Heart of a Cowgirl

by Lacy Williams

  She'd always found misplaced items before. Sometimes customers carried clothing into another part of the store. Sometimes things fell behind the counter.

  But she'd already scoured the store and straightened up, thanks to a slow afternoon.

  She'd never had anything walk out of the store before.

  The bell over the door jangled, and she looked up at the clock over the back counter. Five minutes until closing. Just what she needed, a last minute browser when she was already frustrated by two missing bracelets.

  But when she turned to face the customer, she found instead a broad-shouldered cowboy with his feet apparently glued to the welcome mat just inside the doors.

  Weston.

  His eyes flicked around, taking in the displays.

  "Hey," she greeted.

  His eyes came to rest on her, and one corner of his mouth kicked up in a smile. "Blue?"

  One hand came to her hair, a flare of self-consciousness taking her by surprise. She forced her hand back down to rest on the counter.

  She wasn't ashamed. She liked being able to do her hair how she wanted.

  "The pink was starting to wash out," she said. Which was partially true. Her plain-Jane brown roots had started showing, and she'd had to re-dye the blonde. She liked being a blonde. They had more fun, right? Weston had been on her mind when she'd added the blue streak to her bangs.

  "What can I do for you?"

  He held up a piece of white paper, folded lengthwise.

  She raised her eyebrows.

  Finally, he started toward the register, skirting a rack of gauzy skirts like it was going to burn him.

  "They're just clothes. They don't bite."

  He leveled a look on her as he neared. "I spent the afternoon working in the barn. Don't want to get dust and who-knows-what all over your pretty things."

  She appreciated that, though his T-shirt and faded jeans didn't appear dirty. The look on his face told her it was more than that. The frilly girl things made him uncomfortable. Out of his element.

  At least he thought they were pretty. Not that that translated to him thinking she was pretty.

  "Claire seemed to think I had to be the one to drop this off to you." He laid the paper on the counter in front of her.

  Their hands brushed as she reached for it, and he jumped. Actually jumped. As if he couldn't stand the feel of her.

  Piqued, she forced her gaze to stick to the paper and stay away from the man. It was the application, of course. Why else would he be in her store?

  "Great," she said past the knot in her throat. "I told her she could start Monday. Is two hours on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays too much?"

  "It sounds all right, as long as her schoolwork doesn't suffer."

  She nodded, her eyes still on the counter. Expecting him to leave.

  He didn't. She could feel the weight of his gaze on the top of her head. It prickled.

  Finally he stepped back from the counter and she lifted her gaze. She couldn't read the look on his face.

  "You sure you want Claire to work here?"

  "Any reason I shouldn't?" Unwittingly, her mind went to those two missing bracelets. Claire and Chase had stood shoulder-to-shoulder next to the display before.

  He shrugged. "She has no experience."

  She remembered the girl's anticipation and the joy that had lit her face. "Everyone has to start somewhere, right?"

  He took another long look around the store, his expression perplexed.

  "Do you have a problem with my store?"

  His eyes cut back to her. "Why would I?"

  She kept her chin high. "I don't know." Maybe because he seemed to have a problem with her since the night they'd met. "You keep looking around like some of the clothes are going to jump off the rack and attack you or something."

  That corner of his mouth lifted again—what would it take to earn a full-blown smile from the man?—and he stuck his hands in his front pockets.

  "I guess I just don't get it."

  "Don't get what?"

  "Fashion. I mean...you look fine."

  Fine. She looked down at her slim pencil skirt and sweater, which was brand new in her stock this year. Even her chunky heels and the clunky necklace had been chosen with care. Fine.

  "I sell all of these pieces," she said, because she didn't know what to say. Why was he still here? Just to torture her? Embarrass her more?

  His lips flatlined. He pushed a hand back through his hair. "Maybe I don't understand them."

  Her brows raised this time.

  He flapped one hand awkwardly in front of himself. "You. Women. The twins."

  His consternation was so adorable that she could almost forgive him for declaring her simply fine.

  "They're teenage girls." She stated the obvious. "They aren't meant to be understood. You just have to survive it."

  Her words didn't seem to help. And then her curiosity got the better of her. "How did you come to be their guardian anyway?"

  "Our mom had to go to rehab. I didn't know she'd been overdoing it on pain meds again until Chase called me, freaking out. She didn't want to go into the foster system."

  Oh. She'd had no idea. "I don't blame her." Maybe that explained some of the girl's standoffishness. "So you came back to town. How long had you been gone?"

  A muscle in his jaw ticked. "You mean you don't know the whole sordid story?"

  * * *

  Weston stuffed his hands back in his front pockets. He'd been shopping with girlfriends plenty of times, but he'd never felt as uncomfortable as he did right now, surrounded by Melody's stock.

  Or maybe it was the look in her eyes.

  She didn't know about his past.

  So what had prompted her invitation at the New Years' party? Just looking for a fun time. He'd thought...

  He shook those memories away. "I left town right out of high school."

  "And haven't been back since?"

  He nodded.

  He didn't know why she'd taken an interest in Claire, but since she'd met Melody, his sister had gone from moody and quiet to bubbly and more like the little sister he remembered.

  He should've spent more time with the girls. Had them down to the city more. He'd had good reason to stay away from Redbud Trails, but that shouldn't have meant he stayed way from his sisters.

  He was still raw from the meeting with Ezra Warren earlier in the afternoon. Claire had needed a representative of the school to grant permission for her to work at the dress shop. It shouldn't have been a big deal, but Eve's brother had treated Weston with such contempt that he'd nearly lost his temper and slugged the guy.

  After that, he'd sat in his truck in the parking lot for twenty minutes, trying to shake off the old despair. And the knowledge that Eve had never come clean with her family. Her brother—and probably her parents—still thought he was the loser who'd knocked her up.

  He was tired of it all.

  He realized he'd zoned out from Melody's last question. "Sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's been a long day."

  She nodded, the smile she'd greeted him with now dimmed. "For me too. I was just wrapping up."

  She moved toward the door, and he followed, aware of the brush of her shoulder against his bicep. He looked down on that piece of blue hair.

  And had to remind himself that she was off-limits. She was Redbud Trails.

  He wasn't.

  As they approached the windows, he motioned to his motorcycle, parked at the curb. "You need a ride home?"

  Her eyes flicked to it, and her brows lifted slightly. She shook her head.

  "Riding a motorcycle isn't on your list?"

  Now her eyes cut to his face. She shrugged. Shy, or had something he'd said earlier upset her?

  "You scheduled that marathon yet?" he asked.

  She bit her lip. "Not yet."

  He gave another nod to the motorcycle. "So do you want to check something off your list today or what?"

  She clicked t
he lock with a decisive thump. With him still on the inside. "I'll get my coat. Be right back."

  She disappeared into what must be a storeroom in the back.

  Leaving him with his heart thundering like he was back in high school again. He could only hope this wasn't a mistake.

  4

  "I don't think this is the right one," Melody said as she emerged from the dressing room.

  Four days had passed since Weston's appearance in her store. Today had been Claire's first day, and the girl had done well training on the register.

  Now it was after hours, and the store was closed, so there was no one other than Anna and Lila to see, but she was still self-conscious of the scar that felt as if it glowed like a beacon above the sweetheart neckline of the pale pink bridesmaid's dress.

  The front lights in the store had been turned off, leaving it dark, but the interior lights closest to the dressing room were on. She supposed someone could see inside if they were so inclined, but surely no one peering in from the street could see the scar.

  She couldn't help laying her palm over it when Lila emerged from the second curtained dressing room and Anna finally looked up from her cell phone. Apparently, there had been some minor emergency at home.

  "I think it's okay," Lila said, attention on the triple mirror. She turned a slow circle. "If you like dresses."

  But Anna's eyes zeroed in on Melody. "It's too low-cut?"

  And then Lila turned, so they were both staring at her.

  "Aw, it's not that bad," Lila said. Both women had seen the scar after the first dress—a horrid fuchsia affair.

  "What about makeup?" Anna asked gently.

  Melody's face burned. "It doesn't really...cover." The skin was translucent and made too much of a ridge for makeup to hide it.

  She never showed her scar. Showing it now made her feel naked.

  She didn't do naked.

  "I think you're right about the pink. A Valentine's wedding should have red bridesmaid dresses, shouldn't it?" Anna stood.

  "Anna, if you love the dress then I don't..." Melody inhaled deeply, the breath sawing through her chest. "I don't have to be a bridesmaid."

  Anna shot her an incredulous look. She spun and headed toward a rack of knee-length dresses on a nearby display.

  "Uhh—you aren't getting out of this," Lila said. "If I have to be a bridesmaid, you do too."

  "Hey!" Anna protested, still hunting through the dresses on the rack.

  "I want to do it." Melody rushed to reassure her friend. She'd never been a bridesmaid before. There were experiences here waiting for her, even if this wasn't officially on her list, it was something she desperately wanted. "It's just..."

  Lila came close, tugging Melody's hand away from her breastbone. Heat prickled across Melody's skin at Lila's stare, and she knew her mottled color was showing off the scar even more.

  "You can barely see it," Lila said. She tilted her head to one side. "Except when you blush like that."

  Lila didn't ask where she'd gotten it. Small blessings.

  "If my scar is visible, I'll be blushing like this the whole time. You guys are the only ones who have seen it. You and—"

  She cut herself off. In her nervous chatter, she'd almost spilled the beans about seeing Weston that morning.

  And of course, they noticed. Anna, with her arms full of crimson fabric, paused several feet away. Her entire being radiated curiosity.

  "Us and who?" Lila pressed.

  There would be no getting out of it now. After the way she'd nosed into their business when they were falling for their men, they'd already started ganging up on her about finding someone to love.

  "Weston," Melody muttered, tugging her dress from Anna's arms. She retreated to her dressing room, but it was too much to hope that her friends wouldn't take the admission and turn it into some kind of drama.

  "Weston Moore?" Lila asked, her voice floating over the partition between the two dressing rooms.

  "That's the only Weston I know," Anna said. Her voice sounded more tight than curious. "What happened?"

  Melody growled to herself as she pulled the pale pink confection off. "I was out running one morning—early—and I had a cramp and sat down to rest in his front yard."

  If you could call the ditch in front of someone's property a yard.

  "And I'd unzipped my jacket because I was hot and he saw." The last words tumbled from her lips in a rush.

  "How did we not know this?" Anna's voice sounded muffled as Melody shimmied the red dress over her head.

  "The only thing I heard was that he took her for a ride on his motorcycle," Lila said.

  She didn't have to guess how they'd found out about that. Small-town grapevine.

  "He gave me a ride home, that's all. His sister works for me. One of them. Claire."

  "Is she babbling?" Lila asked.

  Anna was noticeably silent.

  Melody tuned Lila's voice out at she scrutinized the bodice of the dress. It had a square neckline at least two inches higher than the previous dress. And her scar was mercifully out of sight. But the knee-length flared just right on her. How would it fit Lila, who was several inches taller?

  "Is it too short for you, Lila?" she asked as she pushed through the curtain.

  Lila stood with one hand propped on her hip, wearing an expectant look. The dress looked great on her.

  Anna's expression was more concerned than anything else.

  "What?" Melody asked. She half-turned and glanced down the back of her dress in the mirrors.

  "We want to know what's up with you and Weston," Lila said eagerly.

  "Nothing." Melody spun in front of the triple mirror. She liked this one.

  "That's probably a good thing," Anna said.

  And Melody stopped spinning. Her chest caught at Anna's unexpected words. Anna, who'd been gung-ho for Lila to connect with Ben.

  "What do you mean?" Lila asked.

  Anna's eyes slid away in the mirror. She fiddled with a fold of her sleeve. "Just that Melody should be careful around him. His reputation back in high school was...well, it wasn't good."

  Melody remembered the shadows in his eyes from the other night. How he hadn't been home since his high school graduation.

  But something inside gravitated toward him, regardless of Anna's warning. "There's nothing going on. Like I said, he saw my scar."

  "So?" Lila's tone indicated she didn't get it.

  "So anytime a guy I like sees my scar, one of two things happens. They pity me. Or they get freaked out. And Weston and I are barely acquaintances, which means nothing is going to happen."

  Lila joined Melody in the mirror. "I think you should still go for it. So what if he saw your scar?"

  Anna came up behind them both, giving Lila a pointed look before leaning down to straighten the back of Melody's skirt. "I still think you should be careful."

  Melody tried to smile at the both of them in the mirror, but it didn't quite make it. She hadn't told them about Weston shutting her down at the party, and she wouldn't.

  "I don't think so," she said, ending the conversation. For now, at least.

  After Anna had declared the red dress the one and Melody had promised a shoe-shopping trip in the city next weekend, Melody considered their words as she locked up the shop.

  She was attracted to Weston. And he'd seen her scar.

  Lila was kind to say that it didn't matter. But the truth was, it did. Her scar—her surgery and her parents' lingering fear—had dictated her life up until her college days.

  She didn't want it to dictate her life now. Couldn't go back to that.

  So what if she'd felt something when Weston had let her off his bike the other night?

  It didn't mean he didn't pity her.

  * * *

  Melody knocked at the threshold of what must be the twins' bedroom.

  She was aware of Claire hovering behind her in the hallway, and she'd heard Weston bang out of the back door.

  Insi
de the bedroom, twin beds were covered in colorful bedspreads. A small table was wedged between them. One half of the table had a single orderly stack of books, while the other had a messy jumble of magazines, nail polish, and papers.

  Chase sat on the bed farther from the door, her arms wrapped around her knees. Behind her, a window was cracked, letting a slight amount of cold air into the stuffy room.

  "You might not want to talk to me," Melody said. "But I won't press charges if you listen."

  The teen hiked her chin, staring out the open window. Tears sparkled in her eyes.

  "You might be barred from the school dance. But so what? You've got your friends. You've got Weston. Your brother loves you. He put his life in Oklahoma City on hold to come here and be with you and your sister."

  "For how long?" Chase muttered. "He can't wait to get back to his real life."

  The words muttered into her knees made a pang in Melody's gut.

  "Whether you choose to be trendy or grunge or goth, your brother will still love you."

  "And so will I." Claire bounced into the room and folded herself into a pretzel next to Chase on the bed.

  Melody's heart warmed, seeing the two together. She'd wanted a sister so bad... "You don't have to be anything you don't want to be. But you do have to be yourself. Stop hiding."

  Color rose high in Chase's cheeks. "You'd still help me, after I took stuff from your store? I still have it—in my backpack."

  "I'll still help you." She showed the pad of paper that she'd held like a shield against her stomach. "I've got some jeans just like this at the store, but we'll have to search online if we want to find a jersey this cute."

  Chase reached for the notepad, and Melody stepped closer, daring to perch on the corner of the bed. "Now, what's this about a curse...?"

  Both girls looked slightly sheepish. It was Chase who spoke first. "Our mom was whining about one of her ex-boyfriends and said something about our family being cursed in love. Especially after Weston and Eve..."

  Claire elbowed her sister. Chase looked up and must've caught sight of Melody's interest in her expression.