The Cowboy

by Vonna Harper, P. J. Mellor, Nelissa Donovan

  “I’ve known a few of those crazy rock climbers. Dated one, in fact.”

  Jake reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of Cassie’s face. It reminded her so much of Dean she nearly grabbed his hand and held it against her cheek. “No mountain climbers here, Cass. Just lonely cowboys with hot heads and strong passions.”

  She smiled at the sandy-haired cowboy. “Yeah. I think I’ve met a few.”

  “Cut him out, Frank, and get him in with Massey’s group in the south pasture!”

  Dean wiped his face with his bandanna before putting his hat back on and surveying the organized chaos of the corrals and pens spread out before him. Stocky brown and black pinto mares and foals milled in corners, while their stallion rolled his eyes and snorted warnings whenever the men got too close.

  He took a deep breath, tasting dust and the tangy resin of pine, and he played with the idea that tonight might be the right time to do some heavy thinking. Dean hadn’t had a moment to himself the entire week. Each night the house had been full of hired hands, and from sunup to sundown they’d been out on the range. Which, Dean reasoned, was probably a good thing. Otherwise he would have been inclined to spend every waking moment with Miss Darling, even if it was just to make certain she didn’t do something so foolish as to find interest in someone else.

  No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get thoughts of the petite blonde out of his head. And not just of how she felt in his arms or how she felt beneath him. Dean found himself longing just to hear her voice, her laugh, and to see her smile.

  It was goddamn disgusting how much he longed for it. In his thirty-one years Dean had never felt this way, never knew he could feel this way. When he’d gotten her messages the other day, he’d had to physically restrain himself from driving into town, breaking into her room, and convincing her in as many ways as he could think of to come back to the ranch.

  But nothing good could come out of him panting over Cassandra Darling. Once she was done with her investigation she would go back to her world of sun, smog, and high-rise buildings and forget all about Granite Hollow. Forget all about the crazy-ass, scarred cowboy with horseshit on his shoes and a wild look in his eye.

  Dean figured the best thing he could do was stay busy until the insanity passed. And since he hadn’t heard that a decision had been made regarding the wolves, a part of Dean questioned whether or not Cassie was doing anything at all to get the situation resolved. It wasn’t as if he actually knew Cassie. Not really. Not deep down.

  “We’re about done here, Dean,” Frank said as he walked over to Dean. “You want me to ask Cliff and Jack to hang on for a few more days to help keep an eye on things?”

  Dean forced his thoughts away from Cassandra and back to his friend and foreman, Frank Buchanan. “No, thanks, Frank. Jake’s coming home tonight, and he can help out. Plus, we still have Terry and Carl on full time.” As Dean shook Frank’s hand, the thought that things could meander back to a more reasonable pace almost made him smile. “I appreciate you bringing in your boys this week.”

  “Anytime. You know those damn kids need work just to keep them out of trouble.” Frank smiled and then waved to his crew. “Day’s done, boys!”

  The past week had also reminded Dean how important his family and the ranch were to him. He missed having Jake around, and just because they’d had a difference in opinion, it didn’t mean they couldn’t still work together and live under the same roof. Hell, the kid had guts to do what he was doing, following his belief. Their mother would have been proud of him.

  As the crew packed up, Dean leaned on the fence to watch the mustangs. They were a good-looking bunch this year, fat and healthy, their coats shiny. The foals looked promising, too. A small light-coated mustang with a white patch down her forehead caught his eye. Even with the sudden change to her world, the filly was playful and her body language comfortable. She nipped at the other foals and then skittered sideways, egging them on. Dean smiled, his shoulders relaxing for the first time in weeks.

  “You’re a keeper, darlin’,” Dean said as his eyes trailed the filly’s antics.

  Just like someone else.

  His mother’s voice sounded so clear sometimes it was almost as if she were standing beside him. “It’s none of your concern, Mom,” Dean muttered, his eyes still following the filly’s romp, but inside he smiled. She might be right. Hell, when was she not right?

  The thought left a sinking feeling in Dean’s gut, and he ground his teeth. Damn it. He’d told himself he wouldn’t do this. Wouldn’t pine for a woman he couldn’t have.

  Can’t say she doesn’t want you if you haven’t had the guts to go find out, Dean….

  Dean slapped his hat against his thigh and eyed his truck. “Guess it can’t hurt to find out.”

  9

  “N o! Next week isn’t good enough. It needs to get to someone who can make a decision today, Richard.”

  Cassie paced the narrow room, the cell phone so tight against the side of her face she was certain her ear was redder than the magenta quilt on the double bed of her room in the B and B. “I realize decisions aren’t made overnight, but the situation here is critical. We’re past the point of taking our time with this…. I don’t care if you have to wake up the President! Get them to read my report and either agree with my recommendation, or make one of their own. It’s been a week already, and that’s a week too long!”

  Cassie flipped the cell phone closed with a snap, her blood boiling and her chest rising and falling rapidly with the force of her breath.

  “Stupid political bullshit!” Cassie said, throwing the phone onto the bed. A week. A fucking week, and they still hadn’t made a decision. It hadn’t happened yet, but it was only a matter of time before a wolf or more livestock was killed. Either could be disastrous for Granite Hollow.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” Cassie muttered as she ran her hand through her hair and checked the clock. Nearly one o’clock. Half the day gone already.

  It didn’t help any that Dean hadn’t returned her phone calls, hadn’t shown up to the town-hall meeting, hadn’t indicated in any way that he was interested in Cassie. She was beginning to wonder if she’d imagined their whole encounter. Old, dirty thoughts began to creep into her head. Thoughts about what a useless whore she was. How she screwed up everything she touched. How there was no way for a man to really want her. Love her.

  A knock on the door shut out the memories of her dad’s brainwashing, and Cassie almost sobbed, pressing a fist to her mouth. Get it together, girl….

  “Carla?” Cassie called.

  “It’s Jake, Cassie.”

  Jake. Cassie pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. She opened the door, her smile tight.

  The cowboy smiled in return before his gaze turned somber. “What’s wrong?”

  Cassie sighed and ushered Jake inside, closing the door behind him. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

  Jake twisted his hat in his hands, his green gaze warm and calming. “Bullshit. You can tell me, Cassie. Hell, you’ve listened to enough of my life’s story to write a novel.”

  Cassie leaned against the bureau and crossed her arms. Darn, but Jake was a good-looking kid with the presence of a saint. Too bad Cassie was so hung up on his ornery brother she could barely see straight. Too bad her asshole father had messed up her head so bad where men were concerned, she didn’t have enough sense to fall for someone like Jake instead of his tough-as-nails brother.

  “Jake,” she started, wondering how on earth she could broach the subject of Dean—or if she even should. She twisted her hands. “Have you spoken to your brother?” Cassie blurted it out before her reasoning brain could interfere further.

  Jake studied her a moment before answering, and Cassie squirmed under his scrutiny, a fine sweat breaking out on the back of her neck. “I did, actually. We’re meeting out at the ranch tonight.”

  His words sent a shiver through Cassie’s abdomen. Memories of her and Dean at the ranch in
Dean’s bed filled her mind. She cleared her throat and turned toward the window, looking out over the town’s main street. “It’s just that I haven’t seen him at any of the meetings, and I wondered if he’d experienced any other issues….”

  “Cassie,” Jake said softly.

  She kept her back to Jake, her fingers gripping the curtains.

  “You don’t have to hide it.”

  “What?” Cassie said, her stomach churning.

  “Your interest in my brother.”

  Cassie spun, and her mouth fell open. “What makes you think—”

  “Stop.” Jake’s expression was serious, his eyes warm. “We’ve been honest with each other, right?”

  Cassie nodded.

  “I don’t want that to change. I feel like I’ve known you forever, Cass. I can’t explain why that is, but from the first time I saw you at the meeting, I knew I wanted to get to know you. Kindred spirits, maybe.”

  Their gazes met, and a wiggle of understanding worked through Cassie’s chest. “I felt that way, too,” Cassie whispered.

  Jake stepped closer and took Cassie’s shoulders. “I know my brother can be a pain in the ass, but he’s also a hell of a good guy, and it doesn’t surprise me that you two have hooked up.”

  “Hooked up?” Cassie shook Jake’s hands off and turned back to the window. “We have in no way hooked up.”

  Jake was quiet, and Cassie rocked back and forth on her heels, her heart thumping. She felt like she’d just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Finally, Jake laughed.

  She turned. “What’s so funny?”

  “You and Dean. You two are a pair.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jake grabbed Cassie’s jacket by the door and thrust it into her hands. “Come on. Let’s talk over lunch. Looks like I have my work cut out for me.”

  The diner was nearly empty when they arrived, and Lila, the Bar None waitress for nearly forty years, sat them at a cozy booth overlooking the parking lot.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Cassie said as quietly as she could over her untouched mashed potatoes and shredded fried chicken. “I know this is such a bad idea.”

  Jake reached out and stilled Cassie’s stabbing fork. “Cass, falling in love is never a bad idea. It’s the execution that has the potential to cause problems.”

  Cassie leaned back, blood draining from her face. “What did you say?”

  “Falling in love. Ever done it?”

  Cassie had to force her mouth closed before she caught flies.

  “I take it by your reaction that would be a ‘no’.”

  “That can’t be what this is. I’ve known Dean for only two weeks, and we haven’t spent more than four hours together!”

  Jake studied her from across the stable, his green eyes steady and shrewd. Cassie realized with some surprise that where life’s circumstances had made Dean a tough, driving son of a bitch, they had made Jake patient and wise beyond his years. The two complemented each other perfectly. And where did she fit in?

  She couldn’t be in love with Dean. It wasn’t practical.

  “Answer me this, Cass. Can you stop thinking about Dean?”

  Cassie pinched her lower lip between her teeth and tried to shrug, but it wasn’t happening. She slammed down her fork. “All right! No, okay? No, I can’t stop thinking about your stubborn-ass brother.”

  “Do you worry every minute that you might run into him or that your phone might ring and it will be him? Or, better yet, can you imagine getting back on a plane for Los Angeles and never seeing Dean again?”

  The thought created a solid ball of dread in Cassie’s gut, and she swallowed—hard. When had things gotten this serious? It didn’t make any sense, and Cassie reached for her new friend’s hand, her distress inching up into her chest. “Jesus, Jake. What am I supposed to do about this? I don’t even think Dean feels the same.”

  “He does.”

  Cassie met Jake’s open gaze. “How can you know that?”

  Jake removed his hand from hers, crossed his arms, and frowned. “Because the son of a bitch is grouchier than a black bear with his leg caught in a trap. It took half an hour of conversation last night for me to figure out what was wrong with him. It wasn’t until he asked about you that I finally put two and two together.”

  He asked about me…. Cassie felt practically faint with relief. And, just as quickly, abashed by her reaction. “What—what did he say?”

  Jake grinned. “His exact words?” Jake cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “‘How’s that agent—what’s her name? Darling or something. How’s she making out?’”

  Cassie blinked, her mind trying to piece together how Jake could possibly think Dean’s offhanded comment was a good thing.

  Jake chuckled, and leaned in again. “It was the lamest cover-up ever. You should have heard him clam up when I said you’d hightailed it back to the city.”

  “You what!” Cassie said, nearly knocking over her soda.

  He leaned back, his smile almost as wicked as his brother’s, and shrugged. “I couldn’t help myself. My brother deserves a little payback. But…” Jake reached over the table to take Cassie’s hand. “It was all the things he didn’t say that gave it away. Look, why don’t you come out to the place tonight? Dean and I have a few things to discuss, but afterward we could all have dinner. Maybe having a third wheel there will help you two get over crap you two have created. What do you say?”

  Cassie shook her head, her mind reeling. “I can’t do that, Jake. If Dean wants to see me he can damn well contact me.” Cassie pulled her hand free of Jake’s and pushed aside her plate. “I can’t believe we’re talking about this with everything else that’s happening. It should be the last thing on my—our—minds.”

  “Couldn’t be a better time,” Jake said, finishing off his coffee. “All this worry and bad feelings. It’s about time something good happened around here. Besides, you can’t control fate.”

  “Fate?” Cassie said.

  Jake took both of her hands and leaned in, his face even with hers. “My mother always said the Great Spirit brings you face-to-face with your worst enemy and your brightest gifts at the same time. The lesson is in how you deal with both and whether or not you can distinguish between them.”

  “I’m no good at riddles, Jake,” Cassie said softly.

  Another grin, and Jake planted a kiss on Cassie’s cheek before leaning back. “Part of you is, and that’s the part that counts.”

  10

  D ean leaned against the outside wall of the diner and fought the red fog that threatened to engulf him.

  Jake. Cassie. Together.

  His mind replayed the image of their hands clasped and then the kiss. Dean’s hands curled into fists.

  Without turning back for a second look, Dean made a beeline for Callahan’s bar across the street. Luckily the place was open and nearly empty, and no one paid much attention to Dean as he sidled up to the darkest spot on the bar and asked Harry Callahan for a drink.

  Harry must’ve recognized the look on Dean’s face because he placed the shot in front of Dean without saying a word. Dean downed it and raised the glass. “Another.”

  Harry filled the glass and left the bottle. “It’s yours.”

  Now Dean knew why Jake had sounded so reasonable yesterday, so calm and good-natured. Dean gripped the shot glass, his thoughts darkening by the second. He didn’t blame Jake. The kid had no defenses against the charm of someone like Cassandra Darling. Shit, all she’d had to do with him was ask if he was going to kiss her, and Dean had practically come in his pants.

  “Jesus Christ,” Dean muttered as he poured himself a third. Playing two brothers against each other. Question was, whose side was she really on?

  Dean downed the third shot and poured a fourth. He scowled at his reflection in the mirror, grimacing as the whiskey sliced a hot channel down his throat and straight into his gut.

  A week. A week without a word f
rom Washington, according to Cassie. How convenient that was. Maybe Miss Darling wasn’t so much about political alliances as she was about playing head games. Maybe she got off on calling the shots or letting people in little Podunk towns think she was calling the shots.

  Dean stood and smashed his hat back onto his head. “Thanks, Harry.” The door swung closed behind him with a crash, and Dean thrust his hands in his jeans pockets to keep them from thinking up other things to do. Like throttling Miss Cassandra Darling where she sat. Like smacking that fine, tight ass of hers.

  “Shit,” Dean barked into the bright May morning. Thoughts of Cassie’s ass were the last thing he wanted to settle on. There were more important things to consider. Like how to get Cassandra Darling out of his and Jake’s life and away from Granite Hollow for good.

  Cassie looked at her watch again: Eight o’clock.

  “You want a refill, sweetie?”

  Cassie looked up into the waitress’s wrinkled face and smiled. “No, Lila. I’m done. I think I’ll just get a cheeseburger to go.”

  Lila tapped the pencil lodged behind her ear as she followed Cassie’s gaze into the parking lot. “Got stood up, did you? Happens to the best of us, sweetie.”

  Cassie tried to smile. “Yes, I suppose it does.” The sixty-something waitress bustled away, shouting out her cheeseburger order halfway to the counter.

  The night air was cool and fragrant as Cassie left the diner, and she wished she had a clear enough head to enjoy the evening walk back to her room. Why had she ever let Jake talk her into waiting for Dean at the diner?

  “I’ll have him at the diner at six, Cass, mark my words. It will work out okay. You’ll see.”

  Three diet sodas later, Cassie was forced to conclude she was a complete idiot for thinking he might come. She crunched the full, greasy paper bag in her hand and considered throwing it away. Her stomach probably couldn’t take it, just like her heart probably couldn’t take any other risks where Dean was concerned.