Stand-Up Cowboy

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Stephanie Bond

  “Some.” He came back to the table and pulled out his chair. “But from what I hear, it’s been changing, anyway. Guys are finding sweethearts who are now part of the mix. CJ and Isabel’s baby won’t stay a baby. Before we know it, Cleo Marie will be dancing around the fire like her mama.”

  “You guys dance out there?”

  “As best we can, considering our dance floor is a section of trampled grass. When CJ starts playing a lively two-step, nobody can resist.”

  Her expression grew wistful. “I can picture it.”

  “If we can get Georgie over his issues, you’d be welcome to bring him to one of the gatherings.”

  “That’s a big if. He loves to dance, though.”

  “He does?”

  She picked up her fork. “I suppose that’s hard for you to picture since you’ve only seen him when he’s upset. But it’s adorable.” She took a bite of meatloaf.

  “What does he like to dance to?”

  She chewed and swallowed. “Country songs. Erica, the woman who runs the daycare, shows the kids videos of country dancing and coaxes them to mimic the steps. They do a pretty good job. I’m prejudiced, but I think Georgie’s the best.”

  “I’d like to see that.” When she talked about her son in a positive context, her face lit up and her eyes sparkled. What a treat. “This meatloaf’s amazing, by the way.”

  “Thank you. It turned out even better than usual.” She hesitated. “Do you really want to see him dance?”

  “I do, but there’s no way he’ll come out and demonstrate.”

  “I took a video of him the other day. I’ll get my phone.” She left the table, went over to the coat tree and dug it out of her purse.

  He put down his fork as she came around to his side of the table.

  She scrolled through her phone. “Here it is.” Instead of handing it to him, she stood by his shoulder and leaned down, holding it so they both could see the screen.

  He understood the impulse to watch it with him. But the combination of her warm breath on his cheek and the scent of her spicy perfume played hell with his concentration.

  Okay, he could do this. The tune was George Strait’s All My Exes Live in Texas, and Georgie zig-zagged around the room, executing a credible two-step with an imaginary partner.

  He chuckled. “I’ll be damned. That’s beyond cute.”

  “Apparently today he insisted on wearing his cowboy hat while they danced. I wasn’t there in time to catch that.”

  Her voice was pitched low since she was so close. If he turned his head… nope, not going there. “He has a hat?”

  “Henri gave it to him this morning.” The video ended and she straightened. “He’s had it on all day.” Returning to her seat, she started eating again.

  He managed to take a deep breath and let it out without being obvious. “That’s terrific about the hat. If he wants to be a cowboy, then—”

  “I don’t know if he does or not. I think the appeal of the hat is that Miss ‘enri gave it to him.”

  “He says her name like that?” He tucked into his food, too. “With a British accent?”

  “That’s how it comes out. By the time he says Miss he doesn’t have enough breath to make the H sound.”

  Garrett gazed at her. “The Brotherhood would fall in love with your little guy, Anna.”

  “So how do we get him to fall in love with them?”

  “I’m not sure, yet, but he has all the makings of a little cowpoke. He has the hat and he loves to dance. All he needs is a pair of boots and… hey, wait a minute. He had on boots when Santa paid him a visit at Christmastime.”

  “Yes, he did, which is how he managed to nail Leo. That outfit was borrowed, and the boots were a little small for him, anyway.”

  “What size shoe does he wear?”

  She stopped eating and gave him a long look. “I’m not telling you.”

  “He doesn’t have to know they’re from me, and if he loves his new hat so much, then he’d probably—”

  “That’s not the point. I don’t want you spending that kind of money.”

  “It would be fun for me.”

  “He’ll outgrow them in a few months.”

  “He’ll outgrow the hat, too.”

  “That was a done deal. Henri had already bought it. Asking her to take it back would have been rude. And not to be indelicate, but she has more money to throw around than you do.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “I’m not saying she’s filthy rich. She has plenty of overhead. But unless you have money stashed away and you’re just working here for fun, chances are she can afford a hat more than you can afford a pair of leather boots for a toddler.”

  “Maybe I don’t have Henri’s financial resources, but I make decent money and not much to spend it on. I could easily afford—”

  “No, Garrett. It’s a very generous offer, but I can’t let you do it.”

  “All right.” Then he flashed her a smile. “You said his birthday’s in April. Can I get him boots for his birthday?”

  She laughed. “We’ll see. You’re worse than Georgie when he gets an idea in his head.”

  “I just think he’d look cute wearing them. Uh-oh, I’d better tend to the fire.” He left the table and rounded the couch. Crouching on the hearth, he rearranged the logs and replaced the tongs in the holder. “How does Georgie feel about horses?”

  “I don’t think he’s ever been close to a real one. Why?”

  He returned to his seat. “Easing him into ranch life might be a way to go. Kids are usually fascinated, especially if they’re introduced to a gentle horse to begin with.”

  “Um, okay.” Not exactly an enthusiastic response.

  “How do you feel about horses?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t have any experience with them, either.”

  “You don’t? I don’t know why I thought—”

  “My ex was the one who was gung-ho to live in Montana. I spent my whole life in Indianapolis.”

  “Why didn’t you go back?”

  “Didn’t want to. Ironically, he insisted on moving here and I’m the one who adores the place. Love the mountains and this little town. Besides that, I don’t exactly fit in with my family.”

  “I know how that is.”

  “They think I was crazy to get a divorce. They predicted I’d struggle financially. Brad has a talent for making money, and because he was a good provider, I was supposed to work it out.” She added air quotes.

  His jaw tightened. “Good thing you didn’t try.”

  “That’s for sure. He caused enough damage as it is.”

  “Okay, I have an idea. It’ll be better if you get acquainted with a few of the horses before we try it with Georgie. How about having lunch with me at the barn tomorrow? I’ll introduce you around.”

  “To the wranglers? I think I’ve met most of—”

  “To some horses. I’ll pack sandwiches and bring a thermos of coffee.”

  She met his gaze with the same look that earlier had telegraphed interest in getting chummy. “Sounds like fun.”

  Oh, yeah. It would be.

  Chapter Ten

  Georgie wasn’t the only one who was afraid of losing control. Anna was right there with him. Garrett had a way about him. She’d set boundaries, and he was a man of honor. He’d abide by them. But would she?

  Garrett had charm to burn and her trusty chaperone was AWOL. While they finished their dinner, Garrett gave her a run-down on the horses stabled in the barn. Normally all of them would be in the pasture that time of day, but he’d bring in three, each distinctively different, for her first meet and greet.

  He described them with an affection similar to the way she talked about Georgie. His enthusiasm was endearing. Sexy.

  How was she supposed to resist him? He’d fixed her car and stood ready to help fix her son, too. He wanted to buy Georgie boots and teach him to be a cowboy.

  But she needed to resist this knight in shining ar
mor, at least for now. Her son still distrusted men and getting involved with one would blow his mind. He’d see it as defecting to the enemy.

  By the time they’d finished eating and organized everything for s’mores, Georgie hadn’t come out. She glanced at Garrett standing near the fire waiting for her decision on whether to start. “I’ll go invite him one more time and see if maybe he’ll decide to join us.”

  “By all means.”

  She couldn’t ask for a more understanding man to navigate these tricky waters with Georgie. Or a more appealing one… aughhh! She shoved her inappropriate impulses away, walked over to Georgie’s door and tapped on it. “Hey, son.”

  “Don’t want Grit, Mama.”

  “Okay. But I need to get your dishes.” She opened the door and stepped into the room. Her chest tightened. Georgie was so alone in there. “We’d like you to come out and make s’mores with us.”

  The look he gave her broke her heart. She battled the urge to tell him she’d send Garrett away. But then what? Georgie would never dance by the fire pit, would never know that Garrett and the Brotherhood were friends to be cherished, not enemies to despise. “You’re not coming out?”

  He didn’t answer, just looked at her, his dark gaze stubborn and unyielding.

  “We’ll miss you.” She picked up his dishes and left the room, closing the door behind her. She carried the dishes to the kitchen nook, swamped by the pain of her child’s unhappiness.

  “Anna.”

  Garrett was right behind her.

  She set the dishes on the counter. “He won’t…” No reason to finish the sentence.

  Garrett put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I’ll leave if you want me to.”

  “I don’t want you to.” The warmth of his hands on her shoulders spread, soothing her anxiety and replacing it with something much nicer.

  Lifting both hands, she rested them lightly on his chest. Ah, that felt so good—wear-softened cotton plaid over solid muscle. She focused on the steady movement beneath her palms as he breathed.

  Gradually his breathing changed and his grip on her shoulders tightened. He swallowed. “Anna.”

  She raised her head and met his gaze.

  “Do you want me to kiss you?”

  “Yes.”

  Heat flared in his blue-green eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Slowly he lowered his head, giving her plenty of time to change her mind.

  She wasn’t about to. He wouldn’t take it too far. He wasn’t the type to throw caution to the winds. Maybe this would be their one and only kiss. But it was one they both wanted, both needed. She closed her eyes.

  His mouth brushed over hers, gentle as a warm breeze. Then he drew back. Was that it? Please don’t let that be all he’d allow himself. She hadn’t specified the type of kiss she was looking for, but more than that, for heaven’s—

  He touched down again, the velvet texture of his mouth firm against hers, his fingers flexing, drawing her closer. His lips parted, coaxed hers to open. Moist heat sent urges spiraling to her core. She clutched the front of his shirt.

  And he pulled away.

  She whimpered.

  He came back. Lifted her to her toes. This time he settled his mouth over hers with deliberate intent. Wooing her with teasing, sensuous movements of his lips that stole her breath, he gradually built the tension in her eager body.

  She whimpered again, wanting… yes! He claimed her with a firm thrust of his tongue and a soft groan that spoke of desperation tightly leashed.

  Sinking beneath a wave of pleasure, she abandoned herself to a kiss she never wanted to end.

  But it did. He eased back with such tenderness that tears threatened. She blinked them away and gulped. “Th-thank you.”

  “Ah, Anna.” Releasing his hold on her shoulders, he wrapped her in his arms and cradled her against his broad chest. “I’m the thankful one.” His voice was husky. “I thought it could be weeks. Months.”

  She took a shaky breath and nestled her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt. “I weakened.”

  “You’re not weak.” He stroked her back. “You’re human.”

  “Guess so.”

  “So am I. And that’s why I’m going to leave without making s’mores.”

  “You are?” She looked up. “But you were looking forward to—”

  “If I stay, I’ll want to kiss you again.”

  The warmth in his gaze created a delicious quiver deep in her core. “Fine with me.”

  “I’d rather quit while I’m ahead.”

  That made her smile. “Are you ahead?”

  “I think so. You let me kiss you long before I thought you would.” He glanced toward Georgie’s room. “And if I leave now, it’ll be our little secret.”

  She sighed. “Good point.”

  “Letting go of you will be tough, though.” He pulled her closer. “This feels very good.”

  “Sure does.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out. “But I’m leaving.” He loosened his grip and stepped back. “Have a s’more for me.”

  “I will.” She fought the urge to reach for him.

  He walked over to the coat rack and unhooked his jacket. “So I’ll see you down at the barn around noon tomorrow?”

  “For what?”

  He grinned. “Lunch and your meet and greet with the horses.” Lifting his hat from the coat tree, he settled it on his head.

  “Oh. I forgot all about it.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “It was.”

  “See you then.” He touched two fingers to the brim of his hat and opened the front door.

  “Wait! You didn’t text Zeke!”

  “I know. The walk will do me good.”

  “But it’s so cold out there!”

  He laughed. “Exactly.”

  Gone. She wrapped her arms around her middle and hugged herself. Not quite the same, was it?

  She hadn’t been kissed like that in… oh, who was she kidding? She’d never been kissed like that. Back in high school, she and her friends had discussed which of their boyfriends were the best kissers.

  Some of the girls had rhapsodized about the wonders of a great kiss. She’d figured they were making it up. Or that she had impossibly high standards that no man could achieve.

  Wrong-o. Garrett Whittaker had nailed it on the first try. Her mouth still tingled and the rest of her was party-ready, too. He was likely in the same shape since he’d chosen to walk home.

  Now what? She didn’t regret that amazing kiss, not for a second, but she’d further complicated what was already a minefield. Now that she’d tasted her first Garrett kiss, she’d be craving another one. Judging from what he’d just said, he would be only too ready to oblige, but—

  “Where’s Grit?”

  She turned.

  Georgie stood just outside his door, his slightly too-big cowboy hat pulled over the tips of his ears as he searched the area, poised to dash back inside.

  She took a deep breath. “He’s gone home.”

  “To his house?”

  “To the bunkhouse.”

  “What?”

  “A bunkhouse is where cowboys live.”

  “Oh.” He ventured out and peered at the fixings for s’mores sitting on the folding table. “Will he comed back?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “But he didn’t maked ’mores.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “I wanna maked ’mores.”

  Technically she shouldn’t let him. But technically she shouldn’t have kissed Garrett, either. “Okay, let’s do that.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The scent of wood smoke drifted toward Garrett as he neared the bunkhouse, which was lit up like a Christmas tree. Jake’s truck sat in the parking area along with Rafe’s.

  Last night Zeke had asked where to put his mud-spa
ttered rig. Garrett had suggested parking near the front door. It looked a whole lot better sitting there now than it had last night. Today Zeke had washed it, revealing a new dark green paint job on an older-model F150.

  Zeke kept his truck in good shape, which earned Garrett’s respect. The guy’s help with Anna’s car had been valuable, too. Garrett was glad to see Jake’s truck here. He must be making good on his plan to get acquainted with his new-found brother and niece.

  What a great kid Claire was, and what a treat watching her walk into the bunkhouse last night. She’d surveyed the bunks lining either side of the main room and the antique wood stove across from the front door. Then she’d lifted her gaze to the weathered rafters and glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen. Finally, she’d turned to her father with a grin that took over her entire face. “It’s absolutely perfect, Daddy.”

  Game over. Garrett had exchanged a glance with Zeke, their unspoken agreement clear. They’d do whatever was necessary to make the new living arrangement work for Claire.

  When he opened the front door, her perky voice rang out from the kitchen. “Is that you, Uncle Garrett?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Good thing he’d become part of the Brotherhood in December, for many reasons. Being Claire’s uncle was the latest and promised to be an important one.

  “Daddy, one more game, so Uncle Garrett can play?”

  “One more. Then it’s bedtime.”

  Garrett left his coat and hat in the bunkroom, walked into the kitchen and evaluated the distribution of chips on the table.

  “Play at your own risk,” Jake said. “It’s open season on the hombres tonight. The ladies are cleaning our clocks.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Look at my stash, Uncle Garrett.” Claire gestured toward the respectable number of chips in front of her.

  “Nice.”

  “Aunt Kate has the most, but that’s okay. She’s been playing longer than me.”

  “So have I, cutie-pie,” Jake said. “How do you explain my sorry performance?”

  Claire gazed at him. “Aunt Millie said you’ve allowed yourself to become distracted.”

  Jake busted out laughing. “Your Aunt Millie’s a smart woman.”