Courting the Cowboy

by Carolyne Aarsen

  “No one ever likes to admit they might be wrong. I know I don’t.”

  Cord brushed a finger over her cheek, needing to connect with her again. To reestablish what they’d shared a few moments before.

  “Have you? Been wrong about things?”

  Ella’s expression grew serious. “Yes. I have.”

  Her tone was unexpectedly curt and just as she’d pressed him, he wasn’t going to let her comment pass.

  “About what?”

  For a moment he thought she might cry again. But she pushed her hair back from her face and looked directly at him. “I was wrong about my former husband.”

  “How so?”

  “He wasn’t a good person. But I didn’t dare admit that. Not for a long time.”

  “And why was that?” He kept his own tone gentle. Nonthreatening. He wondered if it was her former husband who was responsible for the tears.

  “He was... Darren was...” Her voice faltered again but she kept her gaze on him, her eyes growing distant. “He was abusive. And I stayed with him for the wrong reasons.”

  Cord tightened his grip on her hands, anger flowing through him. But he kept it in check.

  “Was that why you were crying? Because of him.”

  “Partly.”

  “Can you tell me why?”

  She lowered her gaze and shook her head. “No. I can’t.”

  He desperately wanted to know more. Needed to know more. She was holding something important back and it made him frustrated.

  And afraid of what it might be.

  Chapter Nine

  Ella battled her wavering emotions, wishing she could get them under control. She didn’t want to cry again. Though being held by Cord had been wonderful, she couldn’t reveal more. Not yet.

  Then, to her surprise and wonder, he placed one rough knuckle under her chin, lifted her head and held her eyes.

  “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’m not going to push you.”

  “Like I pushed you?” she asked, feeling guilty over her insistence to find out what had happened to his wife when she herself wasn’t ready to talk.

  “I’m glad you did. You are right, hard as that is for a guy like me to admit. I was taking too much on. Carrying guilt I didn’t need to.” He gave her a wry smile. “Somehow, though, I was able to tell you the truth even though I hid it from my own father.”

  “Probably because we tend to protect the people closest to us.”

  “Have you had to do that?” Cord asked, shifting the conversation back to her. She knew he was wondering about her tears.

  “I think we’ve all done it,” she said, keeping her response vague. Ella thought of the conversations she’d had with her own mother. The things she had held back for the same reason.

  His smile told her that he was willing to accept her evasions.

  “Yes. I think we have.” Cord smiled as his hand lingered on her face, his touch creating something she had never felt before. Emotions she hardly dared allow to surface. He was such a good man and such a good father.

  You don’t deserve him.

  She wanted to dismiss the thought but it lingered behind the emotions she had just dealt with. Her tears over her lost child. The child she had failed to protect.

  Her throat thickened. She wasn’t going there again. So to distract herself she leaned in close, bridging the gap between them, pressing her lips to his, curling her hand around his neck, letting her fingers slip through his thick hair.

  He drew her close, prolonging the kiss.

  A few moments later they pulled away and he rested his forehead against hers, his face blurry this close-up.

  “So, where do we go from here?” he whispered.

  She knew his situation. He was a father with responsibilities. He couldn’t treat relationships lightly.

  Nor could she.

  And yet there she was, letting Cord hold her and kiss her.

  “I don’t know,” she said, her fingers still tangled in his hair, her other hand still resting on his shoulder, his one hand resting on her waist while the other still cupped her face, each point of contact anchoring them to each other.

  She thought of his children. How much she enjoyed being with Suzy and Paul.

  And Oliver?

  Her heart twisted at the thought of the toddler. He created such mixed emotions in her and yet, when she’d held him tonight other emotions had taken hold. How sweetly innocent he was. How vulnerable. He had needed her and she’d been able to help him.

  She looked over at Cord again who was watching her, his eyes glinting in the subdued lighting of the family room.

  “Maybe we’ll take it one step at a time,” he said with a gentle smile. “I know it’s the biggest relationship cliché but for us it might be good advice.”

  She nodded, thankful for his easy manner. How comfortable he seemed to be around her.

  “I think so too,” she said, lowering her hand. “And right now I should probably be heading back to my house.”

  Cord got up and pulled her to her feet, holding her hands. “So, will we see you tomorrow?”

  “Paul and Suzy have to put the finishing touches on their posters, so I’d say yes,” she said.

  “Then you’ll have to stay for supper. You won’t even have to cook. My dad is coming back tomorrow, and I can get him to pick something up from town on his way home.”

  She immediately pictured herself sitting at the table with Cord, his three children and his father. The large family she had always wanted.

  “That would be nice,” she said.

  He brushed a gentle kiss over her lips, then let her go. “I feel like I should walk you to your door, but I want to check on Oliver and I should stay with the kids.”

  “Of course. I hope Oliver sleeps well.”

  Cord’s smile washed over her, chasing away the lonely parts of her soul, making her feel like she had done something wonderful.

  And as she walked away she felt like she was floating. Just before she went around the corner she looked back. Cord was still watching her, still smiling.

  She gave him a wave, then left.

  She let herself into her cabin, leaned against the door. Her hand drifted up to her lips as if to see if Cord’s kiss still lingered. She closed her eyes, reliving that moment when, for the first time in years, she had felt cared for.

  She wasn’t sure what to think of it all or how to process it.

  Then Pablo’s gentle whine pulled her back into the present.

  “Okay, buddy,” she said, flicking on the light and walking over to his crate. He got up, his tail wagging and she laughed as she let him out.

  As she toed off her shoes, her eyes fell on the paintings she had done of Paul and Suzy. The bright colors and cheerful paintings made her smile.

  You need to do one of Oliver.

  A part of her mind warned her to be careful, but another part of her was tired of the constant vigilance she’d been keeping over her heart. Because for the first time in many years, a gentle happiness had entered her life.

  The ringing of her phone on the counter startled her and she glanced at the clock. It was almost 11:00 p.m. Who would be calling this late?

  She walked over to her cell phone and glanced at the screen. It was her mother.

  She was tempted to let it go to voice mail but Ella hadn’t talked to her mother for a few days and knew she would be worried.

  “Hey, Mom,” she said as she sat down on a chair by the table and opened her sketch book. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m doing well. And you? Feeling inspired?”

  Ella wasn’t sure what to tell her as she flipped through her sketch book, smiling at the line drawings. The past few days she’d sketched out mo
re pictures than she had in the past year. Quick compositions of the kids playing, bent over seeds in the garden, swinging on the swing. She’d done a few of Boyce walking across the yard, head bent, his battered cowboy hat pulled low. A number of Cord. Some of Oreo and Pablo.

  “I’ve got some work done.”

  “Excellent. Why don’t you take some shots of the works and send them to me?”

  Ella mentally compared her sketches and recent paintings to the work she used to do. “I’d like to do a few more before I show them to you.”

  Her mother’s silence fed her niggling concern but Ella wasn’t going to fill it, afraid she would say more than she should.

  Everything was too new. Her changing relationship with Cord and his children. The work she was doing now. She didn’t want her mother scrutinizing it and pointing out the potential repercussions her switch in styles could have for her.

  “You know that you need to get your portfolio together soon, don’t you? That the Galerie has considered you based on your previous work?”

  Ella both heard and felt the weight of expectation in her mother’s questions. “I know,” was all she could give her. She looked again at the paintings she had done and wanted to do. For the first time in a long time she was excited to paint. Excited to work.

  Excited to move in a direction she had chosen herself and not under the direction and requirements of her mother or Darren.

  “I’ll do a few more, then send them to you,” she agreed.

  That was all she was going to promise for now.

  She and her mother chatted a bit more about the gallery. It was doing well. Her mother had found a new artist to show. She had also found some potential apartments in Montreal and was excited to think about Ella moving there.

  After a few more minutes Ella said goodbye, claiming to be tired.

  She thought of Cord as she ended her call, and for the first time in a long while, the thought of tomorrow came with anticipation instead of dread.

  She flipped through the pages of her sketchbook and then she found it.

  It was just a head shot of Cord, his head bare, the wind picking up his hair as he grinned. On the opposite page was a sketch of him bent over, tying Suzy’s shoe. Her hand rested on his shoulder and she was looking away, as if bored with the proceedings. Utterly confident of her father’s caring love. Ella had filled the spaces of the page with pictures of Cord’s hands spreading seeds, holding a plate, and handling the controls of the tractor.

  As she looked back at the portrait the picture seemed to shift and superimposed on it was the memory of him looking at her just before he kissed her.

  She smiled then flipped the page and her heart faltered.

  She had started a sketch of the only person in the Walsh family she hadn’t done any drawings of.

  Oliver.

  Her hand traced the few lines she’d committed to the paper. The curve of his head and cheek. A few wisps of hair. But that was it. She’d been unable to do more.

  She closed the book as uncertainty gripped her with its relentless claws. She knew she had to be careful and yet she was so tired of watching and second-guessing and weighing and measuring.

  As she pushed away the sketchbook her eyes fell on her Bible. The past few days she’d been reading it more often.

  Now she pulled it close and opened it to the passage she had been reading last night. Seeking solace and comfort.

  * * *

  “Make sure you’ve got everything ready,” Cord warned Paul and Suzy as they laid out their posters, markers and paint. “We don’t want to waste Ella’s time.”

  Boyce had just dropped the kids off after a playdate and Cord had delayed putting Oliver down for his nap until Ella was there. Though he knew he would pay for it, he also wanted to be sensitive of Ella.

  “I hope we can finish our posters today,” Suzy said with a note of expectancy. “I was telling Emma that me and Paul are going to win.”

  “That’s maybe not the best way to talk,” Cord said. “I’m sure other people have very nice projects, as well.”

  Suzy’s smug look told Cord she hadn’t taken his reprimand to heart. He was about to follow through on it when the outside door opened.

  Ella came into the room and Cord felt a familiar uptick in his heartbeat.

  She wore her hair loose today, drifting over her shoulders. Her white shirt flowed over her fitted black pants. Her clothes were simple but she looked amazing.

  “Hey there,” he said, his voice quiet as if wanting to keep their emotional connection just between the two of them.

  “Hey yourself.” Her eyes held a surprising glint that made him realize she was probably thinking the same thing he was. Remembering last night and the kiss they’d shared.

  Though he had never thought about being with anybody after Lisa’s death, it had been two years now. Surely he was allowed to think about a future.

  And being with Ella felt right.

  “How is Oliver this morning?” she asked.

  “Much better. He was a bit cranky today but he’s sleeping now.”

  Was that disappointment he saw on her face? Was she hoping to see him?

  “I thought you had a meeting to attend,” she said instead, giving him a teasing look as she set the large bag holding her artists tools on a chair by the dining room table.

  “I did.” He held her gaze, challenging her. “But someone convinced me to change my mind. Besides, I should check on my cows and I’m having company for supper.” His expression held a hint of promise that warmed her soul.

  “Then I won’t keep you.” She smiled, then turned her attention to Paul and Suzy.

  “I’ll be back before Oliver wakes up,” he said. But as he left he let his hand rest on her shoulder. It was just a moment. A discreet touch but to his surprise she covered it with hers, gave it a squeeze without looking at him.

  When he left the house, he found himself whistling.

  Something he hadn’t done in years.

  Chapter Ten

  “I think Oliver is awake,” Suzy said, lifting her head from the poster she was working on.

  Ella cocked her head, listening. Cord had told her the little guy hadn’t napped at all today and would probably be out until he came back.

  But here it was, twenty minutes after Cord had left and they could all hear banging coming from upstairs, followed by babbling.

  She wasn’t sure what to do. The kids were putting the finishing touches on their posters and she was fairly sure Oliver would get in the way.

  Then there was her own struggle with him.

  Last night, bathing him, holding him, she had felt her heart opening. The fact that she had cried on Cord’s shoulder was a clear indication of how she was changing.

  Yet the tears had cleansed and been a welcome release. She had never dared cry around her mother.

  Oliver started crying and Ella knew she couldn’t leave him any longer. “You two keep working. I’ll get your little brother.”

  The toddler was standing up in his crib when Ella entered the room, his lower lip in an exaggerated pout, tears glistening in his eyes. But when Ella came toward him, he lifted his hands up to her.

  The simple trusting gesture cracked open her heart and she felt, once again, a thrum of sorrow. And yet, even as she lifted him into her arms, another emotion took over. She wanted to protect him. Make him happy.

  “Hey, buddy,” she said, pulling back to thumb his tears off his chubby cheeks. “You don’t like it here.”

  “No. Go now,” he said, pointing to the door.

  Ella laughed at his simple command, then headed out the door and down the stairs.

  Oliver laughed when he saw Suzy and Paul by the table and reached out for them.

  “Doe
s he need anything to eat?” Ella asked, not sure what to do.

  “He had a snack before he went for his nap,” Suzy said. “Just put him down and come and help us. He just plays on his own.”

  In spite of her imperious command, Ella had to grin. These kids were certainly entertaining. So she set Oliver down and sure enough he toddled off, heading toward his toy basket in the family room. He plopped down and pulled the basket over, dumping his toys. Then grabbed a car and truck smashing them against each other, making truck sounds.

  Ella smiled at his antics, then kept part of her attention on him while she helped Suzy and Paul finish painting the background of their posters. Paul’s was of a group of horses—a family he had explained, in keeping with the theme they had chosen and he was working on the sky to finish it up. Suzy had done a picture of Boyce, Paul, Oliver, herself and Cord sitting in the stands of the rodeo framed by a circle of intertwined wire. This was placed on a background of mountains and open fields. It was quite creative.

  While they worked, Ella watched Oliver but he was more than content to play, burbling his happiness as he smashed vehicles together.

  Half an hour later the entryway door opened. Cord came into the kitchen and immediately his gaze fell on Ella. Their eyes held and Ella’s heart warmed at his smile.

  But then Cord looked down at the kids’ posters.

  “So they are finished. You guys did such an amazing job.” Cord shook his head as if trying to absorb the reality of what they had done. “I think you can be proud of the work you did.”

  Ella had to grin at the way Paul and Suzy were beaming at their father’s praise.

  Cord turned to Ella. “Thanks so much for helping them out.”

  “They did all the work,” Ella said, picking up the markers they used.

  “But you helped us with the ideas,” Suzy said, putting one final flourish on the paper.

  “Fantastic job done by all,” Cord said. Again his hand brushed over her shoulder and again she felt the tiny tingle of awareness.

  “But we should clean up,” Ella said.

  Just as they were tidying up, Boyce came into the house carrying bags of food, mouthwatering scents wafting from them as he set them on the counter.