Cowboys & Kisses

by Summers, Sasha

  I sat on one of the large boxes, holding my injured hand. Why did this sort of thing happen to me? Some sort of cosmic target? Or just plain karma? I deserved this…all of it. I sighed, catching Wyatt’s glance my way.

  He smiled at me. I frowned at him, closed my eyes, and leaned back against the wall. Dax said something and Wyatt laughed. I peeked at them. Not at Dax so much, just Wyatt. I knew his type: all nice and polite for the adults but a real prick with his friends. He had that look, that cocky, arrogant look.

  But Mom was gone and he was still sweeping up my mess, which was a surprisingly decent thing to do…

  Not buying it.

  He was too good-looking to be a nice guy. In my experience, that never happened. And Wyatt was beyond good-looking. He was seriously smoking-cowboy-hot. If you were into that sort of thing. Which I wasn’t. Hot guys don’t faze me.

  Most of the guys I hung out with were athletes, the ripped, self-absorbed, say-whatever-they-need-to-say-to-get-in-your-pants-and–tell-all-their-friends types. None of them had anything to tell about me. Dating and boys hadn’t been important. Correction—isn’t important.

  Wyatt was no different. I could tell. I didn’t know what he was after—yet. But no one did something for free. Coming in, acting concerned over my hand, sweeping my floor, wearing tight jeans that hugged his thighs, with a leather tag on the butt… Now I couldn’t stop staring at his butt.

  My mother reappeared with her big medical bag just as the boys were finishing up. Except for the missing window and my bloody palm, there was no evidence of my latest mistake. “Thanks, boys.” My mother smiled. “If you can give us a little privacy now, I need to fix up her hand.”

  I tried to act like I was enthralled with the contents of my mother’s bag as they left the room. I hated needles and my mom knew it. I appreciated that she’d made them leave.

  She asked softly, “You’re not trying to hurt yourself, are you, Allie?”

  I stared at her. Seriously? “I didn’t break the window or cut myself on purpose, Mom. I told you.”

  My mother had one of those faces that said everything even when she wasn’t actually saying anything. She didn’t exactly believe me. “What happened?”

  I tried to ignore the pain, from the stitches and from my mom. “Nothing.” I stared at my hand.

  She sighed. “You’re going to have to get a handle on your temper. Maybe we can find you someone here you can talk to, okay?”

  “Awesome,” I ground out. She didn’t want to hear what I had to say, she just wanted to fix me, to make me a smiling, happy, obedient teenage daughter. As long as I acted like nothing was wrong, no one had to acknowledge that something was wrong.

  “I think everything is off the truck, so now we can unpack. Once your room is more like what you’re used to, it’ll feel more like home.” She snipped the thread and smiled at me, a sad, awkward smile. “Just give it a chance. Please. School doesn’t start for a while so you’ll have time to get situated.”

  I looked at her, feeling angry all over again. Feel more like home?

  “You done?” Dax asked from the other side of the door.

  “Yep,” I said.

  My bedroom door opened and Dax and Wyatt came in, carrying my bed. “This is your room?” Dax asked.

  I glanced at my mom. She nodded. “Yeah,” I murmured.

  “Over here?” Wyatt asked, indicating the space under the window. He had really light eyes, more honey-colored than brown—kind of startling beneath his crazy thick eyelashes.

  I blinked, breaking the hold those eyes had on me, and nodded. “Under the window, in the closet, in the backyard—I so don’t care.”

  “Thanks, boys,” my mother said and smiled at them. “She really shouldn’t do anything with her hand like that.” She left, patting Dax on the shoulder as she went. He gets a pat on the shoulder, I get stitches and impatient sighs. My day just gets better and better.

  Dax waited until Mom had left before he said, “I’m impressed. Slicing yourself open to get out of work. That’s real dedication, sis.” He was teasing, I knew it. But Wyatt obviously didn’t.

  “She just got stitches,” Wyatt said, leveling a disbelieving look at Dax.

  I shrugged. “He’s a jerk. You’ll get used to it.”

  Dax stared at me, his eyebrows high. “And you’re such an angel, right?”

  I used my innocent face, the one I used on teachers to turn in papers late without losing points. The one that got me off the hook when Lindie and I did something we both knew we shouldn’t have done…

  God. Thinking of Lindie hurt.

  My eyes grew hot, burning. My throat felt tight. “No. No angel here.” I shook my head.

  “Allie?” Dax sounded worried…regretful.

  I glanced at him, managing to pull it together. They were both staring at me. Great.

  Dax cleared his throat. “I’m sorry…”

  I shook my head and reached up to smooth my hair—which pulled my stitches. “Shit.” I grabbed my hand, wincing. Dax and Wyatt both winced too, catching me off guard and making me smile.

  And that’s when something really strange happened. Something that made my stomach knot and my lungs feel empty. Wyatt stared at me. Not a little, a lot. His eyes were intense, crazy, stare-into-your-soul, go-in-for-the-kiss stare. He froze completely, a full-bodied statue, which was weird and kind of cool, so I kind of…sort of…stared back.

  Because, seriously, he was really gorgeous… Holy crap. Is it hot in here?

  “She doesn’t do that often,” Dax whispered loudly to Wyatt. Wyatt blinked, the muscles of his jaw rigid.

  I blinked too, looking away. What was that? What just happened? And what had Dax said? “What?” I asked.

  Dax shook his head at me. “You’re clueless.”

  I glanced at Wyatt, but he was snapping the bed frame together.

  “Going for more boxes,” Dax announced as he left.

  I felt nervous, which was weird. There was some hunky cowboy putting together my bed—so what? It wasn’t like I’d never had a hot guy in my room before. Well, okay, I hadn’t…not alone. But it was no big deal. He was just some guy…working in my room.

  Why was he helping out? Why was he so hot?

  Wyatt looked at me then and smiled—all dimples and white teeth.

  2 CHAPTER TWO

  I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling back.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Need anything?”

  I shook my head, holding my breath.

  He finished assembling the bed frame and stood up. I admit, I totally checked him out. Again. He was so…tall. And broad. And ripped. He was probably an athlete. He looked like an athlete. Another strike against him. Athletes only loved two things: sports and themselves.

  He pulled the box springs onto the frame then plopped the mattress down on top. He pushed the whole thing under the window. His arms flexed. I swallowed.

  “Good?” he asked, glancing at me. I nodded. He grinned. “Big change? Moving here?”

  I frowned. “You have no idea.”

  He laughed. It was a nice laugh. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy. A nice guy that was insanely hot.

  Oh, he’s good. I’m not falling for it. My frown turned into a scowl.

  Dax backed into the room, three boxes stacked high in his arms. “Mom said we’re going out to eat.”

  Thank God. I needed to get out of here. “Okay.” I practically ran from the room and down the stairs. What the hell?

  I was obviously more stressed out than I thought. I needed to find a hobby, fast. Boys were a waste of time. And a cowboy? Not my type—no matter what he looked like. I was so not going to hook up with this guy just because he was here. And freaking gorgeous…and I was lonely. I’d never been one of those annoying clingy girls that needed a guy around. I wasn’t going to become one now.

  “Hungry?” my dad asked as we came down the stairs. I ignored him; he wasn’t talking
to me—he didn’t talk to me.

  Dax and Wyatt were right behind me. “Starving,” Dax answered.

  “Wyatt, is anything open?” my mother asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, Peggy’s will be open. It’s mostly burgers, but they’re good.”

  Did he just say ma’am? He was so not my type.

  “Care to join us, Wyatt?” my mother asked. “You’ve been such a help today.”

  I held my breath.

  “No, thank you, Dr. Cooper.”

  “Big date?” my dad asked, grinning.

  I glanced at my father. You are such a loser. I looked at Wyatt then. He had plans, of course he did. Probably a group of redneck friends waiting for him somewhere. And a girlfriend. He had to have a girlfriend. A boots-and-jeans-wearing girlfriend that—

  Wyatt shook his head. “No, sir, but…”

  “Well then, let’s go.” My dad smiled, trying for the I’m-a-cool-guy thing. I sighed and rolled my eyes. Oh God.

  “Well…” Wyatt glanced at me; I saw him. “Okay. Thank you.” He went out the front door.

  “I’ll ride with Wyatt,” Dax offered, following Wyatt out.

  Could this day get any longer? I went to the bathroom, ran a brush through my long blond hair, and put on some lip gloss. I frowned at my reflection. It didn’t matter what I looked like. I wasn’t trying to impress anybody. I tugged my hair into a sloppy knot and wiped off the lip gloss, careful with my bum hand. I plugged into my iPod as soon as I climbed into the truck, so there was no mistaking my don’t talk to me attitude.

  Ten minutes later we were pulling into a very full parking lot. There were more trucks than cars; half of them were jacked up on huge tires, and half of those were covered in layers and layers of dried mud.

  Wyatt and Dax got out of a clean white truck, laughing and talking. A clean white truck with three bumper stickers that caught my eye. One was a Trophy Hunter Association sticker; no surprise there. A military sticker: Semper Fi. But the last one? Pink. I read it again: I Support Second Base.

  Seriously? Either he was really into baseball or he was a dick. Was it supposed to be funny? Somehow I hadn’t pegged him as a healthcare advocacy type. So what were the stickers for?

  Yep, total prick.

  My dad interrupted my mental tirade. “I remember this place. They have great malts.”

  My mother smiled at me, saw my face then turned back to my father. “Sounds good.”

  I followed them inside, wishing I was anywhere but here. I knew it was my imagination, but I swear everyone watched us walk in. I let my gaze drift around the room. Families, a few old guys in cowboy hats, and two tables of teenagers. Great.

  “Sit with us?” Dax asked me. Wyatt’s eyebrows went up in question.

  “Us?”

  Dax looked pointedly at the tables full of teenagers. “Wyatt’s friends.”

  I glanced at Wyatt. He smiled at me, warm-copper eyes waiting. No thanks, boob boy. No introductions. No new friends. New house. New room. New school. New life. No more new anything. I shook my head.

  Dax looked frustrated. “Come on.”

  I sighed. “I’m not stopping you.”

  Wyatt nodded, his grin dimming just a little.

  “I’ll order for you?” my mother asked.

  I nodded and found us a table, sat in the chair and leaned against the wall. I tore open the white paper straw wrapper and winced, the simple action pulling my stitches.

  “How are you feeling?” my mother asked as she joined me at the table. I shrugged.

  “I’ll put the screen back on for tonight so we don’t get a bug infestation overnight. We’ll have to see if the hardware store carries glass tomorrow.” My dad dumped some sweetener into his tea without looking up.

  I glared at him. Who are you talking to? The table? Mom? The air?

  I stirred my water with the straw. Hey Dad, I hurt my hand. It was an accident. Mom had to give me stitches. If you care. Which you don’t.

  There was a shout of laughter from Dax’s table so I looked over. They were all laughing and smiling. Dax was grinning, which made me want to grin—but I didn’t.

  Wyatt’s copper gaze found me. I frowned at him then turned back to my water glass.

  “We need to find someone who can help out around the place, Davis.” My mother was looking at her cell phone. “I’ll have to open the clinic no later than Wednesday. And you’ll be flying out on Thursday.”

  He was leaving? Of course he was. He always left. That was part of his job: Mr. Corporate Security Investigator. Gone at least three weeks out of the month, longer if his case was Super Important. It didn’t matter we’d moved where he wanted to be, were living the life he wanted, he still wasn’t planning on being around.

  “I’ll ask around at the hardware store in the morning,” Dad answered. “After this month, things won’t be so tough.”

  My mother smiled, a real smile, and they stared at each other. It was weird, this new connection between them. I guess it was nice, they were my parents, but it was an adjustment. The last five years, they’d both been so busy with their careers that they were practically single. Now, they were acting like…a couple or team or something. “I can’t wait,” she said softly.

  Dad smiled at her, a sweet smile that made his whole face relax. Huh. “Me too,” he said.

  Her smile grew as she reached across the table, taking his hand in hers.

  Okay, enough. I shook my head. “What’s happening now?” I asked her, curious in spite of myself.

  I made the mistake of looking at my dad. His brows lifted, his hazel gaze darting to me before he stood and made his way to the counter, waiting to collect our food.

  Mom watched him, sighed, then said. “He’s cutting back on the travel. Once a month, unless some emergency comes up.”

  I blinked. That was…unexpected.

  Dad brought the food to our table and the two of them started talking about all the repairs that needed to be done, so I zoned out. I didn’t care. That was their thing. I put my earbuds back in and turned on some music.

  I took a bite of the burger. So, one good thing came out of tonight. Awesome burger. I took another bite—at the same time Wyatt looked at me. He smiled.

  I took a huge bite, knowing I’d look revolting—but that was the goal. I was really good at pushing people away.

  So why was he smiling, with the white teeth and the adorable dimples? Apparently I needed to work harder at making the whole new girl mystique wear off quickly. I didn’t want a thing to do with Wyatt or his dimples.

  ***

  I was exhausted. I couldn’t find my sleeping pills. Without sleeping pills, I dreamed. Dreaming was bad. Dreaming led to nightmares…or memories…whatever… I didn’t get much sleep. But the sun spilled into my room—no curtains or blinds to keep it out.

  “Heard you last night,” Dax said from my doorway, tossing two apples back and forth.

  I pushed up onto my elbows, not quite awake. “What?”

  “Rough night?” he asked.

  I yawned. “Kept you up? So you’re here for an apology?”

  He shook his head. “You’re so rude.” He bit into an apple, adding, “Do you want everyone to hate you? Really?”

  “I get enough lecturing from Mom and Dad.”

  “I’m not lecturing. I’m curious.” He threw an apple to me. “I don’t get it.”

  “So?” I flopped back onto the bed. “Feel free to close the door and leave me alone.”

  “Allie… There are nice people here, ya know? Would it have killed you to try last night? I mean, Wyatt’s a nice guy.”

  “I don’t give a shit.”

  “I know you miss Lindie. I miss Lindie too. But she would kick your ass if she saw the way you were acting.”

  “Shut up, Dax. Shut. Up.” I stood, the anger appearing so fast I could barely contain it. “You don’t know what Lindie would do.” I poked him in the chest, my voice rising. “She was my best friend, not yours.” I pushed him back,
slamming the door in his face.

  “I’m sorry, Allie.” I heard him through the door. “I’m sorry.”

  “Go away.” I hit the door, wishing I could hit something more substantial. “Leave. Me. Alone.”

  Everyone was sorry. I hated that word. It didn’t change anything. It was my fault. All of it was my fault. And now I was stuck, here, alone. And Lindie was…

  I heard the squeak of the board. He was leaving. He was going. I was alone. No one would bother me or check on me. No one.

  I need to get out of here.

  No car. No phone. No one to call.

  I pulled off my PJs and dug through my suitcase for my running clothes. I dressed, pulled my hair into a ponytail, grabbed my iPod, stopped in the kitchen for a water bottle, and took off.

  I ran, letting angry music rage in my ears. Every time I felt winded, I thought of Lindie running beside me—smiling, red-faced, and shaking her head. “Keep up, you pansy.” She’d poke at me until I found the energy to keep going. She knew me, how to keep me going.

  And she could run. For hours straight and never get tired. She was on the track team, long distance running. She rarely made it off the bench during soccer season, but the coach kept her around because she was a one-woman powerhouse of motivation. She’d get a little too intense if she forgot her ADD meds. That was one of my responsibilities, making sure she remembered them every day.

  Thinking about her like this didn’t hurt so much. It was like she was with me, running beside me like she used to. But she wasn’t. And just like that my heart was twisting and my lungs were on fire.

  I’m sorry, Lindie. I’m so freaking sorry.

  An hour later, I was still running, my lungs desperate for a break. I stopped and pulled off my t-shirt. I was drenched; my sports bra was soaked through. But there wasn’t much of a breeze to cool me off.

  I took a long sip of water and leaned against a tree, hoping to get my bearings. No luck, no idea where I am. I finished off my water. I’m screwed.

  I pushed off the tree and started back, trying to retrace my steps. It would have helped if I’d been paying attention when I started, but no. All the trees looked the same; so did the cactus. I kept on walking, hoping…searching for some guidepost or landmark. I was going to take a long, cold shower. Maybe take a nap. If I ever reached civilization again.