Tall, Dark and Cowboy

by Joanne Kennedy

  “But I didn’t make her do that.”

  “Okay. I’ll give you that. But the rest of it?”

  “I don’t know. The horse wasn’t really my fault.”

  “Okay, maybe not. But here’s what I know. My life was finally in order. I had my land, my house, my business—everything all arranged. Solid. And then you came in here and scrambled it all up.”

  “Chase, I didn’t ask you to…”

  “Yes, you did. You asked me to help you. And I did.”

  He had, she realized. He’d hadn’t just helped her; he’d saved her. And he’d saved her from herself, making her see what she’d become—a limpet, a barnacle, dependent on others for her very survival.

  She really did owe him her life. Her new life.

  The one she’d made, here at the ranch.

  He reached over and took her hands in his.

  “You don’t have to stay here, Lacey. You’re free to go wherever you want. But I was thinking maybe you’d want to go to Grady.”

  She thought of Cody, of Pam, of Annie. Galt, too. Her new makeshift family of friends. “I do want that.”

  “So go. Go to Grady every day. But come home to me at the end of it.”

  She shook her head. “But the horses, Chase. The whole ranching thing. I’m just not cut out for that.”

  “And I’m not cut out for a life in town. That’s what makes it so perfect.”

  She went back to her cereal, stirring the sodden flakes into the milk. She didn’t see how leading completely incompatible lives made anything perfect.

  “Lots of ranch wives work in town. And I need somebody to run the car lot.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Look, I know it’s not what you want for the rest of your life. But you could go to school too. Cheyenne’s not that far. You can get that real estate license, and by the time you’re ready to start selling houses, you’ll have practiced on the cars. Everybody here will know you. Love you. You’ll be the heart of the whole town. Really, Lacey, you will.”

  She looked up at him. The car lot. She could do that. She’d gotten so accustomed to being a prisoner at the ranch, she’d forgotten there were other options—better ones. Working at the car lot would be the kind of job she’d imagined. She’d keep things organized, make decisions, help people. She’d matter—and at the end of the day, she’d come home to Chase.

  After school. She wasn’t going to let that go again. She was going to make sure it happened.

  But it would all still depend on Chase. On a man.

  “Chase, I’m not selling myself to a man again. Not even you.”

  “You’re not selling yourself to me. Hell, I’ll sell myself to you if it’ll help.” He grinned. “My heart and soul, for more nights like that.” He reached over and took her hand, his tone softening. “Remember that night we looked at the stars?”

  She turned away, as if there was something captivating happening outside the side window. “Yes.”

  “Remember the next day, when I said I always used to wonder how they looked from Tennessee?”

  She nodded, turning slowly to look at him.

  “I lied. That wasn’t what I was wondering. What I was wondering was how they looked to you. I used to think maybe you were looking up at the same stars, and feel like maybe that was a link between us. It wasn’t much of a link, but it was something.”

  She blinked, slowly, as if she was having trouble absorbing what he was saying. “But you hated me. When you recognized me, you looked at me like I was the Antichrist.”

  “I was scared.”

  She remembered how he’d looked, tall and brawny, with his arms folded across his chest and that arrogant up-and-down stare. “Scared of what?”

  “Scared you’d take away my world again.”

  “Chase, it wasn’t me. It was my husband.” She clenched her fists. “My ex-husband. I had nothing to do with your father losing the farm. I did not take away your world.”

  “You were my world. And you kissed me, and then you married someone else.”

  Lacey stared at him. “I kissed you?”

  He looked away. “That night I drove you home from a party. You were drunk.”

  Oh, shit. No wonder he’d thought she was a slut. “I’m—oh my God. Chase, I don’t even remember.”

  “That explains a lot. Like why you married Trent even though—it was a great kiss, Lacey. Pretty much the highlight of my life.” He smiled and shook his head. “Pathetic, I know.”

  She wondered how a man who could speak so directly could have nursed a secret love all these years and never said a word, never tried to contact her. The fact that he’d tried to push her away when she’d walked back into his life just showed how much she’d hurt him.

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “You married Trent.”

  “But before that…”

  “I guess I’m not much for words,” he said. “But I was there for you, wasn’t I? When you needed me, like with Wade, didn’t you ever notice I was always looking out for you? I never stopped thinking about you.”

  She smiled. “If you weren’t such a nice guy, that would be creepy.”

  He laughed. “I guess it would.”

  She looked down at her lap. “I feel bad that I didn’t know. That I didn’t think about you. If I’d known…”

  “But you did think about me.”

  “When I needed help.”

  “That’s all I want, Lacey. I just want to be the one you turn to.”

  “You are,” she said. “You always were. It just took me a really long time to turn.”

  ***

  A month later, Lacey found herself tugging awkwardly on Captain’s reins, struggling to steer him around the first turn in the homemade barrel racing course Chase had put up for Annie. The horse veered to the left, and she overcorrected, steering him too far to the right. They were reeling around the ring like a couple of drunks.

  Annie swallowed a giggle as the normally cooperative Captain stopped dead and laid his ears back, finally fed up with his rookie rider’s conflicting signals.

  “You’re doing fine, Aunt Lacey,” she said. “Just think, you used to be scared of horses. And now you’re a barrel racer.”

  “Not really.” Lacey straightened in the saddle and poked Captain with her heels, urging him on. He plodded toward the barrel at a slow walk. “I’m not breaking any records here.”

  “No, but you’re doing it,” Annie said. “Now rein him to the right.”

  Lacey slanted the left rein against the horse’s neck and managed to steer him around the barrel in a reasonably tight circle.

  “See? You’re doing good.”

  Lacey poked Captain with her heels again, since he’d stopped to wait for her command. She suspected he could run the course perfectly on his own, but her riding was so bad he couldn’t figure out what she wanted. He took her to the next barrel and dutifully plodded around it, then followed the standard cloverleaf pattern to circle the third. He would have done it just as well with no rider at all.

  “This is the fun part! Now spur for home!” Annie crowed.

  But Captain didn’t need spurring. This was apparently his favorite part of the race too. Lacey felt his muscles bunch beneath the saddle, and he shot off like a cork from a popgun, stretching out and flying for the gate while she hung on to the horn. Only after they’d passed through the gate did she manage to pull him to a stop.

  “You did it, Aunt Lacey! That was awesome!” Annie ran up and took the reins, leading the horse to the hitching rail. “It was fun, right? You don’t even think about falling anymore.”

  Lacey arched her leg over the horse’s rump and lowered herself to the ground. Annie was right. She’d kind of enjoyed the run, the way she used to enjoy cheer stunts. Falling wasn’t really so bad. There was always a way to pick yourself up and start over, a way to gather the reins and take control again.

  She watched Chase step out of the barn and into the sunlight, a battered hat shading
his eyes. He was all cowboy now, spending all his days on the ranch and even managing a growing herd for Galt. Lacey’s cowgirl learning curve was a long, hard-won slope, but the car lot was thriving under her care, especially now that she’d hired away one of Jeb’s mechanics to help out in the evenings while she drove down to Cheyenne for school. Jeb had hired Krystal back and she’d become a combination receptionist/bridezilla as they prepared for their wedding.

  “Uncle Chase is going to be so proud of you.” Annie hauled the saddle off the horse’s back and set it on the fence rail, then lifted the big horse’s hooves one by one, clutching them between her knees as she cleaned them with a pick.

  “I didn’t do it for Uncle Chase,” Lacey said. “I did it for me.”

  Chase strolled over and slung an arm around her shoulder, tugging at a lock of hair that spilled out from under her rakishly tilted cowboy hat.

  “I know,” he said. “That’s what makes me so proud.”

  The End

  Acknowledgments

  I’ve never been much for touchy-feely, self-absorbed, Oprah-type navel gazing. But I’ve surprised myself by climbing on the “gratitude journal” bandwagon lately, listing a few things I’m grateful for every morning.

  Right on top of today’s list is the chance to make my gratitude public by writing these acknowledgments for my fourth published novel.

  I owe that opportunity to my wonderful agent Elaine English and my amazing editor Deb Werksman, along with my visionary publisher Dominique Raccah, promotion guru Danielle Jackson, and the rest of the Sourcebooks family.

  I’m grateful for the support of One Fine Pilot, Ken McCauley, who gives me love and support every day while providing me with inspiration for scenes that are sometimes funny, sometimes spicy, but always romantic. Even my sexy cowboys can’t beat the real thing.

  I’m lucky to have a wonderful family—Betty Smyth, a.k.a. Mum, Donald Smyth, a.k.a. Daddy, and my smart, funny, warm sister, who is way too far away but always with me because she taught me so much. And I’m lucky to have Ken’s family, who have been enthusiastic supporters from the very start of my career. Special gratitude goes out to Scott McCauley, web genius extraordinaire, and to Alycia, Ryan, Ashton, and Kaelan Fleury. And a big “thanks, y’all” to the Southern branch of the family too!

  I have a wonderful critique group that helps make my books the best they can be: Jeana Byrne, Mary Gillgannon, Heather Jensen, Liz Roadifer, and Mike Shay, along with great writing mentors and friends like Amanda Cabot and Tina Forkner. And thank you to Janice of Barnes & Noble Thornton for being a good sport about playing the villain!

  Most of all, I’m grateful to have readers who let my cowboys into their lives and make them come alive. Thank you, from the bottom of my very grateful heart.

  About the Author

  Joanne Kennedy is the author of four Western contemporary romances: Tall, Dark and Cowboy; Cowboy Fever; One Fine Cowboy (which was nominated for a RITA Award); and Cowboy Trouble. A transplanted Easterner, she ran away from home to the West at the advanced age of thirty-two and was delighted to discover that cowboys are real and chaps are leather pants with no seat.

  At various times, she dabbled in horse training, chicken farming, organic gardening, and bridezilla wrangling at a department store wedding registry. Themes that have remained constant throughout her life are Jack Russell terriers, a tendency to confuse fiction with real life, and a stubborn belief in romance that led to multiple dysfunctional relationships with inappropriate men before she finally got it right.

  Now older and hopefully wiser, she lives in Cheyenne, Wyoming, with two dogs and a retired fighter pilot. The dogs are relatively well behaved.

  Joanne loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website, www.joannekennedybooks.com.