The Littlest Cowgirls--A Clean Romance

by Melinda Curtis

  “I may tease you, Wyatt, but I never want anyone to get hurt.” Ashley crossed her arms, but her eyes... Those blue eyes told the truth. She was serious about the no-injury thing. “Just because you’ve done stunts before doesn’t mean you’ll be successful at this.”

  Contrary to what most people thought, Wyatt hadn’t excelled in the industry on the strength of his body’s resiliency to take a licking and keep on ticking. He’d taken acting lessons privately and he’d honed his ability to intuit a character based on a few clues of dialogue and script footnotes.

  He had a vested interest in learning more about the real Ashley Monroe, and she kept dropping hints, like bread crumbs in an enchanted forest. Snatches of conversation drifted through his head.

  Sometimes, you need just one person to listen and validate you. She’d been so earnest about answering her silly social-media messages, as if they hadn’t been silly to her.

  Look at him. He’s in shock. On the day he’d arrived, she’d told the other Monroes to back off and then she’d laid her hand on his arm.

  Ashley has always cared deeply for others. Laurel had said it was her biggest weakness.

  And then his memory jogged further back. Not to a conversation, but to a news report: Tragedy for Ashley Monroe. When Ashley had been a teenager, a guy she’d dated, someone from one of those boy bands that girls raved over, had overdosed.

  Despite the confrontational situation they were in, Ashley seemed genuinely concerned when she said she didn’t want Wyatt to be hurt. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman he’d kissed had been so concerned about him.

  “I can do this,” he reassured Ashley, determined she not worry.

  Emily gave him an approving nod. “Although I can appreciate your can-do attitude, Wyatt, let me explain what you’re doing before you accept.” She marched out to a cone in the middle-left of the arena. “You’re going to start over by the gate and gallop straight across the arena. When you reach this cone, grab on to the saddle horn with your left hand, keep that right foot in the stirrup and bend that right knee, stretching out your right arm in time to grab the gold.” Which sat near a cone in the middle-right of the arena. “That gives you twenty feet to get down, and then you’ve just got to pull yourself back in the saddle and turn or stop before you smash into the fence on the other end.”

  Where the boys sat watching.

  His mouth went dry as he imagined all kinds of collisions. “Boys, move to the side.” He waited until they shifted over.

  “There’s still time to back out,” Ashley said quietly.

  “Wyatt Halford doesn’t back down.” That was his father talking.

  His father was old-school. “You skinned your knee playing soccer? Rub some dirt on it and get back out on the field.” Dad’s disparaging voice often shored up Wyatt’s resolve when other folks might have quit.

  That was why, despite his misgivings, Wyatt mounted the average-looking brown mare and walked her to the far end of the arena.

  “Watch out for Missy,” Emily cautioned. “She’s a slow walker but a speed demon when you give her free rein.”

  As far as Wyatt was concerned, speed was good. There’d be less time to think if things went fast. Because if he allowed his mental wheels to turn, he’d think about Ashley’s big heart and how much he wanted to prove that he could take on any role she tossed his way. Or he might think that soon-to-be fathers didn’t take foolish risks just to prove they were strong.

  But he didn’t think. He turned Missy around and took a deep breath before snapping her reins and pressing her flanks with his heels.

  The mare leaped forward, practically giving him whiplash. And she had wheels, speeding toward the first cone like a startled squirrel being chased by a hungry cat.

  Wyatt started leaning to the right too soon, before he’d even reached the first cone. His back protested his acrobatics, spasming. He tumbled to the dirt and rolled until he stopped and was afforded a good look at that big open sky.

  Footsteps and hooves thundered, near and far. Pain gripped Wyatt’s back with strong, bony fingers that didn’t want to let go.

  “Is he dead?” Adam tugged the toe of Wyatt’s boot.

  Charlie dropped to his knees next to Wyatt’s face, sending dirt into his ear. “Naw. He’s making wheezy noises.”

  “Great. Now I don’t have to make cookies.” Davey sprinted away in triumph.

  “Missy’s fine if he wants to try it again.” That was Emily, who’d caught his flighty steed on the far side of the arena.

  “Wyatt?” Ashley moved over him, blocking the sun, which created a halo around her face. “Are you all right? Say something.”

  “Just let me lie here a sec.” And stare into her pretty blue eyes. “Got the wind knocked out of me.” And his spine rattled. “Just so you know, this is my manly smile. Not a grimace of pain.”

  “Whatever you say.” Ashley’s gaze cataloged his body parts, but not with the kind of heat he’d prefer to see in her eyes.

  “Need a hand up?” That was Emily again. She’d led Missy over to him, perhaps assuming it would be easier for Wyatt to get back in the saddle if he didn’t have to walk far. “Or should we call for a doctor?”

  Ashley glanced up at her, moving her head far enough over that the sun blinded Wyatt once more. “I thought there was no doctor in town.”

  “There’s not,” Emily said. “We’d have to load him into the back of a truck and—”

  “Ow!” Pain shot through his shoulder. “What was that?” He writhed on the ground, much to the boys’ delight.

  “Missy,” Emily scolded. Tack jangled. “Sorry, Wyatt. She gets impatient for her rider sometimes and gives them a love bite.”

  “Love bite?” Wyatt stifled a curse. “Am I bleeding?”

  Ashley tenderly touched his arm. “No blood, arterial or otherwise. My grandfather would say it’s time to walk it off.”

  Closing his eyes, Wyatt took stock of his back and shoulder. “Give me a second. Seriously. I can do this on my own.”

  “You take one arm, Em,” Ashley said, matter-of-factly. “And I’ll take the other.”

  Without giving him time to protest, the women heaved him to his feet.

  He bit back a groan, contorting his torso to work out the kinks. “Whatever happened to human kindness?” The saying on Ashley’s shirt.

  “We’re busy ladies with schedules to keep,” Ashley said briskly. “You want me to try on Missy, Em?”

  “The demon seed? Don’t do it, Ash.” Wyatt walked painfully to the edge of the arena where the boys had returned to their seats on the top rung.

  “Do you need help up to the rail, Mr. Wyatt?” Adam asked.

  “No. I got it.” He would climb to that top rung if it killed him. His back spasmed and his shoulder throbbed, but he made it in time to see Ashley swing into Missy’s saddle.

  She walked the brown mare a few steps and then released her into a trot, moving with Missy as if she’d been born a cowgirl.

  Every impression he’d ever had about Ashley Monroe, America’s Sweetheart, was wrong. She was tough, multitalented. She sent Missy galloping around the perimeter of the arena. Again, Ashley looked like a natural. And he hated that no one in Hollywood had captured this strong, capable side of her. That no one really knew her.

  Finally, she slowed to a stop on the far side of the arena and lined herself up with the cones and the bag of pretend gold on the ground.

  She’s going to nail this stunt.

  And when she did, Wyatt would feel his whole life shift.

  “Think about your center of gravity,” Emily said encouragingly. “Don’t go down too far or you’ll eat it like Wyatt did.”

  “Wyatt didn’t get any tips,” he grumbled.

  But there was no time to complain. Ashley leaned forward and let Missy run.

  Wyat
t held his breath. There was no way Ashley could do this. She’d have to be part spider and part fly, sticking to the saddle and darting down and back with the prize.

  Ashley passed the first cone, contorted herself low and reached, just missing the bag of gold. “Whoa.” She managed to bring the mare to a stop, although she hadn’t regained her seat. “Shoot.”

  The three boys vocalized their disappointment. Wyatt took a deep breath and made a concerted effort to loosen the knots he’d made of his muscles while worrying about Ashley.

  What was going on here? He never worried about other people doing their stunts. He applauded their skill and professionalism for making the attempt, the same way his father had taught him to admire professionals of all types for giving it their all on the job. But now, when watching Ashley, he felt...worried.

  “Are you okay?” he asked her.

  Ashley gave him a curt nod. There was a fire in her eyes he hadn’t seen before, an intensity people often said he had when the cameras were rolling. This was the Ashley Monroe who’d kissed him, and he felt privileged to finally see her.

  “You took too much time adjusting your grip on the saddle horn.” Emily had Missy’s reins. She demonstrated the numerous ways Ashley had held on to the horn.

  “My grip on the saddle horn is the only thing keeping me in the saddle.” Ashley stared at her bare hand. It was red. “Can I borrow your gloves?”

  “Let’s try them on the fence rail first.” Emily handed Ashley the pair of gloves hanging out her back pocket. “Gloves are tricky. Too loose and you’ll fall out of them. Too tight and you can’t close your grip.”

  Ashley tugged the tan leather gloves on. She came over to where Wyatt was sitting, grabbed hold of the top round pipe rail and hung from it, lifting her knees off the ground. She went back to Missy and tested her grip on the saddle horn. “Let’s try this.”

  “She’s gonna do it this time,” little Adam said.

  Ashley mounted up and trotted back over to the starting point. She ran her hand around the saddle horn a few times before kicking Missy into gear. In no time, she passed the cone, dropped to the side and grabbed the bag of gold, only to drop it while trying to return to the saddle. She brought Missy to a stop and consulted with Emily some more.

  “Mike Moody’s gold is heavy.” Davey chuckled, elbowing Charlie.

  Wyatt gently pushed Adam’s cowboy hat down on his head. “How long has Ashley been taking riding lessons?”

  “This is the second time she’s come.” Adam peeked at him from under the brim, not as impressed as Wyatt was at her not being new to horsemanship. “Do you think Gertie’s cookies are done yet?”

  “No cookies until you muck out your horse stalls.” Emily pointed a finger toward her nephews without turning around.

  “Auntie Em has eyes in the back of her head.” Davey climbed down the outside of the fence.

  “Where are you going?” Charlie asked.

  “To get my chores done.” Davey disappeared around the corner of the barn.

  “Come on, runt.” Charlie made to follow his older brother. “You want cookies, don’t you? Can’t have none without chores done.”

  “Cookies and ice cream,” Adam said wistfully. He blinked up at Wyatt. “Do you know ’bout Mike Moody?”

  “I do.” Wyatt supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that so many others in Second Chance knew about him, too, since Ashley had told him the bandit had settled here.

  “Have you been to his hiding spot?” Adam straddled the rail, ready to climb down.

  “I haven’t.”

  “Or seen his gold?” Adam nodded toward the bag Emily dropped by the cone. He reached into his jeans pocket, as if he had something to show Wyatt.

  “Nope.”

  “Adam!” Charlie called from the barn. “Come on.”

  “Ride with us to his hideout,” Adam offered with an enthusiastic grin. “When we take all the Monroes this week.”

  “I’ll clear my schedule.”

  “And I’ll show you my gold if Mom says I can.” Adam giggled as he climbed down the fence rails.

  Before Wyatt had time to respond, thundering hooves told him Ashley was making another run at her own bag of gold. This time, she was successful. A joint-jarring drop. A swooping grab. And then she was back in the saddle.

  It was exhilarating and annoying at the same time. A great stunt well executed. He was happy for her. But Wyatt wanted to be able to do it himself. Subtly, he stretched his back. Probably not a good idea to try again today.

  “Yeehah!” Emily cried, tossing up her hands.

  “Woo-hoo!” Ashley brought Missy to a stop in front of Wyatt, smiling like they were best buds. And that smile. Hello, Human Kindness. She was gorgeous. “Do you think audiences will like it?”

  “Yeah.” Wyatt swallowed his pride. “Yeah, I do.” He gave her his most winning smile, the one that used to charm his high school math teacher to give him points for trying. “How long have you been practicing this?”

  “Just this week. It was Emily’s idea. She did some trick riding when she was on the rodeo circuit.” She patted Missy’s neck. “You’re not just paying me lip service, are you? You’ve probably done much more dangerous stunts, but...” She was digging for compliments as if he was an old hand at stunt work.

  Which he supposed he was after a decade in the business. But when had he become the elder statesman of stunt actors? He was only thirty.

  Elder statesman.

  Father.

  Do the right thing.

  He washed a hand over his face. Something was shifting inside of him, a perspective on himself and life, and it had been shifting since he’d joined Ashley on that porch when he’d arrived in town. It was just a premonition, really. An inkling that one of these days, he’d look in the mirror and find a gray hair. And his indestructible self-image, the one he used as a shield against his father’s bitterness, would crack. Then his position on top of Hollywood would tilt and crumble. Meaning his father’s prophecy of him riding on only his looks would come true.

  What was Ashley Monroe doing to him?

  “Seriously, Wyatt.” A frown flitted across Ashley’s face. “What do you think?”

  She was a horsewoman? A stuntwoman? An actress turned producer?

  What did he think?

  He thought he’d been set up. Kind of like the date he’d had with her sister.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  GABBY’S LAPTOP PINGED on the check-in desk, announcing an incoming message. “Oh, my goodness. Adorable.”

  Emily had sent her a picture of Gertie with Ashley and Wyatt. They all wore cowboy boots. She uploaded it to her anonymous Wyatt Halford fan page with all the proper hashtags. Operation Snaparazzi was officially off the ground.

  “Sweet!” she said.

  “Are you sneaking looks at kitten videos again?” Dad asked from the kitchen. “You’re supposed to be doing your homework.”

  “I’m not watching cat videos.”

  The front door opened, but instead of a tall cowboy with world-famous good looks, Shane came in. He held a stack of papers and books in the crook of his arm and headed straight for Gabby. “How’s my favorite future world leader?”

  “Good.” Gabby beamed, tapping the top of her laptop, trying to send a message to Shane that Operation Snaparazzi was in full swing without alerting Dad. He always thought she should mind her own business.

  “Don’t get Gabby out of the flow.” Dad came to stand in the kitchen doorway behind her. “She’s doing her homework.”

  “I don’t want to interrupt. Future movers and shakers need to be serious about their studies.” Shane sorted through his stack of things. “As one experienced mover and shaker to another, though, I found something Gabby might like.”

  Gabby rested her elbows on the desk, paying closer attention to the old b
ooks and yellowed papers he was carrying.

  “I got you a planner.” Shane set a small, thick calendar in front of Gabby. The cover was teal and embossed with flowers. “Half the year is gone, but a girl like you can easily fill up the remaining pages with your schedule and dreams for the future.”

  “Thank you.” Gabby opened the planner, cracking the binding. On the first page, Shane had written a note.

  To Gabby Kincaid, who knows the value of information. Never stop being curious about the world and the people in it. Shane Monroe.

  Dad leaned over her shoulder. He probably read the note, too, because he sighed. “In case you need help interpreting that dedication, Gabby, it means you should keep studying, not become a nosy meddler like Shane.”

  “I think I should be offended.” But Shane grinned when he said it and handed over the rest of the stack he carried to Dad. “I requested a search of Idaho history from a resource I have. I thought you might find it useful in your campaign to protect some of Second Chance’s old cabins.”

  Dad hesitated before taking the pile. “Do you ever sleep?”

  Shane chuckled. “You should know the answer to that question. I spent four months living in the room above your quarters, wearing a track in the carpet.”

  Instead of answering, Dad flipped through the pages on top, turning slowly and heading back into the kitchen.

  “There are all kinds of stickers in the back.” Shane tapped the planner. “But I took the liberty of marking some dates from earlier this year.” And then he followed her dad, closing the apartment door behind him.

  Gabby turned to January and found the first sticker—Important Day. Beneath it, Shane had written Monroes come to town. There was another sticker in February—a snowflake. That was the day of the huge blizzard, when they’d been snowed in. It was when Dad started to fall in love with Laurel. There were more stickers, more notes. But in June, he’d placed two stickers—Very Important Day. One was a few days ago. Met Wyatt Halford. And one was placed on this Saturday. My first official day as a Monroe.

  Another message sounded on her closed laptop. Was it another photo of Ashley and Wyatt? Gabby opened her email.