A Cowboy for Keeps

by Laura Drake

  I close the door softly and walk to my new car: a white, almost-new Chevy Spark. I’d have gotten something way older, but Reese pointed out that with Sawyer, I needed something safe and dependable. He’s right, but it was hard to fork over more. I need a bigger cushion in my bank account than I have right now. I have to admit, though, it’s so good to get behind the wheel and not have to send up a prayer that it starts. I’ve got to think of a name for him, but my to-do list weighs more than a dentist’s lead apron.

  And the reopening of the Chestnut Creek Café after a week of repairs is going to have everyone stopping in to see the changes and catching up with one another. It’s going to be crazy.

  I’m surprised when I unlock the back door of the café to see the lights blazing. “Hello?”

  Carly comes through the swinging door from the dining area and wraps me in a big hug. “You’re finally back! Man, I’ve missed you.”

  “You have two babies at home and you’re here before dawn? What is wrong with you?” I squeeze her back. “I missed you, too.”

  “We need to get caught up, girlfriend, and once everyone shows, it’s going to get nuts.” She steps back and winks. “I want to hear all the juicy details.” She walks to the grill, grabs a half apron, and ties it on over her jeans. “I’ll make breakfast. You go get us coffee, okay?”

  God, it’s good to be home.

  I step through the door and look around. The black-and-white checkerboard tiles are the same, as are the gold scrolled letters on the door. But the booths have been recovered in shiny red leather, a white chevron stripe on each section. The bamboo roll-up window shades have been replaced with red-and-white striped canvas roman shades. “I like what you’ve done with the place,” I say through the serving window.

  “I know, nice, huh? I figured the insurance was paying, so why not?”

  I start the first pot of coffee, then scoop and stack setups for more.

  “Okay, so spill, sister.” She cracks eggs and slaps frozen hash browns on the grill.

  By the time I give her a recap of the past week’s events, breakfast is ready. She pushes open the door with her butt and sets the plates on the counter. “Holy cripes, Lorelei, that house sounds fantastical, like out of a movie.”

  “It is. Just like a movie set. In the lights, it looks perfect, but it’s really just fabric, wood, and paint with no depth.” I sit on one of the stools and pat the next, for her to sit. “It’s expensive and beautiful and cold, and oh so lonely.”

  “You feel sorry for him.” She eyes me over the rim of her coffee cup.

  “Reese is kind of like that house. On the outside, his life looks all glamorous, something to envy. But I wouldn’t trade my life here in Unforgiven for his mansion and all the trimmings. No way.” I pick up my fork and play with my scrambled eggs. “He’s so alone, Carly. His father and brother made him feel ‘less than,’ an outsider in his own family. Can you imagine?”

  “You’re in love with him.” She doesn’t say it as a question.

  I remember Reese’s sleepy admission this morning, “It’s too early for that…” I take a sip of coffee and consider. “But I really like him. You know? Oh, Carly, he’s so thoughtful and kind, and it’s like Sawyer has put color in his world. They’re mad for each other.”

  She tips her head and studies me. “And do you believe now that it isn’t just Sawyer he wants?”

  I give her a shy smile. “I’m starting to.”

  She grabs my hand. “I’m so happy for you, Lorelei. After that…dingleberry you had last time, you so deserve every happiness.”

  The lock rattles, and the back door opens. “Hey, who’s the buttwipe who parked their little marshmallow in one of our spots back here?” Nevada steps in. “Carly? What in hell are you doing here before the sun?”

  God, I’ve missed this place. I carry my half-eaten plate of food to the kitchen and set it on the counter. “Com’ere, you foulmouthed little headbanger.” When I hug her, Nevada stands, hands at sides, bearing it until I let go. “I think you just named my new car. Marshmallow.”

  “A good name.” Carly pushes through the door.

  “Okay, now that you’re both here, I have an idea.” I lean against the counter. “What do you think about a grand reopening?”

  “I think it’s a great idea. Except we open in”—Carly checks the clock over the serving window—“ten minutes.”

  “I’m thinking bigger. Every business on the square was affected by the storm, either a little or a lot.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m talking a blowout party. We decide on a day, and all the businesses on the square offer special prices to bring people downtown, then a dance that night. Whatcha think?”

  “I think you should have sex more often. You think better.” Carly nods.

  “Lorelei got laid?” Nevada takes a step, and just when I think she’s going to hug me, she puts up a fist to bump instead. “Way to go, boss.”

  My face flames, but at the same time, it’s kind of nice to be inside the relationship banter for a change.

  Carly bumps my shoulder in silent support. “We could use it as a fundraiser, too, for families who didn’t have insurance.”

  There’s a knock at the front window. Moss and Manny are standing, hands cupped around their eyes, peering in.

  “Looks like we’re back in business.” Carly pushes off the counter. “Let’s do this.”

  * * *

  The next week is the grand reopening celebration, and if the other merchants are half as busy as we’ve been, it’s a huge success. All our employees are working open to close, and even so, we can hardly keep up. Between the breakfast and lunch rush, Sassy cruises by carrying a tray loaded with dirty dishes.

  “Hold the fort for a minute, will you, Sassy? I’ve got to get some fresh air.”

  “I’ll try, Lorelei, but don’t be gone too long.”

  “I won’t.” I hold the door open for more customers, then step out.

  We couldn’t have ordered a more perfect day. The August sun is baking, but a bit of a breeze flips the edges of the sunshades that dot the town square. Under them, vendors with home-baked goods, quilts, artwork, and Native crafts are on display, and the Lions Club beer truck is doing a brisk business.

  Scars of the storm are everywhere. City maintenance chainsawed the dead trees, and the ones that are left are almost stripped of leaves. But the bandstand survived, and the high school kids draped everything in twinkle lights for the dance tonight.

  We’ve survived the railroad spur closing, I-40 being rerouted away, and Route 66 falling out of the public’s eye—it’s going to take more than a tornado to kill my hometown.

  I say hi to locals passing, then lean against the building, pull out my phone, and type.

  L: It’s a gorgeous day. Downtown is packed, and I heard we’ve already raised over 5000 for charity. This party is going to be epic. I wish you could be here.

  R: Not as much as I do. Damned negotiations are taking forever. Even if I flew out now, I couldn’t get there in time. We knew it was a long shot.

  L: Yeah, but…Sawyer says she misses you. We haven’t seen you in a week!

  R: Only Sawyer?

  L: Okay, I admit I was looking forward to dancing tonight.

  R: I’m being used. You just wanted a dance partner.

  L: And the bed is too big.

  R: See? Used. I knew it.

  L: :p

  R: Sorry, gotta go. I’ll call later, k?

  L: k.

  I slip the phone into my pocket. The old saw about absence and fond hearts is true. It’s funny; I’ve never had a man around full-time in my life, but after living with Reese for a week, I miss him like crazy. There are a million things a day that I want to tell him, to ask his opinion about. Every night after Sawyer is asleep, I sit on the patio with a jelly glass of his elderberry wine, wishing his deep rumbly voice would come out of the dark.

  I’m nervous about it, but I’ve even started imagining a future with him.
It’s distant and fuzzy-edged, but these days I’m daring to hope.

  The cabin is gaining comforts by the day. The walls are in, and the flooring should be complete when I get home tonight. Reese gave me a credit card number and free rein to buy furniture, but so far I haven’t. I’ve spent a lot of hours on the Internet, researching, but actually purchasing will cross some invisible line, and though my finger hovers, I haven’t worked up the courage to hit that button. But I want to.

  This in-between time in our relationship is equal parts impatience and indecision, fun and fear. But damn, I wish he could be here tonight.

  * * *

  Reese

  I pocket my phone and pull the door to the john.

  James Travis is washing his hands at the sink. “Don’t worry, boy. They’re tighter than a nun’s asshole, but we’ll get them to come around to our terms, you’ll see.”

  I wince at the slur that makes me want to take a swipe at his gleeful smile. My father was a hard man, but at least he had a little class—why did he pick this guy for a best friend? I’ve been researching new attorneys, but with Lorelei and Sawyer here for a week, then me there, I haven’t had time to interview any yet. “Can you finish up the meeting without me? I’ve got somewhere to be.”

  His bushy gray eyebrows rise. “You got that hot aunt stashed at home? I hear she’s a looker.”

  I jerk straight. How does he know Lorelei was here? Someone in my employ has a big mouth. “Really don’t see how that’s any of your business, and you’ll keep a civil tongue when you talk about Lorelei West.”

  He wipes his hands on a paper towel, then holds them up. “Hey, I think it’s a smart move. You can’t beat ’em, bed ’em. That’s what I always say.”

  Before I think, I’m across the room and his tie is twisted around my hand. “I warned you.”

  His fat face turns crimson, and his mouth opens. I get a close-up spider veins on his nose and cheeks, care of his other best friend—Jim Beam.

  He’s not worth it. I let go and give him a little shove away from me. “You disgust me. If you weren’t my father’s friend…”

  He’s breathing heavy, and he backs up until he’s against the wall. “You little pissant.”

  A sly look slides onto his face. “Don’t you talk to me about your father. You couldn’t carry his jockstrap.” His lips curl from his teeth, making him look like a fat raccoon caught raiding a trash can. “Your father thought you were useless; did you know that? Little whiner. He was half-afraid that after the accident you’d be batting for the other team.” He throws the paper towel toward the trash and misses.

  “I guess that West woman figures the money makes up for the lack of”—he glances to the zipper of my pants—“other things.”

  My hands fist, longing to pound that arrogant face. “You’re fired.”

  “You can’t fire me. I’ve worked for a St. James for over forty years.”

  “And as of now you don’t. You got a problem with that, call my father and take it up with him.” I turn and stalk for the door. “I’ll have my new attorney stop by and pick up every record of the St. Jameses’ business dealings.” I push the door open, and it bangs against the wall. “You make sure it’s all there.”

  I stride to the meeting room, and all heads rise when I open the door. “I’m sorry, we’re going to have to reschedule. I’ve just fired my attorney. My new attorney will be in touch.”

  Then I’m jogging down the hall and out to my truck. If I can get in the air within the half hour, I may make that party.

  Chapter 21

  Lorelei

  I’m kneeling on a booth cushion in the shadowy diner, chin on my hands, watching the couples dip and sway in pretty circles under the fairy lights in the square. Pat and the Squeaky Wheels are belting out their rendition of George Strait’s “I Just Want to Dance with You.”

  Looks like even Nevada couldn’t resist. Fish holds her like she’s made of crystal, and her love-struck expression tells me they’re both getting lucky tonight.

  I sigh.

  Something touches my leg, and I whirl.

  A three-year-old towhead is tugging on my pants leg and rubbing his eyes.

  I press a hand to my chest to hold in my banging heart. “Mason, you’re supposed to be asleep.”

  “I’m firsty.”

  I smile down at him. “Well, we can’t have that.” I stand and lift him into my arms, taking in his sleepy-kid smell. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and lays his head on my chest.

  Every babysitter within ten miles is at the dance, so I agreed to watch the little ones. There’s a dozen of them, including Sawyer and Carly’s two, sacked out on sleeping bags or in car seats on the floor. I had help when the kids were awake, but once we got them settled for bed, I shooed everyone out.

  I dance the little guy across the floor, spinning and dipping until he giggles. “Shhh. We don’t want to wake everybody.” I pour milk in a little plastic cup, and he takes a couple of sips, then hands it back. Probably just woke up in a strange place and wanted reassurance. He’s asleep by the time I lay him back down.

  I check the clock over the serving window. The dance will be over in ten minutes. I resume my perch on the booth cushions. A slow song is next, matching the melancholy shade of my mood. The wistful chords tug at my heart, making me wish again that Reese could have been here. We’d be dancing, one of his hands cradling mine, the other at the hollow of my back, claiming me. Another sigh.

  Stop it, Lorelei. In the old days, this was your life: watching through the glass at other people having fun. This is just one night. Reese said he’d be back in a couple of days, and…I notice a man in a cowboy hat, his back to me, watching the dancers and talking to the woman next to him. When she turns and points to the café, my heart does a tap dance against my ribs. He turns. I’d know that strong jaw anywhere.

  He’s here! I scramble off the cushions and bounce for the door. When he pulls it open, I launch myself into his arms, knocking off his hat. “I can’t believe you came,” I say in an excited whisper and kiss his face all over.

  He hugs me tight. “This makes it worth the trip.” He squeezes me, then bends to pick up his hat.

  I hold my finger to my lips, take his hand, and tiptoe around the pod of sleeping children to the kitchen. I can watch them through the serving window. “Did your meeting end early?” In the fluorescents, I get a good look at his face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m just dead tired.”

  But I know his face so well. Behind the tired, there’s pain. “Tell me.”

  He puts his hands in his pockets. “I fired my attorney today.”

  “Why?”

  “A bunch of reasons really. It’s been coming on a long time.”

  He pulls a hand from his pocket and rubs his eyes, reminding me of Mason earlier. “You poor thing. The dance is over soon, and when all the kids are gone, I’m taking you home and putting you to bed. I’ll even let you sleep, this time.” I stand on tiptoe to give him a quick kiss. But he opens his mouth and takes me in, and I’m lost to everything but him. He rocks me back and forth in a stationary dance, and his cologne fills my head, the scent that my brain equates with security, support…and sex.

  “Lorelei, where are—oh, hello, Reese.” Carly’s in the doorway, wearing a huge grin.

  He breaks the kiss but doesn’t let me go. “Hi, Carly. You’re looking fetching tonight.”

  Her curls bounce when she does a step-turn, and the rhinestones flash on her jeans pockets. “Nothing like a night out to take you back to your rodeo-queen days. And all the mommas hereabouts have you to thank for that, Lorelei. You’re a love for watching the kids.” She steps over and kisses my cheek.

  “Are you kidding? It’s me that owes you. You’ve been watching Sawyer every day.”

  Austin sticks his head in the serving window. “I cut our calves out of the herd out here, hon. You ready to go?”

  “My kids as cattle. That’s what I get for ma
rrying a cowboy.” Carly smiles. “Head ’em up, move ’em out, big guy.”

  By the time we get the kids matched with their parents, the café locked, and we hit the road, it’s after midnight. I settle Sawyer in her crib at the cabin while Reese looks around. “They’ve gotten a lot done.”

  “The Sheetrock is done, and they say the floors will be done tomorrow.” I walk to the fridge, pull out a beer for him, and carry it to the card table.

  “When is the furniture going to be delivered?” He sits, twists off the cap, and takes a long swallow.

  “I’ve got some stuff picked out, but I was waiting for your opinion.”

  “Hon, I told you, you don’t need my approval. If you like it, I’ll like it.”

  I brush a crumb off the pebbly surface of the table. “It’s expensive, Reese. I don’t feel comfortable making decisions that big with someone else’s money.”

  “I’ve told you before, the money doesn’t matter.”

  Easy to say when you have more than you need. “I’m just not used to it, that’s all.”

  “I’ll look at what you’ve picked out tomorrow, if that’ll make you feel better.” He takes a swig of his beer. “Right now, I’m beat.”

  “How long can you stay?”

  “I’ve got to fly out tomorrow morning.”

  “You came all this way for one night?”

  “I’d go farther than that for one night with you.” My skin heats with his smoking gaze.

  I stand and hold out my hand. “Then why are we out here wasting it?”

  He turns the lights out on the way to the bedroom, and the darkness wraps around us, shutting out the world.

  He undresses me slowly, running his hands over every bit of skin as it’s exposed. Then he lays me on the covers and tastes. Parts of me flick on—parts I didn’t know could be turned on: the backs of my knees, the arch of my foot, between my fingers. With the lack of sight, my other senses sharpen. A hot, empty place builds inside, urging me to hurry.

  He kisses me, deep and slow and lazy, like he has more time than one night and intends to take it all. It takes way too much time for him to strip and join me.