Her Kind of Cowboy

by Charlotte Douglas

  His eyes clouded. “From me?”

  She started to say yes, but couldn’t. Being that close to him felt too good. “From the valley. I want a life of my own.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. “Why can’t you have a life of your own here?” he said softly in her ear.

  “Because I’m afraid.” The words popped out before she could think. How could she think with the thud of his heart against her own?

  “Afraid of what?”

  “Of being sucked in again by obligations to my mother.” She was light-headed from lack of air.

  “And?”

  He leaned back to face her, and his eyes seemed to look into her soul. But she couldn’t look away, and she couldn’t lie. “Afraid of losing my independence.”

  “Independence covers a lot of bases.” He held her against him with one arm and traced the line of her cheek with the index finger of his other hand. “Financial, emotional—?”

  “Both,” she interrupted with a whisper, because she couldn’t draw air to speak and couldn’t generate the will to push him away.

  He smiled, dimples forming in his tanned cheeks. The green flecks in his hazel eyes sparked. Without warning, he leaned forward, brushed her lips with his—and released her.

  She almost stumbled with surprise.

  “If it’s independence you want,” he said in easy agreement, “then I’ll do everything I can to help.”

  “Help?” She was inundated by confusion and longing, while warning bells clamored in her brain.

  “Finding a home for Hannah,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Getting the farm ready for the market. And once it’s sold, I’ll even help you pack. How’s that?” His expression was open, at ease, friendly. He was apparently willing, even eager, to expedite her departure. Had she only imagined the feelings she’d just seen in his eyes?

  She struggled to control her seesawing emotions and think of an appropriate response. Her addled brain refused to cooperate. How could one man, no matter how appealing, send her into total mental meltdown?

  He crossed the room, opened the back screen door, then turned to her. “I’ll see you a little before eight in the morning. We’ll take my truck.”

  The more distance he placed between them, the quicker her calm would return. “Fine. Eight o’clock.”

  The screen door slammed and he disappeared.

  Good, he’s gone, her head insisted. That was a close call.

  But her heart cried for more of Ethan Garrison.

  With the disconnect between her emotions and her brain making her feel out of control, if not out of her mind, Caroline locked the back door and, still wobbly from her close encounter, climbed the stairs to bed.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “YOU MISSED A SPOT,” Caroline said.

  From her vantage point, sitting in the middle of the poster bed in the upstairs bedroom, she pointed to the top of the wall Ethan had just rolled with sunny yellow paint.

  “Here?” He swiped the area with the roller.

  “That’ll do it,” she said with a nod.

  He stood back and surveyed the newly painted room with satisfaction. “This is better than that faded blue. Much more cheerful.”

  “And also Hannah’s favorite color,” Caroline reminded him.

  She ripped open a plastic bed-in-a-bag package and removed a yellow gingham dust ruffle, matching pillow shams and a quilted coverlet in a muted pale green-and-yellow plaid. Then she began making up the antique walnut four-poster bed she’d earlier stripped to its mattress. “Too bad this set didn’t come with a matching canopy. Maybe I can find some fabric in town and make one.”

  Ethan was glad his hands were covered with wet paint, which prevented him from reaching for her. Keeping his distance was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. Last night, he’d needed every ounce of willpower to walk away. But after Caroline had declared she wanted freedom and independence, he’d have been a fool not to give her space.

  What he’d really wanted was to kiss her again. The flicker of disappointment he’d noted in her expression when he’d released her had given him hope that, in spite of her desire for emotional independence, she’d wanted another kiss, too. That fleeting discontented look wasn’t much, but he wasn’t yet ready to admit defeat. He’d take whatever encouragement he could get.

  While Caroline made up the bed, Ethan tamped the lid on the paint can and carried the disposable pan and roller downstairs to the garbage can behind the kitchen porch. When he returned to the upstairs bedroom, Caroline was struggling to maneuver a wide two-shelf bookcase into the gable beneath a double window. He moved quickly to help her.

  When the bookcase was in place, Caroline stood back and studied it. “It needs a cushion. I’ll make one and cover it with the yellow floral fabric I bought today. Then Hannah will have a window seat on top of the bookcase, where she can sit and read and look out across the mountains.” She placed her hands on her hips and studied the rest of the room. “And I’ll bring in that big wicker chair from the back bedroom and cover its cushions to match the window seat.”

  Despite her protests about wanting another family for Hannah, Caroline was making every effort to make the little girl feel comfortable and at home.

  He shoved his hands into his back pockets to keep from breaking his resolve not to try to hold her again. Somehow, although she hadn’t touched a brush or roller, she had a smear of yellow paint on the tip of her chin.

  “You’re really into this, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “It’s good practice. When I get my own place, I’ll redecorate every room.”

  “And who’s going to paint?”

  She grinned. “Maybe you could come visit for a week. You’re wicked with a paint roller.”

  “I’m a man of many talents.”

  “And humble, too,” she teased. “I already know you can paint, garden, fight fires and sculpt in metal. What else is in your repertoire?”

  “You forgot cooking.”

  “That’s right. You did say you cooked at the firehouse.”

  “How about I fix supper tonight?”

  Her confidence appeared to waver. “At your place?”

  “Sure.” Why being alone with him at Orchard Cottage made her any more nervous than here at Blackberry Farm, he didn’t know, but he could tell from her response that she preferred her home turf. “Or I can cook here while you put the finishing touches on Hannah’s room.”

  She visibly relaxed. “That’ll work. Eileen kept the freezer and pantry well stocked. You’ll have plenty to chose from.”

  “Any requests?”

  “Surprise me.”

  He suppressed a grin. A surprise was just what he had in mind.

  * * *

  CAROLINE PLACED the vase of daisies on the dressing table and stepped back to admire her handiwork. With its sunny new paint and linens, the previously tired and dull spare bedroom appeared to glow with light, even though the sun had just set behind the mountain ridge visible from the window gable.

  The walnut furniture shined with beeswax polish, the crisp gingham curtains, freshly ironed, framed the sparkling clean windows, and the newly made bed was piled with a variety of pillows and a huge white teddy bear with a yellow bow around its neck. She’d filled the bookcase with favorites from her childhood, including several Nancy Drew mysteries, Black Beauty, National Velvet and My Friend Flicka, salvaged from her storage boxes still piled in t
he living room. Caroline had flipped through the horse stories of her childhood and recognized that her youthful love of the animals had eventually developed into her adult fascination with cowboy culture.

  Caroline had also added to the bookcase the entire set of Harry Potter books that Daniel had said his sister had always wanted. The huge bouquet of cheery daisies added the final touch to a space any little girl would love.

  The room smelled of beeswax, fresh linens, clear mountain air—and the aroma of something delicious wafting up the stairs. She’d almost forgotten that Ethan was cooking supper.

  Caroline washed her hands in the upstairs bathroom, scrubbed paint from her chin, and went downstairs. She turned toward the kitchen, promising herself not to allow a repeat of last night’s kiss. After Ethan had left, she’d lain awake for hours, feeling the imprint of her hands in his. In the clear light of morning, she’d recognized the danger—and futility—of those feelings. Tonight, she’d keep her guard up and her heart in lockdown mode.

  “I’m out here,” Ethan called from the other side of the front screen door.

  She stepped into the twilight onto the wide covered porch and blinked in amazement.

  Ethan stood behind a chair at a table draped in a white damask cloth, lit by tall tapers and set for two with Eileen’s best china and crystal. A nosegay of roses, tied with pink ribbons, lay beside her place.

  He pulled out a chair and motioned her toward it. “I said I’d surprise you.”

  “I meant surprise me with the menu.” Feeling awkward and caught off guard but also pleased, Caroline took the seat he offered. She could enjoy a special meal without committing to more, couldn’t she?

  Ethan sat opposite her. Candlelight accentuated the rugged angles of his face and reflected in his hazel eyes. “Then I hope you’re not disappointed in the food.”

  She directed her attention toward the plates in hopes of calming the rebellious flutter in her heart. Ethan had filled the dishes with braised chicken breasts with mushrooms, fresh French-cut green beans, baby squash and new potatoes.

  “It looks and smells wonderful,” she said.

  “Thanks to Eileen’s freezer and abundant garden.”

  “You work fast.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” he said, smiling.

  She ducked her head to cut her chicken and avoid looking at that smile.

  She took a bite, chewed and swallowed. “This is delicious. I should ask you to cook more often.”

  “I don’t mind rotating cooking chores.”

  The warm night air swirled around them, and the only light in the gathering darkness emanated from the candles on the table and the evening star ablaze in the cobalt blue of the not-quite-dark western sky.

  If he’d hoped to impress her with a romantic meal, his scheme was working. She was falling under his spell, a situation she’d promised herself to avoid. Before she succumbed, she needed a neutral topic to counteract his magic. “Tell me about your sister.”

  “Amber?” His face crinkled with affection, but just as quickly the light left his eyes. “She’s the baby in the family, only eighteen.”

  “Does she live at home?”

  “She does now.” His words were simple but his voice rang with sorrow and resignation.

  Caroline waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. The pain she’d noted so often in Ethan’s expression had returned, apparently generated by talk of his family. She changed the subject. “What are your plans for Orchard Cottage?”

  He seemed to welcome the switch and replied with enthusiasm. “I want to have the exterior repairs done before cold weather sets in. A few coats of paint. A new roof.”

  “You’ll do the roof yourself?”

  “That was my deal with Eileen.”

  “But it’s two stories with a high peak. Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “I’ve had plenty of experience with heights and ladders.” His expression clouded again.

  In frustration, she stabbed a green bean with her fork. Obviously, talking about anything that reminded him of work caused discomfort, too.

  He reached for her glass, filled it with iced tea from a nearby pitcher, poured some for himself, and lifted his glass in a toast. “To Hannah’s happiness. And to your new frontiers.”

  She sipped the tea and considered the irony of his words, one wish, for now, canceling the other.

  “So,” Ethan said, “what are your plans for Hannah?”

  This time she felt uncomfortable. “I have no idea. I’ve had no experience with children. Any suggestions will be much appreciated.”

  “Have her help you.”

  “Help? I hated chores as a child. I’d rather have been playing. But there’s no one for Hannah to play with out here.”

  He swirled his tea in his glass before taking another sip. “What about berry-picking? She might enjoy that. Fresh air, exercise, sunshine.”

  Caroline thought for a moment. “The blackberries will be ripe in a few days. I could teach Hannah to make jam and she can help me run the roadside stand like Eileen used to do.” She was warming to the idea. “I’d give her the money we make as an allowance. She’s probably never had funds of her own.”

  Ethan grew silent, as if deep in thought, and pushed a piece of squash around his plate. Then he lifted his head and met her gaze straight on. “How about a rodeo?”

  Caroline laughed. “Have a rodeo here? We don’t even have horses.”

  He shook his head. “There’s a rodeo in Greenville next weekend. Rand gave me four tickets. I thought you, Hannah and Daniel might want to go with me. You do like rodeos?”

  “I’ve never seen one, except on TV.”

  The harder she tried to resist Ethan’s charms, the more he eased his way past her defenses. As much as she loved all things Western, she should turn down his offer and not encourage him. But she couldn’t deny Hannah the pleasure of the outing. Or Daniel. The trip to Greenville would be a perfect visit for the siblings, and their presence would provide a good buffer between her and Ethan. Besides, she’d always wanted to see a rodeo.

  He had noticed her initial hesitation. “Of course, if you’d rather not—”

  “I’d love to,” she said quickly. “But I’ll have to get permission from Jeff for Daniel to leave Archer Farm. And make sure Hannah’s not afraid of crowds or animals. It scares me how little I know about the child.”

  “You’ll do fine. After all, you were a little girl once.”

  “But my childhood was happy and secure. I didn’t live through the traumas Hannah has experienced. And I have no idea how they’ve affected her. The records that Gofer showed me reveal only that she’s shy.”

  Ethan started to say something but stopped at the sound of a car coming toward the farm on the drive. “You expecting someone?”

  Caroline shook her head, placed her napkin on the table and rose from her chair. In the darkness, she could make out only headlights. But when the vehicle stopped and the driver’s door swung open, the dome light illuminated Lucas Rhodes.

  “Hey, Lucas,” she called. “What brings you all the way out here?”

  The officer approached the porch, climbed the steps, and stepped into the small circle of candlelight. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your meal.”

  His cocky grin implied he thought he’d interrupted more than eating.

  “It’s okay,” she said, “we were almost finished.”

  “Any more news on the body?” Ethan
asked.

  Lucas nodded, his grin vanished, and his face turned grim in the faint light. “That’s why I’m here. We got the coroner’s initial report.”

  “And?” Caroline prodded.

  “The body is that of a male, late twenties or early thirties.”

  “Any identification?” Ethan asked.

  “Nothing, except a few scraps of clothing,” Lucas said. “But the clothing included a belt buckle and some collar insignia.”

  “Insignia?” Caroline said. “What kind of insignia?”

  “A soldier’s,” Lucas replied, “and what we found on the body is vintage World War II.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  ETHAN HAD WELCOMED Lucas’s unexpected arrival. His attack of uneasiness, evoked by Caroline’s innocent questions about his sister and his own reference to ladders, had dashed his high hopes that a romantic dinner would impress Caroline.

  It wasn’t Caroline’s fault, however, that he couldn’t think of Amber without seeing the tears in his sister’s eyes or remembering how she’d quit her freshman year of college to stay home with their grieving mother. And he couldn’t think of his former job, much less talk about it, without experiencing a choking anxiety, tightness in his chest and a bad case of the shakes. Going to pieces over a simple conversation wasn’t the way to win Caroline’s heart. More likely he’d send her running in the opposite direction. He was lucky she hadn’t turned him down flat on the rodeo.

  “You think the body’s been buried at Orchard Cottage since World War II?” Caroline was asking Lucas.

  “It’s possible,” the officer said. “All we know for sure at this point is that he was male, a big man, about six feet five inches tall, and probably weighed over two hundred pounds.”

  “That is a big guy,” Ethan observed.

  “Probably took another big guy to do him in,” Lucas added. “Cause of death was definitely the blunt force trauma that caved in the back of his skull.”

  “The back?” Caroline asked. “Then someone could have sneaked up on him from behind?”