Cowboys Don't Marry Their Enemy (Sweet Water Ranch Western Cowboy Romance Book 9)

by Jessie Gussman

  But he wasn’t sure what it was, and her words didn’t cause him any undue alarm nor any deep desire to stay and bond with her. He’d thought she’d have something to say about her mother passing. About the funeral. About the years he’d been gone.

  He didn’t really feel like she owed him an apology. But, yeah, even that.

  Actually, he felt relief, because now she’d seen him and now he could go. He didn’t want to care.

  Her fingers tightened. “Stay for a couple of days.”

  No. He couldn’t. Not with Cora and her husband sleeping under the same roof.

  “He can be your new boyfriend, Mommy,” the oldest of the boys said.

  Abner didn’t mean to squeeze his mother’s hand so hard, and he sure didn’t want to turn and look at Cora, but he did both.

  She ignored him. Of course. “No. No more boyfriends.” She spoke to her son. “Take that dog back to the neighbor’s house where he belongs and come right home.” The boy took a hold of the collar and gave Abner one last glance before dragging it out.

  Cora moved toward the couch. “Do you need anything, Aunt Sandy, before I take the kids into the kitchen and make them some sandwiches?”

  Cora had been getting together with Stephen, Abner’s cousin, when Abner left. Stephen would have called Abner’s mother Aunt Sandy. Looked like Cora had picked it up, too.

  His mother picked her drink up off the coffee table and held it in front of her mouth. “Get me a refill.” She tipped the glass up and drained it, then turned her eyes to the TV.

  She’d just lost her mother, and Abner could cut her some slack for that, but her behavior seemed a little...selfish.

  But...before that. New boyfriend? Made it sound like there was an old boyfriend. And no husband.

  Not that he cared. He could barely stand Cora.

  “Come on, guys. Let’s wash up, and you can help me.” Cora scooped the baby off the couch and held a few fingers out for the little one who had turned over on his stomach and had her little chubby legs sliding off and onto the floor.

  The girl settled on her belly hanging there, and Cora walked off without her.

  She passed behind Abner, and he caught her scent. She used to smell like bubble gum and cotton candy.

  Her scent had matured along with the rest of her, more deeply feminine, subtly sweet. A lighter scent, but the pull on him was stronger, harder, like he was caught in a rip current. He clenched his jaw and fisted his hand, unwilling to be dragged anywhere. Least of all by Cora.

  His mother had asked him to stay. He wasn’t going to. Couldn’t. Not for the night.

  But his mother obviously wasn’t doing well. Whether that was because of the death of her mother, or if that was her current state, he didn’t know.

  Regardless, she obviously needed help, and Cora obviously didn’t have the resources to give it to her. Physical or monetary.

  His mother ignored him. Her gaze stuck on the TV that had been unmuted. The blaring noise irritated him in a way the crying, even screaming, of children didn’t. Her eyes were glassy, and she seemed to have forgotten him.

  He picked up the toddler that was now struggling to get off the couch and turned toward the kitchen. He didn’t have anything to say to Cora, but she might be able to shed some light on the situation with his mother.

  Chapter 2

  It’d been years since Cora had the luxury of a few quiet moments. Her fault. She owned it. She knew exactly how kids were made, and she took responsibility for her actions.

  The problem was she was a sucker for a kind word and couldn’t tell the difference between a rake and a good man. “Good man” seemed like an oxymoron to her, but hey, she supposed the impossible was possible, just with someone else. Not her.

  Right now, though, she’d really appreciate just a few seconds to pull herself together.

  Abner.

  She hated him.

  Mostly.

  He was a cold, egotistical jerk.

  Except, back when they’d been friends and she’d hoped to use him to make his cousin jealous, she’d ended up falling for him, because underneath that tough-guy façade, she’d found he was actually sweet and soft as fluff.

  She’d ruined it, of course. Or maybe she should say her brother-in-law, whom she was living with, along with her sister, at the time, had ruined it.

  No. She was a big believer in taking responsibility for her own actions.

  She’d taken a gamble. And she’d lost Abner. Because he’d been too much of a prideful stick-in-the-mud to see that things weren’t what they seemed.

  Well, she’d faced everything without him. She’d managed to survive then, and she didn’t need him now. Except he’d followed her into the kitchen. She didn’t turn to see him. She could just tell he was there. Shivers that she didn’t know she was capable of cascaded down her back and out her arms.

  She didn’t want him, but it wasn’t her house, and she could hardly kick him out. Aunt Sandy had been kind enough to allow her to move in even though their family ties were dubious. It had been beneficial to both of them, since Cora moving in had kept Aunt Sandy from needing to move to a smaller place. But Cora was being evicted at the end of the month after Aunt Sandy left for North Carolina.

  But she didn’t have to talk to him. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d leave. He’d sure left fast enough all those years ago without a single thought that maybe there was more to the story than he’d heard.

  “Mommy, I’m hungry.” Summer still clung to her neck. Of all her kids, Summer had been the closest to “Grammy,” even though Abner’s grandmother wasn’t theirs. She was really a great-aunt to some of her kids—Derrick and Summer, the ones that were Stephen’s.

  “Ungwee.” Luna, who was surprisingly content in Abner’s arms where he stood in the doorway, repeated Summer’s complaint.

  With her foot, Cora grabbed a wobbly chair leg and pulled. It came out from the table with a scraping sound. She adjusted Summer’s body so her feet planted on the chair. The five-year-old squeezed tighter with her arms, and Cora spent a few moments reassuring her that she would hold her once again as soon as everyone else had food.

  Her back sighed in acute relief as Summer settled in the chair. Ignoring the tall man standing just feet away holding her toddler, Cora settled Claire, her youngest, in her highchair and slid her closer to the table, setting a cracker down in front of her to keep her from getting out.

  Abner had spent his primary years with the Amish, and it shouldn’t be a surprise to her that he was good with children. She just wasn’t used to men like that. It was just one more thing that added to everything she remembered that made him appealing. A feeling she needed to fight. Her feelings had never been reliable.

  Andrew, her oldest, already had the bread out as Derrick burst back in the door after taking the dog home. “Derrick, go into the room and find the babies’ sippy cups.”

  Derrick turned to do as he’d been told, and Cora turned to the refrigerator, glad it was placed in such a position that her back was to Abner.

  Why didn’t he just leave?

  She didn’t even try to tell him to put her child down. He’d not listened to her the last three times she’d told him, and something told her he wasn’t going to start listening to her now.

  Grabbing the meat tray that the church had provided to the family, she set it on the small counter and started piling meat onto the slices of bread Andrew had set out. She didn’t know why she bothered; the kids were just going to take them apart. Some of them would eat the bread, some the meat, and they’d all lick the mayonnaise clean off everything. Andrew was putting it on liberally. She told herself it was made out of egg whites and was probably healthy in some way for them. And someday when she didn’t feel like she was walking around in a fog with a child clinging to her for all her waking hours, she might actually have vegetables to go with them too.

  Oh, yeah. She needed money for vegetables. Especially this time of year. Her design business might provide
that eventually.

  Not now.

  She turned with the sandwiches. Abner had put Luna in her booster seat, given Claire another cracker, and was helping Kohlton give everyone a napkin and a drink.

  Fury burned hot up her neck. She could have used his help once upon a time, but not now.

  “No one invited you in here.” She hated the anger in her voice, and she hated even more the awful example she was being for her children. Everyone was always welcome in this house. “If you need to stay, go talk to your mother and let me alone.”

  He ignored her, taking three cups of water from the sink and putting them in front of the older three kids’ places.

  He was a jerk, but he wasn’t dangerous. She opened the cupboard door—gingerly, because it was only attached by one crooked hinge, the one she and Andrew had put on—grabbed the bottle of alcohol, and stomped toward the doorway, intending to refill Aunt Sandy’s glass.

  She turned and was only able to take one step before she had to stop. Or run into Abner.

  She wasn’t touching him.

  “Excuse me. Your mother needs a refill.” She kept her face impassive and stared at the button on his shirt.

  “No.”

  Whether he was telling her no, that he wasn’t excusing her or no, she didn’t need a refill, Cora wasn’t sure and didn’t care.

  “Fine. You take it in.” She held the bottle up between them, still not looking at him.

  “No.”

  “Mommy, I’m hungry.”

  “Can we eat?”

  “Hungwee.”

  One of her kids started pounding on the table. The others joined in.

  Still, Abner didn’t move.

  Fed up with his silent judgment and his intimidation tactics, Cora gritted her teeth and spun. “Summer, ask the blessing. Derrick, give Claire another cracker.” She barked out orders—called out loudly to be heard over the pounding—which was the only way she’d found to deal with six little ones at once. Become a drill sergeant.

  She certainly hadn’t had any examples of good parenting growing up. Her dad had left before she could remember and she could pass him on the street tomorrow and she wouldn’t know him.

  It was a wonder she hadn’t ended up in foster care with the casual way her mom dropped her off on whoever was willing to take her, sometimes for weeks and months at a time.

  A couple of times she’d stabilized and had a man around. On one of those occasions, Cora had become friends with her new step-sister Erin. Erin had ended up marrying Abner’s half-brother, Jason, and Cora had lived with them for a while.

  She hadn’t wanted to become like her mother. Her deepest desire was to provide a more stable homelife for her children. So far, she’d been a failure. But she’d chosen to turn her life around, and she was determined to do it.

  She marched around the table, intending to hit the doorway from the opposite side, bypassing the man who stood in her kitchen like he belonged there.

  His eyes followed her, but he didn’t move. She supposed she should be grateful, but it just made her angrier. How dare he come in here and watch her like she was a bug on the wall? And judge her. Like giving a grieving woman alcohol was a sin or something.

  Her conscience poked her. It wasn’t like Aunt Sandy had just started drinking when her mother died. She was definitely past the parameters of an alcoholic and had been for some time. But Cora couldn’t afford the rent check on her own. She needed Aunt Sandy’s disability checks. They paid the rent and bought alcohol. Cora took care of everything else with the little she made in her business and child support for four of her six kids. None for Andrew. None for Kohlton.

  Her fault.

  She walked into the living room. Aunt Sandy didn’t even look at her. Cora filled the glass to the top.

  She’d gotten swept into alcohol abuse for a few years. It had done nothing but amplify her bad decisions. It was great for numbing pain, and honestly, it was a temptation now, but she’d never done a single smart thing while under the influence. And she’d determined, for her children, she was going to be smart from now on.

  So, she’d put the lid back on the bottle of seduction and carried it out of the room.

  She’d been gone all of ninety seconds. Seriously.

  She could hardly believe the vision that greeted her in her kitchen. Her children were sitting quietly at the table, Abner holding Luna on his lap, and they were all eating their sandwiches. Crusts first.

  “Hey, Mom! Look at us!” Derrick called out. He bit off another bite of his crust. One entire side of crust was gone, and he was half done with a second side.

  “Eating crust puts hair on your chest,” Summer sang out happily, munching on another bite of her own crust.

  Cora’s brows went up. “I guess we won’t have to worry about you getting married young.”

  “Huh?” Summer said, with her mouth full.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Cora said, biting off any other sarcastic comments that Abner seemed to have brought out in her. If Summer was going to eat her crust, Cora would be a fool to ruin it by explaining that chest hair wasn’t exactly an asset to a female. Maybe it would keep her from turning out like Cora had.

  No. Chest hair wouldn’t have prevented Andrew.

  She steeled herself and looked at Abner, hating that he seemed to have six small children completely under control. The perfect man. Who, of course, wanted a perfect woman. Even back when she was eighteen, she was too messed up for him.

  His eyes, which had held humor as he looked at her children, became serious, unreadable, when they turned her way. She returned his stare.

  He stood, looking back over the kids. “I’ll have your mom check your chests for hair at bath time tonight.”

  “Aww, you’re not leaving?” Derrick whined.

  Luna gripped his neck, her half sandwich clutched in one fist.

  He strode to her and held Luna out. Normally, Luna cried when anyone but Cora held her, but she leaned her body to Abner and didn’t reach out for her mother.

  “I wanna talk to you,” he said.

  That was just great. Luna finally found a man that didn’t make her scream, and it had to be Abner, of all people. At least maybe she’d grow up to have good taste in men. Better than Cora, although Abner had always been her first choice. Even when she hated him, she could admit he was a good man. He just didn’t want her.

  “Then talk.”

  “I don’t think you want to have this conversation in front of your children.”

  She wanted to lip off. Say something smart. Let him know that she wasn’t catering to him and he’d have the conversation at her convenience.

  But the look in his eye said he’d have it now if she insisted, and she’d made the decision to put her kids first. So, as much as she wanted to put him in his place, she grabbed Luna from him. “I normally have them in bed by nine.”

  It was eight, actually. But she didn’t have very many things in her favor, and she could give herself the advantage of cleanliness if she had time to shower first. It would be a confidence booster. One didn’t face their adversary at any more of a disadvantage than absolutely necessary.

  “I’ll be back at nine.”

  “You’re not staying here.”

  His brows twitched. “I am.”

  Her breath huffed out in frustration. With him and with herself. She was pretty sure he hadn’t been planning on staying until she said something. If she could have just kept her big mouth shut.

  Chapter 3

  The pain in Abner’s chest hadn’t eased at all. Not with a trip to the hardware store. Not as he’d walked the sidewalks and the few friendly people out and about had smiled and nodded as they passed. Not as he sat in the cool, dark sanctuary of the little church where he’d parked his bike.

  The sky was clear, and there’d be a frost but no rain. He’d leave the bike at the church. It was his one vanity. If one could call it that. It was an antique. And he’d restored it to mint con
dition. It was uncomfortable as heck to ride but looked cool. He was no stranger to being uncomfortable.

  Although his discomfort had reached a level even he wasn’t used to today in Cora’s kitchen. His mother might pay the rent, but Cora was the responsible adult in that house.

  There’d been a car at the house earlier when he’d gone by. Maybe mourners or well-wishers.

  It was gone now, though, as he walked through the silent, dark town toward Cora’s house. It’d been a quiet town. A couple of elderly people on porches, a few cars, especially a little after three when the shift at the coal mine let out, and a few kids running on the sidewalks. The hardware store had been mostly deserted.

  The Amish community he’d grown up in was only ten or fifteen miles away, but Abner had no desire to go back. They wouldn’t shun him—he’d never joined the church—but he didn’t fit in there anymore.

  He’d have been happy being Amish.

  Except for Cora.

  He strode up the walk, shifting the bags of supplies he carried to one hand, and knocked on the door.

  She kept him waiting. Of course.

  He wanted to hold on to his hatred. His feelings of deep betrayal. His hurt and anger. But he couldn’t when he had six sets of Cora’s eyes looking at him.

  He wasn’t even sure he could do it when only Cora was looking at him.

  The door opened.

  She had a sweater on. Jeans. Still in her bare feet. Despite the cold, she stepped out, closing the door behind her.

  It made him angry. He’d planned to stay somewhere else. Hadn’t really thought he’d sleep in the house with Cora and her kids, even if it was his mother’s and she wanted him to stay.

  But he felt like she was trying to outmaneuver him by closing the door and not inviting him in.

  He caught her scent as she slipped by him. Mixed with the cool air and the night darkness, it was far more lethal than it had been earlier in the house under the harsh lights with her children running around.

  He should have held his breath.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the porch post, looking out at the quiet street.