Roughneck Cowboy

by Marin Thomas

  “Physical labor has never bothered me.”

  “I’d just graduated from college when he was killed. As soon as the funeral was over, your grandmother packed her things and moved to California to live with her sister. I visited from time-to-time and made sure she never wanted for anything. But we didn’t discuss Cartwright Oil after my father died.”

  “Is my grandmother still alive?”

  “She died a few months after Matt was born.” Dominick picked at a piece of lint on his sport coat. “Would you like to go to college?”

  College? Was Dominick hoping Travis would to take over the company one day?

  “You’re not too old if that’s what you’re thinking,” Dominick said.

  “I know.” How did Travis explain that he wasn’t sure he wanted such a huge responsibility—to secure and expand a fortune that would provide for future Cartwright generations.

  “I see.” Dominick’s shouldered stiffened.

  “See what?”

  “You haven’t decided whether or not you’re sticking around.”

  His father was a mind reader.

  “You’ll let me know when you decide, won’t you?”

  His father turned away, but Travis called after him. “Did you have an affair on my mother? Is that why she left you?”

  The sorrow in Dominick’s eyes sucked the wind from Travis’s lungs. He watched his father leave the barn, wondering why he felt as if he’d just kicked the legs out from under poor old Fred.

  PARENTS, GRANDPARENTS and younger siblings “oohed” and “aahed” over the children’s Victorian-era drawings displayed on the walls of Sara’s classroom. The play had gone off without a hitch and now everyone was socializing until the final bell rang.

  “The plum pudding is a huge hit.” Darla nodded at the kids sporting chocolate rings around their mouths.

  The room mothers had put their own twist on the Victorian meal. Instead of roasted goose, there was ham and turkey lunch meat. And rather than provide the traditional drink, wassail, they decided on juice boxes.

  “I can’t believe he made an oil derrick instead of a Christmas tree,” Patsy grumbled, joining Sara and Darla behind the teacher’s desk.

  Sara studied the green-colored rebar monstrosity and reined in the urge to laugh. Victorian ornaments hung from the crossbars of the structure and Santa’s toy sack rested in the bird’s nest at the top. “Mr. Cartwright meant well.” Her eyes searched the room for Travis. He knelt next to Charlie’s desk while she showed him her Victorian picture book.

  Patsy and Darla rambled on about the oil derrick, but their voices faded as Sara’s thoughts centered on Travis. Most of the parents had dressed up for the party, but Travis appeared every inch the roughneck in a flannel shirt, faded jeans and scuffed work boots—unlike his father. Dominick wore a Western suit with a bolo tie and polished cowboy boots.

  A feeling of being watched sent a tingle down Sara’s spine. No wonder—Dominick stared at her from across the room. Darn. Had the old coot caught her ogling his son? Dominick lifted his punch cup in salute and Sara dipped her head, acknowledging the silent message in his eyes—I want your ranch.

  Shifting her attention to the room mothers, Sara pretended to listen. Why did Travis have to be so attractive and make her feel feminine and desirable? Another man’s face flashed before Sara’s eyes and her insides twisted at the memory.

  Josh had been Travis’s twin—handsome, nice, caring. He’d doted on Sara and she’d fallen for every lying word he’d uttered. Josh had promised her marriage, children and a happy-ever-after. She’d learned the hard way that men like Josh didn’t fall for women like her. Josh had used her. He’d betrayed her trust, then had left her brokenhearted.

  Travis is different.

  Sara’s heart yearned to believe Travis genuinely liked her, regardless of the fact that he could find a much slimmer, sexier, prettier woman. She wanted to believe he enjoyed her company and found her amusing and fun to be with—because darn it, she liked being with him.

  Shoving thoughts of Travis aside, Sara forced herself to mingle and thank the parents—one in particular—for the bags of groceries that lined the classroom wall. As soon as the school day ended, she’d load up her car and deliver the food to Beulah’s. Each year, Beulah helped organize the food donations for needy families. More often than not, she added items from her restaurant pantry to complete the holiday meals.

  “I enjoyed the class play, Ms. Sanders.” Dominick’s voice startled Sara. The curmudgeon had snuck up on her.

  “The children worked very hard to memorize their lines.”

  “It’s been years since I’ve stepped foot inside this school and now I have two grandchildren attending.”

  “Did you have an opportunity to visit Luke’s classroom?” Samantha and Wade’s son was in Sheila Barns’s fourth-grade class down the hall.

  “I stopped in before heading here. Mrs. Barns appears to have a handle on Luke’s academics.”

  The boy’s high I.Q. might have been a problem in the classroom if not for Sheila creating an extra set of weekly plans specifically designed to challenge Luke.

  When Dominick appeared in no rush to mosey along, Sara asked, “Did you enjoy Luke’s class play?”

  He nodded. “The Grinch is my favorite.”

  No doubt.

  “The food drive was a success.” Dominick pointed at the grocery bags.

  Go on, say it. “Thank you for the generous donation this year.” Charlie had come to school with a check for one thousand dollars. Sara had been amazed Dominick had allowed his granddaughter to carry the bank draft in her lunch box. Because of his money, the needy families would receive enough food to feed them from now through Christmas.

  “Glad I could help.” Dominick nodded at Charlie. “I’d better visit with my granddaughter, then check back in on Luke.”

  As soon as Dominick walked off, Travis approached her—no escaping the Cartwright men. He studied her outfit, his eyes darkening with appreciation. “Nice costume.”

  Suddenly Sara was glad she’d rented the Victorian dress from a costume shop in Tulsa. The green velvet material weighed at least ten pounds and the tight-fitting bodice made drawing a deep breath difficult, but she’d wear the outfit everyday if Travis eyed her like a piece of candy.

  “I spoke with Dominick about his lawsuit against you and your brothers.”

  “Is he going to drop it?” she asked.

  “He agreed to hold off on it and give you more time to think about selling.”

  “We’ve been over this before, Travis. I’m not—”

  “Dominick’s open to negotiating drilling rights instead of ownership of the Bar T.”

  Sara refused to discuss Dominick or oil in her classroom. “I’m delivering the groceries to Beulah’s after school. You’re welcome to tag along and we can talk then.”

  “Fine. I’ll send Charlie home with her grandfather.”

  Thirty minutes later, the school bell rang and the classroom emptied, leaving Travis standing by the door with a gleam in his eyes that both excited and worried Sara.

  Chapter Seven

  She’s stalling.

  Travis studied Sara as she wiped down the classroom desks for the second time in less than fifteen minutes. He made her nervous—probably because he couldn’t stop staring at her.

  The students and their parents had departed the Christmas party a half hour ago. While he’d loaded the grocery bags into his truck bed, most of the teachers had left the building. “Finished?”

  “The carpet needs to be vacuumed.”

  Wasn’t that the custodian’s job? Travis counted to five, then exhaled slowly. “Beulah might be wondering where you are.”

  “I should change first.” She smoothed her hands over her green velvet dress.

  “No, you shouldn’t.” The tight-fitting bodice emphasized Sara’s generous bosom and the cinched waist made her appear delicate and feminine. “Leave the dress on.”

  O
ffering a hesitant smile, Sara grabbed her coat and purse and joined Travis in the doorway. He pointed to the mistletoe above their heads, wondering if he could tease Sara into cooperating. “I’ve never kissed a woman beneath the mistletoe.”

  Sara peeked at the dangling sprig, her cheeks turning pink. What the heck. He tilted his head and moved in slowly, allowing her plenty of time to turn her head. She didn’t. He brushed his mouth across hers in a whisper of a kiss. He pulled back and swore he read disappointment in her eyes.

  They strolled down the corridor in silence. When they reached the parking lot, he opened the driver-side door of his truck and helped Sara inside. Her cool fingers slid across his palm and a jolt of electricity shot up his arm. There was no denying he was physically attracted to the schoolteacher. As long as his interest in Sara remained solely physical, he didn’t see a problem in trying to influence her to do business with Dominick.

  Once he started the engine, he adjusted the temperature inside the cab. “The Christmas party was a success.”

  “You’ve mentioned that three times now.”

  He had? “Which families will benefit from all this food—or is that a secret?”

  “Tulapoint outlawed secrets decades ago. I’m sure the news of you helping to deliver the groceries to Beulah’s has already been broadcast across county lines.” She waved a hand in the air. “Thanks to your sister, the town no longer has to help one of its residents.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Millicent, the local water witch. She lives on Samantha and Wade’s new ranch.”

  “People still believe in water witches?” Travis backed out of the parking spot and left the school.

  “Wade wasn’t a believer until Millicent’s willow switch located water for a new well.” Sara shifted toward Travis. “Have you and Charlie visited Last Chance Ranch? Samantha and Wade did an incredible job renovating the old Peterson farmstead.”

  “I promised Charlie we’d drop by Samantha’s ranch and see the rescued horses this weekend.” Travis had put off visiting his sister, using work as an excuse. He was still uncomfortable around his siblings. They had little in common—Samantha and Matt had been raised in the lap of luxury and Travis had had to earn his own way. He had to get over that if he intended to make a new life for him and Charlie in Tulapoint.

  At the edge of town, he turned onto the rural road that led to Beulah’s. “So this water witch has lived on the property forever?”

  “It’s believed Millicent is close to a hundred years old. Her parents were sharecroppers on the Peterson farm. She married a man in the military service but her husband died shortly after being shipped overseas, leaving her a pregnant widow. She stayed with the Petersons as their housekeeper and cook until the older couple died.”

  “What happened to her son?” Travis asked.

  “He left home in his late teens and never returned. He might have passed away by now. Millicent doesn’t talk about him.”

  Travis felt sorry for the old woman. “No family. That’s rough.”

  “Samantha, Wade and Luke are her family now.”

  “Mind if I change the subject?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Go ahead and give me your best sales pitch from your father.”

  “Dominick’s willing to buy drilling rights and leave the property to you and your brothers.”

  “I doubt your father will be content with leasing a few wells from us. He won’t be happy until he owns the entire state of Oklahoma.”

  “You’re running out of options.”

  Sara’s sigh echoed through the cab. “I’ll speak to my brothers about negotiating a lease, but not until Dominick makes an official offer.”

  “Fair enough.” Travis backed off, feeling confident he’d made substantial progress in helping Sara and his father negotiate a business deal.

  A quarter mile passed before Sara spoke. “How do you like working for your father?”

  “So far so good.” Actually, things were going better than Travis had anticipated. His father was keeping his distance and allowing Travis some breathing room.

  “Do you miss your old job?” Sara asked.

  “I miss the guys I worked with, but I like the freedom my new job has.” Travis enjoyed traveling to different rigs, but there was little opportunity to get to know the crews real well. His salary went a long way in making up for the lack of camaraderie.

  “What do you and Charlie have planned for her winter break from school?”

  “Charlie keeps dropping hints that she’d like to visit one of her old friends in Houston.”

  “I imagine you have friends—” Sara put just the right amount of emphasis on the word friend to indicate she referred to female companions “—that miss you.”

  “My last serious girlfriend was Charlie’s mother. After Julie took off I’ve stuck to—” one-night stands sounded crude “—casual dating. What about you?” Weren’t most women who lived in small towns married by Sara’s age?

  “I was engaged once.”

  She didn’t elaborate, so he prodded. “Don’t leave me hanging.”

  “It didn’t work out.”

  “That’s all you’re going to say?”

  “What more do you want to know?”

  “Everything.” He shouldn’t care about Sara’s personal life, but the more time he spent with her, the more intriguing he found her.

  “Josh—which wasn’t even his name. He used an alias. Worked as a ranch hand for my father. He was handsome and funny. I fell in love with him and he led me to believe that he returned my feelings. He proposed. I said yes and then one morning he was gone.” She winced as if the memory physically hurt her.

  Even though Travis had never met the guy, he wished he could punch the cowboy for hurting Sara. “He get cold feet?”

  “No. He used me to learn his way around the ranch, then when our backs were turned, he took off with our prized breeding bull and we never saw him again.”

  Travis felt bad that Sara had been used that way. “I’m sorry. The guy’s a schmuck.” For a split-second he worried that he was leading Sara on, then he discarded the notion. He wasn’t disappearing after Sara and his father negotiated a drilling lease and he had every intention of remaining friends with her.

  Sara changed the subject. “So you never married Charlie’s mother?”

  “No. I proposed, but Julie avoided setting a wedding date. That should have been my first clue that she didn’t intend to stick around after she gave birth to Charlie.” He shrugged. “A week after we brought Charlie home from the hospital, she split.”

  “She abandoned her baby?”

  “Yep. No note. No forwarding address and she’d canceled her number on our cell-phone plan, so there was no way to get in touch with her.” Travis had more in common with his father than he’d first realized, each of them having been involved with a woman who’d abandoned their child or children as was the case with Travis’s mother.

  “My daughter and I are better off without Julie.” Had Dominick felt the same way about Travis’s mother?

  “Are you worried Julie might return and try to seek custody of Charlie?”

  “If Julie wants to be part of Charlie’s life at some point in the future I won’t protest, but there’s no way I’ll allow Julie legal custody of our daughter.” With the Cartwright fame and fortune, Travis was confident his ex-wife wouldn’t stand a chance in a court of law if she sought her parental rights.

  “You and your mother have done a terrific job raising Charlie. She’s a sweet little girl.”

  “My mom gets most of the credit.” He paused, then changed the subject. “Do you picture yourself getting married one day?”

  “I hope so, but finding a man who wants to settle in a small town isn’t easy.” She expelled a quiet sigh. “Jobs are scarce around here unless you work in oil or with cattle.”

  Beulah’s pink Victorian came into view and Travis turned into the driveway that led to the parking lot in the back. “Spe
aking of things to do…” He shifted the truck into Park and turned off the ignition. “How would you like to accompany Charlie and me when we visit Samantha’s ranch tomorrow?”

  “I don’t want to interfere with your family time.” Sara reached for the door handle, but Travis snagged her dress sleeve.

  He leaned across the seat, his mouth hovering over hers, their breath mingling…steaming up the inside of the truck. “Spend the day with Charlie and me.”

  Maybe it was the fact that they’d both been burned by love. Or that she was too darn sexy in her Victorian dress. Or that he’d been left wanting more after their peck beneath the mistletoe. Whatever the reason, he ignored the voice in his head insisting he keep his personal feelings for Sara in check and pressed his lips to Sara’s.

  Soft…slow…deep. “Please.”

  Sara smiled. “You sure know how to beg.”

  “I’M JEALOUS.” SAMANTHA joined Travis outside the round pen on her ranch

  For the past ten minutes he’d watched Sara attempt to coax Charlie onto the back of a horse called Snickers. “Jealous of what?”

  “Not what. Whom.” Samantha nodded at Sara. “I wanted to be the one to teach my niece how to ride, but it appears Charlie’s become attached to her teacher.” Samantha nudged Travis in the side. “What’s going on between you two?”

  “Between who?”

  His sister rolled her eyes. “Sara Sanders. Dad’s arch enemy.”

  Travis couldn’t take his eyes off Sara. She wore jeans, which showed off her ample curves and a sweater that left no doubt she was female. Sara was the kind of woman who wouldn’t break in a man’s arms and Travis found that sexy and distracting.

  “Nothing’s going on between us. We’re friends.” He cringed at the statement. His dream about Sara last night had been far beyond friendly.

  “Sara’s good with Charlie.”

  “Yes, she is.” Travis believed the extra attention Sara showered on his daughter was one of the reasons Charlie was in better spirits these days. As a matter of fact, he worried that his daughter had acclimated too easily to life at the Lazy River. If his job with Cartwright Oil didn’t pan out, he’d have a heck of a time uprooting Charlie and moving her back to Houston.