Cowboy for Keeps

by Cathy McDavid

  “I should go.”

  Panic seized her. “Wait!” She reached for him.

  “What if I never find a job? What if I lose my house and deplete my 401K? You really want to be tied to a penniless loser?”

  “You’re not a loser! That’s your disappointment talking.”

  “Damn right I’m disappointed. I’m good at what I do. Very good. I’d have run circles around Sonoran’s last systems analyst. Except they didn’t give me the chance.”

  “Their mistake. But someone else will hire you.”

  “When?” He shook his head. “You’re having a baby, Dallas. You need a man who can bring more to the relationship that I can. One who’s secure. Responsible. Not a liability.”

  Was he referring to Richard?

  “You’re wonderful with children.”

  “That’s hardly enough.”

  “It is for me. And you—” She started to say “love me” and thought better of it. “You care for me.”

  “I can’t alter how I feel. How I was raised. I have to be on a more equal career and financial footing with the woman in my life. I don’t begrudge you your success. You deserve it. But watching you is hard on me.”

  “This is temporary. You’ll find a job.”

  “I will. Eventually. It could take a while, though. Months. Years.”

  “And we’ll keep doing what we’re doing in the meantime.”

  Another one of those long pauses followed. Dallas sensed what was coming before he said it.

  “I think we should take a break.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. “You mean break up?”

  “It might be for the best.”

  “No! No, no, no. Let’s just take a minute here and calm down. Think about things.”

  “There’s nothing to think about. Your baby and your career are your priorities. Mine are finding a job and not losing my house.”

  Her patience snapped. “All this because some woman at the TV station called you Mr. Sorrenson by mistake?”

  “It was the shot in the arm I needed to see this—us—clearer.”

  “I won’t give up opportunities simply because you’ve hit a bump in the road.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

  Her cell phone rang. She ignored it.

  “Tell me, and be honest. If the situation was reversed, if I was the one out of work and you had a job, would we still be having this conversation?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She wiped her damp eyes. “You’re a male chauvinist, Conner.”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “A little? You’re about to walk out on the best thing to ever happen to you because you don’t have as good a job as I do.”

  He wasn’t the only one guilty of having an inflated ego.

  “If I’m not satisfied with the state of my life, how can you ever be satisfied with it?”

  At that moment, her land line rang. She ignored it as she had her cell phone.

  “Take care, Dallas. Give your parents my apologies for missing dinner.”

  What? He was walking out on her and all he could say was to apologize to her parents?

  The answering machine on the counter picked up and the greeting played. They both turned their heads when Richard’s voice filled the air.

  “Hey, honey. I went home at lunch and watched your interview. You knocked ’em dead. And your pictures...wow. Call me later, okay? I’d like to come over. Talk to you.” His voice went soft near the end.

  The best camera shot in the world couldn’t have fully captured the misery on Conner’s face.

  “It’s not what you think,” she insisted.

  “You have no idea what I’m thinking.”

  And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  He left then. She didn’t see him to the door. Her legs would only carry her as far as the table, where she slumped into a chair.

  Her land line rang again. Another message, this one from the ad agency.

  “Dallas! Call the minute you get this. We’ve had three clients express an interest in your work. All in the last hour. That TV interview must have been phenomenal. You rock, girl!”

  She should be thrilled. This was exactly the response she’d been hoping for.

  Only without Conner to share it with, she didn’t care.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Quit your fussing.” Conner stroked the colt’s neck, and felt him tremble beneath his fingers. “You’re not hurt.”

  It had taken a dozen attempts, but he now had a pony-size halter on the colt. Of course, he hated it. When they were done, he’d jerked away from Conner and pranced in circles around the pen before coming to stand next to his mother.

  Chiquita wasn’t interested in the least, and her calm demeanor helped relax her offspring. Neither had she objected earlier when Conner attached the lunge line and put her through her paces for a good half hour.

  Her injuries weren’t healed nearly enough for a saddle to be placed on her back. That would require another month or two. In the meantime, Conner would exercise her regularly with a lunge line in the round pen.

  Almost two years living in the wild hadn’t affected her much. She was intelligent, responsive and eager to please. Conner had no doubt old Mr. Edenvane was right. The mare would make a fine trail horse. She was already an excellent and proven broodmare.

  The colt? Well, the jury was still out on him. He’d been born wild and would require a lot of training.

  In the young horse’s favor, Conner would have plenty of time to invest in him. Conner had no day job other than being a ranch hand, and no girlfriend to occupy his evenings and weekends.

  If he concentrated really hard on the horses, he could forget about Dallas and their breakup. For a minute. Two at the most.

  He hadn’t called her, and she hadn’t called him. What did he expect? That she’d come running to Powell Ranch, begging him to take her back?

  Hardly. Not after the awful things he’d said to her.

  If anyone was owed an apology, it was her. And he would apologize. Soon. When he could face her again without feeling an invisible knife twisting in his gut.

  Terrible, hurtful words aside, they were better off apart.

  The colt bumped his arm and pawed the ground impatiently.

  “You want some attention, huh?” Conner rubbed the colt’s nose, which made him snort and shake his head. “Must mean you’ve decided the halter’s not so bad.”

  “You name that colt yet?” Gavin stood at the railing, his boot resting on the bottom rung.

  How long had he been standing there?

  “Thought you were going to do that.”

  “Me? No. I don’t name other people’s horses.”

  Conner shielded his eyes and squinted at his friend. “Other people’s horses? He’s yours.”

  “No, he’s yours. You found him. You captured him and the mare. You’re the only one he’ll let within ten feet of him. The way I see it, he belongs to you. He seems to think so, too.”

  Conner was deeply touched. He’d grown fond of the little guy. But he couldn’t accept. “I can’t afford a horse right now.” If he didn’t come up with another two hundred dollars by the end of the week, he’d be late making the mortgage payment on his house.

  “He doesn’t eat much. Consider it a bonus.”

  “I may not be able to afford him when he starts eating more.” Conner stared at the g
round. God, he despised being broke.

  “Name him,” Gavin insisted.

  “Why?”

  “Once you do, he’s really yours.”

  Conner did want the colt, but he couldn’t take on another responsibility.

  “You can work an extra couple hours a week to pay for his feed and board.”

  “I need every spare minute to look for a real job.” He sent Gavin a remorseful glance. “No offense.”

  “None taken. You’re a good cowboy and horses are a passion of yours. But they’re not your calling. Not like the rest of us.”

  The rest of us being Gavin, Ethan and Clay.

  Conner untied Chiquita’s lead rope and led her out of the pen. The colt, still nameless, pranced at her side.

  “What’s really wrong?” Gavin asked, shutting the gate behind them.

  “I didn’t get the job with Sonoran Bottling. They called Wednesday.”

  “You’re only just telling me now?”

  “I don’t know why I’m so bothered. It’s hardly the first job I wanted and didn’t get.”

  “You weren’t dating Dallas then.”

  “I’m not dating her now.”

  “I realize you two haven’t made any big announcement, but I’m pretty sure what you’re doing is dating.”

  “We’re not dating,” he repeated.

  Gavin looked confused. “Since when?”

  “Wednesday.”

  “Same day you found out about the job at the bottling plant? Hmm. Fancy that.”

  “It wasn’t going to work.”

  “Because you’re not good enough for her.”

  As often as Conner had thought it the last few days, hearing someone say it—his friend no less—stung.

  “Something you concluded all by yourself, and based solely on the bottling plant job tanking.”

  “She needs to decide once and for all if she’s going to marry Richard.” Conner began leading the horses toward the barn.

  Gavin walked beside him. “She decided that a long time ago when she ended their engagement.”

  “You didn’t hear the phone message he left her.”

  “You’re making a bigger deal of this than it is.”

  “The reason he has hope for a reconciliation is because she hasn’t cut him off completely.”

  “They’re having a baby together. He’s always going to be leaving her phone messages. Better they’re on good terms than bad ones. I know. I go through this every day with Cassie and her mom, and Isa and her dad. There’s nothing I’d like better than to strangle Sage’s ex.”

  “There’s a difference. Sage’s ex doesn’t want to marry her.”

  “You’re right. And I’m not sure how I’d feel if he still loved her and was actively pursuing her.”

  “Not good. That’s how you’d feel.”

  “Probably. But you can bet I wouldn’t be using her ex-fiancé as an excuse.”

  “Meaning?

  “The problem is you. Not Dallas and not Richard.”

  “He has a lot more going for him than I do.”

  “Except that she doesn’t love him.”

  They reached Chiquita’s stall. Conner led her in and removed her halter. He left the colt’s halter on, and would for the next few weeks, until the little guy got used to it.

  “She doesn’t love me, either.”

  “That’s about the biggest crock of horseshit I’ve heard in a long time,” Gavin said. “She’s crazy about you.”

  “If she is, she shouldn’t be.”

  “What’s gotten into you?” The growl in Gavin’s voice took Conner aback. “Has your spine gone completely soft?”

  Back in their younger days, when they were playing sports and rodeoing, those would have been fighting words.

  Hell, they still were.

  There, in the middle of the barn aisle, Conner grabbed a fistful of Gavin’s jacket and hauled him up until their faces were just inches apart. “My spine’s not soft.”

  A wide smile split Gavin’s face. “There’s the Conner Durham I know. It’s good to have you back, buddy.”

  Conner’s grip on Gavin’s jacket loosened. Bit by bit, his own mouth stretched into a slow grin.

  He felt better than he had in days. Months. Seven months, to be exact.

  The office door swung open and Javier tumbled out into the aisle. He took one look at Conner and Gavin and hesitated, apparently deciding it was better not to interrupt.

  “What is it, amigo?” Gavin asked.

  “A man...he here.”

  Gavin stepped back from Conner and smoothed his jacket. “I’ll be right along.”

  “No, señor. He come for Conner.”

  “Me?” Conner tugged his own jacket into place. “Did he tell you his name? Qué es su nombre?”

  Javier completely mangled the pronunciation.

  Even so, Conner recognized it, and his gut clenched.

  What was Richard doing here, and what did he want with him?

  * * *

  THE SHARP KNOCKING on her front door gave Dallas a jolt. She wasn’t expecting anyone, not at—she glanced at the clock on the stove—3:58 in the afternoon.

  Please, she thought to herself as she padded across the living room to check the peephole, don’t let it be Conner. She wasn’t ready to see him yet.

  Don’t let it be Richard, either, she added. With her defenses at an all-time low, she might cave in to his expertly applied pressure.

  Neither Conner nor Richard stood on the other side of the door, which wasn’t much of a relief. Instead, it was the third last person she wanted to see: her mother.

  “Dallas?” Marina’s muffled voice penetrated the barrier. “Let me in. I know you’re home. I saw your car.”

  Busted, and without any other options, she opened the door. The look of sorrow on her mother’s face made Dallas regret leaving that voice mail message about her and Conner’s argument.

  She refused to call it a breakup, since technically they’d been dating less than two weeks—if she counted the charity event.

  Hardly worth the flood of tears she’d been shedding practically nonstop in the two days since he’d walked out of her house and, very likely, out of her life.

  Pregnancy hormones. That had to be the reason. Dallas wasn’t normally so emotional.

  “Oh, my darling.” Marina stepped inside, shut the door and opened her arms.

  Dallas, determined to be strong and remain in control, fell apart the moment her mother said, “There, there,” and stroked her hair.

  Having a shoulder to cry on was definitely better than crying alone.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  “I know.” Sniffing, Dallas pulled away and plucked a fresh tissue from the supply in her bathrobe pocket. “It’s not like we were in love or anything.”

  Marina looked aghast. “Of course you were in love. Still are. Anyone can see it.”

  Dallas’s tears flowed anew.

  This simply had to stop.

  “Maybe a little in love,” she admitted in a tiny voice.

  “Come on.” Her mother propelled her to the couch. “Sit. I’ll make us some herbal tea.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to.”

  “It’s all ri—”

  “Let me do this, darling. For both of us.”

  Dallas nodded and worked on composing herself while her mother fussed in the kitchen. When she
returned a few minutes later, bearing two steaming mugs of tea, Dallas felt marginally better.

  Would she be as good a parent to her own child as Marina was to her? Instinctively know what her child needed even when he or she didn’t?

  “What are those?” Marina asked as she sat beside Dallas on the couch.

  “Proofs. For an ad. FedEx delivered them today.”

  Her mom set her mug on the coffee table before picking up the ad proofs with Conner on the mountaintop. “They’re good. You’re becoming very skilled.”

  “Thanks,” Dallas muttered around her mug, wishing the warmth could somehow reach her chilled heart.

  “He is indeed a handsome man.”

  He was. She remembered seeing their reflection in the mirrored hallway at the Phoenician, and thinking how attractive he was. How striking a couple they made.

  “Want to tell me what happened?” her mother asked gently. “More than just ‘I made a mistake,’ which is all I got from that garbled message you left.”

  “I did make a mistake. I told him I’d talk with my associates at the AAWA. See if they were hiring and put in a good word for him.”

  “Ah.” Marina nodded in understanding.

  “‘Ah?’ What’s so wrong with that? I was trying to help.”

  “Yes, you were.”

  “I hear a silent ‘but’ at the end of that.”

  “Men like Conner are proud.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “They have a hard time accepting help from others, a harder time accepting help from a women.”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “It’s encrypted in their DNA. The trick we women have to learn, if we insist on loving men like them, is to help without being obvious.”

  “Is that what you do with Hank?”

  Marina leaned back into the couch cushions, a satisfied grin on her face. “I’ve become so good at it he hasn’t noticed for years now.”

  Her mother must be really good if Dallas hadn’t noticed it, either.

  “Conner thought I was helping him find a job because I’m embarrassed that he’s a ranch hand.”

  “That’s his guilt and feelings of inadequacy talking.”