A Cowboy for Keeps

by Laura Drake

  “Sure thing.” He turns in and sets me down so my butt is resting against the sink. “I bought you stuff I thought you’d need.”

  Toothbrush, toothpaste, a brush, and hair tiebacks sit on the counter. “You thought of everything. Thank you.” I glance at the shower stall and sigh. “I’d kill for a shower, but the doctor said I have to keep my foot dry until he takes the stitches out.”

  He pulls open cabinets behind the door until he finds a towel and puts it on the sink. “You can wash up in the sink, anyway. You need help?”

  His lecherous eyebrow waggle makes me smile. “No, thanks. I’ve got this.” I push him toward the door. “Oh, Carly left me some clothes in the room. Could you get them for me?”

  “Sure. I’ll be close, in case you need me.” He takes a step out of the door and closes it behind him. In a few seconds he knocks, opens the door a crack, hands me a small stack of clothes, and ducks back out.

  I clean up in the sink, dry off, and look at what Carly left me to wear. A pair of jean cutoffs that are a bit big in the hips, but I don’t care. It’s so good to get out of my filthy jeans. I hold up the top. Lavender cabbage roses on almost sheer material. With ruffles. I pull it over my head and realize the V plunges to my cleavage. I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth, but if she did this with Reese in mind, she and I are going to have a talk. I yank the material together, but there’s no buttons to hold it closed. Holy yikes.

  I look in the mirror and decide I can’t stand to be clean with greasy hair.

  But bending over a sink on one foot is harder than I expected. Halfway through, my leg muscles are shaking and I’m out of steam. It’s embarrassing, but I can’t stand here dripping shampoo all over Carly’s bathroom. “Reese?”

  “You decent?” his voice calls through the door.

  “That’s debatable, but can you help me?”

  “Sure. What do you need?” He opens the door.

  “I’m too tired to…” My leg gives up, and I start sliding sideways. “Eep.”

  He’s there, lifting me so I’m sitting on the counter. “Okay, can you lean over? I’ll rinse your hair out.”

  I try, but my sore muscles scream.

  He must see my wince. “Okay, I have an idea.” He lifts me off the sink and sits me on the edge of the tub. “If you can kneel, we can do this in the tub.”

  “I guess yesterday took more out of me than I thought.” I shift to kneeling, grasping the side of the tub and hanging my head over.

  “Don’t apologize. You have limits, same as anyone.” He turns the faucets until he’s happy with the temperature. “Don’t you ever give yourself a break?”

  I lean on my elbows, not sure how to answer. When you live on the edge of want, you don’t take breaks. Breaks cost—not only monetarily; responsibilities are heavier after you put them down. It’s easier to just keep moving forward. But if I say any of that, I sound like a whiner, so I focus on enjoying the luxury of him massaging my scalp.

  His fingers are strong and sure and…sensual. And I like it.

  When his fingers slow and shift to a caress, I know I’m not the only one. He combs through the sensitive hair at my nape, and I shiver.

  He puts a cup under the flow and spills it over my hair. His fingers follow, combing the soap out. I let myself enjoy it, since he doesn’t know what it’s doing to me. Too soon, he squeezes out the water, turns off the tap, and hands me a towel.

  “Thank you. I feel so much better clean.” I twist the towel around my hair and grab the brush to take with me to the bedroom.

  He helps me stand. “It was my pleasure.” When he straightens, the intensity of his gaze tells me he means it. When I needed him, Reese came. Does that mean he’s actually a man I could trust? Really let down my walls and trust that he won’t hurt me? But he’s also the one who suggested a merger, so…

  “And can I just say, I approve of Carly’s choice of clothes.”

  I look down, and my face heats. I jerk the edges of the blouse closed again.

  But his eyes are teasing, so I decide not to worry about it. It feels almost natural to slip my arm around his neck when he scoops me up. I lay my head on his shoulder, tuck my nose into his neck, and sniff. His cologne mainlines to my brain. Pheromones. I think that’s what they call it. Whatever it is, it relaxes my muscles. And my defenses. God, I’d love to spend some time tasting that spot behind his ear…

  He carries me across the hall and sits me on the bed like I’m made of glass.

  I remember the last time I saw him. I was so angry after his “business proposal.” But I know now I wasn’t wrong to hope his feelings for me are genuine—that he doesn’t just want Sawyer. Maybe there is someone for me, and he’s sitting close enough to touch. A thrill shivers down my body and goose bumps rise on my arms.

  “Are you cold?” He reaches for the blanket at the foot of the bed.

  I grab his lapels, pull him close, and catch his lips. He lets out a soft, sexy moan. The towel on my hair unravels and falls, and I don’t care. His arms are holding me close. Safe—another emotion I haven’t felt in forever. Desire hits me like a mule’s kick. I want more. I’m frantic for more. I’m chasing his tongue, stroking it, running my nails down his back. I need this. I need him. I tug at his shirt, pulling out the tails, not wanting to take time to unbutton it.

  He lightens the kiss and his lips are gone. I open my eyes to his wince.

  “Lorelei. I want this. You’ve gotta know I want this. But—”

  “Never mind.” I back up, embarrassment spreading through me like hot oil. “I’m sorry.”

  He takes my upper arms and gives me a tender smile. “Again with the sorry. You’re grieving. You’re exhausted. This is a natural reaction to the hell you’ve been through.” He rubs his hands up and down my arms. “It would be wrong for me to take advantage of that, much as I’m going to lie in bed tonight and hate myself for not.”

  God, let me die now. I’m staring at my hands in my lap, wishing I’d pass out or something.

  “Hey.” He lifts my chin. “When we make love, I need to know it’s because you want me, not because you need sex. Know what I mean?”

  Oh, I know too well. Wanting to be wanted for who you are. Wanting a man who, out of all the women on the planet, points to you and says, Her. She’s the one I don’t want to live without. And he hasn’t said that. I turn my head. “Of course. No problem.”

  He leans close so his face is level with mine. “I can’t wait for that time. Our time.” He kisses my forehead. “For now, you get some sleep.”

  At the door, he turns back, and something about his focused look makes me think he’s wavering…then he’s gone.

  I lie there, thinking about the house and touching my memories like precious stones. Patsy, head back, laughing at the dinner table. Mrs. Wheelwright smiling, working a jigsaw puzzle. Momma looking up from her TV show when I walk in and remembering it’s me.

  A realization blooms in my mind, and I curl into a ball. Patsy’s clothes. Her note. They were on the top shelf of my closet. The closet that doesn’t exist anymore.

  I want to thank God and curse him at the same time. The tornado exploded my life, taking what was left of Patsy, right along with our house.

  The question is, what new life will I build with the pieces? What will it look like?

  I fall asleep smelling Reese’s cologne on my skin and I dream of a knight riding up on a white horse. I reach for him, and he leans down to take a baby from my arms.

  Chapter 17

  Lorelei

  Dawn, two days later, brings the day we’ve all dreaded. The day of the memorial. Reese drives us in his truck. He looks like he stepped out of GQ, in a black Western-cut suit and new dress boots. His black Stetson sits in my lap.

  I’m wearing what he picked out for me: a short-sleeved black knit dress, the hem just below my knees. It fits perfectly and probably cost more than I make in a month. The shoes are black peep-toe satin with low steady heels. Heel. I can on
ly wear one.

  Sawyer is in the baby seat he bought and installed in the back. She’s in a pretty pink dress. He said he tried for somber, but no one sells black baby clothes. I’m glad. She’ll be a spot of happy color on this sad day. “Did I thank you for all you’ve done for us?”

  I see half his smile in profile. “Only about twenty-two times.”

  “Baba.” Sawyer waves her arms.

  He checks her in the rearview mirror. “I’m here, baby girl.”

  “Stop flirting with your uncle.” I’m convinced Sawyer likes him more than me. I’m good for food, diapers, and comfort, but Reese is her magic man, tossing her in the air and entertaining her for hours at a time. He never seems to tire of playing with her on the floor or reading her favorite book, complete with character voices. It stings, but not as much as it used to. She’s had so much taken away, I don’t have the heart to deny her.

  It’s a quiet drive across town to the First Baptist Church.

  Reese keeps his eyes on the road, but I see the tension in his arms, his big hands tight on the wheel. “I know I have horrible timing, but I wanted to ask you something, and there won’t be time the rest of the day.”

  “What is it?”

  “The café is going to be closed at least a week. They won’t let you into your house. My cabin doesn’t have plumbing, much less air-conditioning, and if you’ve ever stayed at the motel, you’d know it’s not fit for a baby.” He takes a deep breath. “Will you come to Texas and stay with me?”

  I’m too surprised to answer. I hadn’t thought past getting through today.

  “I’m getting to know where you grew up. I’d like to show you where I did. Someday, when I’m gone, all that will be Sawyer’s.”

  I hold in a sigh. I’d love to go with them, but wanting never got me anything. “Why don’t you take Sawyer for a few days and go home?”

  His head whips around. “What? No. I want you to come. Both of you.” He reaches for my hand, but I pull it into my lap. “Lorelei, I suck at saying things right. But please, listen with your heart. You’ll understand what I mean.”

  Do I dare trust my heart? The last pair of handsome brown eyes trampled me and left me broken in the road on the way to what he wanted. When Reese’s gaze catches mine, I can’t help but see in their chocolate depths that he does want me to come. Me.

  I haven’t been farther than Albuquerque in a decade.

  “Please?”

  A change of scene would be good—getting away from the heaviness of this place. Maybe that way I’d be able to remember happy times again.

  And maybe by seeing the place that shaped him, I’ll understand him better—to know if I can trust him. Much as I don’t want to admit it, I’m physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. “All right, we’ll go. Thank you.”

  His heavy exhale tells me he’s been holding his breath. “No. Thank you.”

  * * *

  Reese

  I sit beside Lorelei in the front pew of the packed First Baptist Church. Carly convinced Lorelei to let Sawyer spend the service in the nursery with the other little ones. I left her with her favorite toy, the stuffed goat I got her the day I met her. I hope she’s not crying, but I can’t be two places at once, and right now Lorelei needs me more.

  Lorelei’s mother isn’t here. Sarah was afraid it would upset Mary, reminding her of her husband’s funeral.

  This isn’t a traditional service. With the exception of a benediction by the minister, it’s been just people talking, telling memories about their friends and neighbors who were lost. Many stories are funny, all are plainspoken and heartfelt, and there is laughter mixed with tears.

  People really know each other here. They don’t pretend to be perfect or anything but what they are: hardworking small-town folk who care about one another. There’s a lot more to this ragtag little town than appears on the surface. Lorelei is lucky to have grown up here.

  After an hour, the minister breaks in. “Folks, this is wonderful, and I know many others are waiting to talk, but might I suggest after a closing hymn we adjourn to the reception hall? It’s past noon, and there will be food and fellowship there.”

  Those waiting in line shuffle back to their pews.

  “Please turn to number one hundred twenty-three in your hymnals.”

  I turn to the page and smile. Our churchgoing trailed off after my mother died, but even I know “How Great Thou Art.” The congregation’s voice soars to the high vaulted ceiling, seeming to magically bind us together. Lorelei sings in a halting alto that gets wobbly toward the end. I put my arm around her and hand her a tissue. She leans into me for a moment before straightening. I’m so alert for signs of her feelings, I hold the small gesture to my heart.

  Yes, she wanted sex the other night. I want her to want more than sex; I want her to want it with me. If that means walking around randy as a young buck until she’s sure, I will.

  The song trails off, and after apologizing to God for thinking about balls in church, I stand and help Lorelei to the elevator. It takes a long time, because almost everyone stops to ask about her foot, to ask after her mother, Sawyer, or the house.

  When we’ve made it only halfway down the aisle, Lorelei’s face is rigid and she’s so pale, I can trace a blue vein at her jawline. “I’m sorry, y’all. I don’t mean to cut you off, but I need to get Lorelei to where she can sit. Could you excuse us, please?”

  The crowd parts, and we make our way to the elevator. I feel their stares crawling across my back like curious ants, looking for a way in.

  When the elevator doors close, Lorelei leans against the wall and sighs. “Thank you. I don’t know how much longer I could have stood there.”

  “Why didn’t you excuse yourself? Everyone would have understood.”

  Her eyes slide closed. “Because that’s what I do.”

  “Well, I’m your guard dog for the rest of the day. You’ve been through a lot, and your reserves are about gone.”

  “I knew giving you permission to help was going to make you bossy.” Her eyes are still closed, but her mouth has a shade of a smile.

  I drop a quick kiss on her lips before the door slides open. “I serve at your pleasure, miss.” I bow a bit.

  “Like I believe that,” she mutters as she clumps by.

  But her voice has a humorous lilt that sends hope fizzing through the tight parts of my chest.

  * * *

  The next day the sun’s reflection is a blinding laser in the rearview mirror. I turn it so I can check on Peanut, in the back seat. She’s napping. We left Unforgiven before dawn, and it’s been a long drive. But I’ve enjoyed every minute. I was worried Lorelei would change her mind when I took her to visit her mother, but both Sarah and her mother insisted she go.

  Twelve hours with Lorelei in an enclosed space has made me realize how odd it is to see her stationary. She’s always in motion—working, taking care of people and things. It’s like when you spot a hummingbird resting on a branch. It’s a rare and precious thing.

  I’ve also found ways we’re different. She likes crunchy, salty road snacks—I like chocolate. She’s picky about soda fountain drinks (says the machines very seldom get cleaned) and gas station restrooms, so she changes Sawyer in the car. I prefer back roads; she likes freeways.

  We’ve also learned how we’re alike when it comes to the big stuff. The importance of education and a teacher who recognizes how each child learns best. That character is who you are when no one is looking and that best friends who marry have the best chance of staying married. We discussed these things in general, not specifically about us or our little family. “Only two hours and we’ll be there.”

  She turns to the back seat. “Hear that, Sawyer? We’re almost th—she’s asleep.”

  “She’s been so good.”

  Lorelei turns to watch the grassland rolling by the window. “It’s much flatter here, and there’s more grass and trees. You must get more rain than—” Her phone rings, and she fro
wns at the screen. “The insurance company.” She swipes the screen. “Hello? Yes, Lester, what have you found out?”

  The next two minutes is mostly yes and uh-huh until she hangs up.

  “What’s the verdict?”

  “Good news and bad news.” She sighs. “The house is fixable, and the repairs will be covered under our policy. But we can’t live in it until they’re almost done, due to mold remediation. It could be six months before we can go home.”

  She sounds like a street orphan.

  “Einstein is a total loss. And because he’s old, the payout won’t be enough to buy a replacement, unless it’s older.”

  Of course. She wouldn’t have spent extra for a replacement policy. I want to jump in and offer to help, but I know how she’ll react. All the ground we’ve gained today will be lost. “Hey, you’re on vacation, remember? All that will wait until you get home.”

  I hate her worried frown.

  “You want to stop in Langtry? You can see Judge Roy Bean’s bar and we can grab something to eat.”

  “If it’s okay with you, I’d rather just keep going. I’m about done with riding.”

  The tired in her voice reminds me of what she’s been through, emotionally and physically. I reach for her hand. “You got it.”

  It’s full dark when I turn onto the long drive that leads to the house. The overhanging trees are spooky in the headlights, and Sawyer is crying in the back seat. “We’re here, baby girl. Hold on, and we’ll get you out of that thing in just a minute.”

  I pull through the iron gates, up the circular drive, and park at the front door. I’m glad I called ahead; the fountain is tinkling in the plaza and the house blazes with light.

  “Holy wow.” Lorelei’s eyes are big in the dash lights. “You didn’t tell me you lived in a Spanish palace.”

  I shut the truck down, step out, and extricate Sawyer from the car seat. She quiets in my arms. “Bo didn’t know subtle.” I look up at the second floor’s huge arched window displaying the massive crystal chandelier in the dining hall. Palazzo-style windows march down to ground level, showcasing towering rooms. “It does kinda smack the eye, huh?” I settle Sawyer straddling my hip and wait for Lorelei to get out her crutches. “Let’s go inside.”