More Than a Cowboy (Reckless, Arizona)

by Cathy McDavid

  Ernie glowered at her and swore under his breath. Samson, apparently sensing a threat, started a low rumble from deep in his throat.

  She didn’t take the hint. “Practice was over. The bulls were bedded down for the night. There was no reason for you to be there.”

  “Liberty.” Deacon hooked her by the elbow and eased her back. “I’ll ask the questions.”

  “Ask away.” Ernie dragged Samson from the door. “I’m not answering any of them.”

  “Look, Ernie—”

  “Get off my place. Now, or I’m calling the sheriff and having you arrested for trespassing.”

  The next sound was that of the trailer door slamming in Deacon’s face. For a moment, he didn’t move.

  “Oops.” Liberty grimaced guiltily. “Guess I blew that.”

  “You think?”

  “He didn’t have to be so rude.”

  Deacon didn’t wait for her. His patience had worn too thin.

  “Hey, not so fast.” She scurried after him. “It was a good question.”

  He didn’t respond until he was seated behind the steering wheel and inserting the key in the ignition. “It was a great question.”

  One he hadn’t thought of. And he called himself an attorney.

  Why had Ernie been at the bulls’ pen? There could have been any number of good reasons. He’d forgotten a piece of equipment. One of the bulls had been acting strange, and he went over to investigate. Instead of explaining, Ernie had gotten angry and thrown Deacon and Liberty off his place.

  Something wasn’t right. “He knows more than he’s saying,” Deacon concluded.

  “You think?” she mimicked him.

  “Save the sarcasm, will you?”

  “That’s what I get for helping.” She slumped against the seat, her bottom lip protruding.

  He drove no more than a hundred feet, then hit the brakes and threw the truck into Park.

  “Something wrong?” Liberty asked.

  Deacon let the truck idle. “What was the full extent of Ernie’s injuries?” He’d left a few days after the accident. Ernie was still in the hospital, recovering.

  “Shattered leg. Broken ribs.” Liberty stared thoughtfully out the window as if remembering. “One of the ribs pierced his lung. A ruptured spleen. The doctors removed that. A whole bunch of internal injuries. The worst was the infection. He nearly died. They had to go in and remove part of his lower intestine. He wears one of those bags.” She patted her side.

  “A colostomy bag.”

  “Yeah, that.”

  Deacon had assisted on a case during his internship. That client also wore a colostomy bag as the result of an accident and, thanks to the law firm employing Deacon, he’d received a substantial settlement from Social Security for retroactive disability payments.

  “Do you know how Ernie gets by? Money-wise.”

  “Not really. I assume he receives some kind of government assistance.”

  “Not much, obviously, or he wouldn’t be living in a trailer.” Deacon rubbed his chin, the wheels in his head turning. “Did he receive a settlement from your mother’s insurance company?”

  “Oh, I’m sure he did.”

  “Do you recall how much?”

  She shook her head. “Mom would know.”

  “Can you ask her? Without raising too much suspicion.”

  “I can try. But why?”

  Rather than answer her, Deacon took out his cell phone and placed a call to his friend and boss at the law firm where he’d interned. “Murry, it’s Deacon McCrea. Good, good. How are you? No, I’m in Reckless. Opened my own practice.” After a few more pleasantries, he got to the point. “I could use your advice on a potential case. It has to do with going after the Social Security Administration for back disability payments. That’s right. The guy has a colostomy bag.”

  Beside him, Liberty sat up straight, her wide eyes fastened on him.

  * * *

  “YOU’RE A NICE GUY, Deacon. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “He deserves more than he’s obviously getting.”

  “He was rude,” Liberty insisted. “Most people wouldn’t repay that with kindness.”

  They were almost to the arena after their encounter with Ernie Tuckerman. Nothing special was scheduled for tonight and there was no reason for Liberty to hurry back. With a dust storm in the weather forecast, few people, if any, would show up for practice.

  Ideal circumstances for spending more time with Deacon. Only she couldn’t, she thought glumly. He still represented Mercer, which quashed their chances for a relationship. But she’d seen a different side to him this afternoon. A most appealing side that fueled her attraction to him.

  He had every reason to dislike Ernie Tuckerman. The man had single-handedly driven Deacon from town. Tarnished his name. All but thrown Deacon off his place. Yet, the first thing Deacon had done upon leaving was to call a former associate and see if there was some way he could help Ernie.

  What was wrong with her? She should have asked Deacon out on a date when he first returned instead of waiting for him to do the asking. Then maybe he wouldn’t have taken Mercer on as a client.

  Live and learn. They would simply have to wait until all the legal stuff between her parents was finished. More reason than ever for her to try to orchestrate a reconciliation between them.

  “I feel guilty,” Deacon said.

  Was he kidding? “About Ernie?”

  He sent her a glance. “What if I did leave the gate open?”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  This was new and a little alarming. “Are you doubting yourself?”

  “I remember locking the gates.”

  “There. See?”

  “What if I didn’t secure the latch or fully engage the padlocks?”

  “Both sets?” She made a face. “Impossible.”

  In his position, it would be hard not to doubt himself. “If you did leave the gates unlocked, then what happened was truly an accident.”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t sound convinced.

  She decided to change the subject for the last five minutes of their ride. “Have you made any progress with getting Mercer and Mom together?”

  “I suggested they meet privately to discuss the final partnership agreement. Without attorneys and without family members.”

  “I like it, but what if they argue over the terms?”

  “Oh, you can count on that.”

  “Then what’s the point?”

  “Don’t worry. They’ll meet in the middle. They have to in order to continue running the Easy Money. Your mother isn’t about to let it go under. And if they can meet in the middle over business...”

  “They can meet in the middle about other things,” she finished for him.

  “What about you and Mercer? Have you resolved things yet?”

  “No.” She drummed her fingers on the armrest. “He’s invited me to talk a couple of times. I’ve put him off.”

  “That might speed the process. If your mother sees that you and Mercer are making an effort, she’ll be more receptive.”

  Liberty chuckled mirthlessly. “I haven’t resolved things with her, either.”

  “It’s tough dealing with parents.”

  “I’m not the only one having trouble,” she added pointedly.

  His jaw visibly tightened. “I don’t have to work side by side with both of mine, for which I’m very grateful.”

  “Have you seen your dad at all since you got back?”

  “The other day. Briefly. I had an appointment in Phoenix and stopped in Globe on the way home to drop something off for Mom. He was there for a change.”

  That was progress. Last she
knew, he’d been avoiding his father.

  “How’d it go?”

  “We didn’t sit down with a beer and watch the game together.”

  “Maybe you will. Eventually.”

  “I can’t wait,” he answered drily.

  Another change in topic might be called for. “Have you tried contacting any more former employees?”

  “I’ve about exhausted my list.”

  “Still no luck?”

  “I was thinking of contacting former customers that might have been around the day of the accident. You don’t by chance remember any?”

  “I remember our customers. Not if they were at the arena when the bulls got loose. Sorry.” And she was. “I can ask Mom.”

  “If you’re going to ask her anything, I’d rather know the settlement amount from the insurance company.”

  The Easy Money entrance came into sight. “Where do you want to be dropped off?” he asked as they turned into the driveway.

  “The house. I have laundry to do and dinner to fix. It’s my turn to cook tonight.”

  “Ah, the glamorous life of a riding instructor and endurance horse trainer.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  She enjoyed the easy camaraderie they shared and consoled herself with the fact they could be friends, if not romantic partners. It was better than nothing. But, truthfully, she wanted a whole lot more than nothing.

  He parked in front of the closed garage door and got out of the truck.

  “You don’t have to see me in,” she said.

  “When I take a lady out, I walk her to her door.”

  Out? This wasn’t a date, though parts of it had reminded her of a date. The conversation, the driving, the relaxed moments of silence in between the talking.

  “Well, thank you.”

  Liberty went to a small panel mounted beside the garage door and lifted the cover. No sooner did she enter in the code than the door lifted in a noisy chorus of grinding and scraping.

  Heat from inside the garage blasted them. It was like standing too close to a roaring bonfire.

  Deacon raised his arms in front of his face as if to shield himself. “Next time we use the front door.”

  Would there be a next time? Liberty sensibly reminded herself this was no date and their kiss the other day had been a one-time spontaneity.

  “Gotta love these Arizona summers.” She entered the garage, Deacon on her heels. Her mother’s Chevy sedan was gone. Liberty remembered that Cassidy had driven Sunny to Globe for an eye doctor appointment. The house would be empty.

  A wall of shelves covered the entire left side of the garage. Like most people, the Becketts had filled theirs with holiday decorations, old suitcases, miscellaneous camping equipment from days gone by and what Liberty referred to as mystery boxes.

  “Don’t look.” She held her hands to the sides of her face to create blinders. “It’s all Mom’s stuff, I swear.”

  “You should see my garage.”

  “How bad can it be? You only just bought the house, what? A couple of months ago.”

  “You’d be surprised.” He stopped suddenly and stared at the ceiling.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He pointed to the access door. “Does that lead to your attic?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Tatum mentioned you have some old records stored there.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “That I’d like to have a look at them. Would your mother mind?”

  “You need them for drawing up the partnership agreement?”

  “Technically, no.”

  “That’s our story,” she said with a mischievous smile. “And we’re sticking to it.”

  She reached for the cord dangling from the access door and pulled. It opened to reveal a rickety attic ladder folded in on itself.

  “I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Deacon said. He stood behind her, gazing into the dark hole above them.

  “I’ll handle Mom.”

  He helped her unfold the ladder. The bottom step exactly reached the floor. Placing her foot on it, she grabbed the railing and started up.

  “Spot me.” As she ascended, Deacon held the sides of the ladder so it wouldn’t wobble. Liberty moved slowly. It was like crawling into a cave. A sweltering cave.

  “Can you see up there?” Deacon asked.

  “There’s a light.” Reaching the top, she waved her hand back and forth in front of her. “At least, there was one.” Finally, she felt the pull string brush her wrist. “Got it.” A quick tug, and the attic was bathed in the feeble glow of a forty-watt bulb.

  My, my, when had they acquired such an incredible array of junk?

  “What exactly are you searching for?” She glanced down to find him staring back at her. Her breath caught and not because she was inhaling 140-degree air.

  He’d taken off his cowboy hat. She tried to recall a time she’d seen him without it. Not often and not lately. His sandy-brown hair defied its obvious recent trimming and curled attractively at the ends. It looked soft to the touch. If only she could test her theory.

  “Client records,” he said. “From the time of the accident.”

  With some effort, Liberty tore her gaze away from Deacon and scanned the attic interior. Perspiration dripped into her eyes, clouding her vision. Wiping at it with the back of her hand was useless. Fifteen seconds up here, and already she was on the verge of succumbing to heat stroke. Whatever records Deacon needed, she’d best locate them fast.

  A tower of file boxes loomed straight ahead. Someone had written “Customer Contracts” and a corresponding year on the outside with a thick black marker. Considering how organized her mother was, they could hold only one thing.

  Liberty quickly identified the two boxes she’d need. Kneeling in front of the tower, she yanked the first one free. The tower tipped precariously. Miraculously, she managed to stabilize it before being buried in an avalanche. Setting the box on the floor, she went after the second one.

  “Can you get these?” She pushed the boxes across the attic floor to the edge of the opening.

  Deacon climbed halfway up the ladder and, retrieving the boxes one at a time, carried them down.

  “You sure those are the right years?” She wasn’t about to climb down only to have to go up again.

  He lifted the lids and quickly inspected the contents. “Perfect.”

  Liberty took stock of her situation before easing into place and picking her way blindly down the ladder.

  “Need any help?” he asked.

  Good grief, he was close. She was acutely aware that her backside hovered inches above his face. Embarrassment caused her to momentarily lose her footing.

  “I’ve got you.” He placed his hands on her hips and steadied her.

  Could this get any worse?

  “I’m okay. Really,” she insisted, but he didn’t remove his hands. Not until she was standing on solid ground.

  “Are you all right?” He studied her with concern. “You’re bright red.”

  “It’s hot up there.”

  Surely the heat had something to do with her flushed state. It couldn’t all be from her butt waving in the air.

  “I really appreciate it.” He smiled. A killer smile that caused her breath to catch. Again.

  “No problem.”

  “I owe you.”

  There was a change in his voice. It became softer. Silkier. The kind of voice a man used when he murmured against a woman’s bare skin.

  “I’ll collect one of these days.” She tried to be flippant. Casual. Instead, she practically purred.

  “Anytime.” He brushed away a strand of hair that had become plastered to her cheek.

  Thinking she
must look awful, she averted her head. Besides being hot, the attic was filthy.

  “Come here.” Deacon’s hand slid up and circled her neck, drawing her closer. There was no mistaking the hunger in his eyes.

  “I thought we agreed. No kissing.”

  “That was before you did me a favor.”

  An entirely different kind of heat invaded Liberty, this one from the inside out. It turned her bones into jelly and drained the last remnants of her willpower.

  He dipped his head until their lips barely brushed. She could almost taste him. Wanted to taste him. Needed to.

  “Deacon...”

  “Mmm?” His warm breath caressed her, tempting her further.

  “You’re killing me.”

  “Aren’t you exaggerating just a little?”

  It didn’t feel like it.

  The next instant, he claimed her mouth and saved her from what would have surely been a terrible fate.

  She arched into him, desperately seeking contact with every long, muscular inch of him. He obliged her by fusing their bodies together. A moan escaped her. His mouth, his tongue, what he did to her should be illegal. It felt that amazing.

  One kiss melted into two. Three. More. There was no stopping. All that mattered was him. Them. This incredible sensation she didn’t think she could live without. When he turned her in his arms, she tightened her hold, afraid he was going to end the kiss and shatter her dreams. Thank you, thank you, she thought when he promptly picked up where he’d left off.

  The sound of spitting gravel and a vehicle pulling into the driveway halted them with the same suddenness as being drenched with a bucket of cold water. They broke apart to discover Sunny and Cassidy staring at them from the front seat of the car with matching startled expressions.

  In that moment, the boxes of contracts they’d smuggled from the attic were the least of Liberty’s concerns.

  Chapter Nine

  “I appreciate you talking to me, Joe.” Deacon cradled the phone between his neck and ear while jotting notes on a piece of paper.

  “Just wish I could’ve been more help,” the man on the other end of the line said. “I always did think it was strange that Ernie went over to the bull pen when he told everyone he was going home. And that electric shocker I found on the ground. I knew the Becketts didn’t condone the use of them.”