The Cowboy Upstairs

by Tanya Michaels

  “Hi.” His smile was casual, as if there was nothing odd about him barreling down the steps like a one-man stampede. “How’d it go with your sister?”

  “Not bad.” She’d need to move in order for him to come down the rest of the way, yet she stood where she was, peering past him, unable to shake the feeling that he was hiding something. “How did it go here?”

  “Great.”

  “Are you sure? Because Marc is—”

  A sharp bark interrupted her, followed by a long, plaintive howl.

  Sawyer scrubbed a hand over his face. “I can explain.”

  Chapter Seven

  From the way Becca’s eyes narrowed to accusing slits and the delicate flare of her nostrils, Sawyer half expected her to shove him down the stairs. He had the height and weight advantage, but fury could provide an adrenaline boost. This is what I get for ignoring Brody’s warnings. Hope he takes good care of my truck.

  But when Becca struck out with one hand, it was only to nudge him to the side as she tried to squeeze past. It didn’t work. They ended up wedged in the stairwell together. Under the circumstances, he probably shouldn’t be enjoying it so much, but her angry breathing exaggerated the rise and fall of her breasts under her shirt and she smelled so good...

  “You smuggled a dog into my house?”

  “I temporarily sheltered a puppy in need.”

  She angled her hips to slip free. The wiggle was pleasant to watch, as was the view as she stomped up the remaining stairs. “What if it chews up my attic while you’re eating dinner with us? Did you even think about that? And how dare you encourage my son to be dishonest! What kind of example is that setting for Marc and Molly?”

  It was your son’s idea. But no self-respecting man blamed a seven-year-old. “You do realize Molly is technically an adult and not an impressionable child who needs to be protected?”

  Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, because Becca blasted him with a fulminating glare over her shoulder as she opened the attic door.

  After lining the floor with copies of the Cupid’s Bow Clarion from the recycling bin and removing everything he could from her reach, Sawyer had put the puppy in the small bathroom with a bowl of water. Now she was pawing frantically at the bathroom door, whining at their approach. The moment Becca turned the doorknob, the shepherd launched herself forward, running in circles as she yipped.

  Shaking her head, Becca scooped up the dog. “I should’ve expected you.”

  “You recognize her?” That made sense. As he’d told Marc, the puppy probably belonged to a neighbor.

  “No.” Trying to shush the dog, Becca sat in the nearby chair. “But they say trouble arrives in threes. First you. Then Molly. This just makes sense.”

  Had she just compared Sawyer to some kind of dark omen? “Hey! I thought you decided you like me.”

  “Doesn’t mean you aren’t trouble.”

  Smart woman. “On a scale of one to I’m evicted, how ticked off are you about the dog?”

  “I don’t mind that you brought her in out of the storm. What kind of monster do you think I am? But letting Marc think it’s okay to lie—especially when you both so clearly suck at it—was pretty crappy of you.”

  He should be regretting that, not watching her fingers stroke the dog’s coat, noting that Becca was naturally affectionate and wondering what it would take to coax some of that physical affection his way. “So, uh, you really haven’t seen her before?”

  “Nope. And I don’t know of anyone in the neighborhood who owns a German shepherd. I can ask around and put up signs, but if no one claims her...” She scratched behind the puppy’s ear. “What am I supposed to do with you, trouble?”

  “You can’t call her that. You’ll give her a complex.”

  “Yeah.” She studied the dog, sprawled on her back with her paws in the air and tongue lolling out to the side. “I can see she’s distraught.” After a moment, Becca cast a sidelong glance in Sawyer’s direction. “Will it give you a complex if I call you trouble?”

  “Nah, I’m tough. Unless you’re attracted to vulnerable, sensitive men. In which case...” Pressing a palm to his heart, he did his best to look wounded.

  She chuckled, but there was an endearingly self-conscious undertone to her laugh. “I don’t—”

  “Hey!” Molly’s voice reached them before she actually made it to the top of the stairs and poked her head in the room. “You two are taking a long time up here. Marc was worried. He sent me to make sure you hadn’t ‘kicked out Mr. Sawyer.’” She blew a purple bubble as she surveyed the situation. After it popped, she said, “Cute dog. Are y’all coming downstairs or what?”

  Becca nodded. “We’ll be there in a minute. And you can assure Marc that I’m not tossing Mr. Sawyer out into the street.” She shot him a warning glance. “Not tonight, anyway.”

  * * *

  SAWYER WAS NOT surprised that dinner conversation revolved around the puppy. Rather than leave the dog upstairs, unhappily alone, Becca had fashioned a makeshift crate out of a large laundry basket lined with old towels. After wolfing down a few bites of the chicken Becca pureed in the food processor, the puppy curled up and slept in a corner of the kitchen.

  “What if we can’t find her owner?” Marc asked eagerly.

  Feeling delayed guilt about how he’d handled the situation, Sawyer tried to intervene before the kid started pressuring Becca to keep the dog. “I’ll bet Cupid’s Bow has an animal shelter of some kind. Maybe she could stay there until someone adopts her into a good home.”

  Becca clapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh, that’ll go over great. Truitt can paint me as a heartless woman who dumped a puppy at the pound. How can I convince voters I can take care of our town if I can’t take care of a single dog?”

  Sawyer hadn’t quite thought of it that way. “We might still find out where she belongs. And if not...maybe she can help you in the election. There’s a long tradition of political pets. Hell, wasn’t there some book about a dog in the White House?”

  “Mr. Sawyer,” Marc said in a loud whisper, “we don’t say h-e-l-l.”

  “Right. Sorry.” Trying to coax a smile from Becca, he added, “Who knows? Maybe adopting Trouble could be your first step on the path to global domination. Today, Cupid’s Bow. Tomorrow, the world.”

  Molly giggled, but Becca just rolled her eyes. “All I need is Cupid’s Bow, thanks. That’s the difference between me and Truitt. He bases too many decisions on what might advance him to ‘bigger things.’ I’m not trying to launch a political career, I just want to do right by this town.”

  It was apparently something she felt strongly about because twenty minutes later, when Molly and Marc had taken the puppy outside and Sawyer was handing Becca containers of leftovers to put in the fridge, she was still discussing her plans. Plans she insisted were for the good of the citizenry, not for her own selfish benefit.

  “Take the community center, for example.” Shoving the small box of potato salad onto the shelf with enough force that it toppled over, she launched into a detailed accounting of the town budget. She lamented about services she felt Truitt was willing to overlook in favor of new, splashy efforts that got him more press—and possibly more votes. “By his logic, why even have the children’s library, right? Kids can’t vote. And his attitude toward the senior center—I mean, most of those men and women have lived in Cupid’s Bow for decades. They made this town! For him to...”

  Sawyer gamely tried to listen, but it was easy to get lost, staring at her expressive mouth, appreciating the fire in her eyes, watching her body bounce and sway as she gestured for emphasis.

  She stopped abruptly, blowing out a breath. “I ranted for too long, didn’t I? See, this is why I need Hadley to help me prep for speeches. So no one thinks I’m boring.”

  “You aren’
t boring. You’re...passionate.” His tone was more intimate than he’d intended. Consciously, he’d only meant to signal encouragement. But subconsciously, he had been mentally replaying the image of her in that wet shirt all afternoon...

  Blinking, she leaned against the refrigerator door, uncharacteristically speechless. When she found her voice, it was soft, questioning. “Look, if this is my imagination running amok, tell me to get over myself, and I won’t bring it up again. But upstairs, joking about me being attracted to you, and just now... Are you flirting with me?”

  Busted. He grinned sheepishly. “Not very well, if you have to ask. Want to give me pointers?”

  Her mouth quirked in an attempted answering grin, but she smoothed it away with a shake of her head. “I’d be flattered, if you hadn’t already admitted that you flirt with every woman—teenagers notwithstanding. Regardless, it isn’t a good idea. Things could get...complicated between us. You live here.”

  “Which means I’m conveniently located.”

  “Sawyer! Be serious. I have a very full plate—and a kid—and you’ll be gone from Cupid’s Bow in, what, two weeks? Two and a half? So never mind what kind of man I find attractive. Or how...” her gaze slid away “...passionate I am.”

  “So this is a bad time to ask you out?” At her glare, he raised his palms in front of him. “Kidding! I was kidding.” But only because he already knew the answer would be no. Whatever else could be said about her, Becca was beautiful and smart and kept him on his toes. There were far worse ways to spend two and a half weeks than in her company. “I’m going to retreat upstairs and quit hassling you. Want me to take the puppy back up with me?”

  “Are you going to keep her? Take her with you when you leave Cupid’s Bow?”

  “Hadn’t planned to.” He liked dogs, but he was on the move a lot. The cab of his truck didn’t seem like the best environment for a puppy.

  “That’s what I thought. She can sleep in my room. Tomorrow, I’ll try to find where she came from, and if that doesn’t pan out, I guess I’m now the proud owner of a German shepherd.”

  He winced. His impulsive decision this afternoon may have landed her a pet for the next decade. Sawyer was unaccustomed to thinking long-term. The closest he’d come was investing in prize-winning livestock, because he’d known he wouldn’t be able to ride forever. And even then, someone had approached him with the opportunity. “I guess it’s good you’re a dog person.”

  “I never said that. I...implied it, but I was fibbing.” She sighed heavily. “Marc’s wanted a pet for a long time, though, and Trouble’s young, so she can be trained without my having to overcome years of bad habits. I’ll work everything out.”

  “Undoubtedly.” The people of Cupid’s Bow would be fools not to vote for her. As far as he could tell, she calmly and logically overcame every problem thrown her way—from divorce to unemployed siblings to surprise canines. “I hope it’s not too flirty to pay you one last compliment? You’re about the most capable woman I’ve ever met, Becca Johnston.”

  That earned him a real smile, a wide curve of generous lips he deeply regretted not being able to kiss. “Even if it was flirting, maybe I’ll overlook it. Just this once.”

  * * *

  SUNDAY WAS PROVING to be a mixed bag. Becca’s attempts to determine where Trouble had come from were futile—with each passing hour, it became clearer that she was now a dog owner. Yippee. But in the win column, the manager of the Cineplex called during lunch to offer Molly a job. Becca hoped her sister showed more gratitude in person than she did while on the phone.

  Molly was scowling as she rejoined everyone at the table. “I’ll have to wear a uniform.”

  So? Was she afraid the vest with the movie theater logo on it would be less flattering than the men’s shirt she currently wore with ripped shorts? Becca shoved a forkful of salad in her mouth to keep from commenting. She darted a glance in Sawyer’s direction, recalling how he’d laughed when he discovered she was running for mayor. See? I can be tactful. Sort of.

  “He said to be there by three,” Molly added, “so he can show me the ropes before it gets busy tonight. Can I borrow your mom-mobile?”

  Becca hesitated. Lend her only vehicle to the young woman who’d been impatient for Becca to speed up during yesterday’s storm, even though road conditions were dangerous?

  “I’m a good driver. Shane and Sean taught me a ton about cars.” Molly had been the twins’ receptionist at their auto body shop for six weeks before it became apparent that three Bakers under one roof made for a tense working environment. As far as Becca could tell, that had been the start of her sister’s downward career spiral.

  “It’s not a question of your driving skills,” Becca said. At least, it wasn’t a question of only that.

  “I could take her,” Sawyer volunteered. “I was thinking about running into town, anyway. Brody says there’s a tack-and-supply shop downtown. The zipper on my gear bag broke, and I need more rosin before the rodeo.” He’d told Becca not to expect him for any meals on Wednesday because he was making an overnight trip to Refugio to ride in an exhibition rodeo.

  Seated next to him, Molly laid a hand on his sleeve, looking far more enthusiastic about his offer than she had about being gainfully employed. “That would be so nice of you.”

  “Or we could all go together!” The words erupted out of Becca before she’d even had a chance to consider them. “I have to get puppy supplies. That’s why I was reluctant to give you my car, Molly. Because I have errands to run. Why take more vehicles than we need, right?” Forcing a smile, she met her sister’s irritated gaze, refusing to back down. Becca’s interference was for the greater good—she would serve as a buffer between her sister and the disinterested Sawyer, keep Molly from making a fool of herself and pick up dog supplies. Which she really did need.

  Her suggestion was motivated by sound reasoning. Not a moment of irrational jealousy at the idea of Molly alone with Sawyer and the pretty young woman undoubtedly throwing herself at him again.

  “Sounds like a plan.” Sawyer rose from his chair, carrying both his empty bowl and Marc’s to the sink.

  Her son looked absolutely thrilled. Becca wasn’t sure what excited him the most, the increasing likelihood that he would get to keep Trouble or a shopping trip with his new hero.

  “If we’re all going to be out of the house,” she told Marc, “Trouble will have to stay in the bathroom. Your job is to play with her between now and then and wear her out, so she’ll take a long nap and won’t feel lonely when we leave. Deal?”

  “Deal!” He was already sprinting to liberate the puppy from her temporary pen.

  Molly stood, too, her expression sullen and her salad unfinished.

  As her sister turned to go, Becca eyed the dishes left on the table. Granted, it would take her only a moment to clean them up, but Molly needed to take responsibility for herself. “Molly, I think you forgot to rinse out your bowl.” Her tone was the same polite but firm one she used when certain members of the town council refused to see sense.

  Molly slowed, but didn’t immediately stop. Was she going to ignore Becca and go upstairs, anyway? At the last minute, she pivoted, clearing her place and stomping to the sink, muttering under her breath the entire time.

  Becca fought down her own rising temper; an argument now would just make their ride even more awkward. If such a thing was possible. A hyper kid excited about his new pet, a ticked-off teenager and a too-appealing cowboy Becca had told herself just yesterday she needed to keep a distance from—oh, yeah, best trip into town ever.

  * * *

  AWKWARD SILENCES, BECCA DECIDED, were a problem only if you didn’t fill them. She used town trivia like handyman Zeke’s putty, spackling over tense moments with such skill they were barely discernible.

  As she steered the van into the theater parking lot, she sh
ared the building’s history, how it had been owned decades ago by a local family who showed only G-rated films on the single screen. When the couple who owned it got divorced, the husband got the theater while the wife got their ranch and their truck. In bizarre retribution, the husband had showed only R-rated movies for a year. The town council at the time halfheartedly tried to stop him...which would have been more successful if 80 percent of the councilmen hadn’t been paying customers. Eventually the single-screen theater was bought by new management and expanded into neighboring space when the drugstore moved to a different location.

  “Now the theater can show three movies at a time,” Becca said. It had been a big deal in Cupid’s Bow when that happened. “Who knows? Maybe one day we’ll go as high as five.”

  Sawyer grinned from the passenger seat. Marc was too engrossed in a comic book to respond and Molly had barely said a word since they’d left the house. Becca didn’t appreciate the way her sister slammed the door when she exited the vehicle, but at least after she got out, the mood lightened.

  Becca drove toward the downtown, continuing to highlight points of interest, from the huge gazebo in the center of town to the limited but tasty restaurant selections to the new old courthouse.

  Sawyer’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, the ‘new’ old courthouse?”

  “The original one was built right after the town officially incorporated, in 1917. But it burned down in the eighties and they replaced it with a pink, glass-paneled monstrosity that was supposed to ‘modernize’ Cupid’s Bow. It was damaged in the storm fallout after a hurricane a few years ago. There have been repairs since then, but the county finally decided to rebuild, honoring the area’s heritage with a structure that closely mirrors the first one. So it’s like the old courthouse all over again, but new.”

  “Huh.” Sawyer sounded bemused. “Cupid’s Bow is... To be honest, I’m not sure how to describe it.”