Cowboy Rebel--Includes a bonus short story

by Carolyn Brown

  Work. Yeah, right. With the anticipation of eating his favorite pizza with Claire, his brain had no intention of focusing on architectural plans right now. The only curves he was envisioning were those underneath that floral sundress she was wearing.

  Chapter Three

  While Claire waited for the pizza to arrive, she sat at Bo’s kitchen counter and made a to-do list. Priority number one was lining up all the services for Saturday’s wedding. Years of planning events meant she had close contacts for everything. Most would drop whatever they were doing and work extended hours to meet her needs. She’d already spoken to Halona about the floral arrangements, and that was a go. Thank goodness. She jotted down several people she planned to call after lunch, and then she found her mind wandering while she drew little hearts on the side of her paper and thought about Bo.

  Whoa! She wasn’t going down that path again. It’d been a long hike back the last time. Being seen coming out of Bo’s hotel room had been mortifying enough. Even worse, she’d left that morning so smitten with him that she couldn’t see straight. He was charming and funny, and undeniably gorgeous. She’d always thought so. He had this Clark Kent sexy nerd look about him that just did it for her.

  Bo also had muscles plastered in all the right places. Not too bulky. No, his were long and lean. They’d run their hands all over each other’s bodies last spring. That night had been hotter than anything she’d ever experienced, even though their clothes had stayed on—mostly. She was drunk, and he’d said he didn’t want to take advantage of her. So they’d spent the night driving each other crazy with their roaming hands. They’d also spent it talking and laughing. Then, after Claire had left the next morning, it was out of sight, out of mind for Bo. But not for her.

  The doorbell rang. As she walked down the hall, she turned at the sound of heavy footsteps behind her.

  “I told you I’d pay.” Bo caught up to her and reached to open the door ahead of her.

  A young, lanky, twentysomething guy held a box in his hand. “Someone ordered an extra-large pizza and chicken wings?”

  Bo glanced over his shoulder. “Wings, huh?”

  Her cheeks burned. “I’m going to be here awhile tonight so I thought it’d be a good idea to have plenty of fuel on hand.” And pizza and wings were her biggest weaknesses, right after the clearance racks at Sophie’s Boutique. And Bo, once upon a time.

  Bo chuckled as he pulled out his wallet and paid the guy at the door. Taking the food, he closed the door with his foot and walked past her into the kitchen. “I’ll get the plates. There’s sweet tea and soda in the fridge. Help yourself.”

  She opened the fridge and peered inside. A man’s fridge said a lot about him. If there was more alcohol than food, that might be a problem. Bo appeared to have only one bottle of brew, and a healthy selection of fresh fruit and vegetables was visible in the drawers. She reached for the pitcher of tea and brought it back to the counter, where Bo had put out two plates. The open box of pizza was at the center of the kitchen counter.

  He placed a slice of pizza on each plate and carried them to the table. “I have two glasses over here,” he said. “You can bring the pitcher over.”

  Apparently, they were eating together. She’d just assumed that he would take his food back to his office and work.

  He glanced at her for a moment. “Everything okay?”

  She softly bit the inside of her cheek. She’d already had breakfast with the man. Lunch too? Her stomach growled. “Yep. Just fine.” She moved to the table and took a seat, where the delicious smell of Italian sauce and spices wafted under her nose. “Mmm. If that tastes as good as it smells, I’m going to be having seconds.”

  Bo laughed. It was a deep rumble that echoed through her. “It tastes even better than it smells,” he promised. “Jessie’s is the best.”

  Her eyes slid over as he brought the slice to his mouth and took a bite. A thin string of cheese connected his mouth to the pizza for a moment, reminding her of all the pizza commercials on TV. Bo could be the guy in those commercials. Watching him bite into a slice of pizza would have her craving it every time. Craving him every time.

  She lifted a slice herself and took a bite, closing her eyes as her taste buds exploded with pleasure. “You’re not kidding,” she moaned. When she looked over, he was watching her.

  She swallowed. “It’s very good.”

  For the rest of the meal, she kept her eyes and moans to herself as she filled Bo in on Rebecca’s thoughts for the wedding. “She’s really excited. She has the bride-to-be and the mother-to-be glows combined.”

  Bo grunted.

  “I’ve known Rebecca ever since she moved to town two years ago. I don’t think she’s the type to marry someone for anything other than love.”

  Bo finished off his third slice and reached for his glass of tea. “It’s just hard to fathom that a twenty-eight-year-old woman would want to marry a fifty-year-old man.”

  Claire laughed. “Love is crazy that way. It doesn’t let you choose who you fall for.”

  “True enough. Maybe if you did, it would turn out a whole lot better.”

  She knew the whole ugly story about his ex-fiancée, who’d fallen in love with his best friend. Even after their betrayal, Bo had stood in as best man for the wedding that had led to him and Claire spending the night together.

  “Have you ever been in love?” he asked, surprising her. They’d talked about a lot that night last spring, but that topic hadn’t come up.

  She nearly choked on her bite of pizza.

  “Sorry. You know my history. It’s only fair.”

  She reached for her glass of tea and washed down her bite. “I’ve been in what I thought was love in college. It was really just infatuation though.”

  “How do you know the difference?”

  “Well,” she said, chewing on her thoughts, “infatuation fades. Love survives even after you know about all the other person’s faults. Sometimes knowing the faults makes you like them more…This is not personal experience talking, of course. I’m talking as an event planner who has worked with countless couples in love. I’ve seen couples crumble under the pressure of big events, and I’ve seen others come out stronger.”

  He wore an unreadable expression on his face. “I guess I could say I’ve seen the same in my line of work. Making plans for the house you want to grow old in can be as stressful as it is exciting. Couples have torn into each other in the process, right in front of me. At those times, I’m almost glad that my ex walked away from me.” He sat back in his chair. “That just meant I got to plan the home of my dreams all by myself. No drama involved.”

  Claire shook her head. “Well, you did a great job. This could very well be my dream house,” she said. “I haven’t seen the upstairs, but I’m sure it’s just as perfect as the downstairs.”

  “I’ll have to give you a tour at some point.”

  She shifted restlessly. Was his bedroom upstairs? She didn’t think stepping inside alone with him would be wise. Probably asking him the question that sat right at the tip of her tongue wasn’t wise either. She asked anyway. “Why didn’t you call?”

  Bo shifted his body and his gaze uncomfortably. She needed to know though. Yes, he’d left town, but he hadn’t gone far and not for good. “I needed some space from everything. It had nothing to do with you. It wasn’t personal.”

  But it was to her. She hadn’t felt so connected to anyone in a long time. They’d had such a great time, and he’d promised to call. Only he never did. He must have been hurt watching his ex marry his best friend, and he’d used her as a crutch to get through the night. That was all.

  “I see,” she said briskly. Then she started cleaning up her lunch, even though she could stomach another slice of pizza or a chicken wing. What she couldn’t stomach was continuing to sit with Bo right now.

  “I had a good time that night,” Bo said, as if backtracking from his response. “A very good time.”

  “So good that you
never spoke to me again.”

  “We didn’t sleep together, Claire. Why are you so mad at me?”

  She slammed her paper plate and napkin in the trash and then whipped around to look at him. “Is that what defines whether a guy calls the next morning? Sex? You know, forget I asked the question. Forget everything. I have work to do and so do you.”

  * * *

  It was well after eight p.m. when Claire arrived home. Her slice of pizza and sweet tea had worn off midafternoon, and she’d been running on adrenaline and fury since then.

  It wasn’t personal.

  Those three little words had burrowed under her skin and had been festering for the last several hours. How dare he? She’d shared intimate details of her life with him that night. Hopes and dreams. She’d told him about her dysfunctional childhood that she never spoke of with anyone. It was very personal to her.

  Stepping into her bedroom, she shed her clothes and traded them for something comfy. Then she turned off the lights, climbed into bed, and reached for the book on her nightstand. She kept rereading the same line because her brain was still trained on Bo. It’d only been one night, but that night could’ve filled several years’ worth for some couples. She always left a wedding feeling romantic and hopeful for her own happily ever after. Like a fool, she’d felt there was a potential for that with Bo.

  A few days later, she swung by his house on Lavender Hill. Instead of finding Bo, she’d run into his brother Cade, who’d informed her that Bo had taken a job out of town. He didn’t know when Bo was coming back, but it wasn’t anytime soon. With him, Bo had taken a little bit of her pride and a big piece of her foolish heart.

  Well, not this time. In fact, she wasn’t even going to waste any more energy being mad at him. Bo was right. This wasn’t personal; it was work.

  * * *

  Bo startled at the sound of his front door opening and closing early the next morning. He jolted upright, realizing he’d fallen asleep at his desk, which wasn’t uncommon. His muscles cried out as he moved. Even though he was only thirty years old, he was too old to be grabbing shut-eye in an upright office chair.

  “Bo?” Claire’s voice called out from the front entrance hall.

  How had she even gotten in? Oh, right. He’d given her a key.

  “Bo?”

  He stood and met her in the hallway. Unlike him, she appeared to be well rested. Her hair was soft and shiny—perfect for running his fingers through. Today she was wearing pink cropped pants along with a short-sleeved top featuring a neckline that gave him ample view of her breastbone—the sexiest nonprivate part of a woman, if you asked him. Claire’s was delicate with a splash of freckles over her fair skin. He’d spent time sprinkling kisses there once.

  And if he didn’t stop thinking about it, he was going to have a problem springing up real soon.

  “I brought you a cappuccino and a cream cheese bagel.” She lifted a cup holder tray and a bag from the Sweetwater Café. “And you look like you could use it.” She laughed softly. She’d been royally ticked off the last time he’d seen her. What had changed since then?

  “I fell asleep working on my latest design,” he told her.

  “And you have the facial creases to prove it.” She smiled and breezed past him, leaving a delicious floral scent in her wake. He followed her into the kitchen and lifted the coffee from its tray.

  “To what do I owe this act of mercy?” he asked suspiciously.

  Claire lifted her own cup of coffee. “I’m calling a truce. What happened last spring is done and over. We won’t think or talk about it ever again.”

  He sipped the bittersweet brew. The only problem with that suggestion was that he’d been thinking about that night for the past twelve months.

  “I can put it behind me. It wasn’t personal for you so I’m assuming you can as well.” She notched up her chin, projecting confidence and strength even though something wavered in her eyes as she waited for him to reply.

  “I can do the same,” he lied.

  “Great.” She smiled stiffly. “Then I need your assistance this morning. If you’re available.”

  “I got a lot done workwise last night so I guess I have some time. What do you need?”

  “I brought some fairy lights to hang outside. You have some great gardens. Your brother Cade is so talented.” She shifted her gaze, almost as if looking at him directly made her uncomfortable. “Since the ceremony will be at night,” she continued, her voice becoming brisk, “I thought fairy lights in your garden beyond the arbor will add to the romantic feel. Do you have a ladder?”

  “Of course.”

  “Great. I’m just going to take a walk around out there while you finish your cappuccino and bagel. I usually walk in the mornings down my street, but when I woke this morning, I just couldn’t wait to go for a stroll behind your house. If that’s okay?”

  “Sure. I need to shower. I’ll meet you out there with a ladder in about twenty minutes.” Showers and coffee were his usual morning ritual. Perhaps he should start adding in a morning walk as well. Especially if it included a gorgeous redhead with dazzling green eyes.

  He grabbed his cappuccino and went upstairs to prepare for the day ahead. It was Friday. Last night, he’d made a lot of progress on the Martin proposal. Tonight, he was meeting the couple over dinner to discuss his plans. He hated the social aspect of his job. Going to the Tipsy Tavern downtown with his buddies was fine, but having a nice dinner and wooing potential clients made his skin itch. It was a necessary evil though. He’d just have to suffer through it and hopefully come out of the night with a contract.

  * * *

  The gardens were a feast for Claire’s eyes, but watching Bo string those fairy lights over the last hour was even yummier. His arms flexed and stretched while he hammered nails into the wooden posts that weaved in and around his garden. And the tool belt he’d looped around his waist was a visual aphrodisiac.

  “You okay back there?” Bo asked, glancing over his shoulder.

  She jolted as if she’d been caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar. Nope, she’d just been checking out the way he filled out the backside of those jeans. Her gaze flicked to his eyes, which were now twinkling with humor. Yeah, he knew exactly what she’d been doing. “Fine.”

  “Fine, huh? A woman who says she’s fine never is. Am I hanging these things to your satisfaction?”

  “You are. I might have to contract you for all my jobs.”

  “As much as I’d love to be at your beck and call, I’m afraid I already have a job that keeps me pretty busy.” He climbed down the ladder and folded it, then carried it out of the garden and toward the arbor that had been delivered yesterday evening. He set the ladder back up and climbed to the top.

  Claire handed him another string of fairy lights. “I’m meeting with the caterer in an hour and then swinging by the Little Shop of Flowers after that. Since your father asked you to help, I thought you might be interested in coming along.”

  Bo looped the lights around the arbor with an eye for spacing them out perfectly. “I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask for opinions on catering or flowers. Can’t you get one of the women in that ladies group you go to?”

  The group in question was a dozen or so Sweetwater Springs residents who regularly made a habit of having a Ladies Day (or Night) Out. They went to movies, had dinner, volunteered for community functions, anything and everything. It was girl power at its finest.

  “I spoke to Rebecca, but you know your dad’s tastes. I always like to represent the groom as much as the bride. Going to a wedding or anniversary function that is one-sided is a pet peeve of mine.”

  She watched him shove his hammer into the loop on his tool belt. Part of her physical attraction to Bo was his intellectual look, complete with glasses and a ready ballpoint pen always in his pocket. He had those thoughtful eyes too, always seeming to be thinking about something.

  But this handyman look was really appealing as well. She�
��d created an online dating profile on one of those popular websites a couple of months back with the ladies group, but she hadn’t activated it. She was a bit chicken, and the spring and summer were her busy months for planning events. Maybe she’d make it active in the fall and expand her search for bookish professionals to include muscle-clad guys who did hard labor. Bo was a perfect blend of both, except he wasn’t available. After the way his ex betrayed him with his best friend, he might never be again.

  He climbed back down the ladder and faced her. “I’ve got a proposition for you. I’ll go with you to meet the caterer and look at flowers if you have dinner with me tonight.”

  She blinked him into focus. “You mean a date?”

  “No.”

  She swallowed and looked up at the work he’d done with the lights, pretending to assess the job. Why had her mind immediately jumped to the conclusion that he was asking her on a date? If he was going to do that, he would have last spring. “Why do you want me to have dinner with you?”

  “I’m meeting a potential client and his wife. It’s social as much as it is business, and I hate doing these things alone. So yes, I guess they’d see you as my date, but—”

  “It isn’t personal,” she said with a nod. “Fair enough.” She jutted out her hand.

  As his hand slid against hers, her body betrayed her iron-clad decision not to want him. Those hands were magic, she recalled. The stuff that her fantasies would forever be made of.

  She quickly yanked her hand away. “Deal.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, Claire was standing beside Bo and sampling finger foods and hors d’oeuvres at Taste of Heaven Catering. Claire usually came to her friend Brenna Myer’s business with the prospective brides and grooms. It was usually them sampling the cheese, crackers, and little finger sandwiches.

  “This is divine,” Claire said with a sigh. She turned to Bo. “What do you think?”

  “It’s good,” he said with a nod.

  Claire punched him softly. “It’s better than good. Are you kidding me?”