A Mule Hollow Match

by Debra Clopton

  She was dynamite. Call him stupid, but he grinned. He couldn’t help it. The woman was cute as all get-out when she was mad. And yes, he’d thought about kissing her. She had been in his arms looking up at him. It had been a totally natural reaction. One he’d put the brakes on immediately. He might find her attractive, but kissing her…that was out of the question.

  “What are you smiling for?” she demanded.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “But when you’re mad your eyes do this great fire-and-flash thing. It’s really cool.”

  “It’s cool? You make me mad, grab me up when I told you no touching and then you say it’s cool! Who do you think you are?”

  “Hey now, just a blamed minute,” he said, making a timeout sign with his hands. Sure, he shouldn’t have grinned or thought all that other stuff, but she was out of line. “Look, you’re the one stomping around barely speaking to me. If you’d just asked me to get that lamp in the first place, I wouldn’t have had to save you from bringing it crashing down on your head.” He looked at the lamp in his hand, as some sort of evidence.

  Her lips flattened and he could tell she was holding back a zinger. But to her credit she contained it. “You’re right,” she said instead, after a considerable pause.

  The admittance didn’t make him feel good, though. The woman really thought he was a number one jerk. The number one jerk. “Look,” he said, gauging his words. He was at risk of running her off and he could see it. “In the future, since you’re going to be at the house and all, if you need me to do something, just ask.” He gave a small smile of encouragement and worried he shouldn’t have when she frowned. He had to try and get her past the anger she felt toward him. “C’mon,” he said, striving to sound lighthearted. “We’ve got things to buy and then you’ve got to show me what in the world to do with all this stuff. I’m clueless.”

  She was waffling, he could tell as her expression softened—she was a sensible woman, after all. She was a teacher, for goodness sakes. He gave her an encouraging smile, his hopes rising. And then he did it…what came natural to him under usual circumstances; he gave her a good ole Texas wink—oh, man!

  “You just winked at me,” she said. “Of all the unbelievable nerve.”

  “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry—”

  “Oh, so you’re telling me you had something in your eye.”

  “No, nothing’s in my eye. I just winked at you. It didn’t mean anything. Really, it didn’t.”

  Paisley could not believe this man! Spinning away she stormed down the aisle, needing space. The squeak of the buggy wheels told her he was following her. At the checkout counter she started pulling things out of the buggy and tossing them on the conveyor belt. She couldn’t unload things fast enough! The man was now flirting with her? Wasn’t that what the winking was all about? And he’d grabbed her—twice.

  Sure she’d knocked that lamp off the top shelf, but really, grabbing her and yanking her up against his chest was totally uncalled for. Totally!

  “You okay, honey?” the middle-aged checker asked.

  Paisley snatched a bottle of shampoo from the buggy and smacked it onto the counter with a thud. “I’m fine,” she muttered, glancing at the woman’s name tag. “Evelyn,” she said more calmly. None of this was Evelyn’s fault, so she didn’t deserve to be treated badly.

  Evelyn cut sharp eyes at Trace. “You ought to be. That’s one fine-looking man you got there.”

  Paisley’s mouth fell open. “Oh, no. No way. He’s not my man.” She shot Trace a glare that dared him to speak. He didn’t. He just gave Evelyn that winsome smile, which made Paisley’s temperature soar another notch.

  Evelyn, on the other hand, grinned at him and sighed heavily as she grabbed an item and dragged it across the scanner without looking at it. How could she? Her eyes were glued to Trace.

  “Oh, brother,” Paisley muttered, returning to snatching things out of the buggy and throwing them on the counter. The man just looked at women and they lost all common sense!

  “Made you mad, did he?” Evelyn asked.

  Paisley scowled at the nosey woman. She had no intention of discussing why she disliked Trace with a total stranger. This was the checkout line, after all. Sadly, the woman took her silence as agreement.

  “It’s a cryin’ shame that most of the lookers are jerks,” she said.

  Finally someone agreed with her! What a sweet woman. “Isn’t it, though,” Paisley said, looking at Trace’s befuddled expression as she grabbed the comforter, handed it to Evelyn and then snatched the lamp out of his hands.

  Evelyn made a clucking sound and gave Trace the once-over again. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Paisley almost laughed at the woman’s over-the-top inquisition.

  “Well, I’ve apologized. What’s a guy supposed to do?” he said, probably shocked to find his smile hadn’t quite worked out like he’d thought it would.

  Evelyn cut him off with the total for the items, holding out her hand.

  Trace scowled, dug out his wallet and handed over the cash. After a few seconds they were done and pushing the buggy out the door.

  “Hold your ground, honey,” Evelyn called after her, and Paisley couldn’t help chuckling. It was one more ridiculous moment to add to an altogether bizarre experience so far.

  “So what was that all about?” Trace asked as soon as they reached the truck.

  Paisley opened her door and climbed in without even offering to help him unload the bags. “Women as a whole don’t like to be stepped on. We tend to stand together on issues like that.” She went to yank the door shut, but he grabbed it and held fast.

  “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

  “No. You’re the kind of guy who thinks a cute smile and a wink will get you whatever it is that you want. I take offense at that kind of an attitude. Evelyn agreed.”

  She expected a comeback but got only a thoughtful stare from his stormy-weather eyes. After a couple of pulse beats he closed the door and finished loading the bags in silence. When he walked around to his side of the truck and climbed in, he still didn’t say anything.

  And all the way home he remained silent. Good, she thought. Maybe something she’d said had gotten through to him. You couldn’t walk all over a woman’s feelings and then expect a puny apology to fix things.

  No matter how good-looking a man you were.

  * * *

  “Look, I know you dislike me. I know you don’t think highly of me. And I know all the way back to town you’ve been sitting over there deciding to quit.”

  They were still sitting inside the truck, which he’d just pulled to a stop at the back of his house. They’d ridden the hour from Ranger to Mule Hollow in silence. Paisley had needed the silence. Now she leveled serious but calm eyes on him.

  “That would mean Zoey would be left hanging…and we both know she doesn’t deserve that.”

  “But I do,” he said, and smiled.

  “If the shoe fits. And I didn’t say that to make you smile. Do you ever take anything seriously?”

  “Oh, I’m serious. I’m smiling because you’re staying to help me with Zoey. Thank you. That’s my sole focus. You won’t believe this but I’m nervous and it makes me react in stupid ways.” He reached for the door handle. “I promise to try not to upset you anymore. Now, let’s get to work. I have to move and dismantle the big bed that’s in Zoey’s room so I can set up her youth bed. That will keep me out of your way for a little while. How does that sound?”

  “Great,” she said, opening her door. She hopped out and helped unload the bags and carry them inside. On the porch was a large package with a UPS label on it.

  “Youth bed,” he said as he opened the screen and pushed the back door wide. He waited for her to lead the way inside.

  She brushed past him hating the fact that when her arm touched his she felt like she’d stepped into a frying pan. Shocked again by how she reacted to his touch, she was thankful that he was starin
g at the package on the porch completely unaware of her. This time she couldn’t blame the sensation of awareness on bad behavior on his part, which only made her more angry at him and furious with herself. She refused to acknowledge that the man could stir her senses. She refused to be another one of his easy targets.

  “The youth bed was a good idea,” she said, walking into the house and straight into the living room. There she dropped her bags on the couch. Trace brought the rest of the packages in and then took the UPS box to the back room and went to work. She did too.

  On the trip back into town she’d had to do some major soul searching.

  Positively Zoey needed someone in her corner other than her hopeless uncle. Maybe she was overreacting, but she was questioning everything about this job. One question weighed the heaviest on her mind. Was helping him gain full custody of his niece was really in the girl’s best interest?

  As she pulled furniture wax, pillows and an array of other items from their bags, the question plagued her. Working in the living room alone gave her the space to think. She sent a prayer up that the Lord would give her some kind of peace about what she was doing.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Paisley soon realized that though Trace was out of sight, he wasn’t out of mind and definitely not out of earshot. He was fond of Brooks and Dunn tunes but she had a feeling that if Kix and Ronnie heard his rendition of “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” they might pay him not to whistle it!

  She was seriously considering doing that herself. But she wouldn’t, because, oddly enough, his whistle-while-you-work attitude gave her some peace. It showed her that he was actually enjoying himself back there. As upset and angry at him as she was, there was no denying that the man seemed sincere about making things perfect for Zoey. Which reminded her why she’d gone to the store with him in the first place.

  Paisley moved around the living room, waxing tables, resituating furniture and began cleaning out a chest she found in the corner. It would make a perfect toy chest. And all the while she worked she wondered about the man in the other room.

  He seemed completely out of touch with the softer side of life; his bare “bunkhouse” decorating style proved that, but he was determined to make it right for Zoey. And, despite everything, that was the reason Paisley hadn’t completely given herself over to the fact that she was making a mistake helping him gain custody of Zoey.

  Feeling more content with her decision, she worked diligently. There was a lot to be done before Zoey arrived.

  She’d just draped the new, red throw over the back of the couch and walked into the kitchen when he came up the hall with the wooden headboard from the adult bed. Seeing that his arms were full, she rushed toward the back door to open it for him.

  “Thank yo—” he said, but the words died midstream as his gaze locked on the living room over her shoulder. He set the headboard down with a thud. “Is that my living room?”

  She fought a smile, really fought it because she didn’t want to smile at that man. But the smile battled through and her lips turned up on both ends. How could she not smile? He was looking at her handiwork with the awe of a kid who’d just gotten his very first pony! His expression was so delighted that she turned to survey the room again. It was the same room, but the furniture now gleamed bright and smelled of lemon. She’d placed pillows and throws across the couch and a colorful rug, along with a couple of real plants. And in the corner she’d placed the small chest, now full of toys. In that same corner was a pint-size table with coloring books she thought Zoey might enjoy.

  “I’m not finished, but I think it’s looking cozy,” she said, glancing up at Trace. Her shoulder was brushing his and she stepped slightly away, ignoring the way her skin tingled.

  “Cozy. No joke! It’s gone from looking like the inside of a tack room to a room that a little girl can be nurtured in.”

  Paisley turned to him. “I promise you, Zoey will be nurtured while I’m here.” He looked pensive at her words.

  “Please don’t take that wrong. I didn’t mean any disrespect to you.”

  “I didn’t,” she said. “I’m just saying you don’t have to worry about that.”

  “Believe me, the one thing I’m not worried about is you,” he said. “I know you’ll do great by her. It’s me I’m worried about. Honestly, I know all there is to know about taking care of a calf or a colt. You know, what they need in order to grow up strong and healthy. But a little girl…”

  Touched, Paisley felt compelled to reassure him. “Relax. You’ll do just fine.” He didn’t look too sure but picked up the headboard and walked away, giving her a small smile as he went. There was nothing flirtatious in the smile. It was more from uncertainty—nervousness. The man was a puzzle. She watched him far longer than she should have as he headed toward the barn. A puzzle she had no business wondering about, she reminded herself as she hurried back to work.

  However, her thoughts weren’t cooperating and went immediately to a small box of professional photos she’d found buried at the bottom of the chest she’d cleared out for Zoey’s toys. They were several action shots of Trace competing at different rodeos. The fact that he’d hidden them beneath a trunkful of old horse magazines instead of hanging them on the wall made her think he wasn’t as full of himself as she’d thought. Maybe.

  She’d lain them on the coffee table, as if she’d been dealing cards, not sure what to do with them. Now she gathered them up and headed toward the kitchen and slid them into a drawer. But not before pausing to riffle through them again. He was riding bulls in several of the shots, and just looking at him on top of those animals made her heart stop. She had to admit that though she knew nothing about bull riding, he did look like he had everything under control. He was stretched back, one arm gripping the rope and the other flung out for balance. It was breathtaking and dangerous, and she couldn’t seem to stop gawking at them. The other photos were of him doing what she thought they called steer wrestling. He was flinging himself out of his saddle going after the steer. In others shots he’d taken hold of the animal and was wrestling it to the ground by hooking his arms around the animal’s horns, planting his boots and twisting. While these shots weren’t so dangerous looking, they still showed Trace Crawford “the cowboy” off to perfection. He was agile, athletic and by the look on his face extremely dedicated to accomplishing the task at hand…and now, he was putting all that intense focus on making a home for a little girl who had no home or mother.

  He still acted like a jerk too many times to count, but not where Zoey was concerned. Maybe it was nerves. Of course, nerves might be excusable in some instances, but that still didn’t get him off the hook where Rene was concerned.

  * * *

  “Here she comes,” Paisley said on Thursday. She and Trace were standing beside each other on the porch watching as a car turned into his drive. The man had very nearly paced a hole in the porch while they’d been waiting for Zoey to arrive.

  The last few days had been busy as they’d transformed his house into a home. The social worker, a Mrs. Reynolds, had come out on Tuesday and to his complete shock she’d given him the official nod—which paved the way for Zoey to arrive today. When Mrs. Reynolds gave him the news Paisley had never seen a man so relieved and surprised and scared in all of her life.

  She’d been forced to spend much time with him, getting the house in order and she’d thought the seal of approval had helped him relax a bit. But watching him now, pacing a hole in his porch, she wondered if maybe she should have spent time getting him in order.

  He looked petrified as he spun toward her. “Do I look all right? I mean, do I look—do you think she’ll like me? I’m not going to scare her, am I?”

  Even knowing how nervous he was, his statement was unexpected. “Of course you won’t scare her,” she said, then shocked herself by taking his hand and squeezing. “She is going to love you,” she assured him. Not that it did any good. He still looked like he was about to go over the edge of a cliff as his g
aze shifted back to the car stopping in the drive. Paisley let go of his hand and expected that he would walk off the porch to greet Mrs. Reynolds, but he didn’t move.

  Mrs. Reynolds hustled over to them, her arms pumping, and with the harried look of a woman with much to do and not enough time to do it.

  “I have her things,” she said in a rush. “If you’ll unload the trunk while I get her out of her car seat that would be good. Remember that I said she is a quiet one. But I think with time she’ll come out of her shell. Normally I would stay while she acclimates but I’ve had a call that I’m needed elsewhere. There is an emergency case. I’m going to take charge of several children.” She spun and sped back toward the car.

  “But aren’t you going to stay long enough to help her settle in?” Trace called after her, finally moving as he followed with apparently lead-filled boots.

  “You don’t need me. Per my preliminary visit, you’re prepared. Zoey is in very capable hands. And you have Miss Norton’s help,” Mrs. Reynolds rattled off over her shoulder. “Have no fear. You’ll all settle in together.”

  He halted and looked back at Paisley, so alarmed she imagined him screaming, “What do you mean have no fear?”

  “But I do need her,” he said instead.

  Paisley’s brow furrowed. This was ridiculous! What was wrong with him? “Will you relax? She can’t help it if she has to go. Kids need her more than you,” she hissed under her breath, not wanting Mrs. Reynolds to hear. “It’s going to be fine. Go unload the trunk and pull yourself together.”

  Grim faced he strode toward the trunk while she went to watch Mrs. Reynolds lift Zoey from her car-seat into her ample arms.

  Zoey had long, sandy-blond ringlets that hung nearly to her shoulders and big, serious eyes that immediately reminded Paisley of Trace’s. The clear hazel tone mingled with brown was so like his that Paisley would have known this was his niece or even his daughter if they’d been in a roomful of twenty children. She was darling.

  Trace eased around the back of the car with a small suitcase in his hand and stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Zoey. His expression was heart wrenching, even to Paisley, as he took in the sight of his niece for the first time. He seemed to stop breathing, and in the bright sunlight the gleam of tears was unmistakable in his eyes. Paisley swallowed hard and felt tears pool in her own eyes. She was mesmerized by the emotions radiating off of Trace. She expected by his expression that he would swing Zoey into one of his exuberant hugs at any moment…only he didn’t move. Instead he shifted lost eyes to Paisley.