Counting on a Cowboy

by Debra Clopton

  “I better get you back to town.”

  He headed for the horse. His mind was racing with everything she’d told him. He started to climb into the saddle then turned to her instead. “Listen to me.” He stepped closer. “I told you yesterday that I would be your friend.” He trailed fingertips down the edge of her cheek, felt dampness that lingered there. “And that’s what I’ll be.” He shrugged and gave as good a smile as he could muster up. “I’ve never been good at deep and meaningful relationships anyway. To be honest, where women are concerned, I’ve never been too good at friendship. I’m good for a little fun and that’s about it. So this is probably the best course of action anyway. And now with Levi in my life, I have a whole set of new responsibilities on my shoulders that are all wound around growing him up and doing right by him. I could truly use a friend. And so could you. So like we talked about yesterday. What do you say?”

  “Only friends. I mean it, Bo. No more kissing.”

  “Only friends. For now.”

  She considered him as if deciding if she could believe him. “Then okay, I’d like to help with Levi again if you don’t mind. It’s not an inconvenience. I want to.”

  Bo needed her and there was no denying it. But her being here every day, it was going to be torture. “Sure, can you start tomorrow?” he heard himself say and knew he had a tough road ahead of him because he’d never felt the feelings that Abby evoked in him. But there was more to her story and he knew it. He wasn’t sure how he knew it, but he’d stopped her before she could say more. She needed him to be her friend first and it didn’t matter how badly he wanted to see where they could go in a relationship . . . she needed him more without the complication of romance.

  And that was exactly what she’d get—but it wasn’t going to be easy.

  22

  Trepidation filled Abby the next morning as she drove out to the ranch. She might have given Bo all that malarkey about being his friend but she knew she had a problem. She had loved Landon since childhood. Had been his best friend for all of their growing up years and had finally given into marrying him despite the drive to succeed that burned inside of her. He was her friend, he’d understood—at least in the beginning—her need to succeed and he’d felt the same need. Or at least she’d thought he had. And because of his understanding of that drive, she’d given in. He had admitted, when they’d started having fights about her unrelenting schedule, that he’d only been driven because he’d known he didn’t stand a chance of winning her heart if he wasn’t successful.

  The sad thing was he’d been right.

  She’d married him because she did love him—very much, but if he hadn’t been driven and if he hadn’t been okay with her making her goals of success a reality, she wouldn’t have let herself marry him—no matter how much she’d loved him. Her desire to achieve financial freedom and be successful drove her too deeply—blinded her to what was important.

  And thus their arguing had begun escalating. She’d had a vice president position in her sights within the next year and that would only happen if she’d increased her work time, not decreased it.

  She closed her eyes and her heart felt as if it were chugging through sludge. Oh how she wished she could take it back. “Oh, Landon,” she whispered. “What a mess I made of things.”

  But even so . . . her love for Landon had been based on many different things, but none of those things had been deep, undeniable need. If so, working all those hours might not have been so easy for her . . . She’d thought about this all night long and tried to deny it. But she feared denial was useless . . . if Landon’s kiss had affected her like Bo’s kiss, she would have had a harder time staying late at work every night.

  A chill slid over her at the admission; guilt rolled in her stomach like molten lava.

  What kind of person was she?

  She pulled to a halt beside the garage and sat stiffly, trying to get her emotions in control before going inside.

  With a sigh, she realized that the raw ache of guilt that clung to her was going nowhere. She headed across the yard and gave a quick knock on the door then walked into the kitchen and halted abruptly. The sight of five of the Monahan men in the kitchen, including the newest addition, greeted her. Pops stood beside Bo at the stove and appeared to be trying to help him flip pancakes. Tru and Jarrod sat at the table drinking coffee with Levi going back and forth in his swing in front of them. It was one of the most heartwarming sights she’d ever seen, yet also the polar opposite of the turmoil whipping up inside of her.

  And of course her attention shot instantly straight back to Bo.

  “Hey, Abby, watch this.” He laughed and so did Pops who watched intently as Bo held the frying pan by the handle and shook it just right, causing the pancake to shoot into the air. It did a slow motion flip and landed back into the pan.

  Pops threw his head back and laughed. “You got it, son. Still got it.”

  “Hey, I learned that from you. Okay, here we go, let’s do it one more time, then this cake is all yours,” he called. “Hey, hey, hey, Abby Knightley, one hot cake coming up for you after this one. Sound good?”

  Her pulse shot to the moon despite every wish for him to have no effect on her. “That sounds like a deal,” she managed. “What do you think, Pops?”

  “It’s a deal,” he agreed, taking the plate Bo handed him.

  “The syrup is over there at the table with Tru and Jarrod.” Bo pointed toward the table, and Pops headed that way.

  “Mornin’, Abby,” Tru said, and Jarrod tipped his hat at her and added his welcome.

  She crossed the room, gave Levi a kiss on top of the head, then went to stand beside Bo at the stove. She tried to ignore the way every cell inside of her seemed to strain toward him. “You look like you know how to handle that pan like a pro.”

  “Aw, it’s nothing. We can all do this. Pops is the master of hotcake flipping. Not so much anymore, but he sure does enjoy watching us do it.”

  “Yeah,” Tru said. “We try to have a few mornings like this where we all come eat with him. I really enjoy it after I’ve been on the road. And my wife kind of kicked me out of the house so she could write this morning.”

  Jarrod stood. “I’m about to hit the road.” He gave her a small smile.

  Abby was always a little surprised when Jarrod smiled—given his generally pretty serious, even gruff, demeanor.

  “So have a good day,” Bo said to him. “See you tonight.”

  “No, I’m heading over to Corpus to the Sandbar Ranch. I’m going to pick that new cuttin’ horse up from Brent. I won’t be back till tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Goodness that’s a trip,” Abby said.

  Jarrod shrugged. “Not so bad.”

  “Not by Texas standards anyway,” Bo added, winking at her.

  Tru stood. “Thanks for doing that for me,” he said.

  “I don’t mind delivering the colt for you at all.”

  “I know, but thanks anyway. I’m heading out with you. Daylight’s-a-burnin’ and while you have a lot of driving ahead of you, I’ve got a lot of riding to do. Abby, nice to see you.”

  Abby watched the two brothers disappear out the door after telling Pops good-bye. Abby met Bo’s gaze. “What all do you need me to do today?”

  “Me and Tru can keep a watch on Pops. He’ll be down at the shop with me and when Tru is here he’ll walk over and watch him ride. That’s his love. We have to watch him, though, or he’ll start loading up the horses and try to head off to a competition somewhere.”

  Pops looked up at her from his hotcakes. He grinned. “Always a horse to show. And these boys are learning good, but I’m not done with their teaching yet.”

  A lump jumped into Abby’s throat. “You’re a great teacher, I understand.”

  He shrugged. “God.” He studied his hands for a minute. “He put it here. Ability.”

  Abby looked back at Bo, amazed at Pops’s clarity, and noted a sad light in his eyes, but then he blinked and it w
as gone and he grinned at her, causing the dimple to show playfully. “When a man’s got it, he’s got it. And Pops has always had it.”

  Abby went to church with Clara Lyn and Reba the next morning and mentioned that she was back working for Bo. Abby thought the two women were going to get up and dance a jig, they were so glad she was watching the baby again. They’d also volunteered to come over and help her get the last of her things organized on Monday. And Pebble planned to make cookies while she was there. Abby loved the idea of everyone in her home—as if it was the official stamp on her coming here and getting involved. If she thought about it, since she’d been here she’d been out and involved in some way almost every day—other than the few days she and Bo had been mad at each other.

  She thought of Bo and their after-dinner ride on Friday night. The guilt she felt over her building attraction to Bo held on like a migraine, keeping her insides in turmoil.

  And starting tomorrow she wasn’t sure what would happen to the mix. Maggie was also coming to help today and bringing Levi. Bo had offered and insisted on a more than fair salary to her and they’d gotten a schedule figured out. Maggie would keep Levi on Monday and Wednesday when they were in town and leave the other days for Abby while Maggie worked on her column.

  As a girl growing up in the low-rent areas of Houston, moving had consisted of loading the few ragtag belongings that they owned in the back of the rusted out pickup truck that her dad drove and hauling it to the new place. A new place that was usually lower rent and only just saving them from being on the street. A moving company with men who actually came in and packed up everything and put it inside the huge moving truck with expert care was so unimaginable that Abby sometimes still felt like she was an actor playing a role. But in reality she was still that poor little girl. Yet while her parents had been poor, they had loved her more than life itself. Her dad, disabled from an accident at the packing company that he’d worked for, had struggled to keep a roof over his family’s head and her mother had cleaned offices at night to help make up the difference. Because of their jobs, Abby was never a latchkey kid. Either her mom was home or her dad was.

  Thinking about her roots, Abby had specifically chosen this small place, because she’d wanted a comfortable home, but not extravagant. She was done with wanting those kinds of trappings. She had money in the bank, stocks in the market, and dead dreams.

  She had lived modestly since the wreck. And she always would.

  Today, she looked around the hustle of her little home and let herself enjoy the enthusiasm of her new friends.

  “I think the couch should be catty-corner.” Clara Lyn stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips and stared at the object being shoved around by Abby and Maggie at each suggestion. The moving men had set things inside and Abby liked the places they’d put them, but Clara Lyn and Reba Ann obviously had visions of starting up a home-staging business. And she was their guinea pig.

  “Over just a hair,” Reba Ann said, waving her hands like she was directing airport traffic to the front of the picture window. Throwing her arms wide she drew her hands slowly together and leaned to the side as if she was moving the couch herself. “Right there!”

  “Yes,” Clara Lyn yelped. “Perfect. Y’all did good, girls.”

  Maggie and Abby looked at each other and burst into laughter.

  “Wait,” Reba barked, reconsidering their handiwork. “It might work better if it was angled. What do you think, Clara?”

  “Girls, would you mind scooting it the way Reba suggested? I think it’s a fantastic plan.”

  Abby grabbed her end of the couch that weighed a lot more than she’d realized when she bought it a year ago. Maggie grabbed her end and they got it shoved over. Then both collapsed on it with their legs sprawled out in front of them.

  “Okay, okay, that’s it for the moment,” Abby gasped with exaggerated weariness.

  Maggie flopped her head to the side and eyed her. “They’re trying to do us in,” she whispered loudly.

  Pebble came in from the kitchen where she’d been getting things ready for cookie making. “You two leave those girls alone and stop making them shove that couch around and come help me. You have to see Levi bouncing in the contraption Maggie brought with him. The tot is a regular acrobat.”

  That was all it took for their taskmasters to abandon them.

  “Well, that was easy,” Maggie chuckled. “We should have slipped Pebble a hint to help us with diversion tactics an hour ago.”

  Abby laughed, and it hit her exactly how surreal the moment was that she was actually sitting on the couch in her new home beside Maggie Hope here in the middle of Wishing Springs.

  “I like this,” Maggie said. “With the chairs put in place and that beautiful rug rolled out, it’s going to be very cozy. It’s a good place for you to be.”

  Abby swallowed the lump in her throat, but couldn’t speak. When she and Landon had first married, their apartment had been cozy. She’d scraped garage sale finds together and, thinking back now, it had been so lovely. Then she’d set her sights on bigger and better. There was so much to be said for cozy and simple.

  “I think so too,” she said, feeling good.

  “Y’all hurry up, cookie time!” Clara Lyn yelled.

  “She makes herself right at home, doesn’t she?” Abby grinned at Maggie on the way into the kitchen.

  Once there Maggie took Levi and cuddled him in her arms to feed him his bottle. He looked so adorable and peaceful in her arms. And Maggie looked peaceful too. It was clear to see that she would be a wonderful mother. Abby’s hand went to her stomach. She’d been only six weeks or so pregnant and too busy to notice she’d missed her cycle that month.

  Pebble pulled a batch of fragrant cookies from the oven and slipped another cookie sheet into the oven.

  “Those smell amazing,” Abby said.

  From the kitchen breakfast nook they had a clear view of the house and the front yard. Not long after they began working Abby noticed Rand had come outside and begun working in his yard. It was the first time she’d seen him in his yard since she’d moved in. She was a little taken by surprise and then she realized that he’d probably seen Pebble’s car sitting at the curb. Though she hadn’t seen him in the yard, there was no denying that he had a gorgeous, well-manicured yard full of roses. The man did his own yard? He was just full of surprises.

  She wondered if he’d been drinking. He hadn’t said anything to her about the incident that first night, but that wasn’t so surprising. They hadn’t ever been alone . . .

  Pebble saw him and Abby didn’t miss the way her gaze lingered on the view. Could Pebble really care for him?

  “He’s going to have a heat stroke if he’s not careful,” Pebble said, and then turned pink.

  Abby was fairly certain she hadn’t meant to speak out loud.

  “You need to go over there and take him a tall glass of tea, Pebble.” Clara Lyn paused placing the warm cookies on waxed paper. “That man has been working hard to make amends to you. He stopped drinking. At least that’s what Doonie told me. And he’s like a brother to those twins, so they should know.”

  Abby was shocked. Her temperature spiked. This would not do.

  “He hasn’t stopped drinking.” She blurted the words out.

  Everyone paused what they were doing to look at her.

  “What makes you say that?” Pebble asked, her voice very tight.

  “I haven’t said anything.” She hesitated, realizing she was new in town and she was about to say something derogatory about a very popular member of the community. But she had to, Pebble deserved to know the truth if the scoundrel was trying to pretend he’d stopped. As quick as she could, she told them what had happened and then waited for them to have the same reaction that Bo had had.

  “Well, I’ll be . . .” Reba’s voice trailed off. “He lied.”

  Pebble’s small pink mouth had snapped shut and formed a grim line—completely uncharacteristic for h
er. And Abby was sorry to realize that it showed the sweet lady did have feelings for that man.

  Abby didn’t even realize Clara Lyn hadn’t spoken, as they stood there staring out the window, until the back door slammed shut and her sashaying backside was all that could be seen as she disappeared from view. They tracked her again through the breakfast nook window, marching across Abby’s lawn toward Rand. The beauty operator was hot!

  “Oh, this is not gonna be good.” Reba spun and headed after Clara. In a display of bravado, Pebble marched out after them. Maggie and Abby hurried to follow, Maggie with Levi on her hip.

  “What are you thinking, lying about your drinking, Rand Radcliff?” Clara Lyn looked about as mad as a mama badger after a snake.

  “Rand, is this true?” Pebble asked. Her blue eyes flashed and she looked far less like the sweet knitter that Abby had seen so far.

  The city councilman met Pebble’s gaze and then he looked at Abby. To her surprise, she felt sorry for the man.

  “It’s true. But it was only—”

  Without another word Pebble turned and headed toward her car. Reba followed her trying to calm her down.

  Clara shook her head with pity in her eyes. “Rand, we thought you were okay.”

  With that statement Abby realized that none of them had ever had any dealings with an alcoholic. He wasn’t just a binge drinker. Abby was pretty certain the man drank a little every day and hid it. That was the only way she could explain all the bottles in his trash. The town was enabling him and didn’t even realize it.

  What was worse, now that Pebble had found out what was going on, Rand was probably going to hit it hard tonight.

  And that bothered Abby on several levels. She hated drinkers for many reasons. But the man needed help if he were going to overcome this. If he even had a chance of overcoming it.

  “Rand, you have to get help,” Clara urged. “I’ve been rooting for you to win Pebble over but now I’m thinking I haven’t been thinking at all.”

  “Now, hold on, Clara,” Maggie piped in. “Rand, what can we do for you? How can we help you? Tru would do whatever you need him to do—any of your friends would. Do you need him to take you to a rehab? Because he will. You can overcome this if you just set your mind to it.”