To Kiss a Cowgirl

by Jeannie Watt

  “No.” She wouldn’t have needed him for this if she’d had a ladder handy. They really needed to invest in a five-foot stepladder.

  “Great.” Dylan didn’t bother to look her way as he replied. He dragged the ladder back out the door. Lillian stared lovingly at the artwork in her hands and Jolie tore her gaze from Dylan’s retreating back.

  And this is why you don’t sleep with your boss—at least not while he still is your boss. Awkward, stilted work environment.

  Lillian paid for the painting, then took her prize out to show Morley who was waiting in the truck with the load of chicken scratch.

  Jolie sat at her computer and for a brief moment propped her face in her hands. Dylan had interviewed with the county two days ago and she had no idea how it had gone. She wanted to know yet she didn’t. He certainly wasn’t volunteering any information; however, she did know that he was still taking the oral exam for detective in two days. A sign maybe?

  He’d be so much better off as a detective, although she understood that he wanted to stay close to Mike, who was getting up there in years. What she didn’t understand was how she had so fully lost control of what was happening between them. How they’d moved from a pretty decent friendship into whatever this limbo was that they were currently in. She hated this walking-on-eggshells feeling.

  Well, she’d had enough.

  After Lillian and Morley drove away she walked out to the warehouse, where she found Dylan sitting on a bag of feed looking at his phone while Marcel lay on the seat of the forklift, sunning himself.

  “This is how you spend your days?”

  Her attempt at lightness fell flat. He looked up with those very distant, very blue eyes of his and said, “I’m studying for my exam.”

  Jolie shifted uncomfortably. “Can we talk?”

  “Sure.” He lowered his phone and stared impassively at her.

  When was the last time she’d felt this nervous? “I’d like to remain friends.”

  “Not a problem.” A heavy silence fell, giving lie to his easy acceptance. He made no move to break it and she found she wasn’t able to pull her gaze away from his. “Anything else?” he finally asked.

  “You have no intention of remaining friends, do you?”

  “I’ll try.”

  Jolie’s fists clenched at her sides. “Why does it have to be all or nothing with you? Why can’t we...?”

  “Scratch each other’s itches in a casual no-strings manner?”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never been in a relationship like that.”

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. She could see the answer in his face. Of course he had.

  “Here’s the thing. What we were developing, it was more than scratching an itch and you know it.”

  Jolie’s insides went cold but she managed to keep her voice even as she said, “We see things differently.”

  “I know.” He spoke with such certainty that it took her back. Made her feel damaged.

  “I’m not into relationships. It’s just the way I am,” she said with a touch of heat. “The way I’ve always been.”

  “I’m not fighting you, Jolie.”

  He wasn’t. But she felt as if he should be, which was crazy because it was exactly what she didn’t want. “It sounds as if you’re humoring me.”

  “I’m trying to understand you. Your motivation.”

  “My motivation? I guess it’s to be honest and to enjoy other people while maintaining my autonomy.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “But?”

  He shook his head. “No buts. I’ll do my best to be a friend.” He got to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate as he hooked his thumbs on his pockets, still holding his phone loosely in one palm. “But we’re not getting physical.”

  “I didn’t ask to get physical.” She could feel heat working its way up her neck. Guilt? Embarrassment at being called out?

  “Just thought I’d make it clear. It seems that’s how it needs to be with us. Spelled out. Clear.”

  “I was clear before.”

  “In your mind.”

  She opened her mouth to defend herself then realized that she wasn’t certain she could do that. Had she been clear? She’d thought so, but he didn’t, so she’d have to leave it at that.

  “You drive to Lanesburg tomorrow?”

  “Tonight. After work.”

  “If you want to leave work early, I’m sure I can manage.”

  “I’m sure you can, but I’ll stay here.”

  She shrugged nonchalantly. “Have it your way. Good luck on your exam...just in case I don’t see you before you leave.”

  “Thank you, Jolie. I appreciate it.”

  It was like talking to a stranger. She didn’t like it, but given their situation, there wasn’t much she could do about it.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  DYLAN DROVE OVER Lookout Pass into Montana on his way home from Washington just as the sun was setting behind him. He glanced at the sinking orb in the rearview mirror, thinking that it was kind of fitting.

  He’d passed his oral exam easily and was currently the top candidate to replace Detective Murdock upon his retirement next month. The captain was his biggest supporter now that he understood Dylan wasn’t going to make things harder on Pat. Replacing Murdock got him out of Pat’s sphere and they wouldn’t have a lot to do with each other—even less now that the house had finally gone into escrow.

  The last tie with Lindsey, and by default, Pat, was about to be severed and Dylan would be a free man. All the planets seemed to be aligning after a year of being seriously out of whack. Despite that, he was certain he wasn’t going to apply for Murdock’s position.

  He didn’t want to go back to Lanesburg.

  He gripped the wheel a little tighter as he negotiated the curves on the Montana side of Lookout. Hell, who was he kidding? He wasn’t going back.

  If Eagle Valley offered him the position as deputy, he’d take it. If not, he’d figure something out. Decision made. There were still some hurtles ahead, but this was the right decision. He felt it in his gut. Maybe it was because he’d missed Montana and his grandfather more than he’d realized. Maybe it was because Mike was getting older. Maybe it was because even though they’d hit an impasse, he was hoping that Jolie would eventually see things differently than she was now. Granted, that didn’t seem likely. Not with her being so adamant about ending things—except the friendship, of course.

  As if he could settle for that. He couldn’t go back to being friends when he wanted so much more—which begged the question, why was she so certain she couldn’t give more? She’d given freely right up until it looked as if she might have to put a name on what they were doing. Until he’d applied for the county job and her escape route evaporated.

  So when was the last time Jolie had been in a relationship? Had she ever been in one? If so, had it ended badly? Had she been abused? Cheated on?

  Dylan had no way of finding out, short of questioning those who knew her well or asking her himself. He wasn’t going to do either.

  Not immediately, anyway.

  Mike was waiting up for him when he got home at ten. Dylan dumped his small suitcase in his room and returned to the living room, taking a seat in his lounger as Mike hit the mute button on the remote.

  “You got a call while you were gone. A lady.”

  His grandfather’s announcement surprised Dylan almost as much as the fact that he was still up.

  “Jolie?” he asked, feeling a surge of something that felt a lot like hope.

  “Nah. Codie James. She left her number.” Mike was watching him closely, waiting for a reaction, no doubt. Dylan wondered what reaction would make him happiest. “I think she and Finn went out a time or two.”

/>   “So I heard,” Dylan said.

  “Number’s by the phone.”

  “It’s a little late to call. I’ll get her in the morning.” A look of disappointment crossed his grandfather’s face and Dylan said, “I’ll let you know what she wanted.”

  “You d-don’t have to do that,” Mike sputtered. “So what happens now?”

  “With...the job?” He’d already called and told Mike that he’d passed and his grandfather had made the appropriate noises, even though Dylan didn’t think he was thrilled.

  “Yeah.”

  “I think when all is said and done they’re going to offer me the job I’d hoped for.”

  “And will you take it?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Mike tilted his head, his hand stilling on Speck’s back. “You don’t know?”

  Dylan pulled in a breath. He didn’t want to get the old man’s hopes up, but he didn’t see any reason to hedge, either. “I don’t want to go back to Lanesburg. The house is in escrow and... I like it here.”

  A smile cautiously spread across Mike’s face. “Well, the way business is improving at the store, maybe both you and Finn—”

  Dylan raised his hand, stopping Mike. “I’m going to try to get on here with the Sheriff’s Office.”

  “Law enforcement here? Just like I asked to begin with?”

  Dylan smiled a little at his grandfather’s accusatory tone. “I had a plan in my head, granddad. You know how I get with plans.”

  “Yeah, I do. Just like your dad. You follow them come hell or high water. Even if they’re wrong.”

  “How many wrong plans have I followed?”

  “I wasn’t exactly in favor of the become-a-cop plan, if you recall.”

  “No, you were not, but it was a good plan for me.”

  “It is now,” Mike said. “Especially if you’re going to live close by.”

  “I may not get the job,” Dylan felt compelled to remind him. “But if I don’t we’ll talk about how many people the feed store can support.”

  Mike smiled. “You’ll get the job. I know who else has applied.” He dropped the footrest and hefted himself to his feet. “I didn’t mean to stay up this late, but got suckered in by a movie.”

  “Glad you waited up for me. Glad we talked.”

  His grandfather gave a small nod and headed down the paneled hall to his bedroom, Speck trotting close to his heels.

  Dylan waited until the door closed before walking over to the phone and glancing at the number written in his grandfather’s angular hand. Call was written after it with a line drawn under it.

  He’d call at a decent hour tomorrow. Codie was, after all, a customer and he didn’t want to alienate her. Especially if he and Finn might both have to temporarily survive on the income from the store.

  As it turned out, he didn’t need to make that return call. He’d barely arrived at the feed store, hadn’t even had time to face off with Jolie, who was already at her computer, when Codie’s red Dodge pulled up outside the front door,

  “We’re not open yet,” Jolie said, shooting Dylan a look that told him that she was kind of looking forward to crossing swords with him. Had she realized a thing or two while he was gone...such as they did really well together?

  “Maybe it’s an alfalfa pellet emergency,” he said. “Are you going to turn away a customer?”

  “You know I’m not.” Jolie took the keys out of her pocket and walked to the front door before he could move. “Hi, Codie,” she said as if greeting an old friend. “Come on in.”

  “I know you’re closed,” she said, smiling warmly at Jolie before shooting him an equally warm smile. “But I’m on my way to Missoula and was hoping to catch the boss in.”

  “You caught him,” Jolie said. “There he is.” She nodded in Dylan’s direction before walking around the counter.

  “Hi,” Dylan said. “I was going to call you back first thing this morning. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “As a matter of fact,” Codie said as she crossed the dusty floor, “there is. Perhaps we could talk privately?”

  “Sure.” He opened his office door and stood back so that she could precede him into the room. As soon as he stepped inside, she tore her gaze away from tractor girl and fixed a smile on her face. “I wanted to talk in private, so that you could say no if you wanted to without an audience.”

  “What would I be saying no to?” he asked with a half smile.

  “Well,” she said, drawing the word out, “I need a favor.” She shrugged her shoulders. “My date canceled on me yesterday and I hate going to functions alone. Would you consider escorting me to a dinner tonight? The Mule Deer Foundation. The tickets are paid for and it’s a shame to waste one.”

  “I, uh...sure,” he said.

  Her face lit up. “Thank you. Like I said, I hate going alone and since you’re new to the area, I thought it might work out well for both of us.”

  “Sounds good,” he said, not pointing out that he had grown up in the area.

  “It’s a jeans-and-nice-shirt type of affair, but a sports jacket wouldn’t go amiss.”

  “I’ll see what I can dig up,” he said with a smile, “but I won’t guarantee no mothballs. My grandfather kind of has this thing...”

  She laughed and patted his chest, the smile fading a little as her eyes drifted to his lips then back up to his eyes. “So how about I pick you up...say six-fifteen? Drinks are at six-thirty.”

  “Can I meet you there? I’ll probably be in a bit of a rush since we close at five-thirty.”

  “Maybe Jolie can close?”

  “She has to get to work at her other job, so I’ll close.”

  “I understand. The dinner is in the convention room at the Jameson Supper Club. There’ll be a silent auction for all kinds of wonderful stuff, so you might want to bring your checkbook.”

  “Sounds good,” he said as he opened the office door. “Six-thirty at the Jameson.”

  * * *

  “SPECIAL ORDER?” JOLIE asked after Codie drove away, even though she’d promised herself she wouldn’t say anything.

  “Kind of,” he said, glancing across the store as if checking something important on the opposite wall. “We’re going to the Mule Deer Foundation dinner tonight.”

  “Ah,” she replied. He was the special order. Well, good for Codie.

  Right. That was why her stomach was twisting.

  You can’t have it both ways.

  No. She couldn’t, but she could look as if she didn’t care. After all, she’d been the one to walk, so it’d be very poor form to care. She leaned an elbow next to her keyboard on the desk. “So how were those orals?”

  “Don’t tell me Mike didn’t fill you in.” The way he looked at her told her that she wasn’t coming anywhere close to fooling him.

  “He did, but I thought I’d ask you.”

  “Because we’re friends?” he asked with enough ironic bite to make Jolie shift a little.

  “Yes.”

  “I passed.”

  “I’m not surprised. You always were good at that stuff.” And other stuff, which she really hoped Codie wasn’t going to partake in tonight. Again...poor form.

  “What now?” She was talking about the job, however, Dylan chose to misunderstand.

  “I have a lot to do in the warehouse.” But he didn’t move and she didn’t like the way he was looking at her, as if he was debating about diving into matters that she felt better skirting right now. Finally he took mercy on her and said, “Don’t work too hard.”

  “As if,” she muttered. Because to work hard one had to focus and she had a strong feeling that she wasn’t going to be focusing too well today.

  And she was right. Half an hour into accounts and
she shut down the program and started dusting and facing shelves, silently thanking the janitorial staff for being so inept.

  Noon approached, but Jolie didn’t slow down, despite her rumbling stomach. Just as she was about to break safety protocol and stand on a lower shelf to access an upper shelf the bell on the door jangled and Dylan strode in, a taut expression on his face.

  “What?” Jolie demanded.

  “Marcel. I think he’s sick.”

  Jolie’s heart jumped. “How do you know?”

  “He let me touch him. He’s got to be sick.”

  Yes, he did. Marcel wouldn’t even let her touch him and he was friendlier with her than anyone else at the store. “Where is he?” Jolie asked.

  “Hiding between two pallets.”

  Dylan pushed the door open and Jolie ducked under his arm, heading to the warehouse as fast as she could go.

  Dylan beat her there and once again pulled the door open before pointing to where the big orange cat huddled between two pallets of grain.

  Jolie approached slowly and Marcel backed up a couple of steps before hunkering down and attempting to glower at her.

  “I tried to chase him away so I could move the grain and he just sat there,” Dylan said from behind her. “So I reached out and he didn’t attempt to shred my hand. Or move.”

  “We need to get him to the vet,” Jolie said.

  “Agreed.”

  “Do you have a carry cage?”

  “I have a cardboard box with a lid.”

  “It’ll have to do.”

  He headed out the door while Jolie crouched and told Marcel that they’d get him some help, but he was going to have to cooperate.

  Dylan returned with the box, a towel and a pair of thick leather gloves.

  “Done this before?” Jolie asked.

  “I had to help Mike with an injured barn cat when I was a kid. That thing almost took Mike’s face off.”

  Marcel thankfully left Dylan’s face alone. He fluffed and growled and spread his feet when Dylan dragged him out from between the pallets, but hardly put up a fight as he went into the towel-lined box and Jolie put on the lid. Dylan tied it shut with a hay string.