A Cowboy for Keeps

by Laura Drake

  “No big deal. I stay up two days straight during calving.”

  When I glance around, yesterday crashes in. “Oh, man.”

  “Yeah. A new day.” He lays his big, blunt-fingered hand over mine. His eyes are serious, sympathetic, and sad. “Will you let me help you through it? There’ll be a lot to do and—what? What is it?”

  “You’re being so nice. But you know I don’t deserve it.” The grief wakes with a wail that I bite my lips to hold in.

  “What? Why would you—”

  “It’s my fault. If I’d listened to you. Taken your loan. Let Fish put the new roof on.” It’s not easy to raise my gaze to his, but I have no right to whine. Ever again. “Because of my stupid pride, my mother was in danger. She could have been killed. They all could have.” I look to where Sawyer lies, sleeping like a precious cherub.

  “Oh, hon.” His arms come around me again, and I bury my face in his shirt and sob. “Oh, baby, don’t do that. Please don’t.” He backs up a bit, and his fingers lift my chin so I have no choice but to look at him. “I listened to the news all the way here. Six houses were wiped out; there’s nothing left. It was a tornado.”

  I try to turn my head, but his grip is firm.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “But a new roof would have—”

  “You could have had a steel roof and it wouldn’t have mattered.” He shakes his head. “Houses can be replaced. I’m just damned grateful that you are all alive.” He lets go of my chin and pulls me into his chest. “You cry all you want. But don’t you blame yourself.”

  I don’t know if he’s right or not. But for now I’m taking the pardon he offers. Because I’m not going to make it through the next few days without it. “Thank you, Reese.” I sit listening to the strong thump of his heart under my ear. “Thank you so much for getting here so fast.”

  Sawyer twists in his arms and wakes. “Baba.” Two quick inhales. “Baaaaaabaaaaa.” In her muffled cry, she tells him exactly how her day has gone.

  Chapter 16

  Reese

  A few hours later, Lorelei, Sawyer, and I are eating boxed breakfasts distributed by the Boy Scouts when Carly Beauchamp appears in the doorway of the clinic, searching faces with a crazed look. I point with the spoon I’m using to feed Sawyer. “Carly’s here.”

  Lorelei waves, and when Carly sees her, she barrels across the floor and launches herself into Lorelei’s arms. “Oh my God. I just heard. Oh, hon, I’m so sorry.” The rest is buried in Lorelei’s hair, and when they untangle, they’re both crying.

  “Baba.” Sawyer smacks my arm, eyeing the spoon of scrambled eggs I’m holding.

  “Oh, sorry, Peanut.”

  “I dropped my phone and broke it, and Austin has his with him, trying to gather the stock, and oh God, what a mess.” Carly sits in the chair beside Lorelei. “I’m so glad you came for them, Reese.”

  “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

  “How’s your Momma?”

  “She’s got a sprained wrist and scratches. I think they only kept her because she was so distraught.”

  Carly surveys Lorelei’s foot and the crutches propped on the wall next to her. Her eyebrows go up. “And you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine.” She sets the Styrofoam container on the floor.

  I jump in. “Everyone here is full of stories, Carly, but other than what they witnessed, it’s all rumors. What did you see on the way in?”

  Lorelei’s brows go up. “Are y’all okay? Nana and Papaw? Nevada and Fish? The café?”

  Carly sweeps her thick red hair behind her ear. “We’re fine. We may need a new roof…” She shoots a rueful look at Lorelei.

  “It’s okay. You can say the word around me.”

  “Papaw’s still is gone. Literally. But they’re fine, and so’s their house. I haven’t been able to get hold of Nevada. The coverage is spotty out there. But one of Austin’s hands lives out that way and told us they’re okay, too.”

  Sawyer has finished her eggs and half of mine. Where does she put it?

  “The café is a mess.”

  “What?” Lorelei grabs her hand.

  “No, it’s going to be okay. But we’re going to be closed for a week or so for repairs. One of the trees from the square came down, and half of it is in the dining room.”

  “Oh, no,” I say.

  Carly waves a hand. “We’re insured—don’t worry. No one is going to miss a paycheck. But listen…” She lowers her voice and darts a look around. “We lost five townspeople to the storm. Everyone’s in shock. They’re talking about a combined memorial service for all the victims.”

  Emotions flash across Lorelei’s face. Too many, too fast to catch them all. But the last one smooths the lines between her brows. “I think that’s a great idea.”

  “We just thought, you know, if we could all grieve together, it might help.”

  Lorelei turns to me. “Will you stay?”

  “Of course. I’m here as long as you need me. I’ll just get us a room—”

  “You most certainly will not.” Carly’s tone cuts through mine. “You are not taking a baby to that nasty fleabag. Not when the Davis Hotel’s door is open.” She nods to herself, as if it’s settled.

  Lorelei frowns. “You’re sweet, Carly, but we’re not putting you out. You have two babies and—”

  “And they’ll love having Sawyer to play with. Come on, you know how big the homestead house is. You’re welcome as long as you want to stay. Your momma, too.”

  “Mrs. Wheelwright already said she’s taking Momma home with her. But her house only has two bedrooms.”

  Lorelei looks to me, as if unsure. It’s clear the past day has done more than rocked her foundations; they’ve fallen out from under her. I want to step in and make decisions, but I know when she gets her feet back under her, she won’t thank me for that—she needs more. She needs to know she can trust herself. And if I can help her with that, maybe she’ll come to trust me.

  I slip my arm around her shoulders and squeeze. “You do whatever you think is best, hon. I’ll get myself a room.”

  “Not. Happening,” Carly says. “Did you think I didn’t mean you, too? But don’t think I’m doing you a favor. Austin will probably put you to work.”

  I give Carly a grateful smile. “Thank you. This means a lot to me.”

  Lorelei grants me a tentative smile. “That’s good.”

  “You two do what you need to do. Peanut and I have inspectors to call, clothes to buy…Oh, that reminds me.” I pull a small notebook and pen from my back pocket. “Write down your sizes.”

  Lorelei blushes. “Oh, I’m fine.”

  “You can’t get into your house for days, at least. What are you going to wear?”

  Carly raises a brow. “Lorelei. Cardinal rule. Never discourage a man who wants to spend money on you.”

  “Okay.” But her mouth turns down and her head drops. “We’re going to need something for the memorial.” She scribbles on the notebook and hands it back to me.

  “Done.”

  “Wait. I need to write down stuff for Sawyer.”

  “Nah.” I swing Sawyer up into my arms. “She’ll help me pick everything out. We’ll be good.”

  Carly looks at Lorelei. “Are you done eating? Can you go now? Austin has the kids, but he needs to get back to work.”

  Lorelei nods. “I just need to check in on Momma and let them know where we’ll be.” She holds her arms out for Sawyer.

  I hand her over. They touch foreheads, Lorelei whispering the whole time. Then she kisses her cheek and hands her back. “She screamed when anyone but me came close yesterday, but she’s fine with you.”

  I hold out my thumb, and Sawyer curls her hand around it. “That’s because I’m her Baba. Right, Peanut?”

  “Baba.” She pats my chest.

  In spite of everything, I can’t help my grin. God, I love this kid. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

  “You don’t have a car seat.�
� Carly roots around in her bag and pulls out her keys. “Take mine out of my car. We’ve got extra at home. We’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

  “Thanks, Carly. I’ll pick up another when we’re out shopping today.” I stand.

  “Wait.” Lorelei puts a hand on my arm, pulls me down, and kisses my cheek. “Thank you.” She looks hard into my eyes to underscore her words, then lets me go.

  “I’ll be in touch.” I make myself turn away and walk out. I know she’s putting her trust in me. I only hope I can be deserving of it.

  Hope fires in my chest, and a vow forms in my mind: I’ll never betray you.

  * * *

  Lorelei

  I say goodbye to Momma and Sarah. On the way out, I catch a crutch on the lintel and would have gone down if Carly hadn’t caught my arm.

  “I’m taking you home and putting you to bed. You’ve done enough for one day.”

  “I wish I could argue, but I’m wiped.”

  She leads me to her mommymobile, staying close. “Lorelei, why do you feel guilty?”

  I jerk to a stop. “How did you know?”

  “You apologized to Sarah.” She unlocks my door and helps me in, puts my crutches in the back seat, then stands, arm on the door, waiting for an answer.

  “Because I am guilty. If I’d allowed the new roof to be put on…Don’t look at me like that. Reese already lectured me.”

  “Well, good on him. I’m liking this guy more all the time.”

  “But how do you get something you know here”—I point to my head—“to your heart? I can’t seem to do it.”

  She pats my hand. “It’ll come, hon. I had to learn to forgive myself, too, remember? But look at me now. Happily married and two sweet babies.” She takes the seat belt from me and snaps it in place. “You’re not responsible for everything, you know. God had the biggest hand in this.”

  “I know that’s right. But still…”

  “Give it time, Lorelei. Just try to let it go for now.”

  I chew on that while she walks around the car and climbs in. “I don’t know how to do that.”

  “I know you don’t.” She puts the key in and starts the engine. “But maybe it’s time you learned, huh?”

  I stare out the windshield all the way to her house, testing the idea. Trying to figure out who I would be if I weren’t taking care of everything.

  We pull into her muddy drive and bump our way through the ruts to the house. She puts it in park and pulls the key. “Now, hand me your phone.”

  I pull it from my bra.

  “Classy, West, classy.”

  “Hey, if I’d tried to bring my purse, I’da drowned.”

  She looks up a number and hits speed dial. “Reese? Where are you? Oh. Just wanted to let you know we’re at my house now.” She recites her address. “Yeah, I’m putting her to bed. We’ll see you when you get here.”

  I feel like a zombie, only my brain doesn’t work as well. Carly leads me through the living room, kitchen, and down a hallway, to the first door. “I doubt you’re going to want to wear my underwear, but I’ll bring you down a top and some shorts so you can get out of those clothes.” She tucks me in, fully dressed, in an old iron bedstead draped with a Navajo blanket.

  My head hits the pillow, and I’m gone.

  * * *

  The bed dips and squeals, waking me.

  Reese is sitting on the edge with a tender smile. He reaches to tuck hair behind my ear. “You look like a little girl when you sleep.”

  I rub my eyes. “What time is it?”

  “Seven. I came to get you for dinner.”

  I jolt upright, then groan when my muscles make me pay. “I can’t believe I slept most of the day away. Where’s Sawyer?” I hate the fear in my voice. “I don’t mean you wouldn’t take care—”

  “Shhhh.” He touches my arm. “After what you’ve been through, you’re allowed to be worried. But she and I had a great time shopping.”

  I notice a zipper bag hanging from the closet door, with an expensive store name on it. An Albuquerque store. More bags are piled on the dresser. “I’ll pay you back for all—”

  He puts a finger over my lips. “We’ll talk about that later. You don’t have to think about it now.”

  I want to argue, but sometime in my sleep, I decided to take Carly’s advice and just let things go—as much as I’m able—for now.

  He’s looking at my mouth. A flush surges from the juncture of my thighs, rising to my face. His finger traces my cheek.

  I lean into his touch, wanting to lose myself in a soft emotion far from the brutal ones of the past thirty-six hours. To take the comfort he offers and relax safe in his arms. The yellow light of the lamp on the dresser falls on his stubbled cheek, doing little to cover the strong bones beneath. I trace the scar running from his eyebrow to his hairline.

  He closes his eyes, and a muscle jumps in his jaw.

  “You know loss, too.”

  “Yes.” He opens his eyes, and I see a deep well of suffering in them.

  Like to like; the pain in my chest pulls me to his. We meet in the middle in a bittersweet kiss. Something in my chest turns over, releasing a rush of tenderness.

  It’s been so long since I’ve let myself feel that.

  His hand comes up under my hair, and he turns my head to deepen the kiss.

  My almost-fiancé was a raging fire—a flash of burning heat that consumed us both. Here, then gone. Reese is more like a campfire, flickering in a hypnotic dance that you can’t turn away from. The warmth of that fire spreads from my chest. I want more.

  “Hey, you two. Dinner’s—”

  We spring apart like two teens caught by the porch light.

  “Never mind.” Carly stands in the doorway, arms crossed, with a knowing grin.

  “We’re coming,” Reese says in a slow, sexy voice, not looking away from me.

  Carly walks down the hall.

  He’s not embarrassed at all. I, on the other hand, feel like my face is going to spontaneously combust.

  I finger comb my hair and try to get a grip. Letting go a bit is one thing. A few more minutes and I’d have been danged close to shedding clothes. And that shakes me to my core. I don’t do that.

  “Let’s go.” Reese stands, then bends and scoops me up.

  “Stop! I have crutches.”

  He smiles down at me. “I like this better.”

  God, I’ve got to weigh a ton. I need a shower. I need a toothbrush. I need some morals.

  I make an effort to weigh less as he carries me through the hall and through the kitchen to the dining room, where he sets me on a chair.

  On the table is a platter of beef empanadas, refried beans, and Mexican rice.

  Austin is at the head, Faith in a high chair next to him. Carly is at the other end, with baby Austin in her lap. Reese sits next to Austin, and Sawyer is in a high chair between us. She’s clean and a wearing pink onesie that reads Step aside, Barbie, there’s a new doll in town.

  “Cute shirt, baby girl.” I kiss the top of her head. “Missed you today.” My stomach growls, protesting no lunch. “Wow, what a spread, guys. You didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

  “We didn’t. Reese cooked.” Austin spears three empanadas onto his plate and passes the platter.

  I turn to Reese. “I knew you could throw a steak on a grill, but this is real cooking. Seriously?”

  He passes me the dish. “Wait ’til you see my flan for dessert.”

  I close my hanging jaw, spoon out a helping of empanadas, and pass the plate to Carly.

  “Hey, no stereotypes around here.” Austin passes the rice. “I mean, look at my beautiful wife. We both thought she was country-girl-homecoming-queen for years.” The look he gives Carly holds a smoking, toe-curling, just-you-wait challenge. “We both discovered she was a lot more’n that.”

  “Yeah, and you’re more than a thick-skulled rough stock rider—turns out, you’re a heck of a businessman.” Her smile looks like she took h
is challenge and raised him one.

  How great would it be to have a relationship like that? How much simpler would life be as part of a pair? “This is wonderful. Where’d you learn to cook?”

  “It’s a secret recipe of Nora, our housekeeper when I was growing up. Since I didn’t do 4H or rodeo, I had lots of time on my hands. I kind of gravitated to the kitchen.”

  I hear what he didn’t say, that he was missing his mother. I’m so glad he at least had a woman in the house. “She taught you well. This is amazing. I apologize for sounding shocked.”

  “It’s become kind of a hobby, but I hate cooking for just myself, so I’m glad when I get the opportunity.”

  By the time we’re done with dessert (his amazing, authentic flan) and are drinking coffee, all three babies are nodding off and I’m not far behind. “Carly, Austin. Have I told you how much I appreciate you having us stay? It’s like by being in an unfamiliar place, my brain doesn’t keep going back to the horror of yesterday. And that means more to me than you know.”

  “The pleasure is ours,” Austin says.

  “The kids are having a blast together, and I’m loving it.” Carly sips coffee.

  “Well, I’ll take my turn babysitting tomorrow. It’ll be nice to hang with the kids and relax.”

  “If you see corralling three little ones as relaxing, I’ll take you up on it.”

  “But for now,” Reese says, wiping his mouth with his napkin, then standing, “I’m putting you to bed.”

  When he lifts me out of the chair and his cologne fills my head, I decide I love this mode of transportation.

  He turns at the door. “I’ll be back for Sawyer, and then I’ll clear the table.”

  Carly hops up. “You most certainly will not. And we’ll put Sawyer to bed with our crew.”

  Austin lifts Faith’s head from the high chair tray. “You cooked, Reese. I’m on the dishes.” He unclips the tray and sets it aside.

  “Thanks.” He carries me through the kitchen and down the hall.

  I feel useless, but just for tonight, I’m not going to let it bother me. “Wait.” I catch the doorjamb of the bathroom on the way by. “I need to make a pit stop.”