To Kiss a Cowgirl

by Jeannie Watt

  “I heard you might be staying,” Jim said conversationally after Jolie left the bar to clear a recently vacated table.

  Dylan automatically glanced toward where she was loading empties onto her tray.

  “She doesn’t know?” Jim asked.

  “I was waiting until it was official before I told anyone. Even my granddad.”

  “Ah.” Jim’s mouth quirked at the corner. “Well, you know what they say about bartenders and secrets.”

  No, but he assumed that Jim was indicating that he’d keep quiet. The problem was that someone else wasn’t keeping quiet—probably Jess—but Dylan hadn’t said anything about keeping the application a secret. His fault.

  The door banged open, which was a feat considering the size of the big oak door, and Maddox and Wyatt came in. Jim raised his chin in acknowledgment and the men both gave slight nods back before heading to a table in the corner. “Good customers,” Jim said. “They just need proper care and management.”

  Dylan gave a short laugh, then the door opened again and a large group of guys in their twenties, dressed in jeans, cowboy hats and western shirts came in.

  “This might not be such a bad night after all,” Jim mused. Jolie was already at the first table taking orders when another group came inside. “Maybe I’d better get Beccie down here...”

  The crowd continued to swell and at one point, Dylan was unloading clean glassware behind the bar while Jolie and Beccie took care of the orders. A little after midnight, the bar emptied almost as quickly as it had filled and a half hour later Jim told Beccie and Jolie they could go home.

  Jolie slid across the truck seat to sit close to him on the drive home and Dylan rested his hand on her knee. One thing he’d learned tonight—not to assume that his personal business was his business in this small community. He needed to talk to Jolie, fess up about the interview before she heard it from someone else, but it could wait until tomorrow. Right now, he just wanted to get her home.

  She took it for granted that he was coming in, or so he guessed when she got out of the truck and turned with a slight frown as if wondering what was taking him so long. He shut off the engine and followed her into the house.

  Gus barked. She shushed him then motioned with her head toward the stairs. “It might have been a short shift, but I’m beat,” she confessed.

  “Sleep’s fine with me,” he said, following her to the staircase.

  “Who said anything about sleeping?” she said with a wicked smile. “I was just calling the bottom.”

  And he was instantly hard.

  The next morning, he woke to find Jolie snuggled against him, lazily caressing his chest. His arm tightened around her and he smiled at her. “Keep that up and we’ll be late for work. You know how Mike feels about opening late.” As it was, they were going to have to skip showering and wear morning-after clothes—at least until noon, when he was going to suggest a long, hot bath together.

  She pulled his mouth down to hers, making Dylan seriously consider not opening on time and having that long, hot bath now, even though they had another delivery due that morning.

  Jolie gave him one last, lingering kiss then pushed herself upright and slowly swung her legs around to sit on the edge of the bed. She pulled open her dresser drawer from where she sat and, took out a pair of bikini panties. “I’m going to miss being tempted to play hooky,” she said on a sigh as she pulled the panties on, lifting her butt briefly from the bed as she slid them into place.

  “Actually, I might be staying in the area,” Dylan said as she leaned down for her jeans lying on the floor where he’d peeled her out of them.

  Jolie stilled for a fraction of a second then shot him a look.

  “How’s that?”

  “I applied for a position as deputy sheriff.”

  “Oh.” The word came out softly. And she didn’t look happy. She looked startled. Deer-in-the-headlights startled. “A deputy position? Here? What about the detective exam?”

  “I’m still scheduled.” And if he wasn’t mistaken, the color was fading from her cheeks. This was not the reaction he’d expected. Not even close. “What’s going on, Jolie?”

  Instead of answering, she pulled her jeans on over her long, smooth legs. He put a hand on her thigh, stopping the motion.

  She turned to look at him again, her long hair sliding over her shoulder, her green gaze troubled, though it seemed she was trying to hide it. “You’re just keeping your options open by applying for the deputy job?”

  “I guess you could say that.” He pressed his lips together, not liking or understanding this barrier edging up between them, triggering the knot that was forming, hard and tight, in his gut. “Don’t look so down. I may not get the job.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want you to get the job.”

  But she was troubled by the possibility that he might stay. That was suddenly and painfully apparent. “All right...”

  A brittle silence hung between them. He waited for her to break it; to explain what was going on in her head. Instead Jolie smiled a little and ran her hand over his thigh. “We’d better get to the store. We can talk later.”

  “I want to know what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing’s wrong. You just kind of sprung this on me. I’m...processing. We’ll talk later today. After work.” She patted his thigh again and reached for her lacy bra.

  Dylan wanted to talk now, but instead leaned in and gave her a quick kiss. Her response was at best cool. He wasn’t sure why she had to process, why she needed time to adjust to the possibility of him being around more permanently, but if she did, so be it.

  She got off the bed and pulled her shirt on. Dylan watched as she continued to dress, her movements quick and methodical. She wanted out of there. Now. He made no move to stop her.

  After she was dressed, she took a few steps toward the bed where he still sat, an expression on her face he couldn’t read. For a minute he thought she was going to say something about her reaction to him staying, to explain, but instead she said, “You want to swing through the Coffee Spot for breakfast? We’re running late.”

  “Sure.”

  “Great. I’ll go throw some hay and we can just make it to the store on time.”

  She disappeared out of the room and Dylan got to his feet and grabbed his pants from the floor. He heard the bathroom door shut, the water turn on, then shook his head and stepped into his jeans.

  What in the hell had just happened?

  * * *

  JOLIE TRIED TO focus on her computer screen, but a movement outside her window caught her eye. Dylan wheeling a barrow of old grain off for disposal. She sucked in a breath and brought her eyes back to the screen.

  How had her happy, hot fling transformed into this unsettling situation? One in which she was going to have to explain again what she’d thought she’d already made clear...she was in this for the here and now. She didn’t do long term. She didn’t know if there was something wrong with her, or if she was simply wired this way, but as much as she enjoyed friendship and closeness, she believed in being true to herself. To her instincts. And her instincts told her she was better off being single. She’d gotten the strong feeling from Dylan that morning that he assumed that staying meant that he and she would build a more solid relationship.

  That most definitely had not been on the agenda. He was supposed to go back to his old life and she was supposed to continue with hers, here, six hundred miles away from him.

  Jolie pushed the hair back from her forehead, trying to stave off the headache that hadn’t fully responded to pain reliever. So far the day had proved to be a study in mutual avoidance. Dylan hadn’t left the warehouse since they’d arrived at the store to find a delivery driver impatiently waiting for them, and there was no way she was going out there as she usually did when things got
slow. His office phone rang a few times, but she ignored it. The line was private and it wasn’t her job to answer it, as she would have done yesterday.

  A deputy.

  Why would he want to become a deputy and stay here rather than go back to Lanesburg and have a relatively safe career as a detective? It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to live close to his grandfather, but—she pressed her hand harder against her aching head—why did he have to become a deputy? A guy people shot at? He’d gotten off lightly once, but to her, this was pushing things. Not that his life choices were her concern, but even though she wasn’t going to ride off into the sunset with him, she cared about him. His safety.

  Being a deputy wasn’t safe. Even Kyle, who’d been with the local office for only a year, had had a few close calls. Of his own making, according to Allie, but close calls all the same. The bells on the door rang and Jolie looked up, feeling a wash of relief when she realized that a customer had come into the store, not Dylan, although she had no doubt that the moment of reckoning between them was coming and it was coming soon.

  * * *

  DYLAN PURPOSELY GAVE Jolie her space that morning, allowing her time to think. Allowing them both time to think. There weren’t nearly the customers that they’d had the previous day, but enough to keep them both busy. Between loads, Dylan tried to review for his oral exam, but he had trouble keeping his focus where it belonged—on his laptop instead of on Jolie.

  Finally, at eleven-thirty, he closed his laptop and stowed it in his truck. It was a half hour away from the time when he could turn around the Open sign, but the parking lot was empty and chances were that he and Jolie would spend that time alone—unless someone needed last-minute chicken scratch.

  Dylan decided to take that chance. He was normally a patient guy, but this situation with Jolie was eating at him. He wanted some answers and he wanted them today. If he waited until closing, there was always the chance that Jolie would take off, despite saying they would talk after work.

  He trusted her, yet he didn’t. Mainly because he had no idea what was going on. No. That wasn’t totally true. He had a few theories, but needed more data.

  He rolled down the warehouse door and crossed the graveled yard to the store. Jolie was rearranging the items in the gift display, as she always did after making a few sales. She looked over her shoulder at him as he came in.

  “Hey,” she said, setting down the candle she’d been holding.

  “I think we should talk now. If you have time.”

  That, she clearly did, since it was still twenty five minutes to closing time.

  “I have time.” She started to fold her arms over her chest, then stopped and instead loosely clasped her hands in front of her.

  He came a few feet closer, trying to look relaxed when he was anything but. “I didn’t say anything about applying for the local sheriff’s office posting because I didn’t know if I’d make the cut for an interview. I did. It’s on Monday at eight.”

  “You should have told me.”

  “Yeah, I should have,” he agreed. He’d never been one for sharing before a deal was done, but maybe he’d have to get over that.

  Jolie glanced sideways out the window as if willing someone to drive in and it struck him then that maybe his staying in the area wasn’t what bothered her. Maybe it was the fact that he’d done something as major as applying for a local job without telling her. He felt a brief surge of optimism. Maybe she was simply angry at him. That he could fix. “Nothing was, or is, certain,” he said.

  Jolie looked back at him. “All the same...it would have given me a different perspective if I’d known you’d planned to stay. Affected some of my decisions.”

  “How?” He regarded her carefully.

  Her eyes flashed as she said, “I like knowing all the facts when I become involved with someone.”

  “The facts changed. It happens.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “And I’d like to know how my being here permanently would have changed your decisions.” He wanted to hear her spell it out.

  “It’s hard to explain.” Her expression was growing more distant by the second, as if she was hiding a deep, deep secret and he was edging uncomfortably close. “I shouldn’t have to explain.”

  “No, Jolie. You shouldn’t.” He was surprised at the coldness in his tone. It didn’t grow any warmer as he said, “But a few hints would help me get a handle on things.”

  “I thought I’d been clear on that.”

  Really? Clear as mud...but the mud was starting to settle a bit as an idea took hold. “This...thing...between you and me. Was it just a string of one-night stands to you?”

  She swallowed before lifting her chin, but didn’t give him the denial he was hoping for. “I never promised anything else.”

  “And I never asked for a promise. But I thought there was a possibility of exploration.”

  “I have nothing against exploration,” Jolie said.

  “As long as it’s only physical?” And there he’d hit the nail on the head. He could see it in her face.

  “I’m not looking for a relationship,” she said.

  “Ever?”

  “Let’s just say I’m not in the market.”

  “Have you ever been in the market?”

  When she didn’t answer, he asked in a gentler voice, “Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?”

  Her expression blanked out even more than before. But, despite her stony expression, he had the oddest feeling that she was close to tears. She shook her head as if his hypothesis was so far off base it didn’t even need to be addressed.

  “Then what?”

  She started to speak then stopped. “I have nothing against you staying.”

  He started to ask why; thought better of it. “But you don’t do committed relationships.”

  “I do friendships,” she said. “The kissing kind.”

  He lifted one corner of his mouth in a grim half smile, even though her statement wasn’t funny. Not even close. He really wanted to ask her what the deal was, for real, but one look at her face told him he’d get nowhere if he continued to push. Apparently his plan to stay had ruined her plan for an easy out after a few weeks of good sex.

  * * *

  “ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?” Jim nudged Jolie as they stood side-by-side behind the bar during a brief lull. Since he was tall, his elbow hit her upper arm.

  “Yeah. Fine.” She gave him a quick why-would-you-ask look, even though she knew exactly why he would ask. She’d been spacey all night long; lost in thought as she tried to convince herself that she hadn’t done anything wrong in regard to her relationship with Dylan. She’d been up-front. Never once had she indicated that she was looking for anything long term. Even if she’d planned to use his departure as an easy end to a most excellent fling, she couldn’t see where she’d led him on in any way, shape or form. Pretty much because she hadn’t. That wasn’t the way she did things.

  So why did she feel like hell?

  She glanced at Jim, considered asking for a male perspective, but decided against it as a couple of women approached the bar, holding each other up.

  “I’ll call a cab,” she told Jim since they’d been watching the pair and knew they had no one there to drive them home. She escaped to the office and made the call, then came back to find the women sitting on stools at the far end of the bar. “Ten minutes,” she told Jim.

  “Hope they make it that long,” he said. He was good at monitoring his patrons, but when people were buying drinks for one another, he had no way of knowing who was drinking what and how much.

  Jolie slumped down onto a stool to wait for the cab. It’d been a long night and early the next morning she’d load Jenabelle and head out for Big Timber.

  Jolie didn’t know whether a day on the road with nothing but her thou
ghts and old country classics was going to make her feel better or worse, but she figured a couple of days without seeing Dylan should help her get her head on a bit straighter. She’d never before had any problem just walking away, but never before had she slept with anyone to whom she had ties—business or otherwise. This was a wakeup call. No matter how hot a guy was, if they worked together in any capacity, he was officially off limits. Starting now.

  Jim and Jolie helped the women into the cab, wished the driver luck then stood back as he drove away.

  Now. Ask him now if Dylan is being unreasonable.

  But she couldn’t. Too personal. Even if she put the question to him hypothetically, as she’d planned, Jim was no fool and she didn’t want to let go of too much information. It was probable, too, that Jim didn’t want too much information, which left her grappling with her problem alone.

  She got home at 1:30 a.m., checked her truck and trailer to make sure everything was ready. Her rodeo clothes were hanging in the back window, her lunch was packed in a cooler on the seat. Sunglasses, hat, water bottle, phone charger. She was set.

  Gus didn’t bother to bark as she approached and entered the house.

  Jolie undressed at the hamper, tossing her bar clothes in and shutting the lid. She didn’t bother with pajamas, but instead climbed into bed and was almost asleep when the text came in.

  Did you get home ok?

  Dylan.

  That’s it. Stab me in the heart.

  She debated then decided to take the high road.

  I did.

  She almost added, “Good luck with the interview,” but that seemed insincere, so she sent the message on its way and powered off her phone.

  * * *

  “I LOVE THIS PAINTING,” Lillian Ames said for the fourth time after Dylan climbed down off the ladder and delivered it into her hands.

  “It’s beautiful,” he agreed. “Anything else?” he asked Jolie coolly. It’d been like that between them since he’d returned from his interview on Monday—distant and cool—which was exactly what Jolie wanted, so it made no sense that his stand-offish demeanor ate at her. Except that she really had hoped to remain friends after they’d stopped sleeping together.