Accidental Cowgirl

by Maggie McGinnis

  “Want to look?” she whispered to Decker, offering the binoculars.

  He shook his head. “You go ahead. I check on them every day.”

  Kyla peered back at the foxes, one of whom was now crouched behind a log, hoping to pounce on the other. So Decker cared enough about this land and its animals to check on a den of baby foxes every day, but he was still leaving for L.A. in a few weeks? She didn’t understand how he could bear to leave. She’d only been here a little over a week, and it wouldn’t be hard to convince her to stay.

  After she’d watched them for about ten minutes, Decker’s gentle voice broke into her thoughts. “We should probably catch up with the others.”

  “Right.” Kyla handed back the binoculars. “They might think we fell off a cliff or something.” She gathered Kismet’s reins, and then a thought hit her. “Decker, we’re ten minutes behind them now. How fast are we going to have to ride to catch up?”

  “Afraid you’ll have to go faster than a trot?” He winked, then nudged Chance forward.

  “I have mastered the trot, thank you very much. It’s the gallop that gives me nightmares.”

  “No galloping necessary.” He grinned as he looked back at her. “Follow me. I know a shortcut.”

  Eight hours later, Kyla was perched on a log at the fire, once again awake in a sea of sleeping guests. Even Decker had fallen asleep two hours ago. She thought longingly of the night she’d spent in his arms. It seemed like moments ago and weeks ago at the same time.

  Then she rubbed her chest as his words of last night sliced through her. It never should have happened. Obviously he was right. And thankfully at least one of them could find some logical perspective on the whole thing before things got out of hand. She should be grateful that he’d backed away for the both of them.

  But God, what she wouldn’t give for another night with him, in whatever form it might take. If she was a different kind of girl, she’d be busy convincing him they could just have a little trail fling for the rest of the week, no holds barred, no expectations. Unfortunately, she knew herself well enough to see that more nights with him would just suck her deeper into love and lust. It was a no-win situation … though it sure would be fun while it lasted.

  But if he regretted their night together, why had he taken pains to draw her away from the group today and show her the baby foxes? Why had he still been using that gentle voice and sweet smile? Was it all a game to keep her off balance? Or was he confused, too?

  “Why don’t you sleep, Snow White? Are you a vampire in disguise?” Decker settled on the log beside her at the fire, scaring her silly. Apparently he wasn’t asleep after all.

  “I just can’t.”

  “Since when?”

  Kyla sighed and picked up a stick. She needed something for her hands to do, so she started drawing circles in the dirt around the fire ring. “Since about a year ago.”

  His voice was painfully soft as he asked, “What happened a year ago?”

  Kyla took a deep breath and blew it out through her mouth. He’d already been front and center for a panic attack. Did she really want to tell him the whole story? He’d already let her know that he thought their night together had been a mistake. This would just be icing on the cake. He’d be blowing a relieved breath that he hadn’t let it go any further.

  “I was in a car accident last summer,” she finally said.

  “Bad one?”

  “Really bad, yes.”

  “Were you hurt?”

  “Very. But I’m mostly better.”

  “What’s left to get better?”

  Kyla sighed again, unsure of what to say. But it didn’t matter, right? He already regretted being with her, and they weren’t even going to see each other after this week. It wasn’t like telling the truth was going to ruin her chances of any sort of a future with him. She guessed she might as well be honest. “My head, Decker.”

  He was silent, staring at the fire. “Post-traumatic stress is serious business.”

  She looked up at him, confused. “I never said anything about PTSD.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “Do you have some sort of ESP or something? First you know I fell off a horse, and now you think I have PTSD?”

  “In my defense, anyone who’s ever been around horses for more than a week could tell you’d been thrown. As for the PTSD …” Again he went quiet. “One of my best buddies from college came back from his first tour in Afghanistan with shrapnel in his thigh and demons in his head. They fixed the thigh, but he never told them about his head. He went back for a second tour and ended up eating his own gun within a month.”

  Kyla reached out to touch his arm. “Oh, my God, Decker. I’m so sorry.”

  He looked directly at her for the first time since he’d sat down. “Are you seeing anyone to help with it?”

  She nodded quickly. “I am. I have been since the accident. It’s helping. Things are a lot better than they were.”

  “Just not really better yet.”

  “No. Not really better yet. I’m still a bit of a basket case. Case in point—the first-aid fiasco.”

  Decker looked into her eyes again, probing. “This isn’t something to be embarrassed about, Kyla. You can’t control a panic attack.” He turned back to the fire, lost in thought for a long moment. “It’s just one of the many things we think we should be able to control. Like people.”

  Well, that was for sure. Kyla stifled an angry growl as she thought about Wes. Nope, she definitely hadn’t exercised one iota of control over him. He, however, had wielded a fair ton of it over her. She thought back to the nights she’d spent waiting for him to call, the weekends she’d spent alone because he was … traveling. The little things that all seemed so damn clear now that she was a year out from it.

  “You look like you’re about to bite someone.” Decker smiled, eyebrows raised.

  “Bite? No. Shoot? Maybe.”

  He moved away from her on the log. “Would that be my cue to go?”

  “No. Lucky for you, I was actually thinking about someone else.”

  “That’s a relief. Who is it that you’re feeling the need to shoot, if not the asshole who slept with you and then said it was a mistake?”

  A surprised laugh escaped Kyla’s lips before she could stop it. “I don’t want to shoot you, Decker.” Not yet, anyway.

  “Who, then?”

  “You don’t really want to know.”

  “I’m intrigued.”

  “Decker, you already think I’m a basket case. I don’t think I need to cement that image any further, thank you.”

  In a tender move that was completely unexpected, he put a gentle finger under her chin. His dark blue eyes pierced hers as he searched her face. “Who hurt you, Kyla?”

  * * *

  Decker sighed loudly as he went over his figures one more time. Despite adding the list three separate times, he didn’t have the concentration to keep the numbers straight in his head this morning. He’d ridden in from the trail to handle some of his paperwork and make some calls, and in all honesty, to get away from Kyla.

  Ever since he’d watched her face momentarily crumple Monday night when he’d admitted he never should have spent the night with her, he’d felt like a complete and utter ass. He’d known better than to let things get out of control the other night. He’d known the stakes were way too high, known she’d have expectations he could never meet. And as much as he longed to prove to her that he could be all she deserved, he was smart enough to know it would never work. He’d never measure up to the picture she had in her head, and it’d be easier on both of them if he didn’t even try.

  There was no way for the situation to end well if he let things go any further, and it wasn’t fair to her to pretend any different. If they got in any deeper, it would hurt both of them a hell of a lot more when they had to say good-bye in a few days. He’d done such an admirable job of keeping his distance on Tuesday morning. They’d been six horses apart on t
he trail, and he’d barely looked at her, let alone talked with her.

  When they’d stopped for lunch, he and Cole had found a shady spot near an ancient Douglas fir, but their solitude had quickly been interrupted by Cheryl and Theresa sitting down to join them. And though Cheryl had done her damnedest to flirt her way into his good graces, it was all he’d been able to do to stop looking over Cheryl’s shoulder to watch Kyla sitting in the sunlight sketching in a little notebook and laughing with Jess.

  Her hair had been cinched up in a cute ponytail, and the sun had brought out her freckles and given her cheeks some much-needed color. Her soft peach-colored shirt had given just enough of a hint of the sexy body beneath to drive him crazy. When they’d been riding, he’d noticed that she’d even started to relax on Kismet, and he’d be damned if she wasn’t starting to enjoy riding.

  When they’d saddled up after lunch, he’d let Cole take the lead, hanging back against his better judgment to ride tail behind Kyla. And when they’d come to the path where the fox den was, he couldn’t pass by it without showing it to her. They’d passed that damn den every trail ride all summer, and he’d never wanted to show it to anybody.

  He’d watched her with those binoculars, laughing quietly at the fox kits, and dammit, he’d known he was done for. Despite all of his best intentions, the only thing he’d wanted to do right then was pull her off her horse, find a soft spot in the meadow, and kiss her silly.

  And then last night she’d told him something he’d never expected. Shit. She’d been ready to marry someone. Live together, have babies, put up a picket fence and find a dog at the shelter. Jesus. He had no idea how it would even feel to make that sort of commitment, and he was pretty sure that a year wasn’t a very long time to recover from a situation like that.

  Kyla had a past, and she was definitely carrying more baggage than a freakin’ plane, which should have sent him running for the Rockies. She was way more vulnerable than he had a right to know about, and he needed to steer way clear. Which is why it was a much better idea for him to be at the ranch this morning, not on the trail. Cole could handle today’s stretch.

  “Decker, can I talk to you for a minute?” Ma peeked her head into his office, startling him.

  Decker put down the spreadsheet he’d been trying to analyze as Ma took a seat across the desk from him. “What’s up, Ma? Here to give me a raise?”

  “Wise guy. No, I’m here with a proposition.”

  “That sounds dangerous.”

  “Might be.”

  Chapter 22

  Decker raised his eyebrows. “Aren’t you the mysterious one this morning?”

  “Decker, I been thinking. You know I want you back here. I haven’t made any secret about that.”

  He sat back and folded his hands on his desk. “That’s very flattering, Ma. I’m sensing there’s a catch, though. You’re not really one for flowery language.”

  Ma pointed at him playfully, eyebrows raised. “I haven’t made any secret of the finances since you’ve been back, either, so you know we’re in … forgive me … deep shit.” Decker nodded. Deep shit it was, and Ma only knew about the real bills. They were down to twenty-four days with the other ones. He tamped down a flood of fury at Decker Senior. It was hard not to hate a father who’d gambled away your mother’s entire homestead.

  “Are you going to put Cole up for adoption or something?” Decker pretended to ponder. “I’m not sure he’d fetch us much.”

  “I’m thinking about selling off some of the land,” Ma said quietly.

  Decker sat up quickly. “Ma … you can’t do that.” He knew Ma had ridden every inch of the ranch for fifty-plus years now, and loved every acre. She knew where every stream crossed, where the fox dens were, where the deer bedded down at dusk. Parting with that land would be like ripping out a piece of her heart.

  “Sully’s made no secret about wanting any eastern acreage I’m willing to sell, so I know he’d buy it.” Gabe Sullivan owned the ranch to their east, and had been one of Decker Senior’s gambling and drinking buddies. Decker had just about as much respect for him as he’d had for his own father. No way was he letting Ma’s land get into Sully’s slimy hands.

  “Sully’s an ass. He’ll give you bottom dollar, if that. He knows the ranch is struggling. He’ll know we’re desperate. No, Ma. We’re not going down that road. We’ll find another way.”

  “Decker, we’re a little bit out of ways. We’ve tapped into everything we can, including, God bless you, your own retirement money. I just don’t see any other option.”

  * * *

  “I see you drew dish duty.” Decker pulled a towel from over his shoulder and picked up a wet plate to dry it.

  Kyla nodded. Did this mean he was speaking to her again? He’d disappeared after breakfast this morning and had only just arrived at tonight’s encampment as everyone was finishing a dinner of grilled fish they’d caught this afternoon. “If I’m alone doing dishes, I’m less likely to spew secrets I should be keeping to myself, I guess.” She kept her eyes down, reluctant to meet his.

  “I’m sorry, Kyla. You surprised me last night. I had no idea.”

  “Why would you have?”

  “I wouldn’t. I know. I’m sorry I didn’t know what to say.”

  “No apology necessary. I’m sorry I don’t have a pristine past.” And really, why am I doing the apologizing here? May I remind you that we’re only forty-eight hours away from you telling me that making love to me was a big ole mistake? She scrubbed at a pan, determined to keep her voice level. She looked out toward the clearing where everyone was setting up for the night. At least no one was close enough to overhear them this time.

  “No one has a pristine past. Maybe I just didn’t want to know you’d been that close to someone before.” He swiped at a pan as she looked up for the first time. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Kyla’s heart did a little jump. Should she fill in the blanks she’d left last night? Reveal that said fiancé was now behind bars? No. If a former fiancé had sent Decker running, then having a criminal one could only make things worse.

  “Y’know what, Decker? An ex-fiancé isn’t the worst history a girl can have. It actually measures pretty mildly on the Omigod! scale. And honestly, you’d already regretted Sunday night. So, really? What’s the big deal? According to you, we’re a mistake, anyway. My fiancé, or lack thereof, should be a moot point.”

  “I’m not convinced we’re a mistake, Kyla.” He let the words fall, then turned away to put away the pan he’d just dried.

  “But you’re not convinced we aren’t, either.”

  “No … I’m not.”

  Kyla took a deep breath. The spark of hope in her chest kept flaring, then fizzling as he spoke. She didn’t know what to think. If Gramma were here, she’d have something wise to say to guide her, or at least have chocolate chips at the ready.

  “Can we make cookies on the fire tonight?” Kyla blurted out, before she had a moment to reel the thought back in.

  “Cookies? Again?” Decker’s eyes crinkled as he raised his eyebrows.

  “I just feel like cookies. Did Ma pack chocolate chips?”

  “Ma always packs chocolate chips.”

  “I knew I loved that woman.”

  “How do you know so much about campfire cooking, anyway?” Decker pulled a pot from her hand and started drying it.

  “Gramps taught me every summer. Remind me to make you some hobo stew before we leave. I have the best recipe.”

  “I don’t know, Kyla. You say you’re from the city, but I’m having a hard time believing it. Anyone who has a hobo stew recipe and can cook chocolate chip cookies over a campfire belongs in the country.”

  Kyla’s hands stilled in the cooling dishwater. He was so right. And ever since she’d arrived at the ranch, she’d felt it, too. Couldn’t figure out why it had taken so long, actually. Had she just been so caught up in the city life that she’d forgotten how it felt to smell wildflowers
that weren’t in a pretty glass vase? Had forgotten how much she loved watching chickadees zoom through the bushes near a pond? Had forgotten how new blades of grass felt on bare feet?

  He picked up another plate and wiped it dry. “Do you miss the city, Kyla?”

  “Honestly? No.” Certainly not the city I’ve been trapped in for the past year, buddy. “If you’d asked me that a few years ago, I would have thought I might never leave, but not now.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “Y’know, it was a really fun place to be at twentysomething, but I’m beginning to fear that I’m sort of over it.”

  “So if you had to throw a dart at a map and pick your ideal place to live, where would you aim?”

  “Wow. I don’t know. Unfortunately, I haven’t been out of the city in so long that I’m not sure I know. I always thought New Hampshire would be nice, or the area where my grandparents lived in Vermont.”

  “Ah. Home of Jose Cuervo.”

  Kyla laughed softly as she swished her hands in the soapy water. “That’s the place. God, I loved it there.”

  “What was the best part?”

  That was a tough question. The whole two weeks was the best part. The swimming, the endless Monopoly games on the porch, the apple picking, the fresh syrup on Sunday-morning pancakes … There was no way to pick the best part.

  Then she thought of one of her favorite parts of her stay. “This is going to sound stupid.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Well, every summer before we went north, my mom would take me to Macy’s and get me a huge pile of new clothes she thought would be perfect for my visit to Gramma and Gramps’—sundresses, jumpsuits, strappy little girlie sandals—the works. She’d wash and iron everything and pack my fancy suitcase, and off we’d go.

  “The minute my parents pulled back out of Gramma’s driveway, we’d run upstairs and shove that ridiculous suitcase in a closet, and I’d pull open all the drawers in the little white bureau in my room. Gramma would have it stuffed full of T-shirts and old jeans and sweatshirts and flip-flops she found at garage sales and the Salvation Army. I used to rip my city clothes off and live in all that soft clothing for two weeks, and it was heavenly. I got dirty every day.”