Accidental Cowgirl

by Maggie McGinnis

  “Kayla Bennett?”

  “It’s Kyla. What can I do for you?” Kyla’s voice was tight, suspicious. How did Marcy know her last name?

  Marcy glanced around. “Where are your friends?”

  Jess and Hayley had left on a hike a half hour ago, upon Kyla’s insistence that they soak up as much sun and greenery as possible before they had to head back to the city tomorrow. Fat chance she was going to admit that right now, though. Last time she’d met Marcy she’d almost gotten slapped. God knows what the woman would try to do if she thought no one was around to see. “They’re around.” Kyla waved her hand vaguely.

  “Good. I was hoping to talk to you alone.” Marcy pranced up the steps and sat down in the chair across from the swing, opening her huge, sparkly purse. “I think we may have gotten off to an awkward start the other night.”

  “Awkward?” You think?

  Marcy gave a pretty little toothpaste commercial smile. “I lost my cool a little bit, and I’m sorry about that.”

  “Lost your cool.”

  “Are you going to repeat everything I say?”

  “Sorry. Bad habit.” Kyla shifted on the swing, wincing when her air cast hit the porch table.

  “So anyway, I apologize. And I also thought it might be good to come meet you in person and—I don’t know—explain things a little.”

  “You don’t owe me any explanations, Marcy.” Nor do I want to hear any, especially the kind that have Decker in them.

  “I know, I know. I just realized that once again, Decker’s making complete strangers fall for him, and the poor boy just doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.”

  “Really.” Kyla felt her eyebrows start hiking toward her hairline.

  “Truly, yes. It’s been happening all summer. Well, all his life, to hear the stories.” Marcy tittered nervously as she fluttered her hand. “I actually feel kind of bad for y’all, because with him, it’s so hard to tell he’s just being nice.”

  “Really.”

  Marcy stopped and cocked her head. “You’re not much of a conversationalist, are you?”

  “Marcy, why are you really here?”

  “You probably won’t believe me if I tell you.”

  “That’s a very real possibility.”

  “See?”

  “Try me.”

  “Well, despite the scene at Salty’s, which I sincerely do regret, I heard about your troubles here and thought maybe I could prevent you from having more of them.”

  “Really.”

  “Is that your favorite word?”

  “Right now it is.”

  Marcy blew a practiced breath through her perfectly-glossed lips. “See, here’s the thing. I don’t know if it’s his aftershave, or his pheromones, or what, but Decker can’t seem to stop women from falling for him.”

  “That sounds very tragic.”

  “But I know what you’ve been through, and I wanted to do you a favor before you start getting delusions about him.”

  “What sort of delusions would you be talking about, Marcy?”

  Marcy raised her plucked eyebrows. “I’m quite sure you know what I mean. You got to dance with him.”

  “And?”

  “And … I imagine you had visions of the possibilities.”

  “Have you considered that maybe not all women do fall at his feet? Or start having—what’d you call it—visions?”

  This seemed to put Marcy off her stride, but only for a second.

  “Kayla—”

  “Kyla.”

  “Right. Kyla. I know you’ve had a tough trip out here. I mean, first that crazy storm, then your ankle. It’s just terrible.”

  “Yes. It is.”

  “I just don’t want you to end up any more hurt than you’ve already been.”

  “Marcy, no offense, but you don’t even know me. Why would you possibly care?”

  Marcy put her hand to her chest like she was appalled Kyla could even suggest such a thing. “I guess it’s just my gentle upbringing.” Kyla had to work really hard not to snort. “I don’t want you to get your poor heart broken.”

  “Again, no offense, but my heart is hardly your concern. And if you think I believe for one second that you’re here on some charitable mission, then you’re sadly mistaken.” And dumber than your bottle-blond hair makes you look already, sweetheart.

  Marcy sat still for a second, gazing over the railing toward the hills. Then she stiffened her spine and reached into her bag. “Fine. If you can’t recognize help when it’s being offered, that’s not my problem.” She pulled out a creamy, thick envelope. “Maybe this will make it more clear.”

  “What’s this? A payoff? Are you trying to give me cash to disappear?”

  “Hardly. Maybe you’re not understanding something. I don’t view you as a threat. I really don’t. You’re a guest of Whisper Creek, no more. By all accounts, you’ve had your eye on Decker since you got here, and I’m just trying to help you not leave with a broken heart. If you want to read my actions any other way, then that’s your problem. But I have no ulterior motives here.”

  “Right.”

  “Here. Open it.” She handed the envelope to Kyla, who took it reluctantly. She opened the flap and slid her fingers inside, pulling out a chocolate brown piece of cardstock. Her stomach grew grasshoppers as she realized what it must be, but she forced her features to stay calm.

  “Read it.”

  Kyla took a deep breath and wished she could close her eyes against the invitation, but the sight of Marcy’s and Decker’s names in embossed gold lettering made it virtually impossible. The October 18th date made it even worse.

  Oh God. Decker really was marrying her? Really? In two months?

  “See? I hardly need to buy you off.”

  “And here I was so looking forward to it.” Kyla slid the invitation back into the envelope and dropped it on the table.

  “Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  “What were you hoping to hear, Marcy?”

  “Congratulations would be appropriate, I’d think.” Marcy composed her features into a delicate frown.

  Kyla stared hard at her. How could he marry her? Even without Kyla in the equation, how could he possibly marry a plasticized Barbie Doll with surgically enhanced features, a posse of bimbos just like her, and a wardrobe that had more sparkles than a Vegas show? Was that truly his type?

  “I might say that, but honestly, I don’t feel like I’m all that obliged to be appropriate, after the stunt you pulled last weekend.” Kyla paused. “But no, actually I wouldn’t say that anyway.”

  “Suit yourself.” Marcy looked around at the stables and up the hill toward the main house. “Decker wanted to get married up beside the house, but it’s just so … provincial.”

  “I think it would be perfect.”

  “Of course you would. You’d probably be happy with an off-the-rack dress, too.” Marcy shuddered dramatically.

  “Maybe, if I knew what that even meant.”

  Marcy gave a soft, practiced smile. “So we’ll get the ranch sold this fall and be back in L.A. before the holidays. It’s perfect!”

  “Get the ranch sold? L.A.? Are you marrying the same Decker I know?”

  “No. I’m marrying the Decker I know. And that’s a completely different person from the fake cowboy he’s been playing all summer. He did tell you he’s from L.A., right?” Marcy put her fingers on her lips. “Ooh, or was that supposed to be a secret? I just can’t keep it all straight.”

  “Decker’s truly on board with moving back to the city?” Impossible.

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t he be?” To Marcy’s credit, she actually looked mystified.

  Because he loves it here? Because his family’s here? Because this is the life he’s meant to have? “I don’t know. Maybe because he obviously belongs here?”

  Marcy waved her fingers Kyla’s way. “Right. I guess he was pretty convincing this session.” She picked up the envelope and placed it in her
bag. “Well.”

  “Well.”

  “I guess I’ll be going. I have a fitting in half an hour.”

  “You have fun with that. Be sure they don’t try to pass off an off-the-rack gown as an original.” She waved her hand under her nose. “The horror!”

  “You have a safe trip home, Kayla. And look at it this way …” She clipped lightly down the steps in her heels. “This time, you may go home with a broken heart, but at least nobody else will end up in jail.”

  Chapter 27

  Kyla gripped her mug of hot cocoa tightly as she watched Marcy leave. As she slid into her little car, all sculpted Barbie Doll perfection. Kyla looked down at her own faded T-shirt and shorts, her air cast and her limp brown hair, and sighed miserably. When she realized her fingers were white, she forced herself to loosen her grip on the mug.

  So the nurses were right, and once again, Kyla’d been snowed. Clearly her radar worked no better in the wilds of Montana than it had in the claustrophobic streets of Boston. Decker was on his way down the aisle, and Kyla had just been a fun sideline toy. How in the world had Marcy known about Wes? Had she told Decker?

  She narrowed her eyes, watching Marcy’s little sports car fly back out the driveway, and felt a frisson of heat in her midsection. Dammit. She was sick of being sad. Mad was a much healthier emotion, apparently.

  So screw him. Screw Marcy. Screw them both. Kyla started to tuck her leg under her, then winced as she hit the cast. She wasn’t going to sit here for two more days and torture herself by being around him. No way. She needed to get out of here. Now.

  But Hayley and Jess couldn’t know. They’d never let her go. They’d think she was too fragile to head out by herself, too emotional to think clearly. And either they’d guilt her into staying, or they’d insist on coming with her. And right now, the only thing she wanted was to get as far away from Decker as humanly possible. Alone.

  There had to be a flight back east this afternoon. It really didn’t even matter where it was going at this point. Just away from here. Away from yet another lying, cheating, idiot who had once again made a fool of her. But this time she’d do the leaving, dammit. She wasn’t going to wait for any long, drawn-out confession after dark, any woeful explanations about cold feet or last flings.

  Kyla gathered her glass and quilt and pushed herself off the swing. She had to get out of here now, before they came back from hiking.

  She hobbled as quickly as she could to the closet in her bedroom, wincing when she banged into the door. She hauled out her duffel bags and opened them on the bed, then slammed open a bureau drawer and pulled out all of her jeans in one swoop. She emptied the rest of her drawers as quickly as possible, folding nothing.

  She threw her underwear into her carry-on, along with her shower bag and purse. Shoes and slippers flew into the big duffel, along with her jacket. Before long, the closet hangers were empty, and all that was left on the shelf was the cowgirl hat Jess and Hayley had bought her. She pulled it down and turned it around in her hands, remembering the evening they had dressed her up and put the pendant around her neck.

  Over the past two weeks, she’d come so far. Or she’d thought so, anyway. But then, completely against her will and better judgment, she’d fallen hard for a man. For a few glimmering moments, she’d dared to hope it could be different this time. That the feelings were real. That he might someday be … hers.

  Wrong.

  Had Decker been right when he’d accused her of wanting to try to use her money to quell her guilt at causing her grandparents to lose all of theirs? Was it true? Deep down inside, had she thought that throwing her money at a ranch that essentially belonged to strangers was going to redeem her? She hated that there was a grain of truth in his accusation.

  Hell. Who was she kidding? There was more than a grain of truth in it.

  But it didn’t matter anyway. Just like Wes, Decker’d just been playing with her. Another woman already had his heart and his future in her hands, and Kyla had just been a diversion. She still couldn’t get her head around how a man could essentially fake it with such passion and skill, but maybe that ability came with the Y chromosome. Or maybe it came with the fact that the damn species was saddled with two heads, and they tended to think mostly with the little one.

  She shook her head as she looked out the window toward the main house with its wide front porch and wicker furniture. When had she started envisioning herself here? Was it just that the whole place reminded her so fiercely of Gramma and Gramps? She stepped closer to the window, parting the lacy curtains.

  No, it wasn’t just that, though those memories were a powerful reminder of all that had been. It was the smell of the hay in the stable, the sound of the raindrops on the tin roof the other night, the way the sunlight pierced through the tall pines surrounding the house. It was the way the porch swing squeaked, the way Kismet nuzzled her for treats … the way Decker had nuzzled her—

  She dropped the curtains with a loud sigh, wiping her eyes with an angry swipe of her sleeve. Mooning out the window wasn’t doing her an iota of good. This ranch didn’t belong to her. Decker didn’t belong to her. And she needed to take control and get out of here.

  Kyla zipped up the bags and dragged them to the front door, wincing as her ankle protested. She caught her breath as she looked out the door’s window and saw Decker riding Chance up the hill behind the stables. She put her hand on her chest, rubbing her fist to try to make the pain go away. She watched until he disappeared into the pines, then took a deep, steadying breath and opened the door.

  She tossed her duffels down the steps, then hopped carefully down. After dragging the bags awkwardly to the trunk of Jess’s rental car and toppling them in, she slammed it closed and hopped around to the driver’s seat.

  Breaking a sweat now, she fell in and started the engine. She looked down at the cast, thankful she’d broken the left ankle. At least she could still drive. In a quick moment, she had the car turned around and headed for the long driveway that would take her off this ranch forever.

  At the intersection of the paved highway, Kyla paused to look in the rearview mirror just one last time. Her chest hurt as she took in the pristine ranch house surrounded by stables and trees, framed by the mountains behind. Good Lord, she was never going to find another place so beautiful on God’s green earth, that’s for sure.

  She felt another pain as she realized she’d probably never find another man so gorgeous, either.

  Kyla shook her head, forcing her eyes ahead to the road and willing the prickles away. Time to take charge. She was nobody’s victim anymore. She’d survived the accident, she’d survived the arrest, she’d survived the trial. Heck, she’d survived two weeks on a dude ranch. Wes was now occupying an eight-by-ten cell, and she was now free to find her way.

  Once she figured out what that even meant, she’d feel much better.

  Twenty minutes later she’d made it through town and was accelerating up the entrance ramp to the highway where Roscoe had stopped her a mere two weeks ago. Kyla watched the odometer tick off the miles as she headed south. Thirteen down, one-hundred thirty-seven to go. She fought the urge to check the rearview mirror as she crested the hill that would put Carefree out of her sight forever.

  * * *

  As Decker cleared the valley and headed over the first major rise, he reined in Chance and turned around to look back at the ranch. The view was like a Montana postcard. The pines surrounding the house made a deep green canopy. The stables were almost glowing in the afternoon sunlight, with their new coats of deep red paint. From here, the place looked idyllic, and Decker felt a sense of pride creep in as he gazed down the valley.

  When he’d been home at Christmas, it had looked a lot different. He wasn’t sure how many gallons of paint he and Cole had gone through during that first two back-breaking weeks he’d been at the ranch, but as he looked down now, it was hard to believe it was the same place he’d visited in December. He nodded, satisfied. Now it looked l
ike it had when he’d been a young boy, back before his father’s troubles had become all of their troubles.

  Decker pulled the reins gently to the right, steering Chance away from the valley. Did he feel a longing to stay? To keep putting his stamp on the ranch? To, dare he say it, make it partly his again?

  God, yes.

  An hour later, he dismounted near an overgrown patch of weeds hidden in a clearing a couple miles northeast of the ranch buildings. Last year, Cole had ridden out this way and had come across this suspiciously cultivated plot. He’d never figured out who was growing illegal marijuana on their land, but had destroyed the plants before a low-flying DEA plane could discover them. Decker hoped he wouldn’t need to do the same this year.

  Decker walked the clearing as Chance grazed, but he saw nothing suspicious as he swished through an acre of scratchy grass and late-summer wildflowers. As he got to the edge of the woods, he heard a muted meow to his left. His first thought was to retreat quickly, as the last thing he needed was to scare up a bobcat kitten. He peered into the darkness as he backed up, and almost jumped six feet upward when his legs tangled with a tabby cat winding her way through the grass. She mrrr-owed, muffled by the tiny black kitten in her mouth, then trotted toward the edge of the woods, where she stopped and looked back at him.

  “Got some babies hidden in there, Momma?” Decker smiled. She looked just like Lady Di, the cat Ma had coddled in the kitchen when he was a kid. He watched the tabby, who seemed to be waiting for him. “What do you want, little one?” She took a couple of steps and looked back again. Crazy cat wanted him to follow her.

  “All right, all right. Whatcha got to show me?” He shook his head as he stepped toward her. “Let’s keep this between us, though, okay? It’d kind of ruin my tough-guy image if they knew I was out here chasing kittens.” She trotted for a couple hundred feet, then angled down toward a gully, looking back as if to make sure he was coming with her. He followed her downhill until she came to a monstrous pine tree with low-hanging branches. She eyed him one more time, then ducked under the branches.