Warrior Girl: A Cowboy Romance (Wild Men Texas Book 2)

by Melissa Belle

“It goes perfectly with those jeans and cowboy boots.” Mama taps my foot with her own high heels. “You know, I think our little talk the other week was a good luck charm. You look better already.”

  “Thank you, Mama. I think.”

  “And theater rehearsal starts this week.”

  Great.

  I look suspiciously at my parents as they both beam at me. “Why is it so crowded in here?”

  “MakeYourMatch.com went live this morning,” Mama says proudly. “Benny! Show your sister what you’ve done.”

  Ben winks at me as he opens the swing door and I slide behind the bar.

  I look down at his laptop and the photos of Logan and Gigi, and Ginny and Dave on the homepage.

  Two pairs of contestants in the Make Your Match Contest: Which Soul Mates Will Finally Give Jane Austen Her Independence Day?

  Daddy points to the big booth behind him. “All four contestants are here tonight.”

  Gigi and Logan, Ginny and Dave are sitting with Blake and—

  “Who are the two Gigi look-alike blondes?” I say.

  Ben chuckles. “Gigi’s two sisters. Both married and on a girls-only vacation.”

  “Isn’t that great?” Daddy beams. “And we got a slot on the news. We’re on TV in ten minutes.” He points to the flat-screen already on above my head. “The reporter was here all morning, making sure he had his facts straight. Real nice guy.”

  A movement catches my eye behind the fake plant Mama had installed by the front doors.

  I recognize the cameraman—Jon I think his name is—lurking. I’m sure Skip isn’t far behind.

  I look over at Ben, and he sees the same thing. He grins and shakes his head.

  “Mace, you doing all right?” he says in a low voice.

  “Why is everyone asking me that these days?” I say.

  Freedom leans over the bar. “Maybe because you’re acting like a scorpion’s caught in your bra.”

  I stare over her head at Logan as Gigi leans in close to him and bats her eyelashes. He doesn’t react.

  I wonder if, in private, he kisses her on the lips in that slow, unhurried way he always did with me. Like he had all the time in the world. Like nothing was more important than the feeling of his mouth on mine.

  Logan glances up like he feels me looking. My cheeks burn, but I wave casually.

  “You don’t need a man.” Free’s watching me closely.

  “I know that. I would have just stayed married if I thought so, right?”

  “Right. Except…” Free gazes over at Logan and then returns her serious expression to me. “It’s like I can see your lipstick still on his face.”

  Riley has just turned away from kissing Wink, and she overhears. She laughs and high-fives Free. “So true, honey.”

  Ben holds out his hand. A quarter sits in his open palm. “Y’all want to bet on Make Your Match? Will either couple actually go through with their wedding?”

  Riley immediately grabs a quarter out of the tip jar and places it on the counter. “Count me in. No on Logan and Gigi.”

  “I don’t bet,” Free says. “I don’t like gambling with money.”

  “Good for you, honey,” I say to her. “Ben, seriously. Stop.”

  “I’m betting against Logan and Gigi, too,” he says. “We’ll see if I’m right, huh?”

  He and Riley laugh, and the two of them pocket their quarters.

  “You seem upset,” Riley says to me with a knowing smile.

  “Not true at all,” I say. “I don’t care. Because I have someone. Someone who’s not Logan. Who was never Logan.”

  I reach for my phone and immediately text Jamie.

  Come to The Cowherd tonight?

  I’ve just put my phone away when Riley asks me to come with her tomorrow up to Austin for Wink’s spring training.

  “I’ll try,” I tell her.

  She giggles and grabs Wink’s ass, and he leans down and tongues her.

  Oh, God. Couples are everywhere. I need a break. I look around for a potential exit, the one thing Daddy taught me—“always look for an escape door, darlin’, because no matter where you are and no matter how good things seem to be going, you never know when you’ll need to bolt.”

  I finally locate George at the other end of The Cowherd, but before I can move to go offer to help him, Free comes behind the bar followed by Blake.

  She says something to him about her term paper, followed by how nervous she is to start college. I’m barely paying attention to their conversation, but I perk up when he ruffles her hair affectionately and says, “You’ll do great, Free. You know you’re a genius.”

  When my baby sister, who I’ve never heard to have a crush on anyone, blushes bright red, I send a hard look Blake’s way. He’s oblivious because he can’t take his gaze off of Freedom.

  I clear my throat.

  Neither of them turns their heads.

  I step forward and take Free by the arm.

  “Hey!” she says as I pull her toward the back of the bar. “I was in the middle of a conversation!”

  I keep my voice low as I say, “Do not tell me you and Blake…”

  “No!” She protests loudly.

  Too loudly if I want to press her. Which I don’t.

  “You know I’m a virgin. Without man, in other words.” She glares at me.

  “And Blake’s a player,” I warn her. “A big one. Probably the biggest one in Darcy. He always has been, Free. You can’t trust any boys.” I send a glare in Logan’s direction. “But that boy there”—I point at Blake, who’s now been joined behind the bar by Logan. The two of them are chuckling over God knows what—“He’s off-limits to anyone I care about. Especially you. He’s far too old for you, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “But Blake and I are friends,” Free says. “He looks out for me.”

  “Friends, fine. Blake Wild’s a good guy that way. But more than friends? Not fine. Got it?”

  She grumbles but says, “Okay.”

  Before I can say anything else, she scoots away from me and back to Blake’s side. And I have my own off-limits guy to deal with—Logan Wild is advancing on me from across the way.

  When he reaches me, we stand silently and assess each other.

  His dark hair’s neatly combed, but he runs his fingers through it in an agitated manner, effectively messing it up. His jeans are hanging so low I could probably see the elastic band of his boxers if I tried, and his forest green shirt is super soft. When the fabric brushes my bare arm, I nearly fist it in my hand and hold on tight.

  Space is at a premium behind the bar tonight.

  Ben’s on my left, the bartop is on my other side, and Logan’s, well—Logan’s right here in front of me.

  I tap my cowboy boot on the floor and try not to appear flustered. But he smiles at me and—shit, he looks so hot I can hardly stand still.

  Distraction. Find a distraction, Macey.

  “Free!” I call across to her. “You’re too young to be back here. Scoot.” I step forward and give her a little shove toward the swing door.

  But Free looks up pointedly at the photo of me crawling across The Cowherd counter. “Pretty sure there’s never been a minimum age requirement to be back here. At least, not if you’re a Henwood.”

  “That’s right.” Daddy smiles at us and throws his arm across the counter so he can put his hand on Ben’s arm. “Ben’s been fully trained. This morning by yours truly, with some help from George. So he’ll be working alongside you every day this summer, Mace. He’s nearly old enough to bartend, aren’t you son?”

  “Nearly old enough!” I say incredulously. “I was serving drinks when I was a lot younger than Ben.”

  “Well, you’re my girl.” Daddy smiles. “You were always so grown-up. Seemed to be born that way.”

  I don’t have a comeback for that, and I swallow down my anger. But Logan turns on my father with a hard look.

  “Sometimes, those traits are inherited, sure,” he says s
lowly. “But sometimes, they’re forced on a person due to circumstance.”

  Mama reaches for her ginger ale, and Daddy clears his throat awkwardly.

  Logan lets it go like nothing out of the ordinary just happened.

  But something did just happen. And I love him for sticking up for me. For always, when it matters most, having my back.

  He looks down at me. “You okay?”

  I nod. “When were you going to tell me about New York?”

  He takes my arm as I turn away for the taps. “Mace.”

  I snap my head back to him. “What? What do you want me to say? That as you fly over Darcy you can wave good-bye to me? Or maybe as you fly over the cow pasture where we made lo—”

  Fuck. I cannot believe how far I just took that.

  Free and Blake are staring at us, and I have to blink back my sudden tears.

  Logan bends his head so he can whisper into my ear, so quietly nobody else could possibly overhear. “Please don’t get emotional. It’s just…temporary. Nothing’s gonna change.”

  I lift my head so I can meet his eyes. “Are you really that naïve, or are you just getting that good at lying to yourself? Gigi Phillips will never be able to exist in Darcy, Texas. And the sooner you admit that, the better.”

  I flip my hand in the air to make my point, but Logan grabs my wrist. I try to pull it away, but he holds on as his gaze fixes on Jamie’s commitment ring.

  “What’s this?” He looks down at the fake diamond and then back at my face.

  I recognize the flash of panic in his eyes, panic he tries to push away, and I have half a mind to tell him the diamond is real. Instead, I pull my hand away.

  “Just a little commitment ring. From Wal-Mart. No big deal.”

  “Commitment to what? To marry him?”

  “Nooo.” I purse my lips. “You know I’m not the marrying kind. Not unless I’m drunk and in Nevada.”

  Logan exhales. “So who is he? When did you start seeing him?”

  “Just recently.”

  He grabs my wrist again and looks the ring over. “So this is a replacement? For the ruby one?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The hotness in my neck moves up to my cheeks. “No. Not even close.”

  Logan’s eyes hook into mine, and he says in a tone I have to strain to hear, “Macey, you don’t understand. I wish I could tell you more. But please don’t…”

  “Logan!” Daddy leans over the bar toward us. “Look up at the news, son!”

  The local newscaster is standing in front of a fake backdrop of an old English countryside. The book jacket of Pride and Prejudice dominates the corner of the screen.

  “Gigi Phillips as Darcy’s heroine is a very romantic tale,” the newscaster says. “She was swept off her feet in the deserts of West Texas by our town’s Mr. Darcy, the dashing, ruggedly handsome, extremely witty…”

  I elbow Logan in the side.

  “Mr. Logan Wild. Logan is the youngest of four sons of Hank and Brenda Wild, who run Wild Ranch in Darcy. Logan, sometimes affectionately called Little Lo by his older brothers, fell hard and fast for the blond New Yorker, and one only has to look at her…” Here comes Gigi’s big head again on the screen. “To see why. The girl is gorgeous!”

  Loud screams from the booth across the bar can only be a match to Gigi and her two sisters.

  “However, while the Gigi and Logan pairing may be the most Hollywood story out there,” the newscaster continues, “The Ginny Rattles and David Lucas pairing is a local favorite.” The TV suddenly shows my face on the screen. “Macey Henwood, manager for The Cowherd Whiskey Saloon & Chapel, is firmly on Team Ginny and Dave and is heavily involved in the planning process of their wedding. We think of this as an extra touch of good luck. Macey, with her office in the liquor room where the jail cell sits, has closest tabs on Jane Austen’s ghost, and her opinion may be the most important one of all.”

  The whole bar cheers as the broadcast mercifully comes to an end.

  Skip takes a seat on the barstool closest to me, and I glance behind him as Jon positions his camera on Gigi’s sisters.

  “Hi Skip,” I say with forced friendliness. “How are you?”

  “This last week has been the greatest of my life. Such rich history here in Darcy. I’m thrilled to be a part of it.”

  I nod and start to walk away, but Skip says, “Miss Macey? I have a huge request.”

  I turn back to him hesitantly.

  He tips his hat and then takes it off politely. “You’re a fountain of information. We got your photo the other day. How about a quote to go along with it?”

  I’m dying to say something. But it wouldn’t be fit for print.

  Logan’s watching me fight with myself. “Come on, say something.”

  I look at him. “Why?”

  “Because you’re the one who’s here all the time. So tell your side of things.”

  I furrow my brow at him. But his eyes are warm and safe, and I turn to Skip hesitantly. He readies his iPad for my quote, and for just a moment, I get caught up in the attention, in the idea that my side of the story matters.

  “It’s not just pieces of The Cowherd walls that are bulletproof,” I say. “If you believe in the legend, then the entire bar seems to be bulletproof from love because Jane Austen’s ghost hasn’t been impressed enough with any wedding yet to open that jail door. I like to say The Cowherd protects us all from wrong love, but maybe I’m just cynical.”

  Skip types furiously into his iPad as he takes down every word. “Macey, if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to sit near you tonight. Shadow you, if you will.”

  Logan leaves to return to his booth just as Mama pipes in. “Skip, have you seen the photos of Jane’s ghost yet?” She points above her head. “Fascinating, aren’t they?”

  Skip’s mouth drops open as he looks at them. “Amazing! When are they from?”

  Without looking up, I point at each frame above my head in turn as I recite, “1892. My great-great grandfather took it with the first camera our family owned. He swore that white blurry mess was Jane inside her cell at midnight, crying for all the racket of card-playing drunk men to stop so she could get some sleep.”

  I move my finger to the left. “1925. Flapper-era. Miss Reginald took this one, and she was convinced she saw Jane’s spirit in a flapper dress at two a.m., dancing inside her cell to the loud music in the saloon.”

  My finger shifts further left. “1963. The night JFK was assassinated. My great-aunt Selma Door Henwood snuck into the liquor room at four a.m. for a little nip of brandy, and she heard crying. Anguished sobs coming from Cell Number One. She took a photo.”

  “You can see her eyes,” Skip says in a tone of awe.

  “That’s what I always said!” Mama says. “The whites of her eyes are obvious, and I’m pretty sure that blue hue is her dress. Pretty color, isn’t it?”

  I sigh and point to the last frame. “And this one was taken just last year by Dye Jenkins, current bar patron. He was the last one here one night, and the bartender—me—was outside briefly. Dye crept down the hall to the liquor room to say hi to the ghost and he claims she said hi back. He said she complained to him about how dank and dark the room gets at night, especially after daylight savings time.”

  “I tell Macey all the time to leave a light on for Jane at night,” Mama says to Skip. “But she often forgets. People just don’t think about ghosts the way they should.”

  “And why do you have the Mr. Darcy cowboy hat and Ms. Bennet bonnet for the bride and groom?” Skip asks. “Does Vivian’s diary expressly call for that?”

  Mama shakes her head. “Not precisely. The couples who’ve married here have just always worn them. I’m not sure how the tradition started, but the bride and groom must wear them.”

  Jamie walks in the door, saving me from any more conversations about ghosts.

  I wave and step out from behind the bar to greet him. Ginny calls out from Logan’s booth and invites us over
to sit down.

  They’re in the extra-large circular booth, the one that easily seats ten, but I try to say there isn’t enough room. My excuse disappears into the air when Blake immediately scoots closer to Logan and drags me into the seat next to him. Jamie slides in on my other side and puts his arm around me.

  I introduce Jamie to the table, and everyone but Logan says hello.

  Logan’s buzzed. He’d never be this cold to Jamie otherwise. Ginny gives me a look from across the table. Blake tries to stifle his laugh. Jamie looks from Ginny to Blake to me, trying to figure out what’s going on.

  I clear my throat and ask Gigi to introduce me to her sisters. She apologizes for her lapse, blaming it on her glass of wine.

  As her sisters say hello to me, I try to make small talk with them. But Logan won’t stop shooting daggers at Jamie—in between the glances he’s giving me behind Blake’s back.

  Ginny gives me another look. Blake smirks, and this time, his laugh escapes out of his mouth. It’s a loud laugh, and Gigi asks him what’s so funny.

  “Nothing.” Blake reaches for his beer as his bleach-blond hair falls across his forehead.

  I elbow Blake in the side. “You always were a hellion, Blake Wild, even in the first grade when you ratted me out to Mrs. Carson for passing Ginny a note. And you always get away with it because you’re so good-looking.”

  Blake’s straight white teeth shine in the dark bar. “I’ve just always liked uncovering a good mystery. You know what I mean, Macey?”

  Logan noticeably flinches next to Blake.

  Jamie whispers in my right ear. “What the hell’s going on? Am I missing something?”

  “No,” I say. “Blake’s just trying to cause trouble.”

  Blake turns to me and raises one eyebrow, and I know he’s trying to figure out the same thing I am—what the heck is up with Logan. But unlike Blake, I’m sober and in no mood to dissect Logan’s relationship.

  “You coming to our engagement party?” Logan murmurs to me behind Blake’s back as Blake leans forward to say something to Dave.

  “I am,” I say softly. “Are you excited for it?”

  His whiskey eyes go so dull I blink.

  “Logan? Are you sure you’re okay?”