Promise Me, Cowboy (Copper Mountain Rodeo)

by CJ Carmichael

  “Where’s Wes?” Mattie’s husband was usually out on the deck with her father. Not that the two men liked each other much. But when it came to barbecuing meat—the men knew where they belonged.

  “Didn’t come this time.”

  That was a first. Knowing better than to try and coax the reason for this from her father, she headed for the kitchen, the biggest room in the house, but also, paradoxically, the coziest.

  Mattie was at the butcher block island, chopping veggies for a salad. Callan was pulling the nice dishes out from the glass-fronted, built-in maple cabinetry. As for Dani—well, the brains of the family was drinking wine and supervising.

  “Hey, sisters! I’m here!” She slipped her box of chocolates on the counter by the phone where they wouldn’t get in the way, then targeted her oldest sister with a kiss. “Mattie—where’s Wes?”

  Mattie was petite and slim-waisted, with curves that seemed almost indecent on such a little woman. She had the same dark hair as all the Carrigans—all but Sage, who’d pulled the recessive red hair gene wild card.

  Though Mattie was only thirty-eight, Sage could see signs of aging that hadn’t been present during their last visit. Fine lines bracketing Mattie’s lovely smile and a tired look in her milk chocolate eyes.

  “Oh, Wes decided to compete in a rodeo down in Utah this weekend.”

  That didn’t make sense. For as long as Wes and Mattie had been together, Wes had signed up for the Copper Mountain Rodeo. Usually they brought their twins with them. But the girls had left this fall for their first year of University.

  After a warning look from Callan, who was also tiny like Mattie, only with a more boyish figure, Sage decided not to question her older sister any further. Instead she gave Dani a hug. “How is life in the ivory tower in Seattle?”

  Dani, who’d recently been promoted to full professor in the psychology department of the University of Washington, dragged her gaze up from her Blackberry. “Very busy. Very exciting.” The second eldest sister, Dani was taller, like Sage. Not as fine-boned as the others. More average. Though she definitely carried more weight than Sage.

  Office work, Sage supposed. Professional dinners and travel. That sort of thing.

  “How do you stay so slim?” Dani’s mind was on the same subject. Her gaze ran over Sage in her cropped pants and peach-colored top. “You make chocolates for a living. You should be roly-poly by now.”

  “I make them. Then sell them. I would think a smart woman like you would understand the concept of profit.”

  “You never sample?”

  “Oh, I have minions for that.”

  Everyone laughed, because if there was one thing Sage didn’t have, it was minions. Two part-time employees who helped cover sales during busy times and on weekends, that was it.

  God this is good. Sage savored the moment, because it didn’t happen often that the four of them loosened up this way. Their father had raised them to keep their heads up. At any moment you could be chastised for doing the wrong thing or for not doing the right thing. Dani and Mattie had resented him bitterly. Only Callan seemed to be able to shrug off his barbs, often giving as good as she got.

  As for Sage, she thought she understood what was behind her father’s bitterness and anger, and so she made allowances. But then she knew things that her sisters didn’t.

  ”—and I told him I so wasn’t going out with him again. Then I left the restaurant and caught a ride home with a friend.” This was Callan, talking about her latest romantic escapade, Sage supposed. She’d tuned out for a bit. Callan always had fun stories to tell, whether they were about her love life—very active—or about ranching trials and tribulations. There were lots of those, too.

  “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t married so young.” Mattie, normally so pragmatic and solid, sounded atypically yearning. “I never had a chance to date and have fun like you, Cal.”

  “Nobody has dated as much as Callan,” Dani said. “That includes me and I’m still single and eight years older!”

  They all looked at Sage then. Dani, never one for the subtle approach, was the first to ask. “So, how are things with Toby?”

  “Over.” Callan answered for her.

  “But—why? Was it the age difference? He was in your class at school, wasn’t he Mat?”

  “Yes. And he’s a good guy. But just let Sage be. You know she doesn’t like talking about stuff like this.”

  Sage shrugged. She never found it easy discussing anything personal. And why was that? She’d assumed it was just her personality.

  But suddenly she remembered her mother saying something to her only a few months before she died. They’d been right here, in the kitchen, and Sage had been twelve. Bev Carrigan had leaned over the table and taken Sage’s hand in hers. “You used to be such a chatterbox, honey. What’s happened to you?”

  Sage hadn’t said a word, and her mother had sighed. “Guess you’re at that age, huh?”

  At the time she hadn’t realized her mother was talking about adolescence. But those years were long gone and Sage still felt as if there was a fine plastic film separating her from the people she loved. She wished she could just set down the secret and leave it somewhere. But secrets were like land mines. You had to make sure no one stepped on them. Or the whole family might blow apart.

  An hour later they were gathered around the dining room table, the five of them—just as it had been before Mattie got married and before Dani moved to the city. Some fathers might have deemed the occasion worthy of a toast. Or at least have said something like, “It’s good to have all my girls under the same roof again.”

  Not Hawksley. He did come close to smiling a few times. But when dinner was over, he didn’t linger. “Got my show to watch. Sage, you make sure you stay and help clean up. Don’t leave all the work to your sisters.”

  Dani shook her head disbelievingly after he’d gone. “He never changes. Never.”

  “I don’t mind,” Sage said. “He’s disappointed I gave up barrel racing.”

  “Wasn’t that five years ago?” Ever the mother, Mattie started stacking the plates.

  “Let me do that,” Sage said. “Dad’s right—I missed all the prep work.”

  Mattie didn’t release her hold. ”Because you were working. Sage, you have a God-given gift with chocolate. I hope you never let him guilt you into giving up your business.”

  “I won’t,” Sage said calmly. Her older sisters were always quick to defend her, and that was sweet. But she wished they would cut their dad a little more slack. “He’s looking older, don’t you think?”

  “He’s losing steam on the ranch, too,” Callan confided. “He doesn’t want to admit it, but he can’t work as much as he used to. He said he has to go watch his show—but I’ll bet you anything you’ll find him sleeping by the TV.”

  “Maybe we need another hired hand?” Dani asked. They’d cleared off the table and were now in the kitchen, falling back into their old roles easily. Mattie putting away the leftovers, Dani rinsing the plates and handing them to Sage to stack in the dishwasher, while Callan wiped the countertops and appliances.

  Again Sage’s mother’s voice was in her head, as she admired the pattern on the old Royal Albert dishes. “Silly nonsense having nice dishes and never using them. Of course we’re going to put them in the dishwasher...”

  “I suggested hiring another worker, but he dug in his heels. You know how he can get.” Callan shook her head. “I think the only strategy with any hope of success is if I got married. He’d have to let my husband work on the ranch.”

  ”Married? Do you have a candidate in mind?” Mattie had to know.

  “You mean just one?”

  They all laughed again.

  When it came time to leave, Sage felt a little sad. Maybe she should have packed a bag and stayed overnight. She hated to miss any of the fun. But she would see them on Saturday, at the rodeo and then later at the community steak dinner. When she said goodnight, Mattie walked her to her
car.

  Fallen leaves crunched under their feet as they walked out the side door and the horses by the fence perked up their ears.

  “No treats tonight, fellas,” Sage told them as she headed for her car.

  “You seemed quiet tonight.” Mattie put a hand on her shoulder. I mean, you’re always quiet. But even more so.”

  She wasn’t surprised Mattie had noticed. Even before the birth of her sister’s twins, or the death of their mother, Mattie had had strong maternal instincts. As a child she’d been the one to nurse the orphaned animals, to rescue the bird that had fallen from its nest.

  “Yeah, I guess I was.” She’d thought about Dawson far too often tonight, despite her determination to forget him. “Is everything okay? With the business?”

  She considered telling her sister the whole story. But it was late and she had to work tomorrow. “It’s fine. I’m not getting rich. But I’m doing something I love and I’m making a comfortable margin.”

  Mattie pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Wish I could say the same about our ranch.”

  Ranching was always a precarious living. That was why Wes, in his late thirties, was still on the rodeo circuit even though he’d injured almost every body part he had. “Is Wes okay?”

  “Just between you and me, he’s been better. A close buddy of his was killed by a bull when they were at the Crazy Horse Stampede in South Dakota this June. It shook him up pretty badly.”

  “I guess so.” Sage gave her sister a hug. “Is he thinking of quitting the circuit?”

  “I don’t know. We haven’t been talking much. Used to be he’d come home from a rodeo and we’d make love and talk for hours. That hasn’t been happening lately.”

  “I guess all couples go through times like that.”

  “Sure. We’ll get through it.” Mattie smiled. “Now you better get going. Drive safe little sister.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Sage woke early from an unsatisfying sleep. It felt as if she’d been up all night, thinking about Dawson. Or had she been dreaming?

  She wished she could dismiss him from her thoughts as easily as she’d shown him the door yesterday. Though, that had actually been difficult, too. There should be a law against a guy breaking a woman’s heart, humiliating her, then showing up five years later to remind her why she’d fallen for the jerk in the first place.

  Because much as she hated to admit it, she’d felt the old desire the second she’d seen him. It was in the way he carried his cowboy lean-and-tough body. The hint of vulnerability in his disarming grin. And, most of all, the steady light in his green eyes when he looked at her.

  No man she’d ever met could compare to him.

  And none had ever hurt her nearly as much.

  On the bright side—he’d be gone by the end of the rodeo on Sunday. At least she had that to hang onto.

  Sage focused on her morning routine, getting dressed and eating her granola, yogurt and fruit. Her plan was to put in a long day—skipping the street dancing—so she could take tomorrow and Sunday afternoon off and go to the rodeo with her sisters.

  But as she rode her bike by the house on Bramble Lane, she found herself thinking of Dawson again. She wished she could call one of her girlfriends—Jenny or Chelsea—to get some advice. How do I get this guy out of my head? But that would mean telling them what had happened in the first place.

  And she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  It had been so damn embarrassing. And infuriating. No matter how attracted she’d been to O’Dell, she never would have gone to his trailer that night if she’d known he was married. She was so not that kind of woman. As if to prove the point, she still got hot with embarrassment and shame when she remembered how his wife had walked in on them. They’d been naked, and O’Dell had just pulled himself out of her. Sage thought she might still have been moaning with pleasure.

  Then the slamming of the aluminum trailer door. And a woman with big hair and an even bigger voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing with my husband?”

  She could just imagine the horrified looks she’d get from her friends. Chelsea and Jenny weren’t prudes—but they weren’t into casual sex either.

  And neither was she, damn it.

  The morning sun was casting long shadows over Main Street when she arrived. She pulled into the alley, locking up her bike, then going in via the kitchen. It was a relief to arrive at her shop, because even though she’d been open for three years, it felt like a new thrill every time she stepped inside.

  First was the scent—rich cocoa with vanilla, caramel and spice undertones. Mmm—so good. The cocoa and vanilla theme carried through to the decorating in the front showroom. The maple shelves were stained the color of forty-five percent milk chocolate and tiny vases with vanilla colored roses were displayed in a line on the feature wall. In keeping with the name of her store, she used copper-tinted boxes for her chocolates, and these were arranged in attractive displays, delicious little pyramids of hand-made truffles, molded chocolates, and yummy granola bark.

  Black and white photos on the wall behind the counter showed every step of the chocolate making process. From buying the beans in Venezuela, roasting and cracking them in her industrial grade kitchen, to conching, refining, tempering and finally molding.

  Of course she could have purchased the chocolate in bulk—much easier and cheaper, since she wouldn’t have needed to buy any special equipment. But when it came to chocolate Sage was a purist. For her, developing a single-origin bar that defined Copper Mountain Chocolates was her holy grail. The one she’d come up with after a year of experimenting was a seventy-two percent Criollo from Venezuela. Sampling the bar was akin to tasting a fine and rare wine. Initial flavors of cinnamon and hazelnut were followed by notes of caramel and banana, ending with a dry finish.

  For most of her products however, her caramels, mints, and the molded chocolate, she used Trinitario beans. Why use premium cocoa beans when the end result was going to be mixed with other flavors?

  Sage slipped on a clean apron, she always wore one in the store, then went to look out the front window. Volunteer organizers were already moving barricades into place, and someone was doing sound checks on the stage. She wondered if Dawson would be at the street dance tonight—along with that Savannah woman. Was he cheating again, or had he actually gotten divorced this time?

  Sage would never forgot his wife’s name, or the way Dawson had looked, scrambling out of bed and pulling on his jeans.

  “Calm down, Gina. And would you please stop pointing that gun like that? Give it to me, Gina. Give it to me, damn it.”

  Not the sort of pillow talk a woman wanted to hear after the best sex of her life.

  While Dawson and Gina been tussling over the shotgun, she’d slipped around them, dragging her clothing with her, not stopping to put them on until she was safely behind the next trailer over.

  Just her luck a cowboy returning home after a very long night of partying had walked by right then. “Hell,” he’d said. “Must have had more to drink than I thought.”

  “Sage! Over here!”

  Dani was in the bleachers already, along with Mattie, Callan and Dad. They’d nabbed good seats, just above the chutes. Sage waved back and made her way up the aisle, with her beer and corn dog in hand.

  She was excited. While the social events were highlights for many of the citizens of Marietta, she loved the rodeo—especially now that she was no longer a competitor. Back in those days, she was often so nervous she vomited before her event. Now it was a luxury to sit back and watch.

  “Sorry I’m late.” She squeezed into the last seat on the row next to Dani. Unlike the rest of them, Dani’s western wear came from expensive boutiques and she looked ready to do a cover shoot for Montana Woman. “I was—”

  “At your shop,” her dad said dryly from the other end of the bench. “Yeah. We know.”

  Dani rolled her eyes. Then passed her the program. “You missed the opening. Tie-d
own roping is just about to start.”

  A quick scan down the names of the contestants—she couldn’t help herself—and she found him. Dawson was first on the list.

  “This would be so much more interesting if they would include all the cowboys’ stats in the program,” Dani said. “Then we could calculate their odds at winning.”

  Sage leaned forward, winking at Callan and Mattie. “You’re right, Dani. We should bring that up with the rodeo committee next year.”

  “Good idea,” Callan pretended to agree. “I bet lots of other people would rather look at rows of numbers than a bunch of hot cowboys”

  The three sisters laughed, while Dani continued to peer down her nose at the program.

  “Would you all be quiet?” Hawksley glowered at them. “I can’t hear the announcer.”

  But Sage could. She heard every word.

  “And here we have a boy who’s lived just about everywhere, from Reno, Nevada to Denver, Colorado—Mr. Dawson O’Dell. This is Dawson’s first time at the Copper Mountain Rodeo. How about we give him a big, down home welcome?”

  As the crowd responded, Sage thought she heard a little girl’s high voice cheering over the crowd, saying That’s my Daddy! She turned and scanned the people sitting around her. There were many children on the bleachers but none stood out as the one she’d thought she heard. Anyway, the girl could have been talking about any of the men, from the announcer, to one of the pickup men sitting on the arena fence.

  Then the action started and Sage forgot about everything but the cowboy on his horse, racing after the calf. Dawson’s rope was in the air and a second later around the animal’s neck.

  “Damn he’s good,” she heard Mattie say. “And cute, too.”

  “Not cute,” Callan disputed. “Sexy as hell. Do you know him, Sage?”

  “Saw him at a few rodeos back in the day,” she admitted, her eyes on the action.

  In an astonishing short amount of time—just six point nine seconds—the calf’s three legs had been tied and held with a half-hitch knot. The crowd roared in approval, while Dawson clapped the dirt off his hands like it was no big deal. He did pause before leaving the arena though, tipping his hat and smiling at someone in the crowd.