Big City Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance)

by Benson, Julie

  “I’d have told you not to do it.”

  “Exactly why I didn’t say anything.” He wiped away her tears with his thumb and picked up another apple. “They’re going to pay us good money to shoot the commercial here.” Then he told her about the deal he’d negotiated with Devlin.

  “I’m glad you’re getting to do some business deals. That should make you happy.” Nannette covered his hand with hers. “You always put everyone else first.”

  “It’s not that bad, Mom. I’ll be done modeling in a couple months.”

  Then he could put his life back together.

  “Now tell me about Elizabeth.”

  His mom’s question hit him right between the eyes, momentarily stunning him. “There’s nothing to tell, Mom. She’s my boss.”

  Nannette chuckled. “You can’t fool me. The looks you two were throwing each other had nothing to do with work.”

  He should’ve known he wouldn’t get that half truth past his mother. She always knew when he was lying. “To tell you the truth, I don’t really know what’s going on. She’s a pistol, and she makes me laugh.”

  “About time you found a woman who can do that. I’d like to have grandchildren while I’m still young enough to enjoy them.”

  He wished she hadn’t said that. Once the words left her mouth, a picture of Lizzie, his child in her arms, sitting in the rocker his grandfather made for his grandmother by the stone fireplace in the living room, flashed in his mind. Surprisingly, the image didn’t scare the daylights out of him.

  His lack of concern, however, worried him. A lot.

  Chapter Eleven

  After taking a Claritin to head off her allergies now that she was forced into the great outdoors again, and two ibuprofen for her nagging headache, Elizabeth headed outside to explore the ranch.

  As she wandered, she texted Nancy. I’m in the Colorado wilderness. Saying extra prayers. Stay strong.

  She wished she could do more than sit with her friend during treatments, or buy her a pretty scarf now that she’d started losing her hair.

  As she walked toward the barn across the gravel parking lot, kicking up clouds of dust in her wake, Elizabeth admitted Rory had been right. Her cute little pink Coach flats wouldn’t make it out of this shoot alive. She sighed. The things she sacrificed for work.

  The thought drew her back to the conversation with Rory. Had she sacrificed too much for work?

  Lately, she’d started to think she had. His comment about how life was what happened when you were busy making other plans… Had her ten-year goal kept her from seeing what else her life could be?

  After tossing her phone back in her purse, Elizabeth swatted the flies away from her face. Obviously, they hadn’t gotten any less persistent since her last visit. Ever since Rory had galloped into her well-ordered life, she’d started questioning where she wanted it to go, and more often wondered if he could fit in somehow.

  No, she couldn’t go there. She and Rory were too different. Opposites.

  She had to remain focused on the commercial. Too many jobs, hers included, still balanced precariously on Devlin’s happiness with the jeans campaign.

  Clearing her mind, she focused on the scenery around her, studying it in context of the TV commercial. Trees taller than her town house created a canopy around her. Wildflowers decorated the fields. She peered toward the horizon and saw a cluster of animals, elk or deer, munching on grass.

  Instead of honking cabs and cell phone chimes, the neighing of horses and the chirping of birds rang in her ears. While that was still a shock, on this visit she could appreciate the beauty around her. She could see how the serenity called to Rory.

  Rory. What was she going to do about her growing feelings for him?

  Adding him to list of things she needed to sort out, but couldn’t deal with now, she grabbed the barn door and pulled, discovering it was locked.

  Ever since she’d learned about his camera shyness and his fear of the spotlight, she felt a compassion for him and an admiration she found intoxicating. Neither of which she seemed able to shut off. And there was the kiss they’d shared. What she’d felt when he’d held her and his lips covered hers left her wanting more. Much more.

  Stop it, Elizabeth. You’re asking for trouble thinking like that.

  Assured that the outdoor aspects of the commercial would work and didn’t need retooling, she returned to the house. Once inside, her shoes tapped across the hardwood floors as she walked through the living room toward the kitchen in search of Rory’s mom. She wanted to ask her to recommend a caterer for tomorrow. Glancing out the windows, Elizabeth marveled at the beauty of the mountains towering outside. They reminded her of Rory—strong, constant and a force to be reckoned with.

  In the kitchen she found Nannette at the sink, peering out the window. A view like that would take a lot of the sting out of washing dishes. The enticing smells of roast beef and apple pie wafting in the air made Elizabeth’s stomach growl. “Mrs. McAlister, I’m sorry to bother you.”

  She spun around, a bright smile so like her son’s on her face. “You’re not bothering me. In fact I’m glad you’re here, Elizabeth. I could use a hand.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll be any help.” Elizabeth joined her at the sink. “My idea of cooking is reheating leftovers from last night’s takeout.”

  “You’ve got a pair of hands, so you’ll do.” Nannette patted her shoulder.

  Elizabeth glanced around the open and inviting room. This was a kitchen a family congregated in to share the joys and trials of the day. The kind of room that housed parties with friends.

  “A kitchen like this might inspire even me to cook.”

  “This is my favorite room in the house. When the kids were little, they’d sit at the table doing their homework while I cooked dinner.”

  She pointed to a spacious alcove off the kitchen with a table for six and large picture windows with another breathtaking view. “I could trust Rory, but I had to keep an eye on Griffin. He’d tell me he’d do his homework in his room, but he’d sneak out to spend time with his friends.”

  A mother should be there to help with homework and to give kisses for skinned knees, not be traveling around the world digging up the possessions of dead people. The rip in Elizabeth’s heart widened.

  “But not Rory?”

  “He was the opposite extreme. He worked too hard. He’d spend hours studying for a test. I had to make that boy take breaks.”

  Elizabeth envisioned a younger Rory studying at the kitchen table, his dark head bent over textbooks. “Has he always been so stubborn and driven?”

  When she first met him, she’d never dreamed that would be something they had in common.

  Nannette laughed and nodded. “One time when I told him no about something, I can’t remember what, he accused me of not listening. I said I’d heard him, but he couldn’t believe it. He swore if I listened to him I’d see he was right, and change my mind.”

  “That certainly sounds like the Rory I know.”

  “The good thing about that was if someone had a harebrained idea, Rory told him so, and was confident enough not to get involved.”

  Elizabeth glanced at the family pictures on the black granite counter and picked up the one of a boy of no more than four on a horse. Rory. No mistaking that strong jaw and determined look. “You have a lovely home.” And this house was a home.

  Her town house would be perfectly decorated, but would it still lack the warmth she felt in every room in the McAlister house? Everyone who walked in the door to her grandmother’s tiny house had been welcome and was immediately enveloped in the love. This house felt the same.

  “Dinner smells wonderful. I hope you didn’t go to any trouble.”

  “We all have to eat. You can finish the mashed potatoes while I get the roast out and make the gravy.”

  The thought of a home-cooked meal had Elizabeth’s mouth watering, and pulled up memories of Sunday dinners with her grandmother. They’d sit and
talk about the upcoming week. Then her grandma would tell her tales of her childhood in Ireland. Elizabeth frowned, remembering how they’d talked about one day visiting there together. Yet another missed opportunity.

  Elizabeth walked to the cooktop and stared at the huge pot filled with enough potatoes to feed all of Manhattan, trying to remember what her grandmother had taught her about making mashed potatoes. “Where’s the strainer?”

  “It’s in the cupboard to your left,” Nannette said.

  “I did warn you that I don’t cook, didn’t I?”

  She smiled. “Mashed potatoes isn’t cooking. It’s demolition.”

  “I like your thinking.” Elizabeth located the large plastic strainer. After hooking the colander on the faucet, and locating potholders, she grabbed the pot and walked toward the sink.

  “What do you think of my son?” Nannette asked.

  Elizabeth jerked, sending a handful of potatoes tumbling into the sink. “He’s hardworking. The client and I have been very pleased with the work Rory’s done so far.”

  Nannette shook her head as she retrieved the butter and half-and-half from the refrigerator. She placed them on the counter and told Elizabeth where to find the mixer.

  While Elizabeth rummaged in the lower cabinet to her left, Nannette continued, “I didn’t ask what you thought of my son’s work. I’m sure he’s doing a fine job. That’s how he is. He puts one hundred and ten percent into whatever he does. I wanted to know what you think of Rory as a man.”

  Elizabeth bumped her head on the counter as she stood, the mixer clutched to her chest. Nannette should warn a girl before asking such a loaded question. Rory made her want to scream one minute and kiss him the next, and the man sure could kiss. The one he’d given her outside the Wake Up America studio had nearly singed her eyebrows. “I don’t know him well, but he seems very honest and responsible.”

  “‘Honest and responsible’? Poor Rory. That hurts.”

  Elizabeth turned toward the young woman who floated into the kitchen. She had to be related to Rory; her smile and her good looks were dead giveaways. “I’m Avery, his little sister. He’d say meddling little sister, but don’t you believe it.”

  “A woman could do a lot worse in a man than honest and responsible,” Nannette said.

  “I agree,” Elizabeth echoed.

  Avery glanced at her mother. “Mom, have a seat. I’ll get dinner on the table.”

  The two exchanged a look, Avery’s filled with concern, her mother’s filled with stubbornness.

  “I’m fine, dear,” Nannette said.

  “You sure?”

  Something passed between mother and daughter as Elizabeth watched the pair. Something she couldn’t identify, though she recognized its importance. First Rory hadn’t shared the news about his job with his family, and now this. What was going on?

  “Women often make the mistake of wanting to change a man.” Nannette retrieved a knife from the butcher block and started slicing the meat. “I loved and accepted your father as he was. If a woman can’t do that, all she’ll have is a house full of misery.”

  How different would Elizabeth’s life have been if she’d shared similar moments with her mom? One where a mother taught her daughter the things a woman should know. In junior high, Elizabeth had spent a week walking around looking like a clown before a teacher took her aside and showed her how to apply makeup.

  “I’m not saying honesty and being responsible are bad things,” Avery said as she tossed a hunk of butter and some half-and-half into the potatoes. “But it’s not how a man wants a woman to describe him. When women describe Rory usually the first thing they say is how gorgeous he is.”

  Elizabeth would have to be blind to miss Rory’s good looks. Every time she looked at the man, her insides melted like chocolate in a five-year-old’s hands. “I noticed how good-looking he is, but we work together. I have a strict don’t-mix-business-and-pleasure rule.” However, that rule grew harder to follow all the time, but not because of his gorgeous face and rock-hard body. His confidence, his quiet strength, drew her more.

  The mixer’s whir as Elizabeth mashed the potatoes stalled their conversation.

  “You work with Rory?” Avery asked, her eyebrows lowered in confusion. “Are you a horse breeder?”

  Nannette saved her from answering. “Elizabeth’s in advertising.”

  “I’ve been telling Rory for over a year to hire someone to revamp the ranch’s advertising. He never wanted to spend the money. How did you get him to dust off the company checkbook?”

  Elizabeth swallowed hard and tried to formulate a response that wasn’t a massive lie. “I didn’t—”

  “Dinner’s ready. Avery, grab the potatoes, and show Elizabeth into the dining room,” Nannette interrupted, once again rescuing Elizabeth from the awkward conversation.

  In the dining room, Avery sank into a chair across from Rory. “Elizabeth, you can sit beside Rory. As kids he and Griffin couldn’t sit together because they picked on each other, and the next thing we all knew, they were fighting. They still can’t sit beside each other, for the same reason.”

  “You make me sound like I’ve got the self-control of a ten-year-old,” Rory said.

  “That’s because you and Griff do.” Avery flashed her brother a brilliant smile, obviously another McAlister genetic trait. “I was always the good one.”

  “Talk about rewriting history. I seem to remember Mom and Dad getting called into Principal Johnson’s office more than once because you’d stirred up trouble.”

  “I did not stir up trouble.” Avery glanced at Elizabeth. “Mr. Johnson didn’t understand my enthusiasm for causes. Instead of seeing me as a forward-thinking youth, he labeled me a troublemaker.”

  Rory laughed and turned to Elizabeth. “Avery spins a situation almost as well as you do, Lizzie.”

  “Do you really want to tick both of us off?” Elizabeth said, unable to resist joining in the teasing.

  “Elizabeth, I think we can take him.” Avery grinned.

  “No doubt about it.”

  He threw his hands in the air. “I surrender, and humbly apologize.”

  As Elizabeth sat beside him, she understood why she’d felt outclassed when he teased her. An only child, she’d never learned the fine art, while Rory had spent years honing his skills with his siblings.

  He leaned closer, his warm breath tickling her skin. “Why didn’t you want to sit by me? Were you worried I’d bite? I don’t unless I’m invited to.”

  Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. The man was a first-class flirt. How much of what he did was for show, though, and how much was real? Just for her?

  She swallowed hard and thought over the times she’d seen Rory with other women. He been polite, but reserved. Very different than the way he acted with her.

  Don’t go there. Hoping never led to anything good. It was a direct route to disappointment.

  “Stop it. Don’t say things like that.”

  He bent toward her, his lips next to her ear. “If I start nibbling on you, the last thing you’ll want me to do is stop.”

  Elizabeth, her body tingling, her heart hammering as if she’d just finished a Pilates class, glanced at Avery to see if she’d heard his comment.

  “Rory, it’s rude to whisper when other people are in the room,” Avery teased, glancing pointedly between her and Rory, her crystal blue eyes shining with mischief.

  “Mind your own business, little sister.”

  “You’re really pushing your luck. I might need to start sharing some of your finer childhood moments. How about the time you dared Griff to—”

  “You win!”

  “Avery, get Griffin,” Nannette said as she entered the room and placed a bowl of asparagus on the table.

  “No need, Mom.” The smooth drawl, so similar to Rory’s, came from the living room.

  Elizabeth turned that way. While Rory possessed short dark hair and dark eyes, his brother had shoulder-length, light blond
hair and blue eyes. Maybe an inch taller than Rory, he strolled toward the table, a lazy grin on his face. “Hello, pretty lady. I’m Griffin. If you’ve spent time with big brother here, you’re probably about to die of boredom. If you’re interested, we could go see what fun we can find around town later.”

  Another charmer? Obviously the trait was attached to the McAlister Y chromosome. But Griffin left her unmoved. Something in his eyes told her he tossed out compliments like most people tossed pennies into a fountain, and forgot them just as quickly.

  Elizabeth had learned early on that some people had personalities they put on like a winter coat when they left the house. Her father was that way. Everyone liked and respected him because he could be counted on to step up and offer assistance to his business associates. Things were very different at home when she’d needed help with her homework. He was either too busy, or was brusque and quick to show his frustration if she didn’t immediately grasp a concept.

  Elizabeth caught sight of Rory out of the corner of her eye. He wouldn’t be that kind of father. He’d be there for his children, and she suspected he would show endless patience, no matter what.

  Her stomach tightened. Where had that thought come from?

  Her hand shook as she reached for her water glass. This bordered on disaster. Her well-constructed wall between work and pleasure had a big hole in it.

  “BACK OFF, GRIFF. Elizabeth already has a tour guide if she needs one.” Rory stared at his little brother. If he looked in the mirror right now, he’d probably discover his complexion Kermit the Frog green.

  When had he started thinking of Lizzie as his? Rewind and change that scene, because it was as dangerous as driving down the mountains during a blinding snowstorm, with seven inches already on the roads.

  “So that’s the way it is?” Griff taunted.

  “That is none of your business.”

  “Stop it, you two, or take it outside,” Nannette snapped. “I don’t care which.”

  Griffin walked to the head of the table, bent and kissed his mother’s cheek. “Don’t get riled up, Mom. I’m just having a little fun. You know there’s nothing I like better than getting a rise out of Rory.”