a woman than she’d been as a teen, and she’d stolen his breath and ability to think then. But it was more than that. It was the way she loved him. Her sweetness and her fire. She was smart and kind and fun to be with. And her soul was generous. She never failed to jump into any project to help.

  And she’d supported him always.

  Time to man up and be the man she wanted and needed.

  “Beck, you’re staring.”

  “I love looking at you.”

  She seemed irritated by the compliment.

  “You’re making this harder than it has to be,” she said.

  “I don’t want to,” he said seriously. “Well, I do because I don’t want to break up,” he admitted. “But I do want to support your new goals. I just feel blindsided.”

  She opened her mouth, no doubt to object. But then she closed it again. He waited. Nothing, only Ashni fidgeting in her seat.

  “You never talked to me about your feelings,” he began, cautiously tempering the spark of hope. “You didn’t tell me you weren’t enjoying your job or that you were tired of traveling and wanting to put down roots.”

  She looked stricken.

  “How was I supposed to know?” He inherently pressed his new advantage.

  “Beck, it’s too late to go into this now.”

  Too late? This was just the beginning. Ben Ballantyne hadn’t raised quitters, and Beck wasn’t ceding the most important fight of his life.

  “I’m not absolving myself of anything. It takes two to make a relationship work and I’ve not been supporting you like you needed.”

  Ash pressed her lips together. Half stood. Then sat down.

  “Don’t do this,” she whispered. “It’s too late. I broke up with you.” Her voice shook. “I have to make a life for myself.”

  His heart ached for her. For him.

  “Ashni, I want you to have the life you want. I do. I just want us to build and live that life together. If you feel that I haven’t been taking care of your needs, let me support you now. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need. I want to be your support and cheerleader as you’ve been mine for so many years. It’s your turn.” He could just imagine if Bodhi could see him now. He’d be full of unsolicited advice and caustic reviews.

  She shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense. That’s not fair to you. We want vastly different things in life.”

  He wanted her. His family. The ranch. None of it would work without her.

  “Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need,” he repeated. He could make it work. Anything for her.

  She bit down so hard on her lip that he was afraid she’d draw blood.

  “It may take two to make a relationship work,” Ashni said, drawing strength from somewhere, because her eyes seemed to spark as she stood and tossed one vibrant end of her scarf over her shoulder. “But it only takes one to make it fail. I want out. You need to accept that. Don’t try to trick me into seeing you again. You didn’t want closure. You’re not worried about your granddad.”

  Ashni walked out the door just as the server arrived with the two plates. His instinct was to chase after her, but he kept his butt planted in his chair and picked up a taco. “I’ll need a box and the check please,” he said firmly, watching Ash cross the street.

  Marietta was safe, but he wanted to make sure she made it home. She was still his to love and protect.

  “Son, you gonna chase her?” an old-timer who’d been sitting two booths away and had gotten up after leaving money on his table during Ash’s slap down now asked looking pointedly at Beck.

  “I’m going to catch her,” he vowed as her hair flared out behind her like a banner.

  *

  Ashni hurried back to the apartment that already felt more like home than the way too many standard-issue hotel rooms she’d stayed in with Beck. And it was a palace compared to his rig.

  She’d loved the adventure until it seemed to have no end date, and she had seemed to be just one more accessory he packed away.

  At least Beck hadn’t chased after her. She’d jogged home expecting to hear him running or his truck the entire way. Weird that he’d let her go like that.

  You’re supposed to be happy he stayed put.

  But she didn’t feel happy. Her emotions were all over the place lately. She shouldn’t have met him. That had been weak. She justified it because she was worried about Ben, but Ashni was more worried that she’d wanted to meet Beck because she missed him and was curious about what he might try.

  Not something she was proud of.

  Or that she could allow herself to repeat.

  Her phone buzzed.

  Beck.

  She wasn’t even going to look. Except she did. A local number.

  “Hello, this is Ashni Singh.”

  “Hi, Ashni. I hope I am not calling too late. My name is Dr. Saria Conte. I’m the director of Crawford County’s public health department. I have your résumé, and you answered my email earlier this afternoon.”

  “Oh. Wow. That was fast.” She slowly lowered herself onto the small sofa and kicked off her sandals.

  “That probably gives away how eager I am to fill the position.” Saria laughed but sounded a bit wry. “Since one important piece of the job position is as a liaison with the public schools, which started up a few weeks ago.”

  “Yes, the public-school aspect of the job really appealed to me. I have done a lot of outreach with the pro rodeo tour with children’s organizations and the children’s hospitals in the tour’s cities for the past five years.” Ash suddenly felt breathless.

  Was she really doing this?

  “I wanted to set up an interview time with you.”

  “Great. What time works for you?” She shrugged out of her jacket, suddenly feeling a bit warm and constrained. She unwrapped her scarf and draped it over the back of the couch.

  She had a job interview. An interview in the field where she’d received her master’s. It was a job that didn’t require travel outside the county except perhaps an occasional meeting in the state capital in Helena.

  She was teaching an art class.

  She was moving on with her life.

  She was newly single.

  That last thought didn’t spark the joy of the first two on the list. Dumb heart. Loving Beck was habit. She could break it.

  “Do you have any time available tomorrow or Wednesday?”

  “Yes.” Ash jumped up and danced around the studio. “Morning would be best if possible,” she said. “I’m volunteering at Harry’s House this week and tea
ching an after-school art class.”

  “I am not surprised,” Dr. Conte said. “All the volunteer hours with children on your résumé as well as your master’s focus on community health outreach with families jumped out at me. Are you okay with meeting me fairly early?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. I’ll bring the coffee. Is eight thirty at the public health department tomorrow okay? Our offices are near the hospital.”

  Definitely walkable. “Yes, that’s perfect.”

  That didn’t seem early at all. Probably because she and Beck were always up with or before the sun—ranch hours, he called them.

  Stop thinking of Beck.

  She ended the call and swallowed hard, pretending that she didn’t feel the lump in her throat, the pressure on her chest or tears burning her eyes.

  “I’m happy,” she told the empty room defiantly.

  She was reinventing herself and her life. And Beck needed to stay in her rearview mirror until she learned how to deal with him without wanting him.

  Anticlimatically, her stomach rumbled. She’d been so wound up about seeing Beck she hadn’t even eaten a chip. And she’d walked away just as dinner had arrived. She glared at the kitchen cupboards where she’d stored the few staples she’d bought with Sky yesterday as if it was the cupboards’ fault she was too tired to cook.

  The tap on her door was light.

  Of course. Beck. She should have known he’d never let her walk home alone or have the last word.

  She swung open her front door, ready to verbally spar. This had to stop.

  Beck leaned against her doorjamb, looking deliciously casual.

  “Dinner.” He handed her a Rosita’s bag plus an extra bag of their chips and a container of their house-made salsa and another of guac.

  “Oh.” She felt petty. “Thank you.”

  She nearly backed up to let him in but managed to quell the urge.

  “Do you want the food?” he asked looking at her death grip on the doorjamb.

  “Um. Yeah. Thanks.” She peeled her fingers off the wood and took the bags and stacked containers.

  “You have a good night now.” He leaned forward and his lips brushed her cheek, and before she could even process his familiar scent and the warmth of his lips, he was gone, hurrying down the steps and back out into the night.