Bowie retrieved beverages from the fridge, placed them on the counter, then began rifling through a cabinet. Asher settled in a chair at the table. The Levithan residence was comfortable and nicely sized, though not as grand as Asher’s place, Sugarbush Ranch. Of course, Asher’s homestead had been a family venture for generations whereas Bowie struck out on his own, carving out a decent living by supplying rodeos with bulls.
He also used to compete until an incident the year before made him reconsider the dangers of bull riding.
“I’ve been thinking about a couple of changes,” Bowie said.
“What kind of changes?”
Instead of making eye contact Bowie played the can of beer back and forth in his hands, sliding the cool can across the tabletop. ”To my business.”
Asher cocked an eyebrow. “Like, not doing the rodeo thing at all?”
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
“Huh.”
Silence quickly swept in as Asher processed Bowie’s news. Bulls were the man’s bread and butter. As much as he loved Bowie and though his friend grew up riding before he could walk, his ability to pick good breeding horses was lacking. ”So what exactly would you do with the ranch and your stock?” Asher asked.
Bowie shrugged. “I suppose I haven’t really thought about that.”
“Why change anyway?”
Another shrug. “Just…tired, I suppose.” It didn’t seem as though he was going to elaborate further, then in a very un-Bowie like fashion, he opened up emotionally. “I guess I’m sort of jealous of you and Clara. Sure, it’s only been what, two months, give or take? But I can tell that what you guys have is the real deal. That’s what I want.”
Asher opened his mouth to speak, but Bowie kept going, a scowl temporarily marring his features. “Don’t look at me that way. I can already tell what you’re thinking. Here’s Bowie, cowboy Casanova, eligible bachelor who can have any girl he wants with a wink and a smile. Maybe that worked in my younger days,” he stated, like he was creeping on middle age instead of just being in his thirties, “however, times change. I’ve been thinking about settling down.”
That phrase was more than Asher could handle, causing him to cough as his sip went down the wrong way. Asher felt Bowie’s steady gaze on him, which seemed to make the fit worse. By the time he managed to get things under control there were tears in his eyes and his throat hurt.
Bowie stood abruptly, once again preventing Asher from getting a word in. “You think I’m being foolish, that this whole thing is absurd.” He rapped his knuckles against the side of his head. “Too many blows to the head have knocked all the sense I had right out of me.”
“Shut up,” Asher finally got a word out.
Red colored Bowie’s cheeks as his scowl deepened.
Asher pointed at the recently vacated chair. “Sit.” He waited for Bowie to oblige, wondering whose streak of stubbornness would come out on top. Letting out a grunt to show his disapproval, Bowie sat in the chair. “Now that I have your attention. Wanting to be loved isn’t foolish. It’s a desire we all long for, the great love stories they portray in movies and books. Society leads us to believe that that sort of thing is only for the ladies. Well, I’ve got news for you, Bowie, it’s perfectly okay for a man to be romantic, passionate.
“Besides,” Asher added a heartbeat later, “the woman who claims your heart will love you wholly and completely, including your wild rodeo ways.”
“I’d say those are some wise words, but it’s clear your ego is already big enough,” quipped Bowie, smirking.
Their friendship went back to grade school, so Asher could tell the moment of pure honesty, the opening up and sharing of his feelings was over for Bowie. ”Let’s get back to business, brainstorm some ideas for you and this place.”
The next hour passed in a frustrated flow of conversation, neither of them exactly sure what Bowie should do if he opted to change the focus of his ranch. Almost instantly he struck down the notion of entering the world of breeding cow-horses, citing that he didn’t want to compete with Asher and the simple fact that he lacked the knowledge required to make good matches. All his good horses had been purchased from Asher over the years. They toyed with the idea of opening a joint mega ranch, then realized the hassle of acquiring the land in between their two homesteads. Maybe, Bowie suggested, he would just breed cattle for the meat market. As quickly as he uttered that phrase, though, he dismissed it. It was part of the ranching business, not one he wanted to be devoted to wholly. In the end, nothing was decided apart from him slowly weaning himself out of the bucking bull circles.
In the end time dictated their parting, both having put off chores long enough.
Bowie saw Asher to the door. “Tell me,” he asked, flashing a coy smile, “have you figured out what to get dear Miss Clara for your first Valentine’s Day as a couple?”
The question brought Asher up short. “Valentine’s?”
“Yeah. It’s only days away.”
He ran a hand through his hair, following the motion with a shake of his head. “Uh. Hm. Is this something I need to fuss with? I mean, our relationship is still new.”
Crap. Do I buy flowers? Candy? Should I be making reservations at some high-priced restaurant that will require me to wear a suit or at least a tie? I can’t even remember what I did last time. Perhaps my lack of the romantic touch caused the failure of my last serious relationship.
“It’s a holiday tailormade for the ladies. Chocolates, flowers, and a fancy dinner for two with candlelight and wine. You can skip the jewelry, if it makes you feel better, it’s definitely too early to be purchasing rings and other sparkly doodads.”
“What about a lovely, well-written card?”
Bowie must have found the question absurd for he laughed, stepping back into the warmth of his house. “And they say I’m the hopeless bachelor. Good lucky, Asher.”
“Thanks,” Asher grumbled.
He jammed his Stetson down on his head and crossed over to his truck, snow crunching under his boots. Country tunes were playing on the radio when the large Ram fired to life. Virtually on autopilot Asher navigated the country backroads winding from Bowie’s to Asher’s place, his mind agonizing over the impending holiday, completely caught off-guard. Well, he had noticed all the hearts and vast aisles of red taking over the stores as soon as Christmas was over, but purchasing a lovey-dovey gift for a woman he’d been dating only two months? Okay, so she owned the key to his heart, practically had since the moment he first laid eyes on her, but did that mean he should buy her something fancy? The standard fare of chocolates and roses?
Clara seemed like a heartfelt card kind of girl. Or maybe he was just thinking cheap.
And one could not forget the matter of Bowie with his sudden announcement that he wanted to change things, ditch the rodeos for good. What exactly was Asher supposed to do with that tidbit of information?
* * * *
Asher planned on going right home, tired from the long day, but he made a detour, arriving at Clara’s house. The simple thought of her brought a smile to his face and this odd flutter in his stomach. The real thing, Bowie called it; could it be? Lights glowed outside the clinic as well as on her porch. At this hour Asher expected to find her lounging inside, Tatters, her nickname for the fuzzy fella, somewhere nearby. Would she have already consumed dinner? Should he have stopped to get something along the way? If he stayed was there any chance he’d be able to weasel out of her the truth on her feelings of Valentine’s Day? Maybe he should ask her outright.
Or not.
Asher frowned. Who knew this was so tricky? Then again, why do I keep expecting this relationship to be like my previous ones? Clara is different. I want this to be different.
As in, he wanted it to last. He played his bachelor cards in his late teens and early twenties. At some point it was time to grow up and settle down. He already had everything he needed, and with Clara he believed he’d found the piece that was lacking. Over
the years he had maybe one relationship he thought might be it, The One everyone talked about, and instead he was left broken hearted. Meanwhile, his kid sister walked down the aisle and he admitted it, he was a little jealous.
He had the ranch. A substantial bank account. Trophies, belt buckles, and ribbons. A good reputation in the world of horse breeding. But it was Violet that possessed everything he wanted.
Someone tapped on the passenger window, making Asher jump. Looking up he spied his lady love. Instantly a smiled snapped into place. She tugged the door handle and climbed into the cab. Even in flannel pajamas—covered in rainbow colored stars—with her hair all messed Clara Sickens was the prettiest woman he’d ever had privilege to lay his eyes on. She hugged herself. Asher turned up the heat.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Honestly? Probably thinking too much.”
“Do you want to come in?”
Did he? Of course, a million times over, but he wondered about his chances of taking it slow. In the past he jumped into bed as soon as possible, completely missing out on the finer, sweeter moments of a real relationship. This time Asher wanted to do it right, take it slow, savor every time his heart beat for Clara.
An idea came to him.
“Sweet Clara, how do you feel about joining me for a little adventure?”
Her hand went to the door handle. “Let me change.”
Asher quickly took her by the other hand. “Stay, you’re beautiful just the way you are.” There was a faint glow in the interior of his truck from the nearby porch lights, enough for him to make out a blush coloring his beloved’s cheeks. “No one will see us, anyway.”
Asher put the truck in drive, heading down the familiar country road. With the moon overhead half way to full, the snow was bright, the night breathtaking, and Asher knew just how to spend it. At least, a little of it, since the temperature reading on his dashboard told him it was in the teens. A quick glance let him see that Clara sported her winter boots. Good.
Country music played softly, or it did until Clara twisted the knob, a sultry voice coming out the speakers. Much to his surprise she began to sing, mostly to herself, but what he heard was lovely, though not always in tune. It stirred something within, to see her comfortable enough in his presence to do something most usually did in privacy. And the fact she joined him on this whim without further question…
She trusts me. He experienced a Grinch-like moment, his heart swelling with emotion. I love this woman and there’s no denying it.
A barely visible road came into view. Asher slowed to make the turn. They were on the outskirts of his property and this access road allowed him to cruise along one of the fence lines to make sure everything remained in tip top shape. Now the road could serve a different purpose.
Asher drove, taking it slow along the packed snow so as not to jostle his companion. When he felt they had gone out far enough, he stopped, putting the truck in park.
“Wait here a moment, please?”
“Sure.” Curiosity was there in her eyes.
Asher jumped out, stalking around to the bed of the truck. Earlier in the day, while out running a few errands, he stopped by the feed store to get a few bags of grain. They now took up the bulk of the truck bed. Asher shifted them around, moving them mostly to either side, shoving a few up toward the can. Pleased with his work, he returned to the can.
“Just one more second,” he said. From the backseat he grabbed the only blanket he currently had in his possession, a thick weight sheet for one of the horses. He left it folded nearly on the tailgate, then made his way ‘round to Clara’s door. “Don’t move.”
With little fuss, Asher plucked Clara from her seat, kicking the door closed with the heel of his boot. She laughed as her arms wrapped around his neck. This close Asher caught a whiff of a sweet scent reminiscent of strawberries and cream.
He placed her on the tailgate.
“What’s this?”
Asher hoisted himself up. “A little alone time with my lady.”
Skootching back, they nestled against the feed bags. Asher grabbed the horse blanket, draping it over them, then drew Clara in close, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
“It’s beautiful,” Clara said.
Away from the lights of downtown Sugarbush Creek and the smattering of houses they were treated to an untainted sky, the stars twinkling like millions of little beacons. Clouds floated about, but not enough to ruin the view, and the moon was a sliver, a sideways grin. Asher pointed out some of the constellations his father taught him on those overnight cattle trips of his youth. The moment was perfect, the atmosphere inspiring, and a question bubbled up in Asher.
The question. The big one.
He managed to choke back the words by outlining the figure of Orion, his heart beating out a rapid staccato. They’d only been together since December. Asking for her hand in marriage was quite the leap ahead.
But Asher knew with unsinkable doubt he wanted to make Clara his for as long as she’d let him; which hopefully turned out to be forever.
“Thank you,” Clara spoke, her words tethering Asher to the moment. “For sharing this with me.”
“I want to share every moment with you,” Asher replied, kissing the top of her nose.
He slipped a hand out of the blanket, cupping her chin and tilting her head back. Their lips touched, heat rushing through Asher, chasing away winter chill. She tasted like hot cocoa and marshmallows as he traced the line of her lips with the tip of his tongue. He wondered how other parts of her might taste, experiencing a flutter in the pit of his stomach.
The kiss ended much too soon.
“Oh, Clara,” he croaked, his voice rough. All the time he spent stargazing Asher realized he should have been looking into Clara’s eyes. Again, he felt the urge to pop the question, but how could he be so certain after such a short time? Until now Asher thought the idea of soul mates was ridiculous. Clara was doing a good job of changing his mind. ”I’m so lucky.”
She returned his affectionate gaze, taking his hand in hers. “That makes two of us,” she said, brushing her lips against his palm.
Her touch had quite the effect on Asher, his jeans becoming too restrictive and uncomfortable. Had she been any other girl he might have greedily taken her right then and there, with her consent, but a dirty horse blanket, bags of feed, and a cold truck bed weren’t right. He wanted their first time together to be special, memorable, and in a setting that allowed him to indulge in getting to know her curves like he knew the back roads of Sugarbush Creek.
When the time came he would love her like no other had before.
Sometime later, after returning his beloved to her house, Asher turned into the driveway of his own home. He was tired, the night late, and more than ready to crash in bed where he hoped to have sweet, perhaps even naughty, dreams of Clara.
A vaguely familiar green pickup truck occupied one of the parking spaces in front of his house. Asher frowned, pulling up alongside it. He got out and walked around the backside, assessing the vehicle, his gut telling him that he knew it, that he’d seen it before. Then Asher spied the sticker in the lower left corner of the back window.
Forget the glass slippers, this princess wears cowboy boots.
Asher’s stomach flip-flopped as it all came rushing back. Before Asher could even so much as whisper her name, he heard someone beckon him, turning to see her strutting out of his barn. She wore waved at him, a brilliant smile lighting up her face, sunshine blond hair peeking out from underneath a beanie. With her fitted jeans, bright pink cowgirl boots, and the Native American patterned poncho, she was a vision of beauty, the sort that turned heads when she walked by.
“Asher,” she gushed, making a beeline in his direction.
“Shasta.”
Chapter 6
The radio played softy, the strains of a Four Seasons’ song barely audible over the whimpering of dogs and the pay-attention-to-me meows from cats. The Sugarbush Shelter
, a no-kill facility, was home to Clara’s first patient of the day, and she welcomed the distraction. Though she thoroughly enjoyed her lunch with Miss Maggie the day before, the dilemma of what to do about the fourteenth began to worry her, enough so that she spent a portion of her night talking to the only other important man in her life, her giant rabbit, Tatters. He would, of course, be getting a little something extra for the day, besides having to wear the cute bowtie she found for him; which made him the cutest, most distinguished gentleman she knew. With a giggle she had apologized to a non-present Asher.
By the time she fell into bed last night she’d gone round and round, throwing out ideas like Tatters might actually answer. In the end she decided that since she was already baking treats for Miss Maggie’s grandkids, maybe she could throw together a nice cake, invite the man over for some pizza, a movie…a simple relaxing date night, nothing more. It sounded perfect. Until she started her drive to the shelter. Doubt seeped in, nitpicking and tearing apart her idea.
What if he passes? Will asking him to join me for a pleasant evening be asking him for too much? Will he feel backed into a corner or think I’m rushing things? I wonder where Asher stands on commitment. He’s a confirmed bachelor, to some degree, he’s dated previously, of course. Miss Maggie, she mentioned at least one ex. How serious had they become? Why am I not remembering that?
People, interacting with them, occasionally it baffled the heck out of Clara; one more reason she loved her job. Animals made her feel calmer, gave her a focal point.
Clara patted the terrier mongrel. Biscuit had wiry, scruffy fur in shades of brown and white. Clara imagined Biscuit as a great farm dog or the perfect companion for a little kid.
“How is she?” asked the shelter owner, walking back into the small office with two steaming mugs.
Morty Henshaw was a twig of a man, tall, with a mop of chestnut brown hair, a slightly beaky nose, and faded green eyes behind rimless glasses. He might not be asked to grace the pages of a calendar, but his love was all-encompassing, especially when it came to animals. Much like Clara, he ran the shelter out of a refurbished building on his property, his house attached by a secured door in the kennel row. As he explained to Clara this allowed him access to check on the occupants any time, day or night. Upon starting up her clinic, Clara got to know Morty and formed a quick friendship with him. The two of them were devoted to the betterment of animal life and she often gave free check-ups to the shelter critters.
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