Cowboys Like Us

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Me, too.”

  “Okay, I’m really leaving.” He backed toward the door.

  She stood with her hands clasped in front of her, as if determined to stay in that one spot until he was out of her apartment. “See you this afternoon.”

  “You’ll be there, no matter what, right? Because I will get that shift covered for you.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  He groaned. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  Unclasping her hands, she made shooing motions. “Get out of here, cowboy.”

  “I’m not a cowboy.”

  “You never know. That could be part of your plan B.”

  “Hell—I wish I didn’t have to go, but I do, so…I’m outta here.” With a supreme act of will, he opened the door, walked out and closed it behind him.

  A cool breeze leeched the heat from his body and he shivered. Watching his step in the dim light, he descended the narrow stairs to the darkened street below. Caro was so warm, so full of sunshine. The afternoon seemed very far away.

  6

  CARO HURRIED TO THE window and watched Logan go down the stairs. He was favoring his right knee, and she battled guilt because she hadn’t thought about his injury when they’d first had sex. Of course he wouldn’t mention it, macho guy that he was. He had to be more careful.

  She should take him to the assisted living facility and show him what real infirmity looked like. Maybe then he’d understand that carelessness now would mean depending on a wheelchair when he was eighty. He might also realize how lucky he was to be healthy in every other way, with only a bum knee to worry about.

  Plus he had financial security, and he was, in her unbiased opinion, incredibly handsome. All in all, he was a fortunate man. He wasn’t thinking like that right now, though. But she’d never had a single-minded drive to accomplish something like becoming a nationally known sports star, so maybe she couldn’t relate properly to his angst.

  She watched him cross the street and head off toward Grandma Judy’s house. If Jack hadn’t come up with that alternative, Logan might have been obligated to go back to the ranch instead of staying to help her. Caro owed Jack a debt of gratitude.

  She wouldn’t tell him so, because he’d mention it to Josie, who might start worrying about Caro ending up with a broken heart. It would be like Josie to be protective. She’d helped, both with a truck and emotional support, during the difficult time of moving Grandma Bonnie from her little house in Shoshone into assisted living. She’d also offered this apartment at a very reasonable rate, when selling the house had meant Caro no longer had a place to live.

  But Caro wasn’t some delicate flower who couldn’t handle a brief love affair without wilting. She’d accept whatever Logan could offer and be grateful. What woman worth her salt wouldn’t? Logan was a fantasy guy who’d delivered everything that gorgeous body of his promised.

  Mmm. She savored her memories of his hands, his mouth, his hard…ahem. There was no way she’d be able to sleep now that she’d reminded herself of the stupendous orgasms she’d enjoyed compliments of Mr. Carswell.

  Hurrying back to the bedroom, she picked up her shirt and dressed quickly. Then she descended the stairs, keys in hand, and went into the bar. She wanted to find some information on Logan’s career on the internet, and she couldn’t very well surf the web on Josie’s computer during working hours, or somebody would get suspicious.

  As she opened the door, she heard what sounded like a soft chuckle, a very male chuckle.

  A shiver traveled up her spine. “Who’s there?”

  No answer.

  Her first instinct was to turn on every light in the place, but an early riser somewhere in the neighborhood might notice that all the lights were on at four forty-five in the morning, and report it to Josie. Caro didn’t want to have to explain. So she waited, heart pounding, until her eyes adjusted to the muted glow coming from the lights under the bar.

  Straining to see, she finally concluded that the room was empty. Maybe the door hinge was to blame, as Logan had suggested earlier. She moved the door back and forth, and the hinges squeaked a little, but they sounded nothing like the laughter she’d heard—twice.

  But there had been nothing threatening about the laughter. The person, or the spirit of a departed person, had seemed mildly amused. Taking a deep breath, Caro decided to forget about it. Josie swore ghosts visited the bar, and Morgan, Gabe Chance’s wife, said she’d seen one last summer. They’d both insisted the spirits were friendly and Caro had nothing to fear.

  She walked into the office and closed the door before turning on the light. The blinds were already pulled down, so no one outside the building would know she was in here. After booting up the computer, she settled into Josie’s desk chair and proceeded to look Logan Carswell up on Google.

  An hour later, she checked the digital clock at the bottom of the screen and reluctantly turned off the computer. If she planned to drive to Jackson this morning, she needed a shower and lots of strong coffee. But she’d learned quite a bit about Logan, and now their time together in her apartment seemed even more surreal.

  She had trouble reconciling her image of a very naked, very ardent Logan with the intense guy crouched behind home plate wearing a catcher’s mask, chest protector and kneepads. Surely she hadn’t just made love to that man? Yet her sexually satisfied body indicated she had.

  She’d watched a few clips of him playing ball, and he’d always reacted with precision, whether he was behind the plate or up to bat. Most of all she’d noticed his intense focus, a trait he’d no doubt honed in the years he’d spent training and practicing. She understood his anger a lot better and wished she hadn’t flippantly told him to “get a new career.” Anyone that dedicated couldn’t be expected to switch gears immediately.

  She’d also watched the incident that had ruined his knee, although seeing it made her stomach twist. He’d thrown off his mask to make the play, so his expression of agony was right there, front and center. Caro wanted to hate the player that had collided with him, but that wasn’t fair. They were both simply doing what they’d been paid to do.

  Moving away from the computer, she turned off the light and locked up after herself. No ghostly laughter greeted her, but then again, it was light outside, time for all self-respecting ghosts to go back to wherever they came from. She hurried up the stairs, grateful that no one was around to notice. She was terrible at making up stories.

  If she wondered whether her sexual adventures with Logan had been real, she had only to walk into her bedroom and gaze at the rumpled sheets to know that he’d been there, loving the daylights out of her. Talk about a peak experience. She’d never forget a moment of what they’d shared as long as she lived.

  She hoped to see him again today, but she wouldn’t count on it. All things concerning Logan had to be wonderful surprises, not sweet certainties. If that time in her bed was all they ever had, she’d consider herself blessed.

  After a long and reviving shower and two cups of coffee, she felt a little more fit for company, namely Grandma Bonnie’s. As she was about to head out the door, her cell phone rang.

  Her first thought was always about her grandmother, one of the few people who called her regularly, and the person whose welfare most concerned her.

  Instead it was Josie. “Logan came to talk with me this morning,” she said. “He seems to think you’re headed for burnout if you don’t get the afternoon off.”

  Warmth spread through Caro. Logan was watching out for her, and that was a great feeling. “He might be exaggerating a little.” She crossed her fingers. “If you need me to work my shift this afternoon, I’ll be happy to do that.”

  “Actually, I contacted Steve to see how he’s faring after his stomach problems last night. He seems fine, and he’s volunteered to take your shift.”

  “Thank you, Josie. I admit a break would be terrific.”

  “So you and Logan are going riding this afternoon?”

  Excitemen
t bubbled in her veins. She managed to sound reserved even as she mentally turned cartwheels at the prospect. “Yes, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure, that’s fine. I’ve wanted to get you out here to ride, but you’ve been so busy. It promises to be a beautiful day, and we’ll saddle up a couple of cooperative horses for you and Logan. If I know Mary Lou, she’ll insist on fixing you some snacks to take along.”

  It took Caro a moment to remember that Mary Lou was the cook at the Last Chance. “I’d hate for her to go to any trouble.”

  “No worries. She’d be upset if I didn’t let her do that. You probably don’t remember seeing her, but she was at the reception last night, and she noticed that you were working extra hard. She’ll want to treat you right.”

  “Well, then, that sounds fabulous. Thank you, Josie.”

  “Don’t thank me. Thank Logan. He’s the one who brought it to my attention that all you do is work and visit your grandma.”

  Caro groaned. “Please don’t think I was complaining to him. I have a wonderful situation. I love working for you, and I love my grandmother. I would never—”

  “Relax, Caro. He emphasized that you weren’t complaining, that you’re the most positive person he’s ever met. But I think he has a point. I realize that your grandma needs a lot of emotional support while she’s in this transition period, but she’ll think you’re working. You should grab the chance to have some fun while you can.”

  “Okay. I just didn’t want you to think I bent Logan’s ear about how sad my life is, because it’s not.”

  “I don’t think that at all. Anyway, I don’t know if I’ll be around or not, so if I don’t see you, have a wonderful ride. Here’s Logan. He wanted to double-check something with you.”

  Caro’s pulse kicked up a notch as Logan came on the line, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t had to tear himself away from her a few hours ago. “So it’s all set.”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  She remembered the last time she’d heard him say that, and a zing of awareness made her tingle all over.

  “Listen,” he continued, “as long as you’re coming out here, you might as well stay for dinner. Sarah suggested it.”

  “How nice of her.” Caro had always admired Sarah Chance, who’d raised three fine sons and had handled her husband’s sudden death two years ago with courage and grace. She was another woman who understood the meaning of resilience.

  “Then you’ll stay for dinner?”

  “I’d love to.” She made a mental note to bring lipstick along on the trail ride, in case he kissed it all off. It wouldn’t be classy to appear at dinner looking as if she’d spent the afternoon making out with Logan. But she hoped she would end up doing exactly that.

  “Great. I’ll see you around two-thirty, then.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  His voice lowered a notch. “Me, too. ’Bye, Caro.”

  His tone sent shivers up her spine, but she wasn’t sure he should have taken the chance on Josie overhearing. He’d put a wealth of meaning into those last four words. Yes, she would definitely take lipstick along.

  LOGAN HANDED THE CELL phone back to Josie. “Thanks for arranging this for her.” His plan was working perfectly.

  Josie had shown up to search for an old wooden cradle Jack remembered being stored in the barn. Spotting Josie’s truck, Logan had gone down to the barn and offered to help find the cradle. During the search he’d mentioned Caro getting time off, and Josie had been glad to arrange it.

  She tucked the phone back in her jeans pocket. “Happy to.” She gazed around the barn. “I know that cradle has to be here. I can’t imagine anyone pitching it out. Let’s try the tack room.” She started in that direction. “Did Caro tell you about her grandmother?”

  “She did, and she tried very hard not to sound stressed about her schedule, but she is.”

  “I know she is, but I didn’t think of this solution of getting somebody to take her shift. Good idea. Before the move into assisted living, her grandmother was a really cheerful sort, not needy at all, but now she asks Caro for her schedule and expects a visit whenever Caro’s off work.”

  “Isn’t that a little unreasonable?”

  Josie surveyed the tack room, where saddles and bridles hung from hooks lining the walls, and saddle blankets were stacked in a large bin in the corner. “I suppose, but this is a woman who’s lived in the same little house in Shoshone most of her life, and who had Caro living with her for the past twenty-some years. My guess is she’s suffering from separation anxiety.”

  “Don’t those assisted living places have counselors to deal with that?”

  “I’m sure they do, but counseling isn’t an instant fix for people in their eighties. Or anyone, for that matter.” Josie glanced up into the rafters. “There it is! Somebody put it up there for safekeeping.”

  Logan gazed where she was pointing and spotted the cradle balanced on two beams. He also saw dust and cobwebs, but maybe the cradle would look great once it was cleaned up. “I’ll get it.” He pulled a wooden stool over and climbed up on it.

  “Be careful, Logan. I don’t want you reinjuring your knee.”

  “I won’t.” He wished he could do that Men in Black trick and erase everyone’s memory of his knee problem. He was sick of having people worry about whether his knee could withstand whatever activity he’d chosen to do.

  He brought the cradle down in a shower of dust that made them both sneeze. “That’s been up there a hell of a long time.” He placed it gently on the floor, but anyone could see that a simple cleanup wouldn’t do the trick. Something had been gnawing on the wood, and the cradle listed to one side. It didn’t smell very good, and although Logan was no expert on bat shit, he thought that might explain the odor.

  “It’s a mess, isn’t it?” Josie sounded distressed.

  “I’m afraid so. I wouldn’t trust my baby in that thing. Sorry, Josie.”

  “Jack said that supposedly his grandpa Archie built this for Jonathan. But then Diana, Jack’s mother, didn’t want to use it. I guess it got shoved into the rafters and ignored.”

  “Maybe you need to buy a new cradle.”

  “But I like it, Logan. Look at how he cut that heart pattern out of the head and footboards. You’re not going to find that just anywhere.” She glanced at him. “Could you fix it? I remember you were always building things back in high school. When you weren’t on the baseball field, you were in wood shop.”

  Logan studied the cradle. “It’s been a long time.” But her comment reminded him of the satisfaction he’d felt whenever he finished a woodworking project. He’d abandoned that interest in favor of baseball, but he remembered with fondness the smell of fresh lumber.

  “I’m thinking you could salvage some of it and make a new piece for the parts where the critters, whatever they were, chewed on it,” she told him.

  “I’d rather start over and use this as a pattern.”

  Josie shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans while she considered that. “It won’t be the cradle Archie built.”

  “No, but it won’t have bat shit on it, either. And I’m not sure those stains would ever come off.”

  Josie glanced at him. “I don’t want my kid in a cradle with bat shit stains on it.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “Could you really build a replica?”

  He crouched down, which made him wince at the pressure on his knee, but he needed to get a closer look. The cradle was finely made, and he hated to think of all that work ending up in the trash. But it was ruined, and he could create something that would look just like it and smell a hell of a lot better. “Yeah, I think so. I’ll need tools.”

  “Let me call Jack.” Pulling her phone from her pocket, she punched in a speed-dial number. “It’s been a trick getting everyone to use cell phones. It’s not the cowboy way, apparently. But I think we’re converting people gradually. Jack loves his phon
e now.”

  Logan no longer loved his. He’d deliberately left it in his room in the ranch house, because now that he wasn’t a baseball star, nobody called. He used to be on a dozen people’s speed dials, but no more. His lack of calls was so depressing that he tended not to carry it at all.

  While Josie consulted with Jack about the availability of carpenter tools, Logan hunkered down and began to deconstruct the cradle. The more he thought about the project, the more he liked it. When he left the Last Chance in the next week or so, he’d be leaving behind something he’d made, something that might become the heirloom this cradle was supposed to be.

  Josie got off the phone. “Jack says Archie’s old tools are all packed away in a box. He thinks Sarah can locate them. Jonathan didn’t have much aptitude for carpentry, I guess.”

  “Was he Sarah’s husband, the guy who died?”

  “Yes, and the only son of Archie and Nelsie—Eleanor. Jack and his brothers weren’t interested in carpentry, either, so the tools have gone unused ever since Archie died.”

  Logan felt a little as if he might be intruding on Chance family history. “Are you sure it’s okay if I use them?”

  “Positive. Jack said if you can make a replica of that old cradle for our baby, he’ll be eternally grateful, because, to quote him, ‘I sure as hell can’t do it.’”

  “Then let’s go find Sarah and see if she knows where those tools are. I might as well get started.”

  “All right.” Josie headed out of the tack room. “How long do you think it’ll take you?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Will you be able to stay until you finish it?”

  Logan’s first thought was that this cradle project might give him the excuse he needed to hang around longer. “I think I can manage to stay until it’s done.” And in the process, he’d get to see more of Caro. He wasn’t remotely ready to give her up yet.

  7

  A COMBINATION OF ADRENALINE and caffeine fueled Caro’s morning with Grandma Bonnie. More than once her grandmother asked her why she was so perky, and she blamed it on one too many cups of coffee. That was true, as far as it went.