Courting the Cowboy

by Carolyne Aarsen

  “You need to stay away from Miss Langton’s house,” Cord said, frustrated at the harsh tone that edged his voice.

  Cord’s own heart was still thundering in his chest at the memory of that huge dog straddling his son. Ollie must have sensed his fear because as soon as he picked up the little guy again, Ollie cried even louder.

  Trouble was, his heart was pounding for another reason that he was loathe to acknowledge. Though he had heard about Ella from his grandfather, he had imagined someone a whole lot different. Someone artsy looking—and older.

  Not a young woman with large, expressive brown eyes and auburn hair that seemed to glow.

  He knew he’d been a jerk. Seeing her had created a confusing mix of emotions he knew he couldn’t indulge in. It was easier to make it sound like he was more worried about the dog than her.

  He brushed aside the clothes his kids had draped over the couch and sat down. Cuddling his sobbing son, the reality of his situation drowned out any thoughts he might have of their attractive neighbor.

  Adana had called at the worst possible time. Cord was hassling with the mayor, trying to get the wording of their grant application right. His uncle George was being difficult and wrangling with Helen, the group’s secretary, who was trying not to snap back at either of them. The meeting was falling apart and he could see the entire project going south.

  And that couldn’t happen.

  After Adana’s call he had tried to get hold of his father, but Boyce wasn’t answering his cell phone. Or he had left it behind, as he was prone to do. So Cord cut the stressful meeting short and hurried home, only to end up worrying about their new neighbor’s dog and how Ella had reacted to Paul’s gesture of friendship.

  And not only that, his house looked like the victim of a frustrated burglar. Adana had done nothing today.

  He dropped his head on the back of the couch, shifting a still-crying Oliver, the little guy’s cries cutting through the headache that hovered all day.

  Too much work and not enough time.

  Tomorrow was Sunday, which meant a visit to the kids’ other grandparents. Monday he had another meeting to finish up what they didn’t get done today. He had to move his cows but tax time was looming, so Tuesday he needed to work in the office. The day after that was another meeting with the Milk River Rodeo Association to discuss Cedar Ridge’s proposal to be part of their rodeo circuit. But the Association had balked, claiming there wouldn’t be enough support, asking them to do more studies. Which meant more work for Cord and the Cedar Ridge Rodeo Group. It was work his wife was intensely involved in until her untimely death two years ago.

  But it was getting more difficult to juggle his family and the workload plus ranch work. Now his nanny quit just as spring break for his kids was starting.

  “I’m hungry, Daddy,” Suzy said. “Can I have a snack?”

  “No, honey. It’s getting close to supper time,” Cord said, stroking Ollie’s head as the toddler’s cries finally eased off.

  “But I’m hungry now.” Suzy dropped onto the floor and glared at him.

  “Please get up, honey. You’ll make your dress dirty.” The floor didn’t look much better than the counter. What had Adana been doing all day?

  He probably knew the answer to that one. Checking Snapchat and texting her friends.

  Suzy stayed where she was. “I don’t care about my dress,” she said, pouting. “I want something to eat.”

  Cord bit back the reprimand that immediately jumped to the fore. The kids were upset. Well, so was he. Adana was the fourth nanny he’d had since Ollie was born. The first one was a friend of the family who got pregnant, the other two he’d fired for incompetence. Adana had only been around a couple of months but came close to getting fired too.

  He knew this wasn’t good for the kids. The past two years their lives had been full of confusion and changes. They were probably still dealing with the fallout of Lisa’s death.

  He knew he sure was.

  He unclenched his jaw and relaxed. “That’s no way to talk to Daddy,” he said to Suzy, keeping his voice even. “And you’re not getting a snack right now. We’ll be eating in an hour and I don’t want you to spoil your appetite.”

  “It won’t. I promise.”

  “And where have I heard that before,” he muttered, setting Ollie down while cringing at the cracker crumbs and bits of cereal sprinkled over the floor. Ollie fussed again and Cord guessed from the way his mouth was curving downward, things would escalate.

  Cord headed to the cupboard to get a bottle started. He knew Ollie was getting too old for that but these days it was the only thing he took and it was the only way for Cord to maintain his sanity.

  He opened the cupboard but there were no baby bottles.

  “Suzy, do you know where Ollie’s bottles are?”

  “I think in the crib,” she said, still sulking on the floor. “Adana put him in bed all morning, but he kept crying so I kept bringing him bottles.”

  Cord banked another rush of anger with Adana and her laziness. Probably wasn’t the worst thing that she was gone.

  But still.

  He looked over at Paul, who sat quietly at the table coloring. His little people pleaser. Suzy was now lying on the floor, arms and legs spread out like a starfish, deliberately ignoring his previous request to get up.

  His little boundary pusher. Just like her mom.

  Ollie pushed himself to his feet, and started teetering toward Cord.

  “Suzy, can you please go upstairs and get a bottle from the crib for Ollie?” he said, bending over to pick him up before he began another full-scale crying onslaught.

  Suzy slumped her shoulders and flopped her arms in disgust. But, thankfully, she trudged up the stairs adjoining the kitchen.

  “What’s for supper?” Paul asked, looking up from the drawing he was working on.

  “I planned chicken, potatoes, broccoli and a salad.” At least that was the menu he had set out for Adana to prepare.

  But a check of the refrigerator showed him no chicken was thawing and as far as he could tell no potatoes had been brought up from the cold storage off the garage. He’d have to go get them himself. And from the way Ollie was pouting, he’d have to take the little guy with him.

  “Suzy, do you have the bottles yet?”

  She showed up at the top of the stairs, no bottle in hand but holding another dress. “I want to change,” she announced.

  He stifled a groan of frustration and dug way down, trying to think of what Lisa would say. She’d always had more patience than he did.

  “Please, just bring down Ollie’s bottles,” he said, forcing a stiff smile to his face.

  She rolled her eyes and flounced off.

  Ten minutes later, two complaining kids in tow and lugging a content Ollie who was noisily sucking on a bottle, Cord headed out the door to the root cellar just off the garage.

  The sun was sinking toward the horizon and a cool breeze sifted around the buildings, remnants of the winter chill that had finally given way to a reluctant spring season.

  In a month Ollie would be two. In a month he and the kids would be visiting Lisa’s grave again.

  His heart clenched as it always did when he thought of his wife.

  And the little boy now perched on his hip. He remembered too well that day of the car accident that took Lisa’s life. The sight of his wife, so cold and still in her hospital bed after he made the heartbreaking call to deliver Oliver prematurely and then, even harder, to stop all medical intervention.

  A week later he took Oliver back to the ranch and he began his life as a widower and father of three.

  A bark sounded behind him and he turned to see Ella and her dog heading toward the road.

  “Pablo,” his kids shouted, spinning around and running to
ward them.

  “Suzy. Paul. Come back here,” Cord called out, dropping his pail and trying to intercept them.

  Pablo barked, jumping up against the leash that Ella had him on. His tail wagged as he jumped again.

  “Down,” Ella commanded her voice firm, and to Cord’s surprise the huge dog settled on his haunches whining, his tail flicking back and forth like a plume in the dust.

  Paul and Suzy had slowed their steps as Cord caught up to them.

  “Don’t run away from me like that.” His eyes ticked from the dog to his children and, against his will, to Ella.

  She had her hair pulled back now, anchored by a ball cap. But that only seemed to enhance her large, expressive eyes.

  “I’ve got the dog on a leash,” she said, the tone of her voice holding an edge as she looked from the kids to him. “He didn’t go running to the kids.”

  “I understand,” he said, realizing where part of her prickliness came from. “And I appreciate your diligence.”

  Ella wound her dog’s leash around her hand once more as if to show him that she had her dog under control. “He’s a good dog.”

  He’s a big dog, he wanted to say.

  “I hate to put you on the spot,” he said, feeling that he needed to lay some ground rules with their new tenant, “but I have some concerns with my children being around him, so I would have to ask if you could tie him up if he’s outside.”

  Ella lifted her chin in a defensive gesture. “Boyce assured me that the children wouldn’t come—” She stopped there, biting her lip as she looked down at Suzy and Paul who were still stroking her dog’s head.

  He guessed that his dad told her the kids wouldn’t get in her way and he figured from her reaction to Paul, Suzy and Ollie that she didn’t like kids.

  Which was probably a good thing. She was far too attractive and, of late, he’d been getting lonely. His friend Owen had been pushing him to date. Put himself out there. But he had his children to think of and he wasn’t doing anything to jeopardize their well-being.

  “I understand what you’re saying,” he said, a cool note entering his voice.

  Though in spite of that he glanced her way again, flustered to see her doing the same.

  He shook off his reaction and called out to the kids just as an old, rusty pickup came down the drive.

  “It’s Grandpa,” Suzy and Paul called out, their gnat-like attention spans turning to his father. They ran to the truck as he got out, holding a bag.

  “What did you get for us, Grandpa?” they asked, grabbing his hands and dancing alongside him as he limped toward Cord.

  “What do you think I got, Suzy Q?” he asked, tweaking Suzy’s nose and tapping Paul on the cowlick that Cord could never get under control.

  “Candy. Candy,” they both chanted.

  Boyce glanced over at Cord with an apologetic shrug, then walked over to Ella, holding out one gnarled hand.

  “Good to see you again, Miss Langton,” he said in his best aw-shucks manner.

  In his heyday Boyce Walsh was a rodeo bull rider who still bore the scars and limp of a bad wreck that ended his career. Boyce and his brother, George, inherited the ranch from their father who, along with his brothers, had in turn inherited it from their father. Both Boyce and George had expanded their ranches, as had their cousins. Walshes had lived in Cedar Ridge even before the town was officially established.

  Cord’s brother, Morgan, and sister, Amber, had both moved away, but Cord had stayed to help his father work the ranch, living the life he’d always wanted, carrying on the Walsh family tradition.

  “Hope you’re getting settled in?” his father asked Ella, still holding her hand.

  “A few things to unpack but otherwise it’s coming.” She gave his father a wide smile that lit up her face and Cord could see that Ella had, like so many others, been taken in by his father’s effortless charm.

  And to his own disappointment, the change in her voice and manner created an unwelcome quiver of attraction in him.

  “Kids not bothering you too much, I hope?” he asked, glancing down at Suzy and Paul. “I warned them to leave you alone.”

  “No. It’s fine,” Ella said, her voice reverting to the cool tone he had heard before that told him it wasn’t.

  Boyce’s frown showed his father sensed it as well but instead he looked at Cord, then at Ollie who had his head tipped up to catch the last few drops in his bottle. “So where’s Adana?”

  “She quit. Dropped the kids off at Ella’s,” Cord said, shooting a glance at Ella as if to let her know that he had nothing to do with his ex-nanny’s irresponsibility. “Called me in the middle of a meeting to let me know.”

  “That little minx,” Boyce said, shaking his head in disgust. “I thought she might not be the best one to hire.”

  Cord said nothing to that seeing as Adana had been hired on his father’s recommendation. She was the granddaughter of one of his coffee buddies at the Brand and Grill in Cedar Ridge.

  “I was on my way to get potatoes,” Cord said, moving Ollie to his other arm and taking a step away. “For supper.”

  Boyce looked over at Ella, his face brightening. “Would you like to join us?” he asked and Cord stifled a groan. His father could read cattle like no one he knew but was illiterate when it came to people.

  He saw Ella visibly recoil and how her full lips grew tight. Her jaw clenched as she glanced at Ollie who was finally happy, swinging his baby bottle around by the nipple.

  “I’m sorry. I already ate,” she said, her voice breathless as her eyes skimmed Cord’s, then looked away.

  “Adana forgot to take meat out,” Cord added, shooting a warning glance at his father. “So it’s slim pickings anyhow.”

  “Well, maybe another time,” Boyce said, slapping his thighs, his hearty voice oblivious to the undercurrents of tension that emanated from Ella.

  What was her deal, anyhow?

  “And speaking of supper, I should get moving,” Cord said.

  “Here, I can do that for you,” Boyce said. “Suzy and Paul, you come with me. Cord, why don’t you show Ella that trail we cut through the bush last year? She could take her dog for a walk there.”

  Before Cord could protest or Ella could voice the objections he clearly saw on her face, Boyce was gone, Suzy and Paul trailing behind him, clamoring for whatever he had in the bag he swung from his other hand.

  Cord blew out a sigh, then turned back to Ella, taking the bottle from Ollie before he dropped it in the dirt. “Sorry about that. Dad tends to be a bit clueless.”

  “It’s okay. He meant well.”

  “And about that trail—”

  “I can find it myself. Just point me in the right direction,” she said, twisting her dog’s leash around her hand in a nervous gesture as Pablo stood, watching the kids leave and whining.

  “Puppy,” Ollie said, lunging toward the dog in a movement that caught Cord unawares. The little guy would have fallen straight down but Ella reached out in time to steady Ollie with her free hand. For a moment she held his son’s arm as Cord regained his balance.

  Then, as she shifted Ollie back to him, their eyes met.

  And in that brief blink of time he saw a shadow of something deep in those expressive dark eyes. Sorrow? Pain? Regret?

  A dangerous emotion shimmered in his heart as their eyes held for a split second longer than necessary. He felt a surprising and unwelcome connection to her. As if, like him, she held her own doleful secrets.

  “I’ll find the trail,” she said, her voice breathless as she lowered her eyes and pulled Pablo away from both of them.

  Then she turned and strode away, head high, movements deliberate, her dog trotting obediently alongside her.

  Cord watched her go, unable to get rid of the suspicion tha
t there was a lot more to Miss Ella Langton than met the eye.

  Then Ollie grabbed his hair with his sticky hands, as if reminding him of his obligations and the danger of letting someone like Ella get behind his defenses.

  He gave his son a smile and dropped a kiss on his forehead. “Yeah. I know, buddy. I’ve got you, Suzy and Paul to think of. No room at the inn.”

  But as he left he couldn’t help one last glance over his shoulder at Ella.

  Just in time to see her doing the same.

  He couldn’t allow himself to be attracted to her or any woman, he reminded himself, turning around and almost running to catch up to his father. He would have to keep his guard up around Ella.

  He couldn’t afford to let himself even think of her.

  Chapter Two

  Ella glanced at the clock as she called up her mother’s number on her cell phone. It was early enough on a Sunday morning that her mother was probably still home. Ella tucked the phone under her ear as she popped a pod into the coffeemaker. She was feeling funky. She hadn’t slept well last night and needed coffee. Now.

  Her mother answered right away.

  “Good morning, Mother,” Ella said, setting a cup under the spout. “How are you today?”

  “Good. Just getting ready for church.”

  Ella heard the expectation in her mother’s voice. Though Ella had gone to church her entire life, the last five years her attendance had petered off. She hadn’t attended at all the last year she and Darren were married. It bothered her mother, and many times Ella had wanted to explain but couldn’t. Too much was at stake.

  It took her over a year, after Darren’s death in a motorcycle accident, to start attending again. At first sporadically, then slowly the weekly rhythm created by years of church attendance asserted itself. The past couple of months she had started attending weekly again. This morning she felt a desire to go and had even gone so far as to search for a church nearby.

  “How are things in the gallery?” Ella asked, preferring to keep the conversation light and easy.

  “Good. Had a wonderful showing yesterday. A few people asked when we could expect to see more of your work.”