Bachelor Cowboy

by Roxann Delaney

  “Why don’t I get us something to drink?” he said, turning to Kate, who was watching the excitement in the arena.

  She leaned down and grabbed her bag. “I’ll go with you.”

  He shook his head. “Just sit tight and enjoy.”

  “But—”

  He didn’t bother to explain why he needed to go alone. It was a man’s responsibility to do those little things, and Kate might not understand that. In fact, he thought with a chuckle, she would insist that it wasn’t.

  While he waited in line at the concession stand, he could hear the announcement for the next rider over the loudspeaker, but he didn’t recognize the name. It made him more eager to get the okay from his doctor so he could go back to competing. He wasn’t one to stay long in one place.

  Feeling impatient, he pulled his hat lower over his eyes to block out the sun. He was hot. He was tired. The air was thick with suffocating humidity. Except for that, he was enjoying the day. But he felt a headache coming on, something that had only started happening after the last concussion, and reminded himself to mention it when he saw his doctor.

  “Hey, Dusty! You made it!”

  He turned to see Tanner’s nephew walking toward him. “Shawn, how’s it going?”

  The fifteen-year-old shrugged his shoulders. “Did you see my ride?”

  Dusty recognized Shawn’s disappointment in his mediocre score. “It wasn’t all that bad, Shawn. It takes more than a year or two of competing to get those higher scores. You know that.”

  Shawn’s laugh lacked humor. “I scored an eighty-one on the first one, but that second bronc I drew was more than I could handle.”

  “It’ll get better. Is Tanner here?” Dusty asked, looking around.

  “Wyoming was getting cranky, so Tanner and Jules took him to the pickup as soon as my ride was over,” Shawn explained. “I guess eight-month-old babies don’t like all the heat and humidity. Jules has her hands full with the little guy, but she always manages to see me ride.”

  “I’m glad she was able to come to terms with rodeo and bronc riding,” Dusty said. “It was touch and go there for a while with them.”

  “If it wasn’t for her, I probably wouldn’t be here.”

  “I doubt Tanner would have ever stopped you, but it’s good you have her on your side, too. Tell him I’m sorry I missed him,” Dusty said. “And Jules, too. And tell them to stop in and see me sometime.”

  “Any chance you might drop in and see us? I could sure use some roping practice or at least a few pointers.”

  “One of these days. Soon. I’ve been helping the Claybornes with harvest, but once that’s done, I’ll have some free time.”

  “Good. I’ll pass the word along to the family.” Shawn waved as he turned away and walked toward the parking lot, his equipment bag swaying against his leg.

  Dusty ordered and paid for a soft drink for Kate and a beer for himself, and then he made his way back to his seat. “I hope this is okay,” he said, settling beside Kate and handing her the soft drink.

  “It’s fine. I’m not picky.”

  “That’s a surprise.”

  This time, she turned her head to stare at him. “You make me sound unreasonable. I assure you I’m not.”

  “No, just stubborn.”

  She swiveled in her seat to face him. “I’m stubborn? I’m not the one who—”

  “Kate.”

  “What?”

  “You are stubborn. But so am I.”

  Opening her mouth to reply, she quickly closed it. “At least you admit it,” she said, adding a smile. “Did you talk to Shawn?”

  He stared at her, wondering just what she had been doing while he was getting their refreshments. “Were you spying on me?”

  Her blue eyes widened with pure innocence. “Heavens, no. But I know that after Shawn’s ride is a good time to catch up with him.”

  “I talked to him. He was disappointed about his score, but I told him there wasn’t any reason for that.”

  “He did have a good ride.”

  “Not according to him,” Dusty said, chuckling. “But like I told him, he hasn’t been competing all that long.”

  “Will the two of you be roping together again?”

  “Maybe. It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On a lot of things. Will you come watch if we do?”

  “It depends.”

  He nearly laughed at the way she had turned the tables on him. Now that he’d gotten her away from the farm and her office, she was relaxed. Intelligence and beauty. What a combination!

  “We need to do this again,” he said, planning their next outing. She would never accept that this was a date.

  She shook her head. “That’s unlikely.”

  “Why?”

  “This is a one-time thing, Dusty.”

  “You’re not having a good time?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  He studied her for a moment and then said the first thing that popped into his mind. “Why does a beautiful woman like you hide herself away?”

  She wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I’m not beautiful,” she said, turning away.

  Taking her by her shoulders, he turned her back so she would have to look at him. “You’re not? Could’ve fooled me.”

  For a split second, he thought she believed him, but then he felt her shoulders stiffen beneath his hands. “It’s a good line, though,” she said, even managing to smile. “You use it often, I’m sure.”

  He shook his head. “Only with beautiful women.” But the head shake worsened the pain of his headache, and he didn’t resist as she pulled away.

  He was surprised when she touched his arm, concern evident in her eyes. “Are you okay?”

  Nodding, he winced. “Headache.”

  “You should have told me,” she said, taking his arm to tug him to his feet. “Let’s go.”

  “It’s all right, I—”

  “Now. Do you want me to drive home?”

  “No, I don’t. I’m okay.” But he gave in and followed her, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to refuse. And he didn’t really want to. He suspected his headache would only get worse the longer he was out in the sun. “You’re one pushy woman. You know that, don’t you?”

  She stopped and spun around to face him. “No, I’m concerned. Maybe you simply don’t recognize it when someone cares. But I’ll be sure, from here on out, not to be.”

  With another spin around, she took off, and he had to hurry to keep up with her. She cared? He hated to admit it, but he almost liked her too much. She was all spit and fire. Not that he wanted to spend the rest of his life putting out fires. But for the time being, he was enjoying himself more than he ever had.

  Chapter Four

  Dusty lowered himself to the top step of his porch and let the sun warm him. With a long look around the yard, he went over his mental list of all the work needing to be done on the place. After the rodeo with Kate on Saturday, the fields had dried enough to get back to cutting wheat, and they’d been working hard in the fields with harvest all week since then. But it had rained again during the night, so if he had any notion of renting the house when he returned to the rodeo circuit, he needed to get started on the improvements as soon as possible.

  Money wasn’t a problem. He had enough in the bank from his rodeo winnings to build a new house, but he’d rather keep the one he had and fix it up. The house might be old, but it had a charm he wouldn’t be able to duplicate and memories he wanted to keep. When the time came for him to retire, he’d have the house and the memories to come back to.

  Ready and eager to get busy, he stood, and the steps beneath him creaked. He would start with them. He had ordered lumber and materials in Desperation and was expecting the delivery any day, so there was nothing keeping him from getting right to work. He’d get the old steps torn out and be ready when the new ones were delivered.

  He gathered the tools he’d need from the shed and dumped them on the
ground by the porch. As he pulled the crowbar from the pile, he heard the engine of a vehicle coming up the long drive leading up to his place.

  He stared, not sure what to think about what he saw. The Claybornes’ old pickup inched its way up the lane as if whoever was driving either wasn’t sure they had the right place or wasn’t sure they wanted to be there. When it stopped in front of the broken gate, he knew why. Kate was the hesitant driver. His heart picked up its thud-thud and he dropped the crowbar. He hated to admit it, but he’d missed her. After they’d gone to the rodeo, she’d done a good job of avoiding him.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d be home,” she called out as she walked past the drooping gate and into the yard, “but Aunt Aggie wanted me to bring by your check.”

  He couldn’t stop the grin that erupted at the sight of her. “It could have waited until Monday.”

  “She doesn’t see it that way,” she answered with a shrug, handing him a long envelope.

  “Tell her thanks,” he said, stuffing the envelope into his back pocket without looking at it. Sunlight hit her copper-colored hair and set it on fire, and the urge to reach out and touch it to see if it might burn him was tempting.

  “Looks like you’re busy,” she said, looking down at the ground around him, avoiding even a glance in his direction. “I won’t keep you.”

  As she turned to walk away, he found his voice. “I’m not that busy. Stay and keep me company.”

  She hesitated and turned to look at him. “I really ought to get back home. Aunt Aggie and Trish are off shopping with Hettie. No telling when they’ll be back.”

  “So there’s nobody there for you to talk to,” he pointed out.

  “I don’t need somebody to talk to,” she answered. “I like being by myself.”

  “Well, I don’t,” he admitted. At least not until now. Usually solitude was something he enjoyed at times. But now that she was there, he knew he’d be thinking about her the rest of the day if she left, and he wouldn’t get much done. “How are you with a hammer and paintbrush?”

  A smile turned up the corners of her mouth and her eyes glinted with mischief. “About as good as I am with shotguns and brake fluid.”

  “Good,” he answered with a grin. “Can you make a decent sandwich? I know you can make a great breakfast and dinner with all the fixings, but there’s not much here. I haven’t stopped at the store since last week, but maybe we can come up with something. And to tell the truth, I’m about to starve.”

  Looking as if she was waging an inner battle, she finally shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “Aunt Aggie was one step ahead of you. She had me fix some lunch. It’s in the truck. I’ll get it.”

  His stomach grumbled in answer. “Let me help,” he said, kicking a board out of the way.

  “Don’t bother,” she answered. “I can get it. You just find a place to eat it.”

  “I heard I needed to watch for ptomaine if you were mad at me,” he called out, when she started for the old pickup.

  She stopped and turned around slowly, flashing him a wicked grin. “I guess you’ll have to take that risk. If you’re hungry enough, that is.”

  Silently blessing Aggie for thinking of him, he chuckled as he watched Kate walk around to the passenger side of the pickup and couldn’t help but notice how pretty she was. Turning back to his work, he pulled a board from the porch and wondered why some man hadn’t grabbed her up and married her.

  “You’re going to have a real mess to clean up,” she told him as she returned from the truck. Setting the old-fashioned wicker picnic basket on the porch, she looked around the yard. “Do you have a wheelbarrow?”

  “In the shed,” he answered, gesturing over his shoulder.

  She headed in that direction and returned a minute later, pushing the wheelbarrow across the yard to where he continued to work.

  “What’s that for?”

  “It’s more efficient than tossing everything wherever,” she answered. “Clearing away the debris as you go will take less work in the end. All you have to do is toss the boards and nails in here after you rip them off. No fuss, no muss.”

  When she leaned down to pick up a board that lay at her feet, he reached out and stopped her. “You’ll get splinters.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise, and then at her wrist where he held her.

  He quickly released her and stepped back. “Maybe we should eat first. I’ll just go inside and clean up.” Stepping over the missing steps and onto the porch, he escaped into the house. In there, at least for a few minutes, he wouldn’t be so tempted to do what his natural inclination kept urging him to.

  KATE SILENTLY CURSED her aunt for sending her to Dusty’s and especially for insisting on taking him some lunch. She loved her aunt to pieces, but it was plain that Aunt Aggie was doing a bit of matchmaking. Kate was sure it was because her aunt was hoping something—or someone—would take her mind off the news about leasing the farmland, but Kate didn’t need or want to be distracted.

  When she heard the door open, she looked up to see Dusty coming out of the house with an old green army blanket in his hands. Managing to avoid the missing steps, she moved to the porch and reached out to take the blanket from him.

  “Kate,” he said in a husky whisper as he moved closer. He was so close she could see a tiny white scar at the corner of his mouth.

  “What?” she asked in a matching hoarse whisper. She watched, hypnotized, as he raised one hand and touched her face with his fingers.

  “Ah, Kate,” he said, sighing as he tucked a stray strand of hair from her braid behind her ear.

  For one second, she thought he might try to kiss her, but he dropped his hand as if he’d suddenly come in contact with an electric fence wire and turned away from her. “Let’s get this spread out,” he suggested, his voice strained.

  “Y-yes,” she answered. “Let’s do that.”

  Together they spread the blanket on the porch, neither of them speaking, and when they were done she edged toward the steps. “Maybe it would be better if I left,” she said, and turned for the steps.

  “No!” he shouted, startling her and bringing her to a halt. “No,” he repeated, his tone softened. “I—” His sigh reached her, but she refused to look at him. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  She slowly turned back to see him shake his head without finishing. She wasn’t sure what was going on with him, but she knew she didn’t want it to happen again. Maybe sharing lunch with him wasn’t such a good idea.

  “Come on,” he said. “There’s plenty of room for both of us. What did you pack for us to eat?”

  As he picked up the basket from the porch Kate was still unsure if she should stay. But she knew that leaving would not only be rude, he might get the impression she was afraid of him. She wasn’t. It was the feelings he stirred in her that made her want to run away.

  Looking for a place far enough to keep some distance between them, her gaze landed on the railing at the far end of the porch. If Dusty would stay where he was and not move closer to her, she’d be safe.

  Perching on the rail, she didn’t know what to think when he suddenly rushed toward her, until she heard the sound of splintering wood. He grabbed her by the shoulders and jerked her into his arms, just as the wood railing fell away where she’d been sitting.

  His laugh was shaky as he held her. “I should have warned you,” he said, the warmth of his body pressed against hers making her light-headed.

  So much for distance, she thought, pushing out of the hold he had on her. “And I should have known better,” she forced herself to say, her voice as shaky as she was feeling. “I’ve seen rotted wood before.”

  “There’s plenty of it around this place.” He sounded disgusted as he moved to pick up the basket where he’d dropped it and brought it over to where she stood. “The porch floor is safe. I crawled under it and checked. And you can lean back against the side of the house. It needs painting, but it won’t cave in, I pr
omise.”

  “I’ll hold you to that promise.” She bent to unpack the basket. “Help yourself. I hope it’s okay.”

  She could tell he was surprised at the contents. His eyes widened and he grinned as she took containers of food out of the basket, and then he began to fill his plate with the meal she had put together for him.

  “You made all this today?” he asked, looking from her to the last of the food she was unpacking.

  Shaking her head, she pulled out a foil package of several slices of freshly baked bread. “Yes and no,” she answered, unwrapping it. Handing him two thick slices, she glanced at him and saw his raised eyebrows. “Yes, I made it. No, not all of it today. Only the bread and the potato salad. The rest are leftovers.”

  “Not bad for leftovers.”

  “Get comfortable,” she told him, reaching into the basket for the rest of the utensils and giving them to him. She was proud of her cooking, but it wasn’t something she liked to talk about. She’d rather be praised for her farming skills than her cooking skills.

  He sat on the porch, leaning back against the house and stretching his legs out while she set out the sandwich makings. She watched as he finished building his sandwich and took a bite.

  “It isn’t fancy,” she told him.

  “Doesn’t need to be. It’s unbelievable what home cooking can do to simple food,” he said as he scooped more potato salad onto his plate. When his plate was full, he looked at her. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

  She shrugged as she began to fill her own plate. “Aunt Aggie I guess, but a lot of it came from old family cookbooks she kept. I added a few touches, here and there.”

  “That’s all it took?”

  His questions made her nervous, and she could feel him watching her. “I guess you could say that. Cooking isn’t that difficult, and I do other things, too.”

  “Like greeting people with shotguns, maintaining machinery and driving a truck? Oh, and I forgot the accounting.”