Make Mine a Cowboy

by A. J. Pine

  Charlotte blew out a breath, a little surprised at her relief.

  “You okay?” Ivy asked.

  Charlotte nodded. “Yes. Totally. Of course. I guess it just would have been weird if all three of us had—”

  A knock sounded on the tavern door, saving Charlotte from having to finish her sentence, and the three women glanced toward the sound to see Delaney Harper waving at them through the circular window.

  Ivy hopped off her bar stool and let her in.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Delaney said, her blond hair in a low ponytail that revealed a fresh scratch on her neck. She pointed to the obvious wound and said, “Got our first foster for the shelter. And by shelter, I mean Sam’s apartment until an actual building for said shelter exists. But let’s just say the stray cat we found wandering around the barn was not a big fan of getting his claws trimmed—or of meeting Butch Catsidy.”

  Charlotte snorted. “Butch Catsidy?”

  Delaney ducked under the bar and poured herself a beer. She nodded. “My cat. He used to be one of Trudy Davis’s foster kittens.” She pulled up a picture on her phone and passed it across the bar to Charlotte.

  Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Was he born with only three legs or was it an accident? He’s beautiful, by the way. I never liked the bad rap Halloween gave to black cats. He looks a lot more like good luck to me than bad.”

  Delaney took a swig of her beer. “Born that way,” she said, then licked the foam off her top lip. “And he’s absolutely perfect just the way he is.”

  “You want to know what else is perfect?” Casey asked. Then before anyone could respond, she answered her own question. “This ombré dye job.” She shook her hair, exaggerating the gesture like she was in a shampoo commercial. Her chin-length asymmetrical bob started as dark purple on top and gradually faded to lavender by the time the color reached her ends.

  “I love it,” Charlotte said. “I’ve never done anything edgy like that.”

  “Casey is amazing with hair,” Ivy said. “If you ever want to try edgy, she’s your girl.”

  “Maybe I should go pink,” Delaney mused.

  Casey waved her hand dismissively. “So easy with your light coloring. If you really want to pull the trigger, just let me know.” She turned to Charlotte. “I have the best rose gold color-enhancing conditioner. I bet it would look ridiculous on you.”

  “Which means beautiful,” Ivy added.

  “Are you womansplaining me?” Casey asked Ivy with brows raised. Then the two burst into a fit of laughter. It was infectious, and soon Charlotte and Delaney were laughing too.

  So this was what it was like to have a group of girlfriends, huh? She hadn’t thought she’d been missing out, but this was actually kind of nice.

  Charlotte wrapped a lock of her hair around her finger and imagined how ridiculous she’d look if she tried stepping outside her comfort zone—with wash-out color first, of course.

  “So are you like a licensed cosmetologist, or do you just do hair for fun?” Charlotte asked.

  The laughing stopped. In fact, the whole room went silent.

  “O-kay,” Charlotte said, dragging out the second syllable of the word. “I just totally messed up, didn’t I?”

  She’d known Casey when they were teens but couldn’t remember if Casey’d had plans beyond high school or if she always knew she was going to run the family’s tavern.

  “Noooo,” Ivy said, with both an exaggerated smile and overly happy tone.

  “Actually, it’s a sore subject,” Casey said bluntly. “A damned sore one. But you didn’t know. So I’ll explain and then that will be that. I was in cosmetology school right out of high school. I was one class away from graduating and failed my color demonstration. I’ve obviously gotten much better, but I never went back and finished. End of story. We won’t bring this up again. Or Boone Murphy, while we’re at it. Right?”

  “Right,” they all said in unison. Charlotte got the idea there was more to the story than Casey was offering, but she wasn’t going to ask. She was simply happy to be here, to be welcomed into the fold.

  “Okay, subject change,” Charlotte said.

  “Yes!” Ivy chimed in. “How about we fill Delaney in about you and Ben going from fling to friends?”

  Delaney waved Ivy off. “Awww. I think it’s sweet that Ben’s turning over a new leaf. And it’s great that things don’t have to be awkward between you two while you’re back in town.”

  Charlotte let out a breath. Finally someone didn’t think the idea was so preposterous.

  Casey narrowed her eyes at Delaney. “So you’re saying that after your fling with Sam, you could have come back to Meadow Valley and been friends?”

  Delaney scoffed. “Of course not. But that’s because I was in love with him. Charlotte’s not in love with Ben.”

  All three women turned toward Charlotte, their eyes collectively locked on her like laser beams.

  “You’re not in love with Ben—right?” Delaney asked, a bit more caution in her voice.

  “No,” Charlotte said emphatically. “I barely know him. We’re friends. And that’s all we’re going to be. And can we have another subject change? Please? Delaney, tell me more about the animal shelter.”

  Delaney’s eyes brightened.

  “So Sam and I are partnering with a local vet, Dr. Eli Murphy. He’s Boone’s brother,” she said hesitantly, then looked at Casey, who was already staring back with a raised brow. “Anyway,” Delaney continued, “we’re all working together to put a rescue shelter on the Meadow Valley Ranch property…”

  And that was all it took to steer the conversation away from the topic of friends and lovers, possibilities and impossibilities, and any further thoughts—at least for tonight—of Ben Callahan, the man she barely knew but who’d agreed to be her friend.

  So much of her life she’d felt like a nomad until finally making herself a home in New York. Tonight, though, thanks to a new friend, she felt less like a visitor than she had in a long time.

  “And now, thanks to Sam, Ben, and Colt—and pretty much everyone in this wonderful town—I get a second chance at my dream,” Delaney said, finishing her story. Then she held up her glass. “To second chances,” she said.

  Ivy and Casey lifted their pints as well, both wearing smiles that seemed to hide something behind the pleasant expression.

  “To second chances,” they both said, repeating Delaney’s words.

  Charlotte lifted her glass and thought about her grandmother getting a second chance at life after an accident that could have been much worse.

  It felt a little like cheating, to drink to someone else’s do-over, but everything in Charlotte’s life had gone exactly as she’d planned. She didn’t need a second chance or to do anything over again. Everything was perfect just as it was.

  “To second chances,” she said, ignoring the unsettling churning in her gut.

  All four women drank until their pints were empty, their glasses hitting the bar in rapid succession.

  “All right, ladies,” Casey said, producing four shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey. “Time for the good stuff.”

  “Yeehaw!” Delaney shouted, and Ivy and Casey gave her a collective look. “What?” she protested. “I live in cowboy country now. I can yeehaw if I want to!”

  Casey shrugged and poured each of them a shot. “When in cowboy country, then…”

  All four of them Yeehawed before they drank, and then Charlotte swiped her forearm across her mouth and burped.

  “Another!” she said. “Yeehaw! Or whatever.”

  They all laughed.

  Because everything was perfect just as it was. Charlotte didn’t need to tell herself twice.

  Even if she did.

  Chapter Seven

  Ben woke at the crack of dawn—not because he needed to, but because his body just wanted to get busy living its best life, and apparently sleeping in was not part of the deal. He lay in bed for several minutes trying to convince his brain
that he wasn’t on shift until 9:00 a.m., but he lost the battle and decided to shower and find some coffee instead.

  After throwing on a navy Henley and a pair of jeans, he strolled down the quiet hallway of the guest quarters. No one stirred, not a single sound from any room. Even Jessie was snoozing at the front desk. He didn’t blame her. Poor kid moonlighted at the ranch while also working as a Meadow Valley firefighter.

  He tiptoed past the desk—knowing she’d have an alarm set to wake her before any guests headed out for their day—and stepped out into the crisp early morning air.

  He turned to head toward the dining hall and saw their produce supplier’s truck parked out front, which meant Luis, Meadow Valley Ranch’s one and only chef, was awake and would have a pot of coffee going even though breakfast didn’t start for another two hours.

  Ben strolled around to the back entrance and heard them before he saw them.

  “Parsnips?” he heard Luis say, incredulous. “I’m making carrot soup and you bring me parsnips?”

  Ben creeped up to the screen door but didn’t step inside.

  Anna brandished a handful of parsnips, holding them by their greens. “These are the sweetest parsnips you will ever taste. Make the soup with these. You’ll thank me.”

  Ben shook his head and laughed. Looked like it was another day ending in y. Hell, even before the two were dating, this had always been their MO. Coffee or no coffee, Ben didn’t want to get in the middle of a heated root vegetable argument that would likely end in the two of them making out against the door of Anna’s truck.

  Speaking of making out—or perhaps a temporary resident with whom he used to lock lips—the only other place in town where he could get coffee before 7:00 a.m. was Pearl’s. Pre-injury, you could find Pearl in the kitchen helping prep breakfast, which meant her replacement—a certain doctor who was now a new friend—would be on breakfast duty instead.

  Ben whistled to himself as he headed back toward his own vehicle for the short ride to town.

  He hopped out of his truck, kicked the dust off his boots, checked his hair in the reflection of the window, and shrugged. The sun wasn’t high enough to warrant his hat. Plus, he’d only take it off once he walked inside. And what was a little bedhead between friends?

  He took the steps up to the front porch two at a time, bypassed the main entrance, and headed straight through the café to the kitchen, offering hellos and good mornings to the usual crew.

  “Anyone seen Charlotte?” he asked the room.

  Responses came in the form of shrugs and blank stares.

  “Okay…Let me rephrase,” Ben said. “Has anyone met Charlotte North, Pearl’s granddaughter, who will be running things around here while Pearl recuperates from her accident?”

  This time, instead of shrugs, he was met with a small chorus of head shakes.

  “Uh-oh,” he said. This wasn’t good. He remembered her list from the afternoon before, how she’d barely left herself two hours to sleep. She knew to be up early.

  Ben shook his head and laughed. He’d enjoy giving her a good ribbing for oversleeping her first day on the job.

  He strode into the small lobby and back toward her room. When he reached 7A, he hesitated before knocking.

  Maybe she was about to walk through that door, polished and ready for the day, and wouldn’t appreciate Ben showing up and thinking she wasn’t up to the task. To clarify, that wasn’t what he thought. Everyone overslept now and again. The time difference was probably still catching up with her. But he could see how him showing up and checking in on her again might be misconstrued as such.

  Aw, screw it. It was 6:30 a.m., and the kitchen was in full swing. If she wasn’t up, she’d sure as hell want to be.

  He knocked. “Doc? Are you in there?” he asked.

  There was no answer, so he knocked again—more like pounded—and waited. After a few seconds he heard a whimper and then a moan.

  “Doc?” He pounded on the door again. “Doc, I just want to make sure you’re okay. Kitchen’s up and running, and I thought you might want to join in the fun.”

  “Coming,” she said, but the word sounded worse than the moan he heard before.

  He heard the click of the handle turning, and then the door swung open.

  His eyes widened and it took everything in him not to burst out laughing.

  Some of her hair was still fastened with a ponytail holder, but said ponytail was sticking off the right side of her head while the left side looked more like an auburn bird’s nest that was still under construction. Dark circles ringed her eyes. Or maybe that was makeup. And all she wore was an inside-out T-shirt that barely covered her underwear.

  “You know, we really need to stop meeting like this. Would it be too much to ask if we could take a selfie?” he asked, unable to stifle the laughter this time.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Why are you shouting?” she whispered.

  “Oh wow,” Ben said. “What happened last night? I’m guessing nothing that ends with hashtag squad goals.”

  “Whiskey,” she said, her voice scratchy. Her eyes were still shut. “Lots of whiskey.”

  She stumbled back a step, then braced her hand against the door frame.

  “Gotta open those eyes, Doc. Makes balancing a whole lot easier.”

  She shook her head. “Can’t. Nauseous. Headache. Light hurts. Why?”

  He chuckled. “You have been hungover before, right?”

  She wavered again, and this time Ben caught her by the elbows. Her head fell against his chest.

  “I am never. Drinking. Again,” she said.

  “Famous last words, Doc. Now let’s get you into the shower. Then we’ll head to the kitchen for some greasy scrambled eggs and a nice tall glass of Coke.”

  “Coke?” she croaked.

  “Yes, ma’am. Folks like to call it the red ambulance. I’m betting you’ll be one of those folks soon. The carbonation will help settle your stomach, and the caffeine will wake you up faster than you can say I’m never drinking again—again. And the sugar?” He whistled. “Well that’ll pull ya right outta hell and back to the land of the living.”

  She lifted her head and winced. “Ow. Also, there will be no getting me into the shower. I can make it there on my own, thank you very much.” She stepped back and tugged the bottom of her T-shirt lower.

  “Oh, come on, Doc. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. And it’s not like I’m asking to join you—unless you want me to.”

  He winked, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Just a little teasing between friends. But I’ll take that as a no,” he said with a grin. Then he nodded toward the bathroom. “Go on, then. Might not hurt to brush those pearly whites while you’re in there either.”

  She covered her mouth, eyes wide now.

  “That’s not what I meant, Doc,” he said, but he couldn’t help laughing. “I’m just saying—based on my own experience—that hangover dry mouth can taste like the bottom of a boot after it steps in a cow pie. You get yourself all minty fresh, and you’ll feel like a whole new person. Trust me.”

  She crossed her arms, attempting, he guessed, to look indignant, but with her less-than-formal attire and hair that looked like it got sucked into a Dyson and then spit out again, it was hard to take her seriously.

  “You’d like me to leave?” he asked, interpreting her glare.

  “Yes, please,” she said, polite but firm.

  He nodded. “You promise you’re steady on your feet? You’re not going to fall and hit that pretty head of yours, are you? What kind of friend would I be if you needed my help and I wasn’t here?”

  Her hand went to her head, and she winced as she felt the nest that was her hair.

  “Your usually pretty head,” he amended.

  She groaned and pointed toward the door. “Out.”

  Ben held his hands up in surrender. “I’m going. I’m going.” He turned toward the door. “You’re welcome for the wake-up c
all, by the way.”

  She cleared her throat. “Thank you,” she said. “You won’t have to do it again. And please don’t mention any of this to my grandmother. The last thing I need is for her to think I can’t handle this on my first full day. She’s not awake, is she?”

  Ben shook his head. “Believe it or not, looks like she’s following doctor’s orders and staying in bed her first morning home. She did okay last night?”

  Charlotte nodded. “I waited until she was asleep to go to Midtown, which I’m never doing again. Have I mentioned that?”

  Ben laughed.

  “I’ll leave you to it, Doc.”

  Satisfied that she would make it safely to the kitchen in a matter of time, he left. Only when he was outside her room with the door pulled closed behind him did he let out a long breath.

  Not too long ago, she might have said, “Why don’t you join me, cowboy?” And he’d have been naked and in that shower in record time. But today, despite her being half dressed, he found himself wanting to be there for her rather than simply naked with her. Not that he’d have said no if there had been a naked invitation. But still, this friendship thing was…odd.

  For a second he felt like he’d gone over the steep drop of a roller coaster, and his stomach rose in his throat. Great. He was developing a sympathy hangover. This was a first. That was the only logical explanation.

  His stomach settled, and he shrugged off the strange sensation as he headed to the kitchen. Looked like they could both use some scrambled eggs.

  “I’m here! I’m here! I’m here!” Charlotte called as she ran into the kitchen twenty minutes later. She’d thrown on her Los Angeles Kings T-shirt and a pair of jeans and had piled her wet hair into a bun. It was far from glamorous, but at least it wasn’t the tornado it had been when Ben knocked on her door.

  Ugh. How had she messed up so royally on her very first morning? Oh right—her newfound squad. Not that she wasn’t grateful for a few allies, but the field of cotton that was the inside of her mouth felt otherwise.