“I was minding my own business, just like you and Pa said, drawing pictures.” Willa widened her eyes and tried unsuccessfully for innocence, but Cary knew her stepdaughter well.
“And?” Cary leaned against the counter and waited.
“Well.” Willa drew out the word for emphasis. “I drew me and my horse running barrels. My brown pencil broke, so I had to borrow Rodie’s crayons. I had to.”
“Was Rodie using the crayons?”
“He’s a little boy. He doesn’t need all the colors.” She flopped down in a chair. “I do.”
“So he was using them.” Cary schooled her features into a frown even though she wanted to laugh out loud at her daughter’s antics. “And you took them?”
“I borrowed them.”
Willa’s demeanor melted as she realized she wasn’t going to win this one. “I’ll go give them back.” She stood and started toward the living room, dragging her feet.
“Willa?” Cary waited as Willa turned to face her. “I think it would be nice if you’d color with your brother for a while, too. He loves it when you do things with him.”
Willa thought for a moment then nodded. “Okay, I can help him learn to color in the lines.” With a smile, she hurried out of the room.
Willa Wild West. Willa’s birth mother had thought the name appropriate, but Cary didn’t agree. The girl was as sweet as she was outgoing.
Cary grabbed a big mixing bowl and began making a double batch of Waldorf Salad. The men seemed to love the gooey mixture as much as the children.
Footsteps rang across the floor and she looked up to see Vivi entering the kitchen.
“I need a beer,” Vivi said as she sank into a chair. “Make that a shot of Fireball.”
“It’s not even noon yet. How about a cup of coffee instead.” Cary filled a mug and handed it to Vivi. “First lesson hard?”
She took a sip of the hot liquid and sighed. “I love the horse. Worry is beautiful and kind. It’s the cowboy I don’t understand. He hates me, and I don’t know what I did to deserve that.”
“Byron’s shy.” Cary grabbed a Coke from the fridge and popped the top.
“You said that already. Shy I get, but grumpy? A couple of times he started to relax then I’d say something and boom—he’d be Oscar the Grouch again. Could he be embarrassed because I saw him get bucked off that horse the first day?”
“Do you want me to talk to him? Or Micah?” Cary hadn’t known Vivi long, but the woman had been relentlessly positive about all things. It was unsettling to see her upset.
“Oh, heck no!” Vivi ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it behind her ears. She raised her voice to a high singsong. “Byron, daddy and mommy say you have to be nice to me. That would go over great, wouldn’t it?”
The sound of the kids squabbling filtered into the kitchen.
“Do you need to referee that?” Vivi attempted a smile.
“No, they’ll figure it out themselves.” Cary took a long swallow of the soda. She gave the pudding, pineapple and marshmallow mixture another stir then covered the massive bowl with plastic wrap and stowed it in the refrigerator. “Give Byron some time.”
“I guess you’re right. Maybe I’m overreacting.” Vivi stood and grinned, trying to look like the pretty, positive person Cary had met a year ago. “I’m off to call the shipping company and see when Micah’s birthday present will be here.”
“He’s going to be so surprised.”
“Who’s going to be surprised? You promised no surprise party for me.” Micah’s deep voice sent a shiver down Cary’s spine. Even in her fondest dreams, she’d never thought she’d end up here with a man who loved her and the best two kids anywhere. “Everything isn’t about you, Micah. We were just talking about Byron.” She hoped the change of subject was smooth enough Micah wouldn’t question her later.
“What about him? Or do I want to know?” Micah picked up her Coke and drank the rest. “I’m pretty sure I don’t.”
Vivi folded her arms across her chest. “It’s nothing.”
“He’s not being very friendly to Vivi,” Cary said, ignoring the frown Vivi threw her way.
Micah filled a glass with water from the pitcher in the refrigerator, drank half and turned to the women. “Being nice isn’t in his job description. Gathering cows and breaking colts is, and he’s one of the best.”
“Cary’s overreacting.” Vivi smiled at Micah, frowned at Cary and disappeared into the other room before either of them could say more.
~-~
Leaning back against a bale of straw, Byron smiled as a black and white kitten climbed his shirt, pausing with each tiny step to pull its claws from the fabric. Two more were scampering over his legs, backs arched, doing their best impressions of tiny killing machines.
Old Myrtle, one of the ranch cats, had disappeared five days ago and Byron found the three little puff balls crying in the haystack. He and Cary had mixed up some glop that the kittens devoured, and he spent a few minutes every morning just enjoying the kitten’s antics.
He hadn’t seen the woman, Vivi, for the last two days. She’d probably decided riding wasn’t for her. With her pretty clothes and put together look, she almost reminded him of his mother. Except, Vivi smiled all the time, at everyone. His mother only smiled if a person was worth her time, and then it never reached her eyes.
He stood and dusted off his hands. As he stepped out of the straw bale pen he’d made for the kitties, the black and white kitten latched onto his pants leg. “You can’t come with me, Cruiser. The cows would take one look at you and stomp you into the mud.” He gently disentangled the kitten and placed it back into the pen.
“What did you name the other two?”
Vivi’s soft voice sent a jolt of pleasure through his body, and he quickly squashed the sensation. “They’re barn cats. Don’t need names.”
“But didn’t you just call that one Cruiser?” She bent and scooped up the kitten and held it to her face.
“Yeah.” No use denying what she already knew.
“Why Cruiser?” Vivi put the first kitten back and picked up the gray tabby.
“Like a black and white police cruiser, I guess.” He watched her stroke the tiny head and watched the kitten relax in her arms. “I’ve got to go.”
“What’s this one’s name?” She pointed to the calico backed into the corner watching them warily. “And that one?”
Byron looked at the two kittens. He hadn’t gotten around to naming them yet. He was trying not to name them at all. They needed to become ranch cats not pets, but he loved animals. “Cat, I guess.”
Her smile was bright, and she showered all that warmth on him. “That won’t do at all. They’ll be confused when you call them.” She climbed over the straw bale, placed the gray on the floor and reached for the calico.
The runt hissed and swiped its tiny paw at her hand, drawing a bit of blood. Vivi didn’t miss a beat. She sank to the ground. “Hey, tiny friend. I’m not going to hurt you.” Her soft melodic voice was as hypnotizing to Byron as it was to the kitten.
Vivi inched her hand forward and touched the baby on the head. Within a few minutes, the kitten was in her lap. Not completely relaxed, but allowing Vivi to pet it.
“I’m not sure about a name for the little gray one, but this one is Eleanor.”
“Eleanor? What kind of name is that for a cat?” Byron shook his head as he straddled the straw bale and sat down. He couldn’t wait to hear her reasoning for that name.
“This kitten is feisty, knows her own mind and isn’t afraid to take on anyone. Just like Eleanor Roosevelt.” She shifted her gaze from the kitten to Byron. “It is a girl, isn’t it?”
“You’re in luck because Eleanor would be a terrible name for a tomcat.”
The smile that spread across her face was a sight to behold, and he caught himself smiling back at her. She gave him a light punch to the thigh. “You made a joke, big guy.”
Big guy. That was the title his fath
er used to introduce him to important people. Come on over here and meet the big guy. My son, the big guy. There’s not a running back in the country that can get past the big guy here.
There were times Byron wasn’t sure that his father remembered his name. It was like his whole worth as a human being was tied to his size. His worth as a son sure was.
Byron stood and walked out of the room and began saddling the first of the colts he had lined up to ride today. As he snugged the cinch, he felt a soft touch on his arm.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t making fun of you. It’s just that I hadn’t heard you joke around before, and that was funny.” Vivi stepped back as he turned.
He relaxed his jaw and tried to slow his breathing. This wasn’t Vivi’s fault. She’d made an innocent comment, and he’d overreacted. God, he’d thought he was over this. He couldn’t manage a smile yet, but he tried not to frown at her. “Not your fault.” He owed her more of an explanation, but he didn’t have it in him. Not right now. Maybe never. “I’ve got horses to ride.”
She nibbled on her lip. “Can I ride with you? I’ll try to keep my stupid questions to a minimum, and you can ignore the ones that escape.”
Byron could see the excitement shining in her eyes as she tried to control her eagerness to ride again. Why the hell couldn’t she be interested in something Cary could teach her? He didn’t have a good excuse to say no, so he shrugged.
“Catch Worry and brush him like I showed you the other day. I’ll help you saddle him.” He walked out of the barn to turn the young horse into the arena. Leaning on the fence, he watched as the animal jumped and bucked and generally enjoyed life. How long had it been since Byron had enjoyed anything besides gathering cows and riding colts? Not since his early football days.
And if he didn’t stop these maudlin thoughts he’d be mired in bitter memories. He made his way back into the barn to find her with her arms wrapped around Worry’s neck, her face buried in his mane. As he got closer, he could hear her talking.
“What are we going to do about that guy, Worry? He’s so sad.”
So she felt sorry for him, did she? Byron stormed into the tack room and grabbed Worry’s saddle and blanket. He smoothed the blanket on the chestnut’s back and threw up the saddle before turning to her. “You and Worry don’t need to worry about me. I’m doing just fine.”
He heard a snicker then a snort.
“I know the whole world revolves about you Byron, but Worry and I were talking about Willa’s old dog, Chase.” She pointed to the corner, and there sat Willa’s graying border collie.
“Willa said he’d too crippled up to work anymore, and he’s sad. Worry and I thought we might let him go with us when I get to be a good enough rider to leave the arena.” She was in full out laughter by this time. “Too bad you’re in such fine shape, or you could join us.”
He knew Vivi would do about anything to keep from embarrassing another person, but today, she seemed to take a great deal of satisfaction in the burning color of his cheeks.
CHAPTER FOUR
And to her utter shock, he ended up smiling. A small smile, but a smile none-the-less. And he’d told another joke.
She wanted to let out her newly acquired snark, but the last time she’d said something, he’d gotten angry and quit talking to her.
What could she say that wouldn’t set him off? Just smile and be polite? She shook her head. When her father had died, the one promise she’d made to herself what that she wasn’t changing to make anyone else happy.
“Another joke. That’s two in a row.” She stood her ground waiting for him to stomp off. When he didn’t, she relaxed the slightest bit. “Is that a personal best?”
He didn’t answer her, but he didn’t leave either. Instead, he finished saddling Worry and handed her the reins. “Let’s go, Annie Oakley.”
“Be still my beating heart. The man has a sense of humor.” She hurried after him, and she was almost sure she heard a chuckle.
Vivi managed to climb aboard Worry without any help from Byron. Dumb move there, Vivi. She’d liked the feel of his strong hands as he’d helped her on the before.
He caught the colt, bridled him then stepped on.
Vivi had this riding thing down as long as Worry didn’t get out of a walk. She’d managed to turn him both ways and stop and back him under Byron’s watchful eye. She was feeling like she’d nailed it until Byron told her to trot.
Who the hell ever thought of this as a means of transportation? She clung to the saddle horn with one hand and pulled back on the reins with the other. “I know you’re not too fond of me, but if you kill me right here in the arena, it’ll be a little obvious, don’t you think?” Worry stopped, and Vivi leaned over the saddle horn trying to catch her breath.
“I like you.” Byron’s brow was furrowed.
“So, not speaking, and ignoring a person is how you show affection? I pity your girlfriend.” Vivi’s breathing slowed to normal, and she prepared to try the trotting thing again. When Byron didn’t answer, she looked up.
“I don’t ignore you.” He looked truly confused as if it had never occurred to him that not speaking was bad manners.
“Look, Cary told me you’re shy.”
“I’m not shy. I just don’t like to be around people, is all.” Byron settled deeper into his saddle and walked the colt in a circle around Vivi and Worry. “Everyone wants to change who I am and what I want to be.”
“Maybe they just want you to be polite.” Vivi twisted her head, trying to keep Byron in view. This was the closest thing to a normal conversation she’d ever had with him. Despite everything, she enjoyed his company, and she knew all about people not accepting who you were. “Oh, and I like you, too.”
Byron stopped the horse, asked him to back a step or two then loosened his reins. The animal reached over and snuffled Worry’s mane. “Why?”
She’d been watching the colt and Worry but looked up at the question. “Why what?”
A hint of blush colored Byron’s cheeks and he ducked his head. “Never mind. Try trotting again and stand up in your stirrups.”
Why did she like him? Was that what he was asking. Whatever he’d been about to say, he’d decided against repeating. She gathered her reins and held them like Byron had showed her and clucked to Worry. The horse shook his head and walked. Vivi bumped his sides with her feet and clucked again. Worry broke into a slow trot. She bounced from side to side until she heard Byron. “Stand up.”
By the end of the lesson, she’d almost mastered posting at the trot. “Not bad for a city girl.” Byron held Worry while she dismounted then led both horses to the barn.
“Let me try unsaddling him.” Vivi watched until Byron nodded, then flipped the stirrup over the saddle seat like she’d seen Byron do during her earlier riding lessons. She worked the latigo loose and pulled the saddle and blanket from Worry’s back. When Byron had thrown it on, the saddle looked like it didn’t weigh much, but she staggered under the weight. “Wow, this is a full body workout just taking care of these guys.”
Byron took the saddle from her but left the blanket. “It’ll put hair on your chest for sure.”
“You are just full of jokes and witty sayings today, aren’t you?”
Byron handed her a soft brush and indicated Worry. He began to brush down the horse he’d ridden. “My friend’s grandpa used to say that to us all the time.”
She brushed away the sweat. “Where are you from?”
He didn’t answer, and when she turned to look, he was concentrating on working a tangle out of the colt’s mane.
“That’s okay. None of my business.” She hurried on, wanting to keep him talking. “I’m from Massachusetts. Born and raised in Cambridge. Father was the head of the chemical engineering department at MIT. Mother was a physics professor at Harvard before she retired to raise my brother and me.”
He was watching her, not saying anything, but not walking away so she continued. “I like it back there, but I’m hav
ing so much fun traveling around the country. America has so many beautiful places. Have you ever been to Zion National Park? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
She glanced up to see if he was still listening.
Byron shook his head. “Nope. I like it here just fine. Don’t need to travel to be happy.” He put both horses away and turned to Vivi. “Lunch should be ready.”
She expected him to turn and walk away, but he waited for her to join him. “I’m starved.”
Byron kept his distance from her, moving a few feet to her right, as if she might give him a spontaneous hug or something equally awful. He was talking though, and that was better than the other times she’d spent with him.
As they entered the kitchen, Cary looked up, and her eyebrows rose in surprise. “You two have a good time riding?”
Byron sat in front of a huge pile of sandwiches and grabbed the top one. Cary set a glass of milk in front of him and pushed a mixing bowl filled with chips to the center of the table. “She did good,” he said after chewing and swallowing some of the sandwich. “Worry took care of her.”
“He speaks,” Vivi said as she sat down beside him. She glanced at Cary, a wide smile lighting her face. “Byron’s teaching me to ride, and I’m teaching Byron basic social skills. I think it might even be working.”
~-~
The hippy woman never let up. She kept digging at him. With anyone else, he’d have walked away, but there was something about her, something besides her looks. She was pretty, but more than that, she hadn’t let him intimidate her. He could get rid of most people by glowering, the tougher ones by towering over them, using his size. Neither tactic had worked on Vivi.
There were a couple of times she seemed to back away then caught herself and stood her ground. And almost always with a smile. It was tough to push someone away who wouldn’t leave.
He didn’t want her around all the time, he didn’t want anyone around all the time, but he had to admit, she was better than most.
Cowboy's Sweetheart (Sugar Coated Cowboys Book 3) Page 3