Cowboy Summer

by Joanne Kennedy

  “It’s a lot of money, sweetheart. We’ll have a good life and be able to help the kids, too.”

  She gave him an appreciative squeeze and tried to feel happy, but who cared about money when you had a home like this? The Diamond Jack was a legacy, passed down through generations. How could they put a dollar value on that?

  Resting her head against his back, she breathed deeply. The antiseptic smell of the hospital was gone, and he smelled like her cowboy again.

  “Maybe we should tell them no. Cade and Jess talked some, and he didn’t look so hopeless when he left. They might save the place yet.”

  Heck turned and took her hands in his, and for once, his expression was grave. “Molls, it’s getting mighty late for that. That big-bellied fella and his wife want the place, and you and I—we’ll be fine.”

  “Cade said they don’t know a thing about ranching.”

  “Once we leave here, it won’t be any of our business what they do. We’ll have a whole ’nother life. This one’ll be behind us, and that’s okay.” Dropping her hands, he embraced her, rocking from side to side. “We’ll build a new life, and I’m lookin’ forward to it, long as it’s with you.”

  She twisted out of his arms to stare up into his face. “You are?”

  “Sure.” He chucked her under the chin and grinned. “So come on, woman. We’ll check out this place, and if we don’t like it, we’ll move on ’til we find one that’s just right.”

  “Okay.” She gave him a quivering smile. “So you’re not mad?”

  “’Bout what?”

  “I talked you into dragging Jess back here, pretending we wanted to sell the ranch, and now we’re selling it for real.” She bit her lower lip. “I never meant for that to happen.”

  “Well, it’s sure not your fault. I’m the one with the bad ticker.” Grinning, he smacked her lightly on the butt. “Now, let’s get going. I’m hoping this place has a horseshoe court. Or shuffleboard.”

  “You are?”

  He shrugged. “Not really, but I’m trying to think positive.” He gently elbowed her in the ribs. “And you should do the same. Nobody likes grumpy sad sacks.”

  “All right.” Breathing deep, Molly sucked in her stomach, stuck out her chest, and gave him a flirty grin. “How’s this?”

  “Fine as a fox and sexy as a badger,” he said.

  “Badgers are sexy?”

  “Well, the lady badgers are. If you’re a boy badger.”

  Laughing, she headed down the stairs. “Just let me tell Jess we’re going.”

  She found her stepdaughter in the middle of the parlor, legs set wide apart, fists on hips. Jess’s brows were drawn low over her eyes, and she looked so fierce, Molly took a step back.

  “What are you up to, hon?” Molly knew Jess didn’t want to sell the place and was upset the Swammetts had made an offer.

  Jess’s smile was almost scarier than the scowl.

  “I’m fighting ghosts.”

  “Um.” Molly glanced around the room, but no filmy wraiths lounged on the furniture or floated in the air. “What ghosts?”

  “Just one, really.” Jess gestured toward the fainting couch. “I’m getting that out of here—guess I’ll put it on Craigslist. That too.” She pointed at a fussy tea table. “And those stupid slipper chairs.”

  “But those are your mother’s things. Don’t you want to keep them?”

  “This isn’t my mother’s house anymore.” Jess bundled her curls into one hand and tugged them away from her face. “It’s not ours either, not for long, but I want her gone before I leave.”

  “It’s actually a beautiful room,” Molly said.

  “Do you ever sit in here?”

  “Well, no. I like the back porch, and in the winter, the family room.”

  “With that ugly plaid sofa? That thing smells like every dog we ever had.”

  “It’s cozy.”

  “Exactly. And nobody who belongs here feels comfortable on this prissy furniture.”

  Molly felt her heart go light. “Not you or your dad.”

  “Or you.” Jess reached over and gave Molly a side hug, kissing the top of her head. “You belong here, too.”

  “Oh, sweetheart.”

  Jess grinned. “Oh, Molls.”

  Molly had been hoping for mom, praying for it nightly. But to have her stepdaughter use the pet name her husband had invented squeezed a flood of motherly warmth from her heart.

  “I just hope we’re doing the right thing,” she said. “I feel like we’re taking your home away from you.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Molls.” Jess relaxed onto the hated fainting couch. “The way things are with Cade, I don’t really want to stay.” She noticed Molly’s stricken expression. “It’s for the best, really. I’m up for a promotion—to Hawaii!”

  “Oh my.” Molly tried to look excited, but she knew that if Jess went to Hawaii, they’d never see her. It would be too far for them to visit, and she’d never have time to come home.

  “Amazing, right? And I’ll be free to enjoy myself. Maybe I’ll meet a hot surfer.”

  As Molly headed back to the kitchen to pack some snacks for the trip, she thought of her old life. Before her marriage, she’d been free, but it hadn’t brought her happiness. It was loving other people that made life matter. Despite Heck’s illness, despite the way she worried about him, loving him made her whole.

  Freedom wasn’t the answer. Not for her, and not for Jess.

  Chapter 40

  For Jess, a trip to Wynott was always a walk down memory lane. The dusty, papery smell of the library, the slow signals of the single stoplight, and the scent of the diner’s delicious and wildly unhealthy food carried her back to a simpler time.

  But the cloud of nostalgia that enveloped her at Boone’s Hardware was overwhelming. The place smelled like childhood, like shaking old Ed Boone’s dry and papery hand, like choosing a hard candy stick from the glass jar he kept on the counter.

  When Riley James had moved into the apartment behind the store to help Ed and his sick wife, she’d added a few modern touches. There was a wider assortment of paint now and a larger selection of tools, but the most noticeable changes were the creative window displays. Right now, passersby were treated to a collection of pitchforks, scythes, machetes, and hatchets below a banner that read Your Zombie Apocalypse Headquarters in dripping, blood-red letters.

  That was a customer’s first hint Riley wasn’t your average small-town hardware entrepreneur. A city girl from Denver with a history as wild as the tattoos that snaked up one arm and curled around her neck, she had silvery-blond hair and pale-gray eyes that made her look like a fairy from some fantasy film. Despite her ethereal appearance, she spoke as bluntly as a man, and her gaze was equally direct.

  “Hey, I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “Cade called about your porch. You want it restored or replaced?” Her voice, low and husky, broke on the upturned question.

  “What’s the difference?” Jess asked.

  “If I restore it, it’ll look like it did before, only sturdier and fresh-painted. If I replace it, I could get a little creative. Design something interesting.”

  Jess wondered what “interesting” would mean to someone like Riley.

  “I don’t know. Our house is pretty interesting as it is.” She chewed her lower lip, watching Riley wipe down the cash register. “Oh, what the heck? Every other generation managed to put their stamp on the place. Why not us?”

  “Sweet!” Riley beamed, eyes aglow. “I love your house for just that reason. I’ll build you something special, I promise.”

  “Don’t get too crazy,” Jess said. “Or too expensive. We’re selling it, so the new buyers have to like it.”

  “I have an idea to tie all the elements together,” Riley said. “Make the place look like something special, inste
ad of just interesting.”

  “That would be great.” Jess didn’t see how the house could get any weirder, and it would be fun to see what Riley came up with. “Call me when you can get started. In the meantime, I need some painting supplies.”

  Riley led her to the paint department at the back of the store.

  “I need to pick a nice off-white for our front room,” Jess said. “My mom used to call it the parlor, and it’s all fussy and pink.”

  “Can’t have that,” Riley said. “You hear from your mother much?”

  Riley could be socially clumsy sometimes, maybe because she’d had even less mothering than Jess.

  “No, she’s busy.”

  “Oh.” Riley leaned over and plucked a color card from the rack. “These are warm whites. Good for a parlor.” She stood there, twisting one foot like an awkward child, while Jess scrutinized the colors. “What about your brother? You hear from him?”

  “Not much.” Jess frowned, comparing the colors against the white shelves. One looked too pink, another too yellow. “He’s never been big on communication.”

  Riley grinned. “Still an asshole, I guess.”

  Jess couldn’t help laughing. “You obviously know Griff well.”

  “Not real well. But I text him on What’s App sometimes.” Riley looked down at her toes, suddenly shy. “I’m not sure he wants to hear from me, but I don’t care.”

  When Jess turned to answer, she realized, with a sort of stunned amazement, that Riley did care. About Griff. Spots of color rode high on her cheeks, and she avoided Jess’s eyes.

  “You like my brother?”

  “No. I don’t know.” Riley shoved her hands deeper in her pockets and frowned at the floor. “I thought he was brave, going off like that. I always feel like I’m hiding in this town. It’s so safe, you know? But Griff doesn’t care about being safe.”

  “No. If he hadn’t joined the Army, he’d probably be a bull rider or maybe a smoke jumper.”

  “Yeah.” Riley busied herself straightening the color samples. As far as Jess could see, they were in perfect order, but Riley took out one, then another, put them back, and pulled out more. “You know when he’s coming home?”

  “No. I just hope it’s soon.”

  “Me, too.”

  They stuck to small talk until Jess had paid, but Riley took her time putting the paintbrush in a bag, glancing up at Jess while she fooled with stuff behind the counter.

  “What?” Jess figured the girl had more questions about Griff.

  “Nothing. It’s just…you know who could use your help?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

  Riley laughed, a short, raspy sound as if she was unaccustomed to humor. “I do tend to say what I think.” She paused. “Cade Walker.”

  Jess groaned. “I really don’t want to go there.”

  “Okay,” Riley said and plunged forward as if Jess hadn’t objected at all. “But you’re not worried about Amber Lynn Lyle, are you? Because she was at the bar the other night, swatting all the guys away, talking about how she doesn’t have time for a relationship.”

  “She was?” Jess hadn’t wanted to talk about Amber Lynn either, but what the heck. Gossip was always tempting.

  “She got a job at her dad’s bank, so now she’s a career woman.” Riley forked her fingers into scare quotes. “Glad I don’t work there. She must be a holy terror for a boss, and you know her dad wouldn’t make her a mere teller.”

  “No, I doubt that.” Jess started for the door again.

  “Just so you know, this probably isn’t the last you’ll hear about Cade,” Riley said. “The old guys at the diner are laying bets on you two.”

  “Hey, my dad’s one of those guys,” Jess said.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it was his idea.”

  “And you think small towns are safe.” Jess gave Riley a narrow-eyed stare. “Did you bet?”

  “No, but if I did, I’d bet on you getting what you want. You’re Griff’s sister, after all.” Popping open the cash register, she busied herself counting bills again. “From what I’ve seen, you’re brave, too. It’s just a Bailey thing.”

  Jess felt tears spring to her eyes and had to turn away. She wasn’t sure why the comment touched her so deeply.

  Maybe it was because she wasn’t brave at all. Every time she thought of Cade, her heart leapt and spun like a figure skating champ—until she thought of Amber Lynn at his bedroom window. Then her heart would fall on its ass, skid across the ice, and slam into the wall.

  She was scared. She knew that was what it was. She didn’t think Cade had slept with his ex, but he believed Jess had messed with the Swammetts and was unwilling to even suspect his ex-wife. That made Jess wonder just how he felt about his ex and whether they could build a relationship where there was no trust.

  “You know Cade loves you, right?” Riley grinned. “Everybody says you could do just about anything, and he’d never quit.” She sobered a bit. “I’d give a lot to have a guy like that. Not looking, but hey, if it happens…”

  Jess sighed. “It’s complicated.”

  “Sorry. I guess it was rude to bring it up.”

  “It’s okay.” Jess noted Riley didn’t look sorry at all. “But you know what?”

  Riley cocked her head, letting her silver ponytail flow over her left shoulder. “What?”

  “You should probably change your bet. I’m not even sure I know what I want.”

  Chapter 41

  A few days passed with no communication from Jess. Cade spent his nights staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong. Why wouldn’t she just admit she’d tried to drive the Dude and Dudette away with her “ranch reality” pranks? He’d thought things through a hundred times, and it had to be her.

  Maybe blaming Amber Lynn was some sort of test for him. But she’d never been like that before—making him jump through hoops to prove his love. That was more Amber Lynn’s style.

  There had to be something else. Some other reason she couldn’t let him into her life.

  The phone rang, and he answered to find Molly on the line.

  “Hey, Cade,” she said. “Heck and I’ll be gone for a few days, checking out one of those retirement homes.”

  “Okay,” he said. “You need me to take care of anything while you’re gone?”

  “You could take care of Jess.”

  He almost groaned aloud. “She doesn’t think she needs taking care of.”

  “Well, she does. And she shouldn’t be alone here, after that head injury. I was thinking maybe you could invite her over to your place, give her a break.”

  Now it was his turn to smile. “You never give up, do you?”

  “Not when something matters. And you shouldn’t, either.”

  She had a point. Things hadn’t ended well with Jess the other day, and he needed to mend some fences. He doubted he could get her to his house, but maybe if he stopped by, tried again, she’d listen to him.

  “I’ll try, Molly.”

  “I knew you would.”

  She knew him well. Once he thought about seeing Jess, the rest of his plans for the day took second place. He dressed hastily and rushed his breakfast.

  “No boiled bacon today,” he told Boogy. “You get a ride, though.”

  When they reached the Diamond Jack, Jess’s car was parked beside the barn and Buster was grazing in the pasture, but there was no answer to his knock.

  He tried the knob and stepped inside, followed by Boogy.

  “Jess?”

  She was home. He could hear her yodeling some sort of gibberish in the parlor. Boogy laid his ears against his head, yipped once, and dodged back outside. Maybe Molly was right about Jess’s head injury. It sounded like something was terribly wrong.

  He strode down the ha
ll and burst into the parlor like John Wayne slamming through the doors of a Wild West saloon.

  Jess was on a stepladder, paintbrush in hand, cutting in a pretty cream color next to the ceiling. Dot Bailey’s “civilized” furniture was stacked in the middle of the room, draped with sheets.

  “Jess?”

  She didn’t answer. Didn’t even turn around. He realized why when he noticed wires dangling from her ears. Tinny tunes crackled from her earbuds as she shifted her hips from side to side and yelped out the lyrics to a Keith Urban song.

  “Bloo, oo-oo-oo, oo-oo-oo, looks good on the sky-yi-yi...”

  Jess had many skills, but singing wasn’t one of them. She sure was enjoying herself, though. Leaning against the wall, he settled in and waited for her to notice him.

  She carried on, hollering about how blue didn’t match her eyes—which was wrong, because it did. On the second verse, she jerked her arms outward, splashing paint on the wall, on the sheet-draped furniture, and on Cade.

  Dancing wasn’t one of her skills, either. The ladder rocked, and the paint can tipped dangerously. Grabbing it, she half fell, half jumped to the floor, right in front of Cade.

  “Aaaaieee! Holy crap!”

  Jerking the buds out of her ears, she flushed pink all over. Maybe she was upset at seeing him. Either that or she was embarrassed to be caught murdering poor Keith.

  Then again, it might be her outfit. Her plaid shirt must have been Heck’s once; it hung to her knees, and the shoulder seam was halfway to her elbows. An equally ancient pair of jeans ended at her ankles, making her feet look huge in her old pink Chucks. She’d completed the look by corralling her curls with a bandanna that gave her a Rosie-the-Riveter, we-can-do-it look.

  Cade plucked one of the buds from around her neck and held it to his ear.

  “You’re going to go deaf.” He pulled a long face. “Wish I could go with you.”

  “Hey, I never claimed I was Mariah Carey, but at least I’m not sneaking up on people and embarrassing them.”

  “You’re embarrassed?”

  She cocked her head, considering the question. “No, I’m not embarrassed. You already know I can’t sing.”