My Favorite Cowboy

by Shelley Galloway

  He’d never heard the term. “Say again?”

  “Come on, you know what I mean. Don’t call me some generic name.” Before he could apologize—though for what he wasn’t quite sure—she continued. “Now, as for today, I have quite a few things on my list. First, I was hoping we could go to Hebron. There’s a good salon there. I need to get my hair and nails done. Then there’s a cute little boutique I want to stop in. I really need a new pair of shoes. Is that okay with you?”

  “I’ll do whatever you want. But, um, I had been under the impression that you wanted to spend time with me. You know, so we could get to know each other.”

  “Oh, I do. It’s just that for once I wasn’t going to have to worry about what my date wanted.”

  “Come again?”

  “Well, I mean…I bought your time, right? So, I want to spend our time together doing what I want.” She eyed him carefully. “Does that make sense?”

  She asked the question doubtfully, as if he wasn’t none too smart. “Of course it does,” he murmured.

  But though he was struggling to keep his expression interested and sweet, inside Jarred was reeling. He’d thought Veronica had really liked him.

  Shoot, after that kiss, he’d thought she’d been pretty much lusting after him something awful!

  Now, it seemed that she had spent two grand to get a glorified errand boy.

  It sounded like hell. And, actually, it sounded a little disappointing, too. He’d enjoyed thinking she was perfect all the time. He didn’t want to think about her needing hair help.

  But he wasn’t about to complain. Although he’d imagined Veronica wanting to use him for far more intimate reasons, he supposed no woman could look as pretty as she did without a good amount of help.

  “All right, honey. Whatever you want to do is fine by me. I’ll start driving and you direct me where you want to go.”

  But instead of simpering, like the Burger Shack girls usually did, or groaning and teasing him back, like Serena would have done, Veronica just looked irritated.

  “Honestly, Jarred. My name is Veronica. Not sweetheart. Not beautiful. Not honey bun. Please remember to call me that.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he bit out. Unable to stop himself, he said, “Just for the record, I’ve never called a woman honey bun.”

  With as much grace as he could muster, he opened the passenger-side door of his car and stood at attention while she slid in. When she sat facing forward, just waiting for him to close that door and get in his side, Jarred started feeling a tad irritated himself.

  She never even said thank-you. Serena would’ve given her what-for for that faux pas!

  The road to Hebron was long. When he’d kissed her last night, he’d imagined them doing all kinds of things today. When she’d asked if he’d pick her up at ten so they could run a few errands, why, he’d thought that was code for going parking.

  But now that they were on the highway, their conversation was definitely strained. She didn’t like his country stations.

  Matter of fact, she didn’t seem to like any music playing at all. No, she liked the cab quiet so they could talk.

  But then she wasn’t really saying much because she wasn’t chatting about anything. She was more just sitting there like a bump on a log. And what was even stranger was that he couldn’t think of a thing to say, either. With Serena, he could talk about everything and anything—even with the radio on.

  Desperate, he said, “Tell me about your work in Dallas, sugar. I mean, Veronica.”

  “It was very fulfilling. I worked with a lot of nonprofits and really felt like I was making a difference. Once, we raised enough funds at a charity ball and auction to buy an ambulance.”

  “An ambulance? That seems like an odd thing to want to buy.”

  “It was for some rural communities.” Her voice softened, letting him know that the cause really did mean a lot to her. “I’m told that ambulance has been responsible for saving a number of lives.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “I didn’t do all that much, Jarred. I merely helped coordinate things. I didn’t raise or donate all the money, and I certainly can’t do what the emergency medical technicians do.”

  “No, I suppose not.” He knew his voice sounded deflated, but he couldn’t help himself. This Veronica he was driving around was about as much fun as managing an ornery bull at roundup. Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he began to wonder just how many hours she was going to want him around each day.

  If every conversation was as stilted, he hoped she got the flu or something.

  “Hebron is this next exit.”

  Annoyance bubbled at the edges of his composure. “I’ve lived here a long time, honey. I know where Hebron is.”

  “I just didn’t want you to miss it.”

  “I didn’t.”

  Up went her chin. “Our first stop is Anderson’s Hair Designs.” She pointed to a quaint building that was full of frills and white lace. “See those parking places in front? Park in one of them.”

  Being around all that white lace was going to give him the willies. “How about I drop you off? I could come back in an hour.”

  “No way. I bought and paid for you! Now I’m determined to show you off. Park and let’s go.”

  He parked and followed her in.

  Lord have mercy, but the place was just as awful as he’d feared. Within seconds, four heavily made-up women surrounded him and deposited him on a fluffy white pillow near the entrance.

  “Oh, Veronica, he’s so handsome.”

  “I know,” she said smugly.

  “I can’t believe you brought him here.” One peered close enough to get a good look at his pores. “I can’t believe he came!”

  “He had no choice.” Veronica fingered the ends of her hair. The locks of blond that he used to think was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  Now he knew better. It was all fake. For someone who was so into speaking the truth, he thought that was kind of ironic.

  A gal in a black smock looked them up and down. “Water?”

  Just as Jarred was about to accept gratefully, Veronica nodded. “Yes, please, with lemon.”

  And then she turned and walked away. Without a word to him. He was reduced to sitting there like a mascot for three hours as Veronica got herself dolled up. Her hair was colored and cut, her fingernails and toenails got fixed up. And she even went into some back room to get waxed.

  Jarred hoped like hell that she would never, ever tell him what she’d just gotten pulled off. He really didn’t want to know.

  After three hours and ten minutes, he couldn’t take another lavender-and-peony-scented minute. Seeking refuge, he walked outside. There, the air was fresher, but he still felt out of place. He missed Electra.

  He missed walking out of Ed’s Feed and Seed and seeing people he knew. He missed walking down the sidewalk to the bank and practicing the art of tipping his hat.

  Bank. Hat tipping. Serena! Money!

  He pulled out his cell phone and pushed number five on his speed dial. To his relief, she answered immediately. “Jarred?”

  “Yep, it’s me.”

  “Are you okay? I was sure you would be with Veronica today.”

  “I am. She’s getting beautified right now.”

  “Oh.” She paused. “Um, was there something you needed?”

  “There was. Serena, I almost forgot—I owe you your bonus.”

  “That’s why you called?” He knew her so well he could hear the smile in her voice. “I knew you’d pay me.”

  “Well, to tell you the truth, I called for another reason, too.”

  “Hmm? And what was that?”

  “I just wanted to talk.” To a friend, he silently added. To someone who wanted to talk to him.

  “What about?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. What are you doing?”

  After a pause, she laughed. “You’re going to laugh. I’m making a cake.”

&nbs
p; “You’re baking?”

  “I know. Of the two of us, you’re the one who’s Betty Crocker, but I just had an urge to make a chocolate cake from scratch.”

  “How did it turn out?”

  He could hear her opening the oven door. “Oh, shoot, Jarred. I don’t think it rose! They look like two sorry chocolate pancakes. What do you think I did wrong?”

  Though his body was sitting on a sunny park bench—and his eyes were on a beauty-shop door—in his mind, he was sitting next to Serena. “Pull out those cake pans and read me the recipe.”

  She laughed. “Really? You have time for this?”

  “Sweetheart, I can honestly say, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than discuss your pitiful cake.”

  “All right, then.”

  Jarred propped one leg across the other while they talked about her cake. He smiled when she realized she’d forgotten baking powder.

  Laughed when she took a taste test and groaned.

  He knew he couldn’t go a week without seeing her—she made him too happy, that was just how it was. “Hey, why don’t you come on over tonight?” he asked.

  “Tonight? Jarred, aren’t you Veronica’s around the clock?”

  “I don’t think we’re going to want to spend the night together,” he said drily. “I’d pretty much bet money on that.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive. Please say you’ll stop by.”

  “I really shouldn’t—”

  Eyeing the beauty salon’s door, he began to dread Veronica coming out. “When you come by, I’ll give you your bonus, and we’ll make a new cake together.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Okay, how about you come over and read a little bit of Penelope to Ginny and me?”

  “To you, too?”

  “Heck, yeah! I’m dying to know what’s happening with that poor horse.”

  “All right. Eight o’clock?”

  “That’s fine.” The front door opened. “I’ve got to go. See you then,” he said before hurriedly clicking off and coming face-to-face with a very beautiful Veronica Snow.

  Glancing at his phone as though it was about to explode, she said, “Who were you talking to?”

  “I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

  “It sounds like it was another woman.”

  He wasn’t about to lie. “It was.”

  Her lips formed a pretty little pout. “Jarred, I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  When he hadn’t known her…when he’d only thought of Veronica Snow as his unobtainable perfection, he would have wanted to kiss her. Tease away that pout. Now he only wished she’d pout in somebody else’s direction.

  ’Course, that wasn’t her fault. As nicely as possible, he tried to explain. “You paid for my time. You didn’t say you were going to monitor everything I’ve been doing. Or comment on every person I talk to.”

  For a moment, her feelings looked hurt. Then, still staring at him, she swung her now exceptionally beautiful hair onto one shoulder. “I’m ready to go try on shoes.”

  “Great,” he said with as much forced politeness as he could conjure up. “Are we walking or driving?”

  “We can walk, I suppose.”

  As Serena had shown him how to do, Jarred gently pressed his fingertips to the small of Veronica’s back and led her to the sidewalk. Next he held out his arm, taking care to be on the side of the road, just in case some fool driver lost control and decided to head their way.

  With a grateful look, she took his arm and for good measure, stepped a little closer.

  Then they started walking. More than one envious-looking man turned their way. Jarred looked them right back in the eyes, his expression full and cocky.

  Yes, this scenario was just the kind of thing he’d had in mind when he’d asked Serena for help. He wanted to be seen with Veronica. He wanted to feel sharp and special when other people looked at the beautiful, classy woman on his arm.

  He wanted men of all ages to wish they were him.

  And, well, he’d done it.

  But what he hadn’t counted on was just how empty he was feeling inside. The truth of the matter was that Veronica was a lot of work. Her interests were fancy and smart and made him feel as though he hadn’t traveled anywhere, hadn’t gone to enough schools and always had a piece of spinach stuck between his teeth.

  He didn’t care for the feeling.

  She cuddled closer, brushing his arm with a breast. But her compact curves didn’t turn him on the way someone else’s did.

  And when she looked at him, he knew he should be overcome by her beauty. But as he stared at her perfectly shaped brows, all he could do was wonder what it felt like to have hair ripped from your body.

  “Jarred, I’m sorry I snapped at you. I guess I was just jealous.”

  Remembering how much she’d paid for him, he pretended he was in Dodge City, Kansas, and partying with the rodeo sponsors. Those men had wanted to feel special and important, too. Jarred had been happy to oblige because he’d liked having money in his wallet.

  It was a bit of a surprise to realize that the two situations weren’t all that different. “Oh, Veronica, you have nothing to be jealous about. You’re the most beautiful girl in the city. And I’m not lying. I truly believe that.”

  She looked bemused. “You know, I actually do believe you.”

  “You should. Why, if all these envious women around us had lasers in their eyes, you’d be burned to a crisp. And that would be a cryin’ shame.”

  He held his breath. Was he laying it on too thick? Society girls like Veronica surely saw through all that malarkey quicker than most of the rodeo women population.

  But she just tapped him on his forearm. “Oh, Jarred. The things you say.”

  “I’m sorry. I know I’m a little rough around the edges.”

  “But that’s why I wanted you. Because you are rough. Because you’re so different from most men I’ve dated.”

  Jarred didn’t necessarily care for how she made him sound. “Different can be good.”

  “Yes, it can.” Veronica looked him over slowly. “And here, we have a whole week together.”

  “It’s going to be a helluva week, that’s for sure.”

  “I hope so. I sure don’t want to waste a minute of our time together. Not one moment.” As he was digesting that, she pointed to the door of an extremely ritzy shoe shop. “We’re here.”

  “I suppose you want me in there with you?”

  “Of course. I mean, you want to help me decide what shoes to wear for our dinner tonight, don’t you?”

  “Sure I do,” he lied. “But it needs to be an early one, okay? I’ve got a few other commitments I can’t ignore.”

  “But I paid for your time. Isn’t there anyone else who can take care of those commitments for you?”

  “Not a solitary soul,” he murmured as he sat on a toosmall chair and watched Veronica slip expensive shoes on and off.

  As he did so, he remembered his mother’s best advice ever: Son, be careful what you wish for…you just might get it.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Is Jarred not here?” Serena looked at her watch again as she stood facing Cal Jr. on the front step. “I could have sworn he told me to come over at eight o’clock.”

  “He’s out in the barn, attending to chores. I imagine he’ll be back pretty soon.”

  “Oh.” Now she felt three times the fool. Surely there was nothing more pathetic than a woman showing up at a taken man’s home. Embarrassed, she stepped away. “Well, please tell him I’ll come back some other time.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t. Go on out there and see him. He was planning on seeing you. He’s not hard to miss.” He winked. “He’ll be the sweaty guy in the straw hat.”

  “Well, all right.” Shifting her purse so she could carry it more easily on her shoulder, Serena walked back down the front walkway, across the driveway and then down the little pebble-filled path to the
barn.

  She’d never been inside. There’d been no reason to go in, of course. But close-up, it looked like something out of a fancy design magazine. State-of-the-art stalls and feeding troughs blended in with an open, fuel-efficient design. Scents of hay and wood and horse mixed in with the richer aroma of fine leather. The Riddells sure knew how to outfit a barn. The horses who lived inside had to be the luckiest horses in God’s creation.

  Feeling vaguely silly, she walked through the main entrance. Most likely Jarred had been exercising some of his stock.

  “Hello?” she said a bit tentatively. “Hello? Jarred?”

  He poked his head out of one of the stalls, his face stained with dirt and grime. When he met her gaze, he visibly winced. “Serena? Oh, shoot.”

  Well, that hadn’t been the greeting she’d expected when she’d driven over. Moving closer, she saw he was sitting on an upturned water barrel. Next to him was a handsome colt. Knowing better than to scare the young horse, she leaned over the railing and admired him. “Oh, Jarred. He’s a beauty.”

  “I think so. He’s got incredible bloodlines—we’ll get a good price for him.” Reaching out, he rubbed the colt’s nose. When the horse nipped at him lightly, he chuckled. “But for now, he’s just a character.” After another pat, he stood up. “Seri, I’m sorry you had to go hunting for me. I lost track of time.”

  “I didn’t mind. Actually, I kind of like seeing you in here. It’s been ages since we’ve hung out together in a barn.”

  “Not since 4-H.” Easily, he bypassed the gate and stuck a foot through the slats. His hip followed, then finally his shoulders and head.

  It wasn’t anything he or she hadn’t done a hundred times before. But it had been a while since Serena had seen him in this element. Sometime that afternoon, he’d stripped off his shirt. Now he only wore a thin undershirt, stained with sweat and grime.

  And his jeans? Well, he wasn’t wearing his usual city cowboy Wranglers. No, these were faded Levis, slim fitting, soft from dozens of washings. Frayed from years of hard work.

  This was the Jarred she knew, the guy who worked hard and had no need to know about etiquette books. This was the boy with whom she’d shared burgers and barbecue on the back porch of restaurants…not the citified slicker who tried to wear designer shirts but never looked quite right.