Finding Home (Roped by the Cowboy Duet Book 1)

by J.C. Valentine

  “Well, we did! She walked around here like she owned the place, just because her daddy was the preacher. Volunteering at soup kitchens and reading to the blind. Tell me one sixteen-year-old who likes doing that?”

  Vivian couldn’t think of a single name. “That doesn’t mean she was a bad person.”

  “That wasn’t the problem. She was too good. It was nauseating. None of us could live up to that.”

  Vivian understood. She’d run into people like that a time or two, too. They had a way of making you doubt yourself. “So what happened to her?”

  “She got arrested for shoplifting, and her parents shipped her off to boarding school.”

  “Are you serious?” Vivian questioned in disbelief.

  “Hell yes, I am! So Miss Perfect wasn’t so perfect after all. After she was gone, I struck while the griddle was still hot.” Pressing all of the fingers on one hand together in a triangle shape, she made a jabbing motion, as if to strike at something like a snake. “I got my boobs in that year. Poor Pete never stood a chance.”

  Vivian had no words. Gretta was…well, she was just something else. She’d never met anyone quite like her, but what a joy she was to be around. Unpredictable but full of unique charm that couldn’t be replicated.

  “You’re a force to be reckoned with,” she agreed.

  “You bet your ass.” Replacing the frame, she returned to Vivian’s side and stood back to view the room once more, nostalgia coloring a long sigh. “It’s hard to believe he’s really gone, even after all this time.”

  Vivian kept her lips zipped. Since she hadn’t ever lost anyone in life, at least, not through death, she had no way to relate. She could sense Gretta’s loneliness and perhaps even pain, though the emotions were covered by layers of stalwart determination and an unparalleled stubbornness. Vivian doubted that, even when her time came, Death would have an easy time of talking the woman into following him.

  “So I heard you had a little run-in with a certain gentleman in town today.”

  Vivian knew instantly who she was referring to and snorted derisively. “I’d hardly call him a gentleman.”

  “Well, even I have to pretend to be nice every now and then.” Gretta winked up at her, and then with a gentle hand on her elbow, guided Vivian from the room and locked it back up. As they made their way back downstairs, she complained, “I don’t know why he feels the need to keep hounding me.”

  “Well, if I had to guess, he’s just looking to have his cake and eat it too.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  Gretta’s feet shuffled against the hardwood floor as they entered the kitchen and she filled a kettle in preparation for a fresh pitcher of iced tea. “Considerin’ what you’ve told me and what I’ve gathered and witnessed firsthand, he realized there’s somethin’ he’s missin’ that you can provide.”

  “I don’t know what,” Vivian said as her mind struggled to figure out the answer.

  Gretta shrugged. “Could be he just needs to keep up appearances. Especially considering his preferences,” she said suggestively.

  Vivian hated to admit that she was probably right. His sudden about-face had caught her off guard, and everything in the world she left behind always came down to perceptions.

  “Well, he can figure all of that out on his own. I’m done with that chapter in my life.”

  Dunking a handful of tea bags into the pot, Gretta lifted an eyebrow and cast her a speculative look. “That’s not how I heard it.”

  “Again, I don’t follow.”

  “By now, you must have noticed that there isn’t a lot of privacy in this town. Everything is seen and heard by somebody.”

  Vivian grunted. She had noticed that. It was hard not to.

  “Well, just like the grape vines whispered about your little encounter today, they also knew some of the details. Like the pesky little fact that y’all are still married?”

  Vivian hissed a breath through her teeth. She hadn’t exactly forgotten—how could she?—but she’d been hoping to set that little detail aside until she could deal with it later.

  “That’s what he claims.”

  “Is there any truth to it?”

  “I thought it was all squared away, honestly,” Vivian confessed, “but I’m not totally sure. He’s so insistent, I’m doubting myself now. I left town so fast, I just assumed everything was in order. I just knew I couldn’t be there anymore, surrounded by all the judgment and backstabbing and whispering. I needed a change.”

  “Seems you got one,” Gretta agreed, “but I don’t think this is going to just go away. And what about Nash?”

  Vivian’s initial reaction was to ask, “What about him?” But she knew that wasn’t going to fly anymore. She and Nash had grown closer than could be denied, and everyone knew it. Whether they had something official going or not was a moot point. Everyone had already determined they were together or bound to be, which made Vivian accountable.

  “I don’t know. What can I do?”

  Emptying the hot teat into the large pitcher, Gretta cracked a full tray of ice into it and filled the remainder with cold water from the tap, then carried it over to the table where Vivian had two tall glasses waiting for them.

  “I’d say keep moving forward, but get on that phone and figure out what the hell is going on with that divorce right away. If y’all really are still married, secrets like these have a way of coming back to bite your ass in the end, and as you can see, secrets don’t stay secrets for long.”

  “Clearly not.”

  Gretta filled the glasses and pushed Vivian’s toward her. Pouring a hefty bit of sugar into hers, Vivian tested its sweetness before she continued.

  “How do you think Nash will react when he hears about all of this?”

  “Poorly,” Gretta stated bluntly, “but if he cares at all about ya, he’ll get over it.”

  Vivian prayed she was right because if that little twist in her gut meant anything, it was that she was falling in deep and fast with the man, and being forced to give him up now would be about as fun as getting a tooth pulled without Novocain.

  “We’re supposed to go to the tractor pull tonight.”

  Gretta’s eyes lit up. “That’s wonderful! I guess my matchmaking skills aren’t so dusty after all.” She winked. “You can tell him then.”

  “About Andrew?” Vivian questioned, already pushing against the idea. “Don’t you think that’s a little soon? I don’t even know if what he’s saying is true.”

  “Doesn’t matter. The sooner, the better, like I said.”

  “What if it ruins the evening?”

  “It’ll ruin it more if that asshole ex of yours shows up and Nash has to hear it from his mouth first.”

  “So cut him off at the pass and risk Nash hating me forever over a possibility, or wait for my ex-husband to tell him and ensure that Nash hates me forever.”

  “Doesn’t sound very promising when you put it that way,” Gretta mused, “but it’s the only choice you’ve got. Make sure you make the right one.”

  “Yeah.” Vivian didn’t have much more to add. She was dreading the conversation she knew she needed to have. If she had it her way, she’d just deal with it quietly and on her own time. A call to her lawyer Monday morning to prove Andrew was full of crap, and she could move on with her life as she’d intended.

  It didn’t look as if she could do that now. Andrew could be very convincing when he wanted to, and it appeared he had a lot of motivation to make sure he got his way.

  Dammit.

  “I hate to admit that you’re right—”

  “But I am,” Gretta said with a smile and proud lift of her chin.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Then what are you waiting for? Go get ready for your hot date!”

  Vivian nodded and rose, leaving her unfinished tea on the table. That’s exactly what she planned to do. When Nash saw her tonight, he’d be so distracted, he wouldn’t hear a word she said.

  TWENTY-ONE
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  “Have I told you yet how nice you look tonight?” Nash asked again, his blue eyes roving over Vivian’s body-hugging jeans and a tight black tank top. She’d even worn her cowgirl boots. The outfit was rather simple by her standards, but for Nash, it might as well be catnip.

  “Only for the hundredth time,” she said with a laugh.

  “Oh,” he said, frowning as he ran a hand through his hair. “Well, it warrants repeatin’.”

  “Well, thank you again, but if you keep saying it, I’m going to start forming a complex.”

  “Right. We don’t want you gettin’ an even bigger head.”

  “Righ— wait, what? Did you just say I have a big head?”

  Nash was all innocence. “Did you hear me say that?”

  She scowled. “No.”

  “Then nope.”

  “Ms. Gretta is right, you are trouble.”

  He shrugged and reached out to take her hand. Vivian accepted it, lacing her fingers with his as they strolled through the makeshift parking lot outside the field where the event was already in full swing.

  “So, where to first?” he asked. “If you’re hungry, we can grab a bite to eat. If you’re thirsty, a drink. Or we can go find a place up front to watch the pull. Unless you’d rather check out the other stuff first?”

  Vivian’s gaze darted around, unsure where to start first, as she’d never attended a tractor anything before. “Um…food sounds good I guess.”

  “You guess? Darlin’, you haven’t lived until you’ve tried Samuel Hardin’s barbeque ribs.”

  “Really? I thought that was Betsy Jean who did the best barbeque ribs.”

  Shocked, he said, “I see you’ve been talkin’ to Maryanne.”

  Vivian shrugged.

  “Come on then. See for yourself.” He pulled her along without hesitation, weaving them through the crowds until they reached a stretch of booths serving all kinds of food, from what she could tell.

  There was a dessert stand, a beer stand, a falafel stand, a fried everything stand, hot dogs, and so much more. And right in the center of it all was the barbeque stand that Nash was dragging her toward.

  “Hey there, Nashy-boy,” a short and stout man with a big, round belly that distended past his belt and a shiny, bald head bellowed as they reached the front of the line. “I was wonderin’ if we’d see ya out tonight.”

  “You know you can’t keep me away from a tractor pull,” Nash returned.

  Brown eyes drifted past Nash’s right shoulder to where Vivian stood. “Ah, yes, I do recall some stories—”

  “We’ll take a half-rack, Sam,” Nash interrupted, “and a couple of those beers you got hiding back there.”

  “Hiding!” Samuel shouted, duly distracted, which Vivian suspected had been Nash’s intent. “Boy, I’ve almost sold out and the night’s barely started.”

  Nash turned to Vivian as Samuel put together a to-go plate. “Sam makes his own special brew. Only does it a couple of times a year and mostly for this event, so people go nuts over it when he brings it out.” He leaned in and put a hand to the side of his mouth as if to whisper something private to her. Only, his voice was purposefully loud and carried straight to the man in question’s ears. “He keeps most of it to himself, like the greedy bastard he is.”

  “Hey! This bastard puts in all the work, so he should rightfully reap the bulk of the rewards. Don’t you think so?” he asked, dragging Vivian into the argument.

  Like a deer caught in the headlights, she floundered for a quick response, and ended up saying, “Yeah, I guess so.”

  Nash feigned offense. “You take his side?” Reaching for their order, he held up the two already sweating cups of beer. “Maybe I’ll just keep these babies for myself then.”

  “No worries, darlin’,” Sam said. “If Nash here gets stingy with ya, you just let old Sam know, and I’ll take care of ya.”

  Vivian lifted her chin in triumph. “It appears I have my own supplier anyway.”

  Nash huffed, pretending to be miffed. “I swear, you come along, and suddenly the whole town is against me.”

  “I guess they like me better,” Vivian teased.

  “I guess so.” His eyes met hers, twinkling with humor, and he hitched his elbow out.

  Vivian slipped her hand into the crook and allowed him to guide the way once again, stopping at a few stands to collect a couple of cookies for dessert and bottles of water to offset the effects of the beer, which Nash informed her were stronger than she was probably used to.

  She’d bet it was since she’d never really had beer before. Her family had always been a wine and champagne type, which she’d never particularly enjoyed either.

  A group of picnic tables had been set up just beyond the food area and within sight of the ongoing tractor pull. They got lucky when a couple left as they were approaching, and Nash hurried over to claim the spots before anyone else could.

  Vivian sat down next to a young woman with a baby in a pack on her back and a kid in her lap, trying to feed him what looked like some kind of lemon cream pie. Nash sat across from her and beside a lumberjack looking man in a red-and-black plaid shirt with the sleeves ripped off, little threads still dangling around arms that finally gave Vivian a definition for a “farmer tan.” He had a beard down to his chest and a mustache that hid his lips completely, but somehow when he shoveled his food in, he didn’t get a speck of it on himself.

  That must take some skill, Vivian thought.

  “After we eat, what do you say we go check out the pull,” Nash suggested.

  Picking at the ribs in front of her in a futile attempt not to get too much sauce under her nails, Vivian said, “That’s what we came here for.”

  “You’re right about that.” Nash beamed. “You gotta dig in, darlin’. Ribs are meant to make a mess out of ya.”

  A crooked smile spread across her face. “Yeah, I kinda figured, but it was worth a try.” She took a little look around and saw that everyone was holding either ribs or chicken legs or something covered in sauce, and most of them had a bit of something on their face and all of them had a lot of it on their hands.

  She drew in a breath and considered her next move. “When in Rome,” she said, and then she picked up the meat and dove in.

  Nash wore a huge, approving smile and followed suit. By the time they were finished, Vivian was stuffed, and any cravings that might have tried to sneak up on her later had been sated.

  “That was amazing,” she complimented, although the chef was nowhere nearby to hear.

  “I told ya, Sam is the best barbeque slinger in the state,” Nash declared. “No one does it better. I tried once. Didn’t even come close.”

  She hadn’t missed how Sam had gone from being the best in the town to the state. Next time he staked a claim, she’d bet he’d be the best in the country, maybe even the world. She shook her head.

  “I bet Ms. Gretta could take him on,” Vivian told him as they got up to dump their trash and once again strode hand in hand toward the pull area where people congregated several rows deep to watch the event.

  “She could, but she decided a long time ago that she had to share the glory or she’d never have any friends. Her words, not mine.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me,” Vivian said, laughing.

  The closer they got to the tractors, the louder everything became, making it nearly impossible for either of them to hold a conversation and be heard. Nash pushed his way through to the front, and Vivian followed. Since they couldn’t speak, he steered her where he wanted her, which happened to be directly in front of him and slightly to the side. His hand rested on her hip, and his body touched hers from her left shoulder all the way down to her thigh, making Vivian hyper-aware of him, to the point she wasn’t really seeing the tractors racing in front of her.

  Announcers were shouting over loudspeakers, giving a play-by-play, while people shouted and hooted their excitement. Vivian was only vaguely aware of any of it.

  Could Nas
h feel that between them, the electricity? Was he even slightly aware, or was it just her? If he could feel even half of what she was, then he was good at faking it because she felt like she was about to combust.

  How could anyone have such a profound effect on her? Nash wasn’t exactly a stranger anymore, but logically, she still felt she should have spent more time with him, learning all his ins and outs, before reaching such the boiling point of desire.

  His fingers moved gently against her hip as he watched the show over her shoulder, and his chest bumped against her each time he joined in shouting until Vivian was certain she would melt into a puddle right there at his feet.

  Thoughts of their single kiss were still fresh in her mind, despite feeling as if it’d happened years ago instead of just days.

  She needed to feel his lips against hers again. She needed more than just a friendly gesture or touch or holding hands.

  Vivian needed passion and…friction. Yes, she needed good old-fashioned friction to satisfy the craving that had risen like a beast inside of her. But she knew they were far from that stage in their relationship—or whatever this was—and she closed her eyes, determined to push her desire for more back. But all she could see was Nash and those blue eyes as they held hers and he leaned in, seconds before that fated kiss that would rise up to haunt her day in and day out.

  A moan bubbled up her throat unbidden.

  “Are you okay?” Nash asked, those delicious lips she craved another taste of so badly just beside her ear, the deep base of his voice piercing through the din.

  Startled, Vivian’s eyes snapped open, and she blinked several times to clear away the fog of the memory. It was interesting how Nash’s very presence heated her up, yet his voice in that moment was as effective as a bucketful of ice water being dumped over her head to cool her back down.

  “Yes,” she croaked, then cleared her throat and repeated, “Yes. I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? Is the heat botherin’ you?”

  She wanted to say no, but instead, she said, “A little. I think I should sit down for this next one.”

  Worried, he nodded, and the hand he had on her hip turned possessive as he turned her with him and began leading the way back to the picnic area.