Cowboy Come Home

by Carly Bloom

  “It’s a real nice spot,” Ford said, handing her a piece of sausage and a slice of cheese.

  Claire smiled. “This is exactly the kind of meal my dad used to bring when we rode fences.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  Claire nodded. “And this was one of our favorite places to stop.”

  It was one of Ford’s, too.

  Claire ran her hands over the grass. “If you dig, you can find arrowheads.”

  “Really? I’ve only ever found them in dry creek beds.”

  “This is a special tree. My dad said the folks who lived here before us used to sit beneath it to make their arrowheads. The ones that weren’t perfect were discarded. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, here once. When they became harder to find, we decided to stop looking for them. It just didn’t seem right to find them all.”

  Ford nodded. It seemed better to let them lie. He sat down next to Claire while Coco wormed his way over to Cinder. He looked at the ground and thought about all those arrowheads. He was overcome with a feeling of permanence. And that was followed by a wave of impermanence.

  It made him dizzy.

  “Do you feel small up here?” Claire asked quietly.

  Yes. That was exactly how he felt. Like he was nothing but a blip on a massive timeline that stretched out behind and in front of him as far as the eye could see.

  “See that creek bed in the valley?” Claire asked. “Lots of fossils there. They look like snails and ferns.”

  “An ocean bed,” Ford said.

  “My dad used to take me down there. He’d make me close my eyes while he described the plants swaying in the currents and the animals swimming around us.” She leaned back in the grass, arms behind her head, and closed her eyes. “Can you see it, princess?” she whispered.

  It was so soft that Ford barely heard it. But he definitely saw the tear that slipped through Claire’s lashes. He caught it with his finger.

  Claire opened her eyes, and the blue was so crisp and clear in the shine of her tears. He dug the fingers of his other hand into the dirt and grass to anchor himself. Because he felt like he might fall into those eyes.

  He wanted to tell her that Gerome would be fine. But the truth was, he didn’t know for sure. None of them were here for longer than it took an angel to blink.

  “I can’t lose this place, Ford.”

  The finger he’d used to catch her tear trailed to a wisp of loose hair.

  “We’ll make sure you don’t.”

  He was in no position to make such an insane promise.

  “How?” Claire asked. “I can’t possibly be ready to take over in just a few weeks. Dad will be recovering from surgery. You’ll be gone. The ranch is a mess from the flood, and we’ve lost cattle, hay, fences, and infrastructure. Ford, my dad might really sell it…”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

  “You’re heading to West Texas.”

  “We’ll get as much done as we can, okay? I’m not going to just abandon you. I promise.”

  The statement had the effect of a gun going off unexpectedly. The words left an echo, crisp and clean, surrounded by a hazy feeling of shock and fear.

  What the hell had he just done?

  “Really?” Claire said.

  “Yes,” he said. The word was another stray bullet exploding from his mouth. “I’ll even come back. If you want me to. Just until you’re on your feet.”

  Forget the single bullet. He’d gone full machine gun now. Ridiculous nonsense just pouring out round after round like bullets from an ammo belt.

  He didn’t want this ranch broken up and sold off for God only knows what. An exotic hunting ranch, maybe? A Hill Country resort sprinkled with bright blue swimming pools? Both were an affront to the sacredness of this place. And yet, he didn’t blame Gerome one bit for wanting to do what was best for Claire and Lilly. But if he could come back and get the place in as good a shape as possible, and get Claire ready to take over the reins, then Rancho Cañada Verde would stand a fighting chance.

  “Okay, then,” Claire said, relief relaxing her face. “You’ll come back.”

  His finger toyed with that wisp of hair. He hadn’t even known he was doing it. And when had he gotten so close to her? The brim of his hat was shading her face, and they were practically nose to nose.

  She reached up and put her hand behind his neck. Pulled him even closer. There wasn’t a cricket’s hair between them now, and Ford swallowed.

  “I’m glad you’re coming back,” she said.

  Her breath grazed his lips, causing his head to spin. A million thoughts raced around, and he couldn’t latch on to a single one of them.

  “I can’t remember whose turn it is,” Claire said, her eyes dipping down to his lips.

  “Whose turn for what?”

  “For stopping this before it gets out of hand,” she whispered.

  “It’s your turn,” he said shakily. “I called it off last time.”

  “Oh,” Claire said. “We’re in trouble then.”

  She nipped his lip, and that was all it took. His body went into autopilot mode and pressed itself against hers, pinning her to the ground. He felt her go limp, then she opened her legs a little. He took advantage of that and slipped his thigh between them while deepening the kiss.

  Her hand ran from the back of his neck all the way down to his ass, and he ground against her like a horny sixteen-year-old in the backseat of a car. His chaps rubbed against her chinks with such friction he feared they’d catch fire. Maybe it was already too late, and they were ablaze and sending up obscene smoke signals.

  Claire’s hand slipped between them and pressed against his cock, which was rock-hard and straining the fly of his jeans. He groaned. Would she go for the zipper? Maybe he should go out of turn and put a stop to things…

  Nah. He was too far gone for that. Way too far gone. He didn’t want to stop anything ever again. Enough holding back. Being measured. Always in control.

  He was in one of the most beautiful spots on Earth with the woman who’d haunted his dreams and every waking moment of his life for the past two years. And he wanted her. He wanted her so damn bad that every cell in his body was humming and buzzing. He could literally hear his bones vibrating with need.

  Claire broke the kiss.

  No. No, no, no, no. She was going to take her turn after all.

  “What’s that sound?” she asked.

  Ford raised his head. Could she hear his body going crazy the same way he could? The buzzing and humming and pulse pounding in his head?

  “Oh, shit,” Claire said, pushing him off and pointing at the sky. “It’s a drone.”

  Ford was going to kill those twins.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Claire peeled off her dirty clothes—she’d left the butt-ugly chinks on the porch—and climbed in the shower. Oh, but the hot water felt amazing. She was in good shape, but her thighs and rear were going to be sore tomorrow. She might have ridden a little harder than she needed to, but she hadn’t wanted to look like a wimp in front of Ford. He seemed to be taking her seriously, though, despite the rodeo queen chaps.

  Truth be told, she’d had a great time.

  Right up until the drone interruption.

  She couldn’t decide if she was grateful or irritated by it. A little of both probably.

  She was so relieved that Ford was coming back. He wasn’t going to stay forever. Nothing about him was permanent. But maybe he’d stay just long enough to save the ranch.

  And not long enough to break her heart.

  He’d kissed her senseless today. And Claire had a feeling he was going to do it again.

  Ten minutes later, she flew down the stairs and into the kitchen, where her mom stood at the sink rinsing spinach leaves.

  “There you are!” she said. “Where on earth did you go this morning? You were up before me, and I think that’s a first.”

  Claire kissed her mom on the cheek. “I went out and
rode fence lines with Ford.”

  Her mom turned off the water. “Oh? I thought you were working at Petal Pushers today.”

  “I’m fixing to head over there now. I’ve got my craft ladies coming in at two. We’re doing wildflower arrangements.”

  Her mom dried her hands on a towel. “Sounds lovely. I hope you bring some home.”

  “You know I will.”

  “Would you like some iced tea for the road? I just made some.”

  “No thanks. But if Dad has already had all the coffee he wants, I’ll take the rest in a travel mug. To be honest, I’m having a difficult time keeping my eyes open.”

  Her dad usually drank coffee into the early afternoon, and there was almost always a pot going.

  “He hasn’t come downstairs yet, but you can take as much as you’d like. I’ll make him some more when he gets up.”

  Claire couldn’t believe her ears. “Dad hasn’t come down?”

  Her dad was always up before the sun, working in the heat—or the cold—all day, and at his desk until well after bedtime every night. She’d been around seven years old the first time she’d seen him in bed. Until then, she’d assumed he didn’t sleep.

  “He’s getting some much-needed rest,” her mom said simply. She opened the refrigerator and put the spinach in a drawer.

  “Mom, is his prognosis worse than what I was told?”

  “We’d never lie to you about something like that, Claire. What would be the point? I insisted he get some rest today. He hasn’t been feeling well, but I think it’s more mental than physical. Folks around here treat your daddy like he’s some kind of a god. But now he’s learning the hard truth that he’s only human, just like the rest of us.”

  “A mere mortal,” Claire said with a grin. “I don’t quite believe it myself.”

  “And then he thought he’d lost you, Claire. We both did.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mom. It was such a stupid thing to do—”

  “He hasn’t quite been the same since. It’s like he was the one who had the brush with death. He insists that he finally has all of his priorities in order. That he knows exactly what has to be done to take care of his family, but—”

  “He’s thinking of selling the ranch.”

  Her mom gasped. “How did you know?”

  “Ford told me,” Claire said. “But don’t you worry. It’s not going to happen.”

  Her mom sighed and got a travel mug out of a cabinet. “I’m not sure it shouldn’t, Claire.”

  Claire took a step back. “How could you say such a thing? This ranch is our home. It’s been in the family—”

  “The family is small now, honey. Your uncles didn’t have children. It’s just the three of us. And your father is thinking down the road, to when it might just be the two of us—you and me—or to when it’s just you…”

  The words hung in the air and stung on multiple levels. Nobody wanted to think about their parents getting old and dying. And nobody wanted to think about how they might be alone for the rest of their lives, because no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t find a partner.

  When it’s just you…

  “Ford said he’d help,” she said. “He’s coming back after West Texas.”

  “Now that would be the first bit of good news we’ve had in a while,” her mom said, pouring coffee into the mug and putting the lid on it. “But you’d better get moving if you don’t want to be late to Petal Pushers. I keep meaning to make it to one of your craft classes again. I love my little fountain on the porch that we made out of terra-cotta pots.”

  “Well, you’d better hurry up. Petal Pushers is closing.”

  Her mom set the mug on the counter. “Oh my! Claire! I had no idea.”

  “I just found out myself.”

  “Goodness, honey. What will you do?”

  “For starters, I’m going to save this ranch.”

  Her mom opened her arms, and Claire practically fell into them for a hug.

  “I have no doubt that you can do anything you put your mind to, sweet girl. But I want you to be happy.”

  Claire gave her mom a squeeze before pulling away. “Thanks, Mom. But sometimes a girl just has to do what a girl has to do. And right now, a girl has to make flower arrangements.”

  “Don’t forget your coffee, and make sure you take an umbrella.”

  Claire grabbed the mug off the counter and glanced out the kitchen window. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

  “Ruben says we’ll be getting a light spring shower,” her mom said.

  Claire rolled her eyes. “Is that an official weather forecast?”

  Her mom’s eyes crinkled as she grinned. “He saw a dung beetle rolling its prize uphill.”

  Claire shook her head. “A beetle pushing poop means we’re getting a spring shower?”

  “A beetle pushing poop uphill means we’re getting a spring shower.”

  Claire kissed her mom on the cheek and headed for the back door. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I know,” her mom called out. “But there’s an umbrella next to the washing machine.”

  Claire snatched it up on her way out.

  * * *

  Ford stretched in his saddle and admired the view from the highest spot on the ranch. He’d cowboyed all over Texas, and each region had its own beauty. The endless deserts of West Texas. The coastal plains of South Texas. The Piney Woods of East Texas. Even the endless prairies of the Texas panhandle, where the only things serving as landmarks were oil wells and windmills. But the Texas Hill Country was his sweet spot.

  He looked below at the swollen Rio Verde. It already was coming to its senses and shrinking back within its banks. It looked muddy as hell, but usually it was a sensual green snake winding its way through limestone gorges and cypress-lined banks dotted with springs and swimming holes.

  He didn’t swim. But he could still appreciate the view of this majestic landscape. He could stare, hypnotized, at the Rio Verde all day. And all night, too. Because that’s when the stars came out, big and bright.

  And Big Verde was deep in the heart of Texas. Right smack in the center. There was something comforting about that.

  Claire had gone on back to the house to get ready for her class at Petal Pushers. But her presence had lingered. He licked his lips. Damn, he could still taste her. Still feel her hair on his fingertips, the pleasant pressure of her breasts against his chest, and her hand rubbing against his hard cock. But even as those thoughts had him shifting a bit in his saddle, what he really wanted right now was somebody to enjoy the view with.

  He was scared to admit it, but while he’d missed their sexy romps, what he’d really longed for was their quiet conversations in the bed of his pickup. The ones where she did most of the talking, but he still felt heard. She understood every one of his nods, grunts, or sighs. And every caress of his thumb when they held hands, silently watching for shooting stars.

  He’d missed her laughter, her endless eye rolling, and even her daredevil streak that made his stomach churn and his heart pound.

  Two years ago, he’d stood on this very hill and convinced himself that maybe Rancho Cañada Verde would be a good place to call home. And that maybe he’d do it with Claire by his side.

  Forever.

  Good Lord, he’d invited the woman home for Thanksgiving. And it had all gone great. His family had loved her. She’d loved his family. But their lives were so different. She came from a stable home. He came from one that was a revolving door of stepmothers, half siblings, and lately, sisters-in-law. Because his brothers, with the exception of Worth, were following in their father’s footsteps, and dragging their drama home for the holidays.

  He’d left her on New Year’s Eve. And he’d pretended that he’d never intended to stay, even though he had.

  A buzzing from his back pocket startled him, and he reached around and pulled out his phone, squinting against the glare of the sun to see who was calling.

  He didn’t get many phone cal
ls.

  It was Worth. Ford swore his brother had ESP. He always called when Ford was thinking about him.

  “Howdy,” he said. “Were your ears burning?”

  “Hey there, Fairmont,” Worth said. The little shit preferred using Ford’s middle name. “Were you talking about me?”

  “I was thinking about you. What’s up?”

  “I’m calling to make sure you survived the flood. It was all over the news.”

  “The place is a mess,” Ford said. “But everybody survived.”

  Worth was a professional saddle bronc rider. There were ten years between the two of them, but they were close. In fact, other than Abby, Worth was the only sibling Ford had ever lived with. Worth and his mom, Lucy, had moved in with Ford’s family when Johnny Appleseed had left them in a trailer park with no way to pay the rent. Most of the Jarvis ex-wives and girlfriends had found each other and formed a sort of support group that they called the “exes and hos.”

  He and Worth usually got along. Sometimes they didn’t. But no matter what, they had each other’s backs. And they were bound by their pact to avoid relationships and end the Jarvis curse—whether they believed in the damn thing or not.

  “Where are you on the circuit, baby brother? Winning any money? Breaking any bones?”

  “That’s one of the things I’m calling about. I’m hanging up my spurs. Not going to compete anymore.”

  “What?”

  “I’m retiring.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s just time.”

  “You’re twenty-one—”

  “Hey, now. I thought you’d be happy. You’ve always hated that I rodeo.”

  This was true. Bronc riding was dangerous, and Worth had already broken damn near every bone in his body. Ford couldn’t even watch him compete. It was just too stressful. But he was concerned about this early retirement. Because rodeoing was the kid’s life. He wouldn’t give it up without a good reason.

  Ford turned Coco around and headed back down the trail. It looked like it might rain, and besides, he wanted to get back to the bunkhouse and see everything the drone had recorded. (Well, not everything. He really didn’t want to see aerial footage of his ass grinding against Claire on Comanche Hill, but he had a sneaking suspicion he was going to.)