The Cowboy's Return

by Linda Warren

  “Well done.”

  “No blood in mine,” Jilly said.

  “Yes, Miss Jilly, you’ve already told me that.”

  “Just wanted to make sure.”

  The meal passed in a flurry of chatter—mostly Jilly’s. It was as if she’d known the three older people all her life.

  “Mrs. Daniels is having surgery on Monday, Mama,” Jilly announced.

  “That’s wonderful,” Camila replied. “It’s going to make a world of difference.”

  “That’s what my son tells me.”

  Camila sensed Leona’s nervousness. “I know several ladies that have had it done and it’s quite simple. It’s an out-patient type thing and then no bending or lifting for a few days. You’ll be able to see much better.”

  “Oh, I hope so.”

  “I’ll come keep you company,” Jilly promised.

  “I’ll look forward to that.”

  The wind grew chilly and Leona and Grif went inside with Jilly and Button while Tripp and Camila cleared the table and carried the dishes to the kitchen.

  “I’ll do the dishes,” Camila offered.

  “No, no, no,” Morris snapped. “Don’t want a woman in my kitchen. I ain’t gotten so old to where I can’t do a few dishes.”

  Tripp caught her elbow and guided her out onto the patio. “We could use a bottle of Prozac around here every day.”

  Camila smiled, sitting in a chair. “That’s just older people. They’re quite candid.”

  Tripp pulled up a chair and sat facing her, their knees inches apart. It was almost too close for comfort, but it was nice—just the two of them alone with the night surrounding them.

  “By the end of the day, I’m feeling as if I need a shot of whiskey or just wishing for someone to shoot me.”

  She suppressed a laugh. “You’re doing very well and the place is looking much better.”

  “I have aches and pains to prove that, but I want the place halfway decent by the time my mother can see again.”

  “That’s very nice.”

  Silence grew heavy.

  “How are you?” Tripp asked.

  “Fine.” Her gaze centered on his face. “Your bruises are healing.”

  He touched the fading darkness around his eye. “Yeah. My aches are about gone, too.”

  There was silence again.

  Tripp shifted uncomfortably. “I know how hard it was to talk about Patrick the other night.”

  She linked her fingers together. “I’ve never told anyone what really happened.”

  “I just keep thinking I could have stopped everything.”

  Her eyes shot to his. “How?”

  “When you were dizzy and I caught you, you moved your body against mine and I thought you were coming on to me.”

  “Oh,” slipped from her lips.

  “I knew you were either drunk or drugged, but still I did nothing.”

  “Why?”

  He took a long breath. “Because I believed the rumors and when I saw you coming out of Patrick’s room, it confirmed everything I was thinking. Or so I thought.” His eyes held hers. “I’m so sorry.”

  She swallowed hard, trying not to let that hurt. Her cowboy had feet of clay. He was human. She cleared her throat and glanced up at the stars, needing to be honest but knowing this truth would not come easy. “I was probably coming on to you. I remember seeing you and wishing I could dance with you.”

  He shook his head. “Why do you do that?”

  “What?”

  “Take the blame for everything.”

  She chewed on the inside of her lip. “Maybe because it’s true.”

  “It’s not.” His eyes darkened. “You should be angry that I didn’t take you home right then and there.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Now who’s taking the blame?”

  He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, leaving it tousled and making him that much more attractive. “I’m just impressed that you’ve handled everything so well—impressed that you’re not filled with anger and hatred.”

  Her fingers tightened. “I was for a while. I just wanted to crawl away and die, but then I discovered I was pregnant—an innocent little baby—and I had to rise above everything I was feeling and make a life for her.”

  “I’m totally blown away with all you’ve accomplished.”

  She moved uneasily. “Thank you.”

  He looked into her eyes. “Something about Patrick’s accident is bothering me.”

  “What?”

  “I’d always thought Patrick was angry at me for mentioning the drugs to my parents and for coming to your aid, but as I think back over our conversation that day, Patrick seemed more bent on revenge. He said they used him and he knew how to get even. I’m just recalling some of this because I’ve been fixated on blaming myself. Did Patrick mention any of this to you when he was at your house?”

  Camila scooted to the edge of her seat. “No. He just wanted me to forgive him.”

  “This has been driving me crazy and I finally went and read the report on the accident. I learned something that was really puzzling.”

  “What?”

  “Patrick’s body was on the passenger’s side, and there was no evidence anyone else was in the car.”

  “You feel there was?”

  “Yes.” He stood and paced. “But no one could have survived that accident.”

  “Maybe his body was thrown to the other side.”

  “Could be, but I don’t think so. I think someone else was driving.”

  “But who?”

  “I haven’t got a clue.”

  “When Patrick was at my house, he said it was Wallis and Vance’s fault. He shouldn’t have listened to them, but…but he wanted me to love him so badly that he let them persuade him to take the drug.”

  “So if anyone was driving, it has to be one of them.”

  “Maybe,” she said and got to her feet. “But it’s not going to do either one of us any good to keep speculating. It happened so long ago and there’s no way to prove anything now. It’s time to go forward—not backward. Stop blaming yourself.”

  He moved so close she could feel his breath on her cheek, her skin and everything in her melted into a warm fire fueled by nothing but his breath.

  “Patrick said you couldn’t see him for me.”

  She breathed in the scent of him. “Yes…I…I had a terrible crush on you and Patrick picked up on it.” She pulled her coat tighter around her. “I guess you’re used to hearing that.”

  “No. Not from someone I couldn’t take my eyes off of. Patrick saw that, too.”

  She was unable to speak.

  “It’s true. Patrick knew it wouldn’t take much for me to fall hard for you.”

  “I’ve got to go,” she said in a hurry, suddenly not able to handle this.

  He grabbed her arm. “I’m being honest, Camila. That’s all.”

  She licked her lips. “This is very difficult for me.”

  He watched her tongue and his head bent. Her insides quivered with expectation, with longing and with a need too long denied. She stood on tiptoes to meet his lips.

  “Mama?”

  The moment was gone. Camila turned to her daughter, her breath lodged in her throat like a block of wood, restricting her breathing.

  “Are you through cleaning out here?” Jilly asked.

  “Yes, baby, and it’s time for us to go home.”

  Goodbyes were said, but Camila didn’t remember much of anything. All she could think about was the look in Tripp’s eyes. It wasn’t guilt or blame. It was emotion, passionate emotions—for her. She wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

  Why not? ran through her mind all the way into town.

  Why not?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tripp pulled up to the back of Camila’s shop.

  “I had a really good time. Thanks for asking me.” Jilly crawled out of the double-cab truck.

  “You’re welcome,” Tripp replied. �
�We’ll do it again real soon.”

  “Okay. I’d like that. Bye, Tripp.”

  As Camila reached for the door handle, Tripp whispered, “I’ll meet you here in thirty minutes.”

  Her eyes met his. “There’s no need.”

  “A deal’s a deal. I’ll be waiting.”

  Jilly was outside, so Camila couldn’t argue the point. She got out feeling as if her emotions were either going to take a nosedive or skyrocket to the moon. Either way, she wasn’t prepared.

  And she should be. She was thirty years old, but in some ways she was as naïve as Jilly about men—in other ways she didn’t want to think about. So much had been taken from her by a night of reckless behavior. She could stay in that vault she’d built for herself or do something about it.

  Patrick knew it wouldn’t take much for me to fall hard for you.

  Tripp had actually said those words, and they bolstered her courage and scared her at the same time. Her mind was bouncing back and forth with such swiftness that she just realized her daughter was very quiet on the drive to the house.

  Unlocking their back door, Camila said, “You haven’t mentioned what you want to do for your birthday.”

  Jilly flopped down at the kitchen table. “After what I did, I thought I didn’t get to choose anymore.”

  Camila pinched her cheek. “We’ll think of something. Now go take a bath and get ready for bed.”

  “It’s good that Mrs. Daniels is going to have surgery, isn’t it, Mama?”

  “Yes. Very good.”

  “But she’s so scared.”

  “Tripp will be with her.”

  “I suppose.” Jilly headed for the hall, then turned back. “What kind of cake are you gonna make?”

  “That’s a surprise.”

  “Just so it’s chocolate.”

  “I know.”

  Jilly looked sad and Camila walked over and put her arms around her. “What is it, baby?”

  “They’re so lonely, Mama, and it makes me sad.”

  “Your visit cheered them up.”

  Jilly drew back. “Can I go back tomorrow and spend some of my birthday with them?”

  “You have to be asked, baby, and besides Benita will want to spend time with you, too. It’s going to be a busy day.”

  “Yeah.” Jilly hugged her mother then went to her room.

  Camila’s heart broke seeing her child in such distress, but Jilly had been that way since she was small—worrying about other people.

  After Jilly had her bath, they talked and laughed about their day. Jilly was feeling better, getting excited about her birthday.

  Camila kissed her. “I have to go back to the shop to finish up an order. Benita will be here.”

  “I’m not a baby. I don’t need a sitter and why do you have to go back to the shop? You work too much.”

  “Shh.” Camila placed a finger over her lips. “Go to sleep.”

  Benita walked in as Camila entered the kitchen. “So where are you going that you want me to stay with Jilly?”

  “I haven’t finished the decorations.”

  Benita lifted a dark eyebrow. “That’s not like you. You always do things ahead of time. One of those annoying little habits of yours.”

  Camila slipped into her coat. “I went to supper at the Danielses with Jilly.”

  “Wahoo! That’s something.”

  “Yes. So now I have to finish before morning.”

  “Millie can stay with Jilly and I’ll help you. That way it won’t take so long.”

  Camila picked up her purse. “Someone else is helping me.”

  “Oh. Who?”

  “Tripp Daniels.”

  “Wahoo!” Benita winked. “So there’s a reason the cowboy’s been hanging around.”

  Camila sat down, needing to talk to someone. “I’ve had a crush on him forever. I mean—” she pushed back an errant strand of hair “—I never felt about Patrick the way I did for Tripp. Looking at Tripp did these weird things to my stomach and I just wanted to be around him, to soak up the same air. I never quite understood that because he didn’t even know I was alive, or at least I didn’t think he did.”

  Benita took Camila’s hands into hers. “Chick, that’s called attraction, chemistry, between a man and a woman. Sometimes there’s enough electricity to light up the Astrodome—raw human energy and it’s a wonderful thing. I take it you didn’t have that combustion with Patrick.”

  “No,” she answered, not wanting to tell Benita what had really happened. It would only make her feel bad.

  “So go with the flow and enjoy yourself.” Benita squeezed her hands. “For heaven’s sakes, enjoy yourself.”

  “It’s not like that. He’s helping me because of Jilly.”

  Benita sighed. “Chick, go look in the mirror and see if you can tell yourself that lie. Tripp ain’t helping you because of Jilly.”

  “This isn’t easy for me.”

  “I know, chick, and I wish I could give you a manual or something.”

  Camila grimaced. “I don’t think I need a manual.”

  “Just let things happen naturally and if I see the sky light up, I’m just going to smile.”

  Camila stood. “There won’t be fireworks. It hasn’t reached that stage.”

  “All it takes is a spark and you’ve been simmering for a long time.”

  Camila slung her purse over her shoulder. “It’s really strange talking to you about this.” She paused. “Doesn’t it bother you that I might be having sex with a man I barely know?” It would bother her if it were Jilly.

  “What bothers me is that you’re so repressed. You’re not living or experiencing any of life’s pleasure of a fulfilling relationship with a man. You only live for Jilly. Tripp Daniels is a good man and he won’t hurt you. I’d have to hurt him if he did that.”

  “Benita, you’ll never win mother of the year.”

  “No, chick, I’ll leave that up to you. I fell off the other end of the scale a long time ago.”

  “I better go or I’ll never be ready for tomorrow.”

  When she reached the shop, Tripp wasn’t there. It had been longer than thirty minutes, so maybe he’d gotten tired of waiting. Just as well, Camila told herself. Lighting up the Astrodome wasn’t on her agenda.

  She continued blowing up the balloons, feeling a little disappointed. She thought about their conversation earlier. Had someone been with Patrick that day? If so, how could that person have gotten away so easily, and without a trace?

  It didn’t make sense, but it bothered Tripp, and Camila couldn’t get it out of her mind. She tried to remember some of the things Patrick had said that morning. He was sorry he’d hurt her. He didn’t want their first time together to be like that. He’d been angry at Vance and Wallis, but he hadn’t said anything about getting even. When he’d left, he’d said that he would give her time and they’d talk again.

  But she never saw Patrick after that.

  She thought she’d driven him over the edge, but could other things have been going on?

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  WHILE TRIPP WAS filling up his truck with gas, Wyatt drove into the station.

  “You don’t have to worry about Earl for a while,” Wyatt told him.

  Tripp screwed on the cap. “Why?”

  “He had a heart attack and he’s in a Temple hospital.”

  “Is he okay?” Tripp had looked for him several times in town, but he hadn’t seen him since that day in Tripp’s barn. Now he knew why.

  “I think so. He’s had surgery and has to slow down and change some of his bad habits, especially the heavy drinking.”

  “I’m sorry he’s ill.”

  Wyatt lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Really. I don’t believe Earl’s all bad. He just had some hard knocks that’s changed his way of looking at life.” Tripp glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go. Night, Wyatt.”

  Damn. He was running late. Parking his truck, he hurried to Camila’s s
hop. He opened the door and stared. Camila sat on the floor with a clump of balloons in her hands. She was tying them together with a bright red ribbon. Balloons covered the ceiling and the ribbons trailed down, but all he could see was her. She had to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He’d thought that years ago and his opinion hadn’t changed. She wore a white long-sleeve knit top with jeans. Some hair had come loose from her clip and dark tendrils hung around her face.

  Sitting under a light, an iridescent glow seemed to reflect from her dark hair. To him, it looked like a halo. To him, it was halo. Camila Walker was about as close to an angel as he’d ever met.

  She looked up and let go of the balloons. They floated to the ceiling. “Oh. I thought you’d changed your mind.”

  I’ll never change my mind about you.

  “No.” He closed the door and walked in. “I was at the gas station, had to fill up and have a tire fixed and I ran into Wyatt.” He sank down onto the floor, removing his hat and jacket. “What are you doing?”

  “Blowing up balloons. I intend to fill the place with them.”

  He glanced at the ceiling. “You’ve made a good start. So what do you want me to do?”

  She handed him the tube from the helium machine. “You blow up a balloon and give it to me and I’ll tie the end into a knot and put a ribbon on it and connect several together.”

  “Got it. Are these going to stay blown up until tomorrow?”

  “Some might not, but the majority will be fine.” They worked until the ceiling was covered, then they hung streamers and a banner that read Happy 12th Birthday, Jilly. Camila made bows for finishing touches.

  Tripp leaned against the counter. “I take it Millie’s not going to be opened tomorrow?”

  “She’s closing at eleven and then I’ll decorate the tables. The party starts at two.”

  “Am I invited?”

  Startled, she glanced up from putting ribbons in a box. “It’s mostly for kids, but of course you’re invited. I have a feeling several older people will stop by.”

  “Am I considered older?”

  She grinned. “Yes. Older than twelve.”

  For a moment, he watched the glow on her face, then knelt to help her. He placed the lid on the box and stared at her.

  “What?” she asked at his gaze.