Staying Home (Roped by the Cowboy Duet Book 2)

by J.C. Valentine

  His chest squeezed, as if someone had wrapped a fist around his heart. Would he ever get used to the idea of her being gone? No, he decided. Death was never something you got used to. You just learned to cope with it.

  “Yeah,” he croaked, “see ya there.”

  Hesitating, Sylvia offered him an awkward but sympathetic smile, and then she was propelling herself gracefully down the porch steps and climbing into a mint-green VW Beetle that Nash couldn’t help thinking fit her personality perfectly.

  Taking a moment to himself, he stood in the middle of the porch and stared off down the road, until Sylvia’s car disappeared into the horizon before returning inside.

  Vivian was alert and waiting for him, but it was apparent by her tight visage that she was far from happy. “Wasn’t that the woman from the theater?”

  Nash knew that he couldn’t outrun an explanation. Rather than joining her on the couch, he gave her the space he felt she needed while they talked and sat in the recliner instead.

  “That was Sylvia, yes.”

  “The one Gretta set you up with. The Pilates instructor.”

  “Yoga,” he corrected. Her eyes narrowed and he continued. “But yes, that was her.”

  “Are you still seeing her?”

  Nash cocked his head to the side and gave her an are you serious look. “When would I have had the time?”

  “Oh, men always find the time if they want to.”

  Nash wondered when her past would collide with their present again, and here it was. “I’m not your ex, and she’s just a friend.”

  Vivian refused to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect her and it caught me off guard.”

  Nash understood, but he wasn’t going to tell her it was okay to lump him in with her ex-husband. “Look, if this is gonna work, we gotta trust one another. If we can’t agree to that, then what are we doin’ here but wastin’ each other’s time?”

  He sat back and let her take the time she needed to digest his words.

  And while he waited, he held his breath. He’d played his hand, laid out all of his cards, and he had no idea if it would work in his favor or not. She could very well choose to walk away now, and he knew if she did, that would be it. They would be finished for good.

  That was the last thing he wanted.

  When she finally spoke again, Nash held his breath, expecting the worst.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  He waited some more, for a punchline or something, he didn’t know, but when it became evident that was all she was going to say, he spoke up. “That’s it?”

  “What? You expected a fight?”

  “Well…yeah.” It’d been their track record so far. What else could he have expected?

  “I don’t want to fight with you.” Vivian sighed. “There’s enough stress going on as it is. The last thing we need is misunderstandings and jealousy causing more problems.”

  Nash felt a smirk spring into place. “Are you sayin’ you’re jealous?”

  Vivian scowled. “What? No. Not at all. What would I have to be jealous about?”

  Nash pushed out of the recliner, intent on getting his answer and kissing her senseless just as soon as he had it. He approached slowly, grinning like a fool. “Could be that pretty lady outside you saw me kissin’ not too long ago…”

  “Stop it.” She slapped his hands away as he reached for her, to no avail. Nash had her wrapped up in his arms and her chest pressed against his in no time flat. “I’m not jealous of some sugar sweet blonde without an ounce of fat on her.”

  “Ah, I knew it. You are jealous.”

  “I am not!” Vivian adamantly refused to admit it and when he bent to capture her lips and butter her up, she wiggled and weaved to avoid it.

  “Admit it, darlin’. You’re a green-eyed monster.”

  His words peeved her off more than anything, and Vivian pressed her hands into his chest and arms, trying to pry her way free.

  He wasn’t having any of it.

  They struggled and he kept pressing her, refusing to let her go until she fessed up. It took a while, but eventually, he wore her down enough to garner a huffy, “Fine! I was jealous, okay? Are you happy?”

  “As happy as a cat in a milk factory.”

  “Ugh! You are such a man.”

  Nash’s eyes danced with humor and dark intent. “You wanna go upstairs and find out just how much of a man I am?”

  She smacked his chest in admonishment and continued to struggle against him, but much of the fight had left her, and Nash was certain at this point it was more show than anything else.

  He took a chance and bent once again, and this time she tilted her chin up and met him in the middle. Nash had intended to coax her to his way of thinking, but Vivian surprised him. Taking control of the kiss, she molded her body to his and rolled her tongue against his and moved in ways he hadn’t felt a woman move in far, far too long. In a blink of an eye, Nash had reached his peak and was bordering on losing self-control.

  Ending the kiss abruptly, Nash bent at the knees and caught Vivian under the legs, lifting her with ease, which earned a surprised yelp.

  “Where are we going?”

  Nash thought it should be obvious, but he grunted “To bed” anyway. And that’s where they spent the rest of the afternoon and well into the morning hours making love to one another, slow, fast, and in between until they were both so worn out, they collapsed into the bed and skipped the next day entirely.

  TWENTY

  It was a week to the day that they put Ms. Gretta in the ground. Her final resting place looked smaller than he thought it should be, as Nash stood over the casket, which hovered over the open pit on little more than pulleys and straps.

  Outside the tent, it was raining, which was fitting. Before his momma abandoned him, the one good memory he recalled from his boyhood with her was whenever it would thunderstorm, she would tell him the angels were crying. The solemnity of this day warranted some angel tears, as far as he was concerned.

  The plot was surrounded by purple and white roses in all forms: bouquets, wreaths, vases, and a bucket of singles for each person in attendance to lay on her casket once the services were over. If she was looking down on them right now, Nash thought Ms. Gretta would be pleased with the turnout.

  They hadn’t sent out invitations. Not when news had already spread to the whole town. And not to his surprise, every one of them were in attendance, most importantly among them Buster, Big Steve, Sheets, and Foster, all of which he hadn’t been too chummy with recently, being in his own world and all. There wasn’t a dry eye to be seen among them.

  Nash stood beside Vivian, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm, his hand on hers as they supported one another. Him more so than her at the moment. She’d been sick all morning, the worry and stress making her stomach weak. Nash could hardly focus on Pastor Winslow’s sermon because he was afraid she might fall over. Vivian’s color wasn’t good, and that worried him.

  He rubbed her chilled fingers, forcing some of his warmth into them.

  Aside from Vivian, Nash was completely checked out. This was the day he had dreaded and now that it was here, he was on autopilot. When it was over, he could work to put it all behind him. That’s what he kept telling himself anyway. But he knew that it wasn’t quite that easy. A person couldn’t leave this world without creating a ripple of hurt in their wake. And those left behind always got stuck with the difficult task of picking up the pieces.

  It all moved faster than Nash expected, wrapping up in under a half hour. Each person took their turn placing a flower from the bucket on her casket, until there was a mountain of them that Nash knew Gretta would be proud of. “See, told ya everyone loves me,” he imagined she would say, and smiled.

  She would be right.

  Once all of the flowers were spoken for, Nash stood with Vivian at his side and accepted condolences from the entire town, nodding and smiling and accepting hugs and shaking hands at all the
appropriate times, but hell if he knew what any of them had said. Some variation of the same “I’m sorry for your loss” probably.

  Then it was time to go home, and if it was possible, Nash dreaded that more than anything else. The road back was nothing short of a caravan fit for a president, and it was all headed toward his property. A wake. It had been arranged without his knowledge by a couple of women in town who meant well but didn’t understand that he just wanted to be left alone. They’d invited everyone, not a soul left out, and he couldn’t find it in his stubborn heart to say no.

  It was a tradition and they needed a way to release that pent-up sadness just as much as he did, and they chose to do it by celebrating Ms. Gretta’s life and all those she’d touched.

  It was a nice honor for a woman who was so loved, and still was, so Nash would grin and bear it—for her. It’s what Ms. Gretta would have wanted.

  Most of those invited arrived well before Nash and Vivian, filling the front lawn from his doorstep to Ms. Gretta’s neighboring one with parked cars. A flood of bodies moved in a wave toward his front door, which because no one ever locked anything around there, was standing wide open in welcome, like a pair of arms.

  Family. As much as he tried to avoid the lot of them, that’s what this town was.

  When he finally reached the front of the line and was able to enter his own home, Vivian glued to his side as she had been since the start, he saw that his home was packed wall to wall. Everyone was mingling and chatting in small groups, with Betty, who ran the daily operations of the gas station leading into town, taking care to greet each person personally and direct them to a table that had been set up in the unofficial dining area located in a pass-through between the living room and kitchen filled with various dishes that people had brought.

  Food was a central part of a wake. And Nash knew that at the end of the day, he was going to be stuck trying to find where to put all the leftovers. There would be food for days, possibly even weeks, and it was all a thinly veiled way of the people of the town taking care of him, making sure that in his grief, he wouldn’t miss a meal.

  It honestly warmed his heart.

  “Wow,” Vivian breathed, “this is some turnout.”

  “There you are!” Betty gushed as she made her way over. Her thick arms opened wide, well before she reached them, and Nash forced a smile as he walked into her embrace. “How are you, sweetheart?” she asked as she crushed him to her ample bosom and patted his back harshly.

  “As good as can be expected.”

  “Oh, baby, I know. She will be so missed.”

  For some reason, the hug and the kind words made Nash get choked up. So far, he had managed to stamp it all down and avoid crying, but now the damn felt fit to burst, and he couldn’t understand why.

  Vivian’s warm, comforting hand touched his back to remind him she was still there. As if he could ever forget. Wherever she was, he seemed to have an innate sense, able to pinpoint her without error. He was attuned to her, and if that didn’t say love, he didn’t know what would.

  Except when he turned toward her, he was shocked by her green-around-the-gills pallor.

  “What’s wrong, darlin’?”

  “I don’t feel well—”

  She didn’t get out any more than that before Nash and Betty were shoving her off toward the staircase leading to the second floor. “You need to lie down,” he declared.

  “Poor girl is under too much stress,” Betty surmised. “All these people. They’re overwhelmin’. I know just how that is, sweet girl. I used to be scared of crowds too. It’ll pass. Trust me, around here, once you get ta know all us crazy folk, this sorta thing’ll be nothin’.”

  Nash found himself rolling his eyes. While he appreciated the concern and willingness to help, Betty was as overwhelming in her mothering as the whole of the town milling around downstairs in his living room.

  “Ya know what, Betty, we have so many guests that could use your hospitality right now. Why don’t you go ahead and take care of things down there. I can handle this.”

  She paused at the top of the steps, her face a comical mask of shock and insecurity. “Are ya sure? I don’t mind helpin’.”

  “I’m sure. Vivian here’s in good hands.”

  Betty’s face warmed. “They are good hands,” she praised. “All right, you two. You go on and get your girl into bed—” She cut herself off, her cheeks flushing scarlet. “I-um-you know what I mean. Get along now. I’ll make sure everyone is happy down there and see them off shortly.”

  “Thanks, Betty. I appreciate all you’re doin’.” Nash ushered Vivian to the back room where they’d taken to sleeping together before the woman changed her mind. Once inside, he settled Vivian in under the mess of blankets before closing the door and flicking the lock so they wouldn’t be interrupted.

  Even though the room was the smallest of three, it was comfy, and he was beginning to think of it as theirs. He didn’t need anything big or fancy to be happy, as long as she was at his side.

  “How ya feelin’?” he asked, keeping his voice low as he crossed the room and climbed into bed facing her. He traced her pallid cheek that was slowly regaining color now that she was lying down.

  “Better, but still kinda crappy.” She forced a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes, which said all that needed to be said.

  “You’re comin’ down with somethin’.” Must be the weather. Every winter, the colds came and people bought out the market of cough solutions to try and beat it back. Vivian had been sick off and on for days, but so far, she was fighting it off. He was hoping it passed this time too.

  “Seems like it,” she agreed, and shifted to try and get comfortable. “I hate getting sick.”

  “It’s never easy. But you got me here. I’ll take care of ya. Anything you need, just let me know and I’ll fetch it.”

  “Will I get a little gold bell and everything?”

  He thought of how it might be to be at her beck and call, with a little bell for her to beckon him anytime she wanted, and laughed because he knew she would abuse that privilege like nobody’s business just for the fun of it. “Of course, darlin’. I’ll happily be your servant for as long as you need.”

  “And after?” she asked with suspicion.

  “And after, you’ll serve me,” he said merrily. “I’m all about balance.”

  She poked him in the side and grew quiet once more. Nash held her hand between them on the bed as they gazed into each other’s eyes, listening to the muffled chatter that filtered up through the floors. He would rather be here in bed with her than down there with all of them.

  “I’m sorry I took you away from your friends. You don’t have to babysit me.”

  And that’s why he loved her too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m in here for purely selfish reasons.”

  “Oh yes, I forgot how antisocial you are.” She rolled her eyes.

  “I don’t like people, true. And now I have more in my home than I can count.”

  “Frightening.” She mock shivered. It was nice to see that she was making a recovery, the color now fully returned to her face. “It’s nice to see how much they all care though.”

  “Yes, it is. They’re family.”

  “Love ‘em or hate ‘em, right?”

  “Exactly,” Nash agreed.

  “They can be a little in your face, but everyone is so nice. I don’t think I’ve run into anyone I don’t like yet.”

  “Give it time.”

  “You’re terrible!”

  “That’s what they tell me.”

  They settled in together, lying in bed until the house grew quiet and the sun went down. Which, in the winter, didn’t take all that long. There was a subtle knock on the bedroom door, and Nash roused from a nap he hadn’t realized he’d taken. Beside him, Vivian was sound asleep too.

  Carefully, he extracted himself from bed and opened the door.

  “Everyone’s left, dear,” Betty said softly,
knowing that Vivian needed her rest. “I’ll see myself out. I just wanted you to know that I put all the perishables in the fridge or freezer and tidied up a bit so y’all don’t have to worry about it.”

  “Thank you, Betty. I appreciate it.” Nash felt bad that he didn’t have anything more to offer than a repeat of the same, but it held true regardless.

  “Oh, you don’t have to thank me, dear. I—”

  “Excuse me!”

  Nash and Betty were both shoved out of the way as Vivian rushed past and into the bathroom, the door slamming closed behind her.

  They looked after her, bewildered.

  “What in the world was that all about?” he wondered aloud.

  “Poor thing is sick as a dog.” Betty shook her head. “Better get that girl to the doctor before it gets any worse. And drink some orange juice,” she advised. “Always keeps the germies from stickin’. That’s why I’m healthy as a horse.”

  “Okay, I’ll do that. Thanks again, Betty.”

  “You’re more than welcome, dear.” She turned and started for the stairs. “Lemme know if y’all need anythin’.”

  Nash saluted her and listened to her shuffle her way to the front door and out, the sound of her car fading in the distance while he posted himself in the bedroom doorway, waiting for Vivian to emerge from the bathroom.

  When she finally did, she looked like she’d taken a trip through hell. Her blonde hair was darkened by sweat around her forehead and her mascara was smudged from watery eyes. Her nose was plum red, and she wiped it with a balled-up clump of toilet paper.

  “Kill me,” she uttered as soon as she saw him.

  Pity overcame him. He didn’t like seeing his woman miserable. “Come on, darlin’.” He looped his arm around her and started guiding her toward the steps.

  “Where are we going? I don’t want to go out anymore today. I just want to lie down and never wake up,” she whined.