Kissed by a Cowboy

by Pamela Britton

“Not sleepy.”

  “Hungry? I have snacks.”

  “I grabbed a bite while waiting for the tow truck.”

  What was wrong with her? She’d been so warm and friendly earlier. He’d thought she’d be excited to help bring Dudley home, had even hoped to discuss his plans for the colt. Instead, she sat next to him like a frog on a log.

  He concentrated on navigating the crowded parking area for a moment and then the road, searching for something to say. It would be a long ride if all they did was sit in silence.

  “What made you want to become a trainer?”

  She glanced at him quickly, almost as if the question took her by surprise. “I really didn’t have a choice. It sort of picked me.”

  “Oh, yeah? How’s that?”

  She shifted in her seat, looking uncomfortable about the question. “It’s a long story.”

  “We have seven hours.”

  “You won’t believe me.”

  “Believe what?”

  When he looked over at her, she appeared to be pondering what he’d said. As he turned his head to focus back on the road, he caught a whiff of her unique scent—vanilla and berries. He’d smelled it earlier and the damn thing had stayed with him all afternoon, and he’d wondered more than once if she tasted as good as she smelled—like a damn cobbler.

  “It happened when I was fifteen.”

  He could spare only a quick glance. He’d made the light and so they were merging onto the freeway now. Fortunately, traffic was sparse.

  “Right after I lost my mom.”

  Her mom had died? He glanced at her in time to spot the sadness on her face.

  “There’d always been...issues with Mom. My dad left us both when I was younger. I never really noticed his absence. My mom just seemed to make it work, but she’d always been prone to bouts of depression.”

  It seemed she got lost in memories for a moment, because she became quiet. He didn’t want to push her, just kept his eyes on the narrow white line, respecting her privacy.

  “I should have known something was wrong when she didn’t pick me up from my riding lesson, but I just figured she’d forgotten, caught a ride with someone else. I had no idea what was coming. When you’re young, you never think about death. Tally, our golden retriever, was at the door, and he greeted me as he always did, all goofy dog smiles and wagging tail, and I was in such a hurry to take a shower that I headed to the bathroom without even wondering where she was, only when I opened the door...”

  She didn’t need to spell it out. He had the strangest urge to lay a hand over her own.

  “I thought at first she’d just fallen. You know, she was lying there, but she didn’t move when I called her name and that’s when I knew.” She shook her head. “I don’t remember much about what happened next. I just remember Tally shoving her head against mine. I must have called 911 but still don’t remember doing it. I just kept thinking, ‘What happened? What happened?’” She turned to look at him. “And then somehow I just knew.”

  He took a deep breath. “Knew what?”

  “My mom hit her head in the bedroom.”

  “But you said she was in the bathroom.”

  “I know, but I just knew what had happened to her. It freaked me out, but the paramedics arrived and they were taking my mom.” Another head shake. From the backseat Cowboy whined. “I forgot about it until the medical examiner called my aunt with the cause of death. Blunt-force trauma to the head. They later found blood, actually a trail of it leading from the dresser in her room to where I’d found her.”

  Okay, so the story gave him chills. “Maybe you saw that blood. Maybe that’s how you knew.”

  “The spots were microscopic. There was no way I knew.”

  So what was she saying? That she was psychic?

  “I had to go live with my aunt. Like I said, my dad took off and he didn’t want a thing to do with me, so Tally and I moved to my aunt Linda’s ranch. Best thing that could have happened to me. Months later one of her horses cut its leg. We didn’t know how, but I somehow knew exactly where he’d injured himself. We found evidence later. Freaked my aunt out. That’s another story. Thank goodness Aunt Linda is open-minded or she might have put me in a loony bin.”

  She was claiming to be psychic.

  What was it with him? Did he attract crazy people? First Maxine and now Jillian.

  Except...

  She didn’t seem crazy. What if...?

  No, he quickly told himself. She was just really good at reading animal body language. That was all.

  But the head injury...

  He still refused to believe it. It was all just too...bizarre.

  “So you went to live with your aunt.” He needed to change the subject. “But it all worked out.”

  She shrugged. “It was tough at first.” She turned to stare out the window. They’d left town, an inky blackness the only thing outside the car’s cabin. They were in one of those rare pockets of space where nobody rode behind them or in front, and no homes or buildings or industrial areas were around, just open land with a few distant homes dotting the landscape. Traffic in the other direction seemed nonexistent, too. Just the two of them in the cab of the truck—well, and Cowboy and Dudley in the back.

  As if sensing his thoughts, his dog whined again. He absently reached out and patted Cowboy’s head.

  “It couldn’t have been easy to lose your mom right when you needed her most. Teenage years. No fun.”

  She nodded. “I don’t think I would have survived if Aunt Linda hadn’t owned a ranch. It wasn’t until college that I decided to train horses full-time, but I majored in animal science just in case. I about lost my mind being away from my four-legged friends.”

  You mean you hadn’t lost it before?

  It wouldn’t have been a nice thing to say. He knew that, but it went to show how hard it was for him to accept that she had any kind of psychic abilities.

  “Must play hell on your love life.”

  The comment had slipped out, Wes not thinking straight after her whole “I know things” speech, but she turned toward him so fast he knew he’d struck a nerve.

  “What makes you say that?”

  Wait. They’d been talking about horse training, not her psychic abilities. “I just meant people can be such skeptics.”

  Hypocrite. You’re a skeptic.

  “Yeah, but as it turns out, that’s the least of my problems.”

  The last part had been barely audible over the sound of the truck’s engines, but he heard it nonetheless.

  “What problems?”

  “Nothing,” she said quickly.

  But he turned to her right as a vehicle’s headlights caught her eyes, just in time for him to glimpse the emotions within them. Pain. Sadness. Maybe even longing.

  “We all have skeletons in our closet.” He had a big one, too, although his was related to family.

  “Yeah, but there are skeletons, and then there’s a big old Tyrannosaurus rex.”

  That didn’t sound good. None of it sounded good. She’d just admitted she thought she had some kind of psychic ability. On the heels of that she’d admitted to having another, bigger problem. There should have been a big sign hanging over her head flashing Warning, Warning, Warning. Crazy Woman.

  Except she didn’t seem crazy. And he couldn’t forget the sadness he’d seen in her eyes. And she’d just demonstrated that her gut feelings were pretty spot-on, so maybe she wasn’t crazy after all.

  And why are you making excuses for her?

  Because he liked her, damn it. He liked her a lot. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

  Chapter Eight

  As a conversation killer, her words had done the trick. Jillian had been kicking herself ever since.

  Why had she made herself sound like such a crackpot? She should never have admitted that sometimes she just knew things. The look on his face...

  She bit back a sigh of disappointment.

  It had said it all.
If he reacted that way to that little bit of news, what would he say if she told him the truth—that she saw pictures in her mind? Pictures that animals gave to her. That in a strange way she could talk to animals. He’d call her a wackadoodle for sure.

  They’d spent the better part of the next hour in near silence, Wes seemingly content to leave her to her thoughts, her stupid ridiculous thoughts featuring a man like Wes at the center of them. Well, a man like Wes who didn’t think she was crazy. She peeked at him. He fit the bill in every other way, though. Too bad he’d never be anything more to her than a friend.

  When they reached Sacramento, they spoke again, but only to discuss whether she wanted to stop and stretch her legs. She shook her head. All she wanted to do was get home. Wes had agreed to drop her at her house on his way through Via Del Caballo. The ranch where he lived was on the coast, over the hill from the main part of town, but her place was right on his route home and so he’d insisted he didn’t mind.

  “Why don’t you get some sleep?” he said an hour outside Sacramento. “We still have a long ways to go.”

  “That’s okay. I have a hard time sleeping when someone else is driving.”

  He shot her a smile. “Don’t trust me?”

  She liked his smile. “I don’t think it’s fair.”

  What he’d been about to say was interrupted by the sound of his cell phone. He pressed the hands-free button on his steering wheel once he recognized the number on his dashboard’s display. “Hey, Mom.”

  “You on your way?” He glanced at Jillian and offered a silent apology.

  “I am. Be home around midnight.”

  “Not any sooner?”

  The question had him glancing at her again, an expression of surprise on his face. “Why? Is there something wrong?”

  “We have a bit of a situation.”

  His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing bad. Calm down. You just need to get home as soon as possible.”

  “Mom. I’m hauling a horse. If I drive any faster, I’ll risk a wreck.”

  “I know that. Of course I know that. I’m just suggesting you keep the pit stops to a minimum.”

  Her stomach flipped over.

  “You can’t just make a request like that without an explanation. I’ll be worried sick the whole way home.”

  “Like I said, it’s nothing life threatening, honey. Life altering, yes, but that’s all.”

  “Life altering?”

  “See you when you get here.”

  “Mom—”

  They both heard her sigh. “Wesley Landon, I’m not going to say it again. Everything’s fine here at the ranch, but something’s come up that needs your immediate attention. I just need you to get here as quickly as possible...that’s all.”

  Clearly, he knew his mom well enough to know when to stop pushing her, because Jillian watched him shake his head in frustration. “Fine. I’ll get there as quickly as I can.”

  She hung up.

  “Damn it.”

  “Do you want me to drive?”

  “No. I’m just frustrated. I hate it when she gets all cryptic like that. Let me just call one of our ranch hands, though, just to make sure everything’s okay.”

  But Jorge assured him all was well. If there was a problem, it had to be something else and Jillian could tell it worried him.

  “Let me know if you need a break. And don’t worry about stopping. I have the bladder of an elephant.”

  He looked at her, amusement flickering on his face. “Good to know.”

  But the drive seemed interminable to them both. Jillian tried to distract him with some of her more amusing animal stories. Funny how the tension in the truck had completely shifted away from her and to Wes. Frankly, she was happy it had. She didn’t need any more questions from him.

  “How far off the freeway do you live?”

  “Don’t worry about me,” she said, waving him forward. “Just get home. I can have Mariah pick me up.”

  “No, I’ll drive you.”

  She shook her head. “It will take an extra half hour at the very least to drop me off. Besides, I already texted her and she agreed to come get me.”

  That seemed to settle the matter. Even so, it was just after midnight when they pulled up to a horse farm she’d spotted at least a hundred times on her way up the coast. Only now did she put two and two together. Twin granite pillars held iron cutouts forming initials—L.F.—done in an elegant scroll that she now knew stood for Landon Farms.

  “This is your mom’s place?”

  They had crossed over low-lying hills. Off in the distance she could just make out the metallic glow of the ocean. There was no full moon overhead, but she didn’t need to see it to know what lay beyond. She had memorized every detail of the coastal horse farm the many times she’d passed by. Between smaller granite pillars that mimicked the ones at the entrance brown fence boards stretched for what seemed like miles. Grass that always looked perfectly clipped, whether by horses’ teeth or a slew of gardeners, reminded Jillian of Kentucky. This close to the ocean, coastal rains kept everything green. The farm had been built back from the road a ways. It was shielded from view by the swell of the land. She knew that from farther down the highway a person could catch sight of the massive white stables, one with a dark green gable roof and a tall spire in the middle. She’d always assumed the farm raised Thoroughbreds. Now that she knew better, Jillian was finding it somewhat strange to be passing through the gates of a place she’d admired for so long from a distance.

  “You okay?” She’d asked the question because a quick look at Wes’s face revealed he was far, far away. Lines of tension bracketed his mouth and eyes.

  “I just wish I knew what was going on.”

  “You’ll know in a moment.”

  They crossed through the gates, following a blacktop road that seemed to disappear between the swell of two small hills. The land sloped downward, toward the ocean in the distance, the curve of the hills blocking their view of the ranch house. But not for long. Once they passed between them, a small valley opened up, and there it was on her right, the stable she’d been able to glimpse from the highway. It was gilded by moonlight, but even if it had been a cloudy night, it would have been hard to miss. Across from it, separated by a massive circular driveway the size of a football field, was the main house—definitely not a farmhouse—the home a granite structure with several roofs and lead-paned windows.

  “That’s where you grew up?”

  She couldn’t stop herself from asking. Even at night she could tell the home was a showplace.

  “It looks bigger from the outside than it is.”

  Yeah, right.

  Lights spilled out from a multitude of windows. The house was at least three stories tall, and she would bet there was a view of the ocean from the back side and that it was spectacular, at least on a sunny day.

  “Looks like she’s up.”

  She swallowed back her surprise. Yes, she’d known he came from money, but this was beyond anything she’d expected.

  Why was he so broke?

  “Hopefully, Dudley won’t get anxious while I go in and talk to my mom.”

  “Do you want me to unload him? Put him in that big round pen over there?”

  “No. That’s okay.”

  “I can stay out here with him, then.”

  “No, no. Don’t do that. Another few minutes in the trailer won’t kill him. Come on inside and wait for your friend. My mom will have my hide if I leave you out here on your own, emergency or no. She’s old-school. Raised me to be a gentleman, even during times of crisis.”

  As if illustrating his point, he slipped out of the truck and around the front to open her door. He even held out his hand to help her down, but for some reason she didn’t want to slip her fingers into his own. She stared at them for the space of a half-dozen heartbeats, then took a deep breath before she gently clasped his hand. The last time they�
�d touched, when she hugged him outside of Dudley’s stall, she’d felt so small next to him. She still felt that way. Her fingers were tiny compared to his.

  The door to the home opened.

  “Wes?”

  Light fell to the ground, pooling at the woman’s feet, but Jillian could see her clearly thanks to the glass sconces on either side of the double doors. Shoulder-length platinum-blond hair and a face unmarred by lines. Cowboy jumped out of the truck, back end swinging as he ran toward a woman he clearly adored, but she didn’t reach out for him. She couldn’t. She held something in her arms. A bundle of blankets or something.

  “Mom,” Wes said. “Are you okay? Are you sick?”

  Wes’s mother walked forward, and the bundle in her arms moved.

  “I’m not sick, but you might feel queasy in a moment or two.” She had eyes for only her son as she stopped in front of him. “Wes. Meet your daughter, Maggie.”

  * * *

  HE WENT STRAIGHT to the liquor cabinet. His mom followed in his wake. Jillian... Well, he didn’t know if Jillian had followed them into the house or not.

  “Wesley Landon, don’t you dare get drunk on me.”

  The liquor went down like a ton of sharp-edged lava rock. It knocked a little clarity into his frazzled mind. With a deep breath, he turned to face his mom.

  “Okay, start from the beginning.”

  She held the sleeping baby out to him. He didn’t want to take her. He felt as if he’d slipped into someone else’s body. He could barely recall what his mother had told him. Something about Maxine arriving at the ranch, the baby in the backseat, and then leaving less than five minutes later.

  “Take her,” his mom ordered.

  He held out his arms. She gently handed the child off to him. “Careful. Support her neck.”

  The exhaustion that had overwhelmed him during the long drive home had completely faded. He did as his mom instructed and placed a palm beneath the child’s fragile head. “How old is she?”

  “Shh,” his mom soothed. “She’s sleeping. And she’s less than a month old. Probably about two weeks, if I don’t miss my guess.”

  Two weeks? He did the math and his heart sank when he realized the tiny little face with the eyes closed in sleep above chubby cheeks might actually be his. The baby thrust her lips out as if somehow understanding his thoughts. Or maybe she’d had a bad dream. Did babies have dreams? He had no idea. Had no clue about anything baby related.