Cowboy in Disguise

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  “You’re going to be fine,” he promised even though he had a pit in the bottom of his stomach that made him want to punch something. Instead, he kicked the corner of one of the chaises and it spun on its legs so that he could lower Arabella onto it. His hand shook as he carefully brushed her hair out of her blue eyes. “I’m going to get some help and you’re going to be just fine.”

  “I am fine,” she insisted. Her voice sounded thick and she kept trying to sit up despite his efforts to keep her still. “I got elbowed in the face is all.” She looked annoyed. “I didn’t know my nose was bleeding.”

  “Someone elbowed you?” There were no pool towels conveniently stacked next to the vacant bar now and Jay yanked his shirt over his head and tried staunching the flow of blood with it.

  “Not intentionally!” She scrabbled at his hand and the bunched shirt. “Jay, I can hardly breathe here.”

  He swore and moved his shirt away.

  She inhaled through her mouth with obvious relief and closed her eyes for a moment. “I used to get bloody noses all the time when I was a kid. You’d think I’d remember how they felt.” She looked at the shirt, stained crimson. “Oh, geez. That’s going to be hard to wash out.”

  Half a choked laugh escaped. He sank down on his knees beside the chaise. “The last thing I’m worried about is a stained shirt.” He unwound the bundle enough to find a shirttail and used it to gently dab her cheek. “I never thought the sight of blood bothered me until I saw it covering half your face.”

  “Half my—” She groaned, then winced sharply and yanked back when his careful dabbing got too close to her nose. “What does a broken nose feel like?”

  “Don’t know. I’ve never had one. Who elbowed you?”

  “Just a scared liddle girl. She didn’ know.” She gave a cautious sniff, only to lean over with a choked cough which sent droplets of blood spattering everywhere. “Ohmigod,” she groaned.

  “We’ll get it cleaned up.”

  “Yeah, by someone who’ll have to wear a hazmat suit or something.” She raised the back of the chaise, grimaced when she saw the smear she left, and then leaned back against it. She took the bundled shirt from him and held it beneath her nose as she tilted her head back. Her eyes were blue crescents beneath her lashes. “Where’d you cubb frob, anyway?”

  They both went still when the strident fire alarm cut off midwail.

  “Texas,” he said a moment later.

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s where I come from.”

  She gave a groaning sort of laugh. “Keep your day job,” she advised. She slid her fingers through his. “Stadd-up comedy may nod be in your future.”

  He smiled and kissed her knuckles.

  She made a soft sound that finished the job of melting the remnants of panic inside his gut.

  “Reminds me of January,” she murmured.

  “Me, too.” Even though there really wasn’t room, he slid onto the chaise beside her, careful not to tip it onto its side before he could get his weight centered with hers. “Are you going to disappear on me this time, too?”

  She nuzzled her head against his chest. “I didn’t want to disappear. You were the best thing about that trip.”

  He pressed his lips to her temple. “Not the bread?”

  He felt her soft laugh. “Nod the bread.”

  The alarm might have been shut off, but that hadn’t stopped any of the emergency responders.

  Fire engines were in position, parked strategically around the hotel entrance. Police cruisers had arrived, too, and several officers were busy pushing the crowds back even farther while two more stretched caution tape across the divide.

  “What were you going to tell me that night?”

  “When?”

  Her palm flattened against his abdomen and she pushed herself up a little so she could look at him.

  “In January. At the birthday party.” Her eyes shied away from his. “You were going to tell me something, but then we heard the balcony start to go and—” She sat up even more, which—unfortunately—was enough to upset the chaise and it tipped them right over the side.

  They landed in a heap barely a foot from the edge of the pool. Jay’s shoulder hit hard, but at least he reacted quickly enough to turn so that Arabella landed on him versus the unforgiving travertine.

  Her shoulders were shaking. “What else?” She lifted her head and he realized she was laughing. “What else can possibly happen?”

  He ran his hand up her slender back as they both sat and disentangled the legs of the chaise from their own. “What else?” he echoed, watching Detective Teas duck beneath the caution tape and head toward the hotel.

  * * *

  It took two hours before the fire chief announced that the alarm was false. Word spread through the crowd waiting outside a lot faster.

  There wasn’t a single guest remaining in the hot afternoon sun by the time the police cars departed. The fire crews were slower to leave. Before they left, one of the EMTs mopped up Arabella’s face and taped her nose. “Looks like a simple break,” he told her. “Check with your doctor, though, if it starts bleeding again or the pain gets worse instead of better.”

  Nicole and Mariana opened the doors of Roja, offering complimentary meals. Standard rooms were upgraded. Additional free nights were doled out.

  In short, Hotel Fortune did everything it could do to appease their guests who’d been so inconvenienced by the false alarm.

  They still lost half of them before morning.

  Arabella learned that from Beulah when she checked in the next day for her room assignments.

  “Broken?” Beulah peered over her half glasses at Arabella’s face.

  She nodded. Just as the EMT the day before had warned, she’d woken up with bruises beneath both eyes.

  “You look like you’ve done a round with my ex-husband.” It was the first time Arabella had heard anything approaching compassion in the other woman’s voice. “Had my share of black eyes just like those.”

  “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry, Beulah.”

  “So’s he.” Her tone went right back to its usual terseness. “Pig’s still doing time for it.” She pulled something from her drawer and tossed it on the counter. “Shake it up and it’ll stay cold for a couple hours. It’ll help the swelling.”

  Arabella’s eyes suddenly stung. “Thanks, Beulah.”

  As if she regretted her momentary lapse, Beulah’s lips pinched together and she turned back to her computer.

  Arabella pocketed the thin pack and left the office to start her day.

  Fortunately, it progressed better than the day before. Hallie still wasn’t the chatty, friendly soul she’d been initially, but at least she was satisfied enough with Arabella’s work to release her rooms the first time around. By the time her lunch break rolled around, she was actually on schedule with the rooms. Which was amazing, because she’d even taken a few minutes in between them to press the cold pack against her tender face.

  She knew Jay was working the wedding—that, at least hadn’t been canceled—so she wasn’t surprised when the whole day passed without running into him even once. Nor did she see his truck in the parking lot when she clocked out at the end of the day.

  It was Friday. She wasn’t scheduled to work again until Monday. The time until she might see him again stretched out disappointingly.

  Until she got home and Harper handed her a jar of brilliant red jam. A small note had been taped to the top of it. “Found it on the front porch after the boys and I got back from taking Murphy for a walk.”

  Feeling weak inside, Arabella unfolded the note.

  Mariana’s Market. Tomorrow. Six a.m.

  He’d included a simple sketched map as well.

  She clasped the note to her breast and practically floated up the stairs.


  “I know that look,” Harper called after her.

  But Arabella didn’t respond. She was hearing another voice in her head.

  I think you should know that...

  ...you’re the only girl for me.

  By morning, the bruises under Arabella’s eyes were nearly purple. No amount of cosmetics could disguise them so she gave up trying. She wove her hair into a long braid, pulled on her favorite ball cap that matched her short denim sundress and followed Jay’s map to Mariana’s Market.

  She got there well before 6:00 a.m., but even at the early hour, there were already dozens of vehicles parked in the big lot where venders had set up shop. There didn’t seem to be a particular order to the way they were arranged and Jay’s map hadn’t gone beyond how to get to the location of the market itself, so she just began wandering up and down the nearest rows.

  She hadn’t really had any expectations about the market. She knew about the jams, of course. Louella’s and Mabel’s. Knew, too, that Petunia had a booth there at least once a month.

  She was nevertheless surprised by the variety of wares that were on display.

  She bought a hand-sewn scarf to send to her mother, knowing she’d love it, a vintage record album for her father and a jaunty doggie sweater for Murphy. Admittedly, the dog wouldn’t need it for months and months, but how could she resist when “nothing but a hound dog” was embroidered across the back?

  Humming under her breath along with the tinny sound of music coming from nowhere in particular, she reached the row of food trucks and spotted Mariana’s right away. She wasn’t all that surprised that there was a line of people standing outside the window and she couldn’t help but wonder how Mariana managed to keep up with all of this as well as help run Roja. But there she was, her bright blond head visible from inside the truck.

  Close by the truck a row of tables shaded by green-and-white market umbrellas marched up the center of the aisle. One table was already occupied by a group of old men playing cards.

  When she reached the center of the market she noticed an orderliness to the booths that had been absent on the outer rows and after buying a coffee from one of them, she browsed happily among the bins of shining red tomatoes and melons as big as basketballs. She added a basket of deep red cherries to the mesh bag she’d gotten along with the doggie sweater and turned up the next row. A sign for Lou’s Luscious Jams hung at the top of an empty booth straight ahead of her. It was more than a tent. Less than a shack. And the long table in front of it was nearly covered with the jars of jam that Jay was unpacking from a big crate.

  She hesitated there because watching him stack his grandmother’s wares felt so very sweet. He was wearing faded blue jeans, a plain blue shirt and an off-white cowboy hat. The only other time she’d seen him wear the hat was the day she’d run into him at the police station.

  It was only a few weeks ago but it felt so much longer.

  Then, as if he’d sensed her, his head lifted and his green eyes met hers. A slow smile crossed his face.

  I think you should know that...

  “I want to see your smile for the rest of my days,” she murmured.

  He straightened and thumbed his hat back an inch before gesturing at the table. “You just going to stand there talking to yourself, or come and help me?”

  She raised her voice. “Maybe I’m enjoying the scenery.” She took a sip of coffee. It really was an excellent cup. Almost as excellent as the view of him.

  He craned his head, looking behind him, then along the row of booths. “What scenery?”

  She laughed and walked the rest of the way to the booth. “False modesty, Jet-pack.”

  He shot her a close look. “Who told you about that?”

  “Mariana.”

  He seemed to relax. “What else has she been telling you?”

  “That you used to steal her lemon tarts.”

  “I swept in exchange for every single one,” he defended. He lifted the coffee out of her hand and set it on the table behind him. “I do have a serious question for you, though.”

  “I don’t know how to make lemon tarts.”

  His dimple deepened and he slid his hands around her waist, linking them behind her. “That’s not the question.”

  She couldn’t help leaning into him. “Oh?”

  “How’s your nose feel?”

  She groaned a little. “Thank you for the reminder. I’d almost forgotten that I look like a raccoon.”

  “Yeah, but you’re a cute raccoon. The nose?”

  She wrinkled it. “Honestly, it doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

  “Good. That means I can do this.” He leaned down and brushed his mouth slowly, gently across hers. “All mornings should start with a kiss from a beautiful raccoon,” he murmured and kissed her again.

  And she fell a little more in love with him.

  “You going to stand there kissing the lady or set up shop?”

  Jay finally lifted his head. “How you doin’, Norman?”

  “Fair.” A tall, spare man with gray hair and a tanned face stopped in front of the table and though Arabella recognized him from the day before at the hotel when he’d been with Petunia carrying flowers, he obviously did not recognize Arabella. Not if the polite nod he gave her was any indication. “Lou’s not sick or something, I hope. Can count on one hand the number of times she hasn’t been out here bright and early on Saturday morning.”

  “She’s fine,” Jay assured him. “Offered to let me take over this morning so I’d have a chance to impress my girl.”

  He spoke lightly, but Arabella’s heart still swelled.

  “Women’ll do that to ya,” Norman agreed.

  Arabella stuck out her hand. “Arabella Fortune, Mr. ah—”

  “Just Norman,” he said and shook her hand with all the enthusiasm of her nephews when they were afraid of getting cooties. “One of those Fortunes, you say.”

  Norman’s smile was nonexistent but Arabella managed to keep hers in place. “A Fortune. I just moved here from New York.”

  He looked like he thought she ought to have stayed there.

  He turned his back on her and gestured at the array of jam jars. “I’ll take five jars.”

  Jay bagged up the jars and gave them to Norman in exchange for the cash that Norman passed over.

  Norman didn’t spare Arabella so much as a glance when he walked away a minute later.

  “Friendly guy,” she murmured under her breath.

  “He usually is.” Jay watched the departing man. “According to my grandmother, he’s been having some trouble keeping his medicine straight. Gets forgetful. But he’s still a staple out here at the market. Every weekend. Either playing chess near Mariana’s truck or helping out at Petunia’s flower stand when she’s here.”

  “Selling flowers?”

  “He’s her dad.”

  “Ah. Okay.” The missing dots connected. “Petunia mentioned him when I was working at her shop. No wonder he was helping with the flowers yesterday. Where’s her stand?”

  “Doesn’t look like she’s going to be there today.” He pointed down the row. “Her space is empty. It’s next to the yellow tent with the striped awning. That one’s Mabel’s.”

  As the minutes had been passing, more and more vendors had been showing up. Rolling up the sides of vinyl tents. Trotting out portable tables. Unloading carts of bric-a-brac and setting out handmade crafts and every other imaginable item. The booth with the striped awning, however, sat empty.

  She dumped her purchases and her bag on the square of fake grass covering the dirt ground inside their booth and plucked several jars out of Jay’s box. “You just stack these things around?”

  “Yep. On the shelves, too.”

  Since Jay had the table itself well in hand, she began adding jars here and there on the milk-crate s
helves in what she figured were artful sort of displays. “How is your grandmother?”

  “Nursing her aggravation where Mabel’s concerned.”

  “I still can’t believe they were brawling over her jam recipe.”

  “Tell me about it,” he muttered. “Gran and Mabel go way back.”

  “But that’s why you’re here? To work her booth because of the hundred-yard thing?” She knew the judge had ordered both women to keep away from each other by at least that much distance.

  “You heard what I told Norm. I’m trying to impress my girl.”

  She bobbled the jars and barely managed to catch one before it rolled off the shelf.

  “And because my grandmother didn’t want to chance running into Mabel,” he went on humorously.

  It was no less than she’d expected, but her balloon of joy over the “my girl” term deflated slightly. “Considering how desolate Mabel’s booth looks, I’m not sure she needed to worry about it. But I guess if one of them doesn’t work, it’s fair for the other one not to as well.”

  “Yeah, except Gran’s jams are going to sell, anyway, thanks to us.” He cupped his hand behind her neck. “So why are you looking sad?”

  She looked toward the yellow booth again. “Mabel’s booth just looks forlorn to me. Nobody is helping her out like you’re helping your grandmother.”

  He smiled and dropped a quick kiss on the tip of her nose.

  “What was that for?”

  “Because not everyone has a heart as sweet as yours.”

  She couldn’t manage to form a word. Not with the way her chest felt all full up and her face felt all stretched in a smile.

  She hadn’t finished stacking the shelves when another customer came by the booth, quickly followed by two more. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the aisles among the booths became more congested with shoppers and the supply of Louella’s jams dwindled.

  It wasn’t even close to noon when they were gone completely and Arabella gathered up her purchases and slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder.