Finding Home (Roped by the Cowboy Duet Book 1)

by J.C. Valentine

  He stared off down the road, and after a moment said, “You mean when you were listenin’ in.”

  Vivian felt her cheeks heat. “Yes, that. What didn’t you mean to do? I mean, if it wasn’t about kissing me.”

  Again, he didn’t answer immediately, but Vivian didn’t press, sensing he needed time to think over his response. Or maybe he didn’t want to respond at all. Maybe she’d been right—

  “Gretta told you about my wife,” he stated plainly, and cast her sidelong glance, waiting until she nodded to continue. “I was talking about that. About what happened that day. And other stuff,” he said vaguely. “Nothin’ concerning you.”

  “Can I ask…?”

  “I’d rather you not. Gretta told you the gist of it, and I don’t talk about it. At least not with anyone but her.”

  That was it, case closed. Nash hadn’t been rude about it, but Vivian knew when she was being shut out, and he’d just slammed the door on the subject and padlocked it closed.

  She turned to stare out the window, lost for words. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to open her big mouth after all. Clearly, they hadn’t reached that level of comfort with each other when it came to certain topics.

  “Hey,” Nash said, calling back her attention. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  “You weren’t,” she assured him.

  “Well, if I was, then I’m sorry,” he said anyway.

  Appreciating the gesture, Vivian smiled back at him but quickly returned her attention to the scenery outside her window. She just couldn’t seem to stop embarrassing herself in front of him. It felt like she was forever overstepping or sticking her foot in her mouth. Would she ever just get it right?

  Dating was so damn hard. If that was, in fact, what they were doing. It was difficult to tell. She’d never been someone who dated. Andrew had just kind of fallen into her life and never left. Nash wasn’t that kind of guy. If she wanted him—if that were in fact what she wanted—then she would have to find a way to get through that tough exterior.

  She had a feeling that she already knew what made him tick though: lost love and heartache.

  Those were two elements she had no experience with and no idea how to overcome. Everything had always been easy for her, at least when it came to things. The only thing she ever really wanted for was love, true and abiding. But how did a person give and get what they had no knowledge of personally?

  Vivian was at a loss, her mind churning, as they pulled into the market’s parking lot, a bigger store than the grocery she’d first encountered that provided a wider range of food and other products.

  “Do you want me to come inside?” Nash asked her as he pulled alongside a parking spot and stopped, awaiting her answer.

  Vivian looked at the storefront, chewing her bottom lip as she considered what she wanted to do. Did she want him by her side? Yes, absolutely. Today she needed a barrier, a supportive arm, just in case. But after the awkwardness that she’d caused, she didn’t want to force him.

  “It’s okay,” she decided. “If you have things to do, you can just swing back around and pick me up when you’re done.” She tried on a smile that felt as false as it was.

  Nash appeared unconvinced, and before she knew it, he’d pulled into that spot and parked the car. Turning it off, he said, “Actually, I do have a couple things I’ve been meaning to get. Ready?”

  He didn’t give her time to argue or ask questions. Throwing open his door, he was out of the truck in no time and around to her side, opening hers for her and offering her a hand. A bit shaken but completely grateful for the save, Vivian took it and climbed out.

  But the most shocking part of it all was when Nash didn’t let go but continued holding her hand all the way into the store. He only returned her hand to retrieve a cart, which he allowed her to push, and he stuck beside her through every aisle, even the feminine hygiene one, which Vivian could have done by herself but hadn’t the heart to tell him so.

  Once again, Nash was proving how thoughtful and considerate he could be. Another winning quality, as far as she was concerned.

  By the time they’d made it to the checkout, Vivian had a handcart filled with items, both hers and Gretta’s, and Nash had nothing at all, only further confirming her suspicion that he’d only joined her to, in his own way, offer his support in what he knew was a stressful situation.

  “Well, we’ve made it this far,” she said to him as they pulled items from the basket and laid them on the conveyor, “and no sign of him yet.”

  “Miracles still happen, apparently,” Nash replied, a tinge of humor in his steady baritone.

  “Good afternoon, y’all,” the cashier, whose name tag read ‘Wendy’ in white letters against the red of her uniform shirt, said. “Find everything all right?”

  “Yes,” Vivian said happily. In fact, she’d found a bit too much. Mostly essentials, at least. Especially the candy bar, which was always a necessity when her hormones started to act up at the end of the month.

  Wendy scanned through her products, flashing knowing smiles up at her and Nash occasionally. “How ya doin’, Nash?”

  “Can’t complain,” he replied in as straight a manner as one can without being rude.

  “Same for me.”

  As what Vivian suspected was a courtesy, he returned, “How’s the boy?”

  Wendy’s face brightened. “Hansel is great, except right now he’s teethin’,” she revealed, pausing her scanning to make hand gestures as she spoke. “And well, I ain’t gotta tell ya how that’s goin’. Dave says it ain’t time to wean him off the tit yet, but like I told him, you try havin’ someone bite your nipples off twenty times a day!”

  She looked to Vivian for confirmation, and Vivian laughed and nodded as if she commiserated, but she couldn’t relate one bit. Nash looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but there.

  “Sounds like a pain,” he joked dryly.

  “You know it!” After a bit more gossiping and trying her best to put Nash and Vivian together as a couple, Wendy gave Vivian the total and happily took her money.

  “I have no doubt we’re going to be married by the time we make it back to the farm,” Vivian said, referring to the gossip mill, as they made their way back to the truck.

  “I believe that ship has already sailed. The whole town has had us hitched since Gretta started her attempt at matchmaking.” He cast her a serious look. “She really is known for her ability.”

  Somehow, that wasn’t shocking. Gretta was a very determined lady. She didn’t imagine that many stood strong against her will.

  “So are you with the rest of the town?” she questioned. “Do you think we’re getting married?”

  “As sweet as you seem, no. We’re virtually strangers.”

  “So you don’t believe in love at first sight?” Vivian gasped. They reached the truck and Nash dropped the bed so they could load the bags inside. “I guess that means I’ll have to return the dress…”

  “Nah, keep it,” he played along. “You can use it when you marry Bubba.”

  “I don’t even know who Bubba is!” she protested.

  “Don’t worry, you can’t miss him,” Nash said, and the way he said it, it didn’t make Vivian feel any better.

  “Let me guess, his looks match his namesake,” she said drolly.

  “Surprisingly no,” Nash said and scratched his head as if he were confused by the notion.

  Vivian grew curious. “Well, then, maybe Gretta is on to something,” she said, searching Nash’s face for a reaction.

  She got exactly the one she was hoping for.

  “Did I say she had a knack for matchmaking? Because I lied. She’s horrible at it. Look at the time,” he rushed out, and placed his hand at her back, turning and pushing her toward the passenger door. “We should get back so you can start your lesson in making paprikash.”

  “Paprikash?” She’d never heard of it before.

  “It’s a kind of chicken dish that Gretta serves with
noodles. It’s amazing,” he explained.

  “Oh…I hope I don’t mess it up,” Vivian worried.

  “You can’t. Trust me, it’s easy as pie.”

  Climbing into the passenger seat, Vivian looked at Nash as if he’d grown another head—much like he’d done to her soon after her arrival. “Pie is hard!”

  “But you breezed right through it.” He winked. “Now buckle up.” Nash closed the door and hurried around the truck before Vivian could say another word.

  What had gotten into him? First, he was easygoing and calm. Now all of a sudden he was rushing around like a chicken with his head cut off—another saying she’d picked up from Gretta.

  As he leaped behind the wheel and fired up the engine, backing out of the space expertly but no less slowly, Vivian puzzled over his behavior…until she spotted the sleek black limo two rows down, parked conspicuously near the exit.

  She glanced over to find Nash focused on the limo, and when he looked over at her, a silent understanding passed between them. Nash hadn’t wanted her to notice Andrew waiting for her, and she was eternally thankful that he cared enough to try to help her avoid him.

  As they coasted out of the lot, past the waiting car with blacked-out windows prohibiting them from meeting the eyes of the man who was no doubt inside watching them, Nash reached across the console and took her hand in his.

  Whether it was a show of solidarity or an act of comfort, Vivian didn’t know, but she was grateful to have him by her side.

  SEVENTEEN

  After dinner, a tired Gretta ushered everyone out of the house, citing her need for peace and quiet. Vivian and Nash had walked out of there filled with doubts and a niggling worry.

  “I feel like there’s something she’s not saying,” Vivian confessed as the two of them strolled through the pasture. They’d gone at least a mile already, in comfortable silence. Now, she felt the need to reveal what had been weighing on her mind since the afternoon she’d driven Gretta to the doctor’s office.

  “I know,” Nash agreed, “but she’s a grown woman, and she deals with everything in her own time and her own way.”

  “So you do think something’s wrong?”

  He sighed deeply. “I suspect as much, but she’s not goin’ to say what she doesn’t want anyone to know. Gretta has always been a very private person, despite her proclivity to meddle in other people’s affairs.” He cast her a knowing look.

  Vivian stared at the ground, watching each step they took in time with each other. “She’s been extra tired lately.” Though a person might not realize it if they weren’t sharing her personal space like Vivian was each day. Gretta’s mouth was a great disguise for what was going on beneath the surface.

  “She isn’t exactly a spring chicken anymore,” Nash pointed out.

  “Still. I feel like we didn’t get any real answers after her episode, and she hasn’t said anything toward it since. I doubt it just went away.”

  “I’m sure it hasn’t, but like I said, she’s her own person. She’ll ask for help if she needs it. In the meantime, we’ve all just been pulling a little extra weight to be sure.”

  Vivian nodded. She’d been doing the same. It seemed Gretta had a lot of people around her who cared for and respected her.

  “Even if she wants to be a stubborn old woman, she has a circle of people to look out for her.” Nash echoed her thoughts.

  “I can see that. It’s really admirable.”

  Nash pulled a face. “Admirable?”

  It was then she realized that what she deemed a rarity, he viewed as typical. “Where I come from, almost everyone is out for themselves. Living in the city, knowing the people I do, you learn early on that the only person you can truly rely on is yourself.” She shrugged. That was her normal, so different from his. It was a sad reality when she stopped long enough to analyze it.

  “You city people are somethin’ else,” he said, shaking his head.

  “I’m guessing that wasn’t a compliment,” she responded rhetorically.

  “You’d be right about that.”

  They walked a ways more in silence, enjoying the warmth of the fading sun and the chirping of the crickets combined with the eerie ebb and flow of the cicadas high in the trees before Vivian realized they were no longer on Gretta’s property.

  Scanning her surroundings, she took note of the faded-red pull barn that’d seen better days, the miscellaneous farm equipment in various states of use and disrepair. The small house set back from the road, surrounded by neatly trimmed grass and backed up to a split-rail, fenced-in pasture containing a single tall oak tree and a sable horse.

  If it hadn’t been the horse that tipped her off to where she was, it would have been the green truck sitting in front of the house, parked on a patch of gravel. He’d driven home earlier after dropping her back off at Gretta’s and then walked back later. Now she realized just how close the pair lived to one another.

  “Is this your place?” She asked the obvious question.

  Nash paused to look up at the old homestead and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Sure is. Bought her straight out of high school at eighteen. Single best investment I ever made.”

  Vivian couldn’t help but compare the home to the modern and pristine constructs she’d been raised around and taught to strive for, but despite the comparison, she wasn’t judging. Out here, life went at a different pace and by different standards.

  “It’s a beautiful home. I’m sure you and your wife were really happy here,” she offered gently.

  “Yeah, we were.”

  Seeing the sadness in his eyes, she asked, “Have you ever thought of selling it?”

  “Once, but then I realized I’d rather live with the memories than bury them.”

  In a single instant, Nash managed to touch Vivian’s heart. She could feel the love he had for his wife still alive and well, no less weakened by her absence.

  Would anyone ever love her that way? Cherish her memory when she was gone from the world, desire her to the very ends of it and beyond?

  Andrew mimicked such a claim, but he had already proven himself to her. He wasn’t the man for her—or any woman, for that matter.

  Maybe love like the kind Nash and his late wife shared was one of those rare kinds that came around once in a lifetime and couldn’t be replicated.

  Which didn’t leave much hope for the rest of the sorry saps in the world, did it?

  Vivian was fast on her way toward a downward spiral of depression and self-deprecation when Nash said, “Come on,” and headed off toward the pasture at the back of the property.

  The question was at the tip of her tongue, but Vivian held off giving it voice, instead choosing to follow and see what had sparked his interest.

  The simple home surrounded by untended and wild flowerbeds that had clearly once benefited from a woman’s touch gave way to the backyard, which turned out to be far deeper than the view from the front had suggested. Vivian spotted a dirty and rarely used patio set with a tattered green, and white umbrella pushed up against the side of the house, along with a dusty round grill that she imagined a man like Nash was probably proficient at using but hadn’t in a while. Sprigs of grass and wild ground cover poked up from between the brick platform it was all set on, and she wondered if their disuse occurred this season or if it, too, had a long-reaching history that stretched back to when the woman of the house had infused it all with life and light.

  Trudging through a patch of tall grass, they finally reached the fence that divided the yard from the pasture, and Nash propped a booted foot on the lower rail and bent to support himself on the top.

  With a bright smile, he said, “There’s my beauty. I believe you two sorta met on your way into town.”

  Vivian’s dour mood slowly gave way to a smile as she watched the horse trot her way around the perimeter, paying her visitors no mind. “From afar, yes. I remember.”

  “She doesn’t like strangers much. Or people in general. Hell,”
Nash said, almost laughing, “I think she only barely tolerates me.”

  “Gretta mentioned she was a bit moody.”

  “Moody ain’t the half of it. But she’s a good mare. Loyal. I don’t count that as a fault, just a minor inconvenience, but we’re working on it.”

  The horse made her way slowly over to them and huffed once she reached Nash’s side. He reached out and ran a hand down the crest of her long, midnight hair then gave her shoulder an affectionate pat.

  “What’s her name?”

  Reaching for a bucket on the ground beside his feet that she hadn’t noticed, he plucked out a round, yellow and red apple and lifted it to the horse’s mouth. It took it all in one bite and began chomping it to bits right before their eyes.

  “Maxine.”

  The reason for that was obvious. In her history studies at university, she’d taken a special interest in Roman history. Maxine meant “great” or “bright” or “noble,” and from what Vivian had heard, she was all of those things. She was a magnificent horse up close. Of course, she didn’t have much to compare her to, unless one counted the magazines, books, and television programs she’d seen them in over the course of her twenty-eight years.

  “After the accident, she had to learn to rely on me. I think I’ve done the same with her, to be honest,” Nash admitted as he stroked her muzzle. “We both got the most important thing to Carlene left: each other.”

  If a heart could cry, Vivian’s was a sobbing mess. Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she said, “It’s good you found comfort in each other.”

  Nash nodded, withholding further commentary as they both ruminated over the past and the present before them. If ghosts were real, Vivian swore she could feel Carlene there with them, and she hoped the woman wasn’t upset that they’d been spending time together.

  Vivian’s intentions certainly weren’t pure, and they grew less so with each passing day and moment she and Nash spent together. But if Carlene was the amazing woman she was being given the impression of, then she would want Nash to be happy, and being stuck in the past wasn’t the path toward achieving that goal.