by Cat Johnson
He skipped whatever wasn’t mandatory, such as high school, occupation and photo, and then finally he was allowed to save his profile and go looking for Ellen. Luckily he’d seen her user name and was able to search her without too much effort. His heart began to beat a little faster while her page loaded. As her photo filled the left corner of the screen, he truly did feel sneaky doing this. Then he noticed how much boob she was showing in her picture and his resolve was firmer than ever.
Somebody needed to take care of this girl since she seemed incapable of doing so herself. Jeez. Flashing that amount of cleavage for any pervert who could open a free basic account at this site was not smart. Not one little bit. It would serve Ellen right if he turned her in to Wes. Her brother should be the one doing the protecting. That fact didn’t stop Shooter as he leaned closer to the screen and began reading the description she'd posted of herself.
I’m a Texas cowgirl/nurse who loves horses and is looking for a serious relationship with a man who wants to share my days and nights. My perfect partner would be kind, gentle, caring, respectful and reliable. No cowboys! No doctors! Open to any other profession.
Shooter leaned back with a frown. What the hell? Share her days and nights? That wasn’t too suggestive! And the man she described sounded more like someone’s grandfather, not the love of her life. What about sexual compatibility? What about a sense of humor? What about the ability to train a horse, or fix a fence, or rope a calf? What about a man who has your back and can take down with a single punch any guy who doesn’t treat her right? Those were important traits in a boyfriend. Not this other drivel.
That was it. Shooter had to do something or Ellen was going to end up with one of two things—a man who lied and pretended to be all these things she said she wanted, or worse, a man who actually was all those things and would bore her to tears. She could end up with a professor. Or a, hell he didn’t know, a missionary or something. He physically shook himself as just the word missionary conjured up sexual images he didn’t need in his head.
He navigated back to his own profile page and stared at it for a moment. Lying would be wrong. Putting down for his description all the traits that matched what Ellen thought she wanted would amount to lying. Besides, she didn’t really want a man like that. He knew her better. She needed someone who shared her interests. Who could make her laugh until she cried. Someone who could cheer her on in a barrel race one night and cook her a kick ass pot of spicy hot chili the next. A man who could fix her broken down car then take her home and make her forget everything with a mind-blowing romp in his bed.
That’s exactly what he’d write. All of that—well maybe he’d tone down the sex part a bit, but otherwise, this was what Ellen needed in a man. What surprised him even more was that this description fit him to the letter. Why hadn’t he seen that before? Besides the teasing and bickering, he and Ellen really were perfect for each other. They both loved rodeo. They both—well at least he did and he was pretty sure she did too—loved sex. They both loved—though sometimes more than others—Wes. Honestly. He couldn’t write a better match for Ellen than himself.
Shooter fleshed out his profile with the details that described him until it was complete, with the exception of a photo and his professional rodeo cowboy status. Then he spent a good hour crafting a private message to Ellen.
Finally, he was happy with the wording. He sent it with slightly trembling fingers that he tried to ignore, and then sat back in the chair with a loud release of the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. If nothing else, he’d teach her she really didn’t want the kind of man she thought she did. And hopefully he’d keep her away from any weirdo guys who could be lurking on this stupid site—for her own safety, of course.
And what if by some miracle Ellen really liked this fake “Buddy” identity he’d created and Shooter had to eventually admit to her the online profile was his? What if she hated him for setting it, and her, up?
That wouldn’t matter so much, he supposed. There were days she acted as if she hated him now. A worse situation, but far more unlikely, would be if Shooter and Ellen ever dated and it ended badly. Would it wreck his and Wes’s friendship? Could he ever just hang out with them both like before? Then again, maybe she’d just get over this new obsession with online dating and it would all be back to normal without her ever knowing he was Buddy.
Those were a lot of “what ifs” to mull over. Too many. Shooter decided he’d cross those bridges when and if he came to them. He closed the computer and turned toward the bedroom, intent on waking extra early in the morning so he could check his account for her response.
Chapter Three
Ellen woke after sleeping like the dead and stumbled to the kitchen. Of course the coffee in the pot was old as well as cold. That was the only problem with sleeping late when Wes woke early. He made the coffee, but it was undrinkable by the time she woke. She debated for a second on whether to microwave the remnants in the pot or brew a fresh batch. Finally, laziness won and she poured the leftover liquid into a mug and set the microwave for two minutes.
While she waited, she wandered over to the computer and booted it up. Might as well check her dating profile for new messages, even though so far it had been quite a mixed bag of responses. At first she’d been excited to have anyone at all view her profile and send her a message. It was like a boost to her ego for each and every page view and a double boost for every private message. Then she realized something—some men just wrote to every girl on here. Other men made her kind of suspicious. They were just too perfect. There were even a few she strongly suspected were more than just exaggerating about themselves, they were outright lying.
They could be married for all she knew. There was no one official from the site checking on those things. This was probably a really bad idea. Then again, she personally knew of three women at the hospital who found their current mates on this very site. That gave her hope. And given her recent dating drought, it kind of seemed like this or nothing.
Ellen was surprised to see three new messages had arrived in her inbox since she’d shut down and gone to bed last night. One guy was from another country. Yeah, not much hope of that relationship working out. Another message was from a guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer. She’d already written to him and very politely said she didn’t want to meet him in person quite yet, not until she’d gotten to know him better. When he kept pushing and got kind of nasty about it, she’d decided to start to ignore the scary man. His last message had been so rude she deleted this one without even reading it.
“Sorry, but no thanks,” she mumbled to herself, taking great satisfaction from hitting the “block user” button.
The microwave binged and Ellen rose to get her blessed caffeine. She may need it to get through whatever surprises the final message held for her.
Finally with the coffee fixed the way she liked it, she sat back down and with a bracing breath, opened the third and final correspondence in her inbox.
Dear Griffin Girl,
I read your list of criteria in a man and I can tell you this, my grandfather as well as his collie both meet all of your requirements. However I regret to inform you Gramps has been happily married for over fifty years to my grandmother and the collie—well, we won’t go there. I, however, am available now, so let me tell you about me.
First of all, I know I can make you laugh. (In fact, I bet I have already. Come on, admit it.) I consider myself a real man, meaning I can hunt or fish for food for your table, but I’m not afraid to put on an apron and cook it as well. (Okay, maybe the apron is a stretch, but I have been known to tuck a dishtowel into my belt while in the kitchen.) I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. I can, for example, fix a car one minute then do the dishes the next. I’ll admit I’ve been known to get into a scrape here and there because I have no qualms about knocking a guy off his feet if he doesn’t treat a lady right. However, I also have no qualms about carrying a lady’s purse while we're shoppin
g if that’s what she wants me to do. I love horses and dogs. Cats I could go either way on. I believe in buying American, in driving big trucks, and in respecting the flag and our troops and our parents. I work hard and I play hard because life is too short to do anything else. I’ve been known to have a few too many at a party when I kick back, but I’m never irresponsible about it. I’ve quit the chewing tobacco habit but I’ll admit I fall off the wagon once or twice a year—usually when I’m hunting with my best friend.
There are certain skills I’ve been told by the ladies that I possess which I will leave to your imagination because this is way too soon in our online correspondence to be talking about THAT. Just be assured, there have never been any complaints.
Anyway, it would be nice to talk to you by email, if you'd like. I don’t love being on the computer and I usually don’t turn it on too often, but I will now because I do hope to hear back from you soon.
By the way, I agree. I think you should definitely NOT date any doctors or any strange cowboys, for that matter.
Buddy
Ellen read the message twice through before sitting back. Her coffee sat cooling and untouched next to the computer. Could it be this Buddy was a genuine, honest, nice guy?
He didn’t try to make himself sound perfect. He admitted his faults and he did seem both smart and funny.
For the first time since joining this site, Ellen felt a flutter. She clicked over to his profile. No picture. Dammit. That must be it. He was a troll. Nice. Sweet. Honest. Funny…and too hideous to post a picture.
She sighed. She was being a shallow bitch. Looks didn’t matter all that much. Right? She should get to know him. Then, if they seemed to hit it off, maybe she could ask him for a picture. No, that would look bad, like she didn’t want to meet him unless he met her approval.
This online stuff sucked. Then again, live dating wasn’t so great either. How often had men she dated screwed her over? Or turned out to be assholes once you got to know them better?
That decided it. She’d respond to Buddy and see if there was any cyber chemistry between them. Might as well. What did she have to lose?
Hi Buddy,
It was nice to hear from you. I’ll admit it, you did make me smile. Say hi to your grandfather and his collie for me. Both sound very nice.
So you like horses. I’m a competitive barrel racer and my horse’s name is Bucky. I live in an apartment right now, so I have to board him, but one day my dream is to own or rent a house with a barn, or at least a run-in shed on the property so I can keep him at my own place. Do you ride?
I see you’re local. Do you ever get to the rodeo? Wouldn’t it be funny if we had both been there at the same time? Maybe we’ve passed each other!
Anyway, I hope you do remember to turn on your computer and get this message.
G.G.
Ellen frowned at the screen. What a bunch of boring crap. Why would any man want to date her after that message? But what else could she write? Do you have big muscles because I love to grab them during sex and I haven’t had sex in forever and I’m ready to burst?
Nope, that would probably send the wrong message, true though it was.
There was always the alternative. You sound perfect since my car is a piece of crap and I could really use a boyfriend who can fix it.
Also true but not so enticing. Might as well go with boring. She hit send and let out a loud breath. Dating sucked, no matter how you went about it. Yet her brother and Maryann had found each other. They had been acting all gooey-eyed and in love like two days after they met. Love at first sight. That had to be it. They were meant for each other and fate had thrown them together from a continent away.
So what was she supposed to do? Wait around and trust fate to throw her into the path of her soul mate? If that was the case, it had better hurry up because she was tired of waiting. And she didn’t have too much more time to wait around for a reply from her new online friend either. She had to grab something to eat before starting her shift at the hospital that afternoon.
The ringing of her cell phone in her purse had her jumping up. She frowned at the read out, surprised to see it was Shooter calling. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Uh, maybe nothing but I wanted to give you a call. I was here at the barn this morning checking on Mack and I noticed something was up with Bucky so I came back on my lunch break.”
Her heart clenched. “What’s wrong with Bucky?”
Ellen was already heading for her bedroom to get dressed. She had clean scrubs in her locker at work, so she could just slip into boots, jeans and a T-shirt and head for the barn. Getting dressed one-handed while she held the phone to question Shooter was proving to be a challenge though.
“He’s acting like he’s uncomfortable. Rolling, then bouncing up. It looks like he’s been walking in circles in the stall. He’s got all the shavings pushed up against the wall. It’s not like him. I’m thinking it’s colic.”
Shooter may be a dick sometimes, but he did know horses. She trusted him when he said something was wrong. Her heart lurched. She couldn’t stand it if something happened to Bucky. Worse, what if it wasn’t just colic? What if it was a bowel obstruction? She didn’t have enough in her savings to cover it if there was something wrong that required surgery. Hell, she barely had enough to cover a vet visit.
“Should I call the doctor?” She steeled herself for the answer.
“I’m gonna take him out and walk him around on the lead rope, if that’s okay with you. I think he needs to move. Let’s see if that helps him feel better. If not, then maybe you should call.” His voice held a calm sureness Ellen needed right now. He was concerned, she could tell, but distanced enough from the situation to be practical, which she totally was not.
“Okay. Do whatever you think is best. I’m on my way over now.”
“I’ll be here.”
Thank God Ellen’s car had decided to cooperate today. It not only started, but also showed impressive pickup for its tiny engine as she sped much too fast, breaking many traffic laws, to get to the barn. She peeled into the gravel lot and skidded to a stop, ignoring the nasty looks of a passing mother and daughter walking toward their car. She couldn’t deal with them now. She drove perfectly well any other time, but this was an emergency.
She ran first to Bucky’s stall and saw what Shooter had described. Judging by the state of the bedding on the stall floor, he’d been antsy and circling for hours. Ellen poked through the wood shavings with the toe of her boot. No visible manure. If Bucky wasn’t pooping, he could be bound up.
Her heartbeat sped with fear. She turned, exiting the barn. The sun glare blinded her briefly. She raised a hand to shield her eyes and after a moment spotted Shooter leading Bucky slowly around the outside of the practice ring. She took off at a run toward them.
“How is he?”
Shooter tipped his cowboy hat back but didn’t stop his slow pace. “He seems a little happier moving.”
She matched Shooter’s step, and reached out to run a hand down Bucky’s nose. “I can stay for about an hour, but then I’m going to have to go to work. I can’t miss my shift.”
Tears filled her eyes. She swallowed hard and hoped Shooter didn’t see them.
“I’ll stay with him.”
“What about your work?” She frowned up at the man who’d come to her rescue twice in the past few days. Actually more like three times, if she counted replacing her alternator. The guy who she’d always thought was the exact opposite of a knight in shining armor. Tarnished armor, maybe.
He shrugged. “I’ll call my boss. We got a lot done this morning. There wasn’t much more to do this afternoon.”
Ellen nodded, rendered speechless by his generosity. If he didn’t go to work, he didn’t get paid. He wasn’t any better off financially than she was, yet he was willing to do this for her. Or rather, for Bucky. Shooter always did have a soft spot for animals. She’d even seen the shine of tears in his eyes at the rodeo where one of the h
orses had to be put down after breaking his leg during a competition.
She took the rope from him and led Bucky herself, keeping the same slow pace. Shooter remained beside her. He was correct. The horse wasn’t acting right. Finally, she couldn’t ignore the obvious. “What if this doesn’t work?”
“Give it a chance.”
She glanced at him, wanting desperately to believe he was right. He met her gaze, as if challenging her to doubt his expertise. For once, she didn’t want to argue with Shooter. She wanted to trust him and let him make this all better. She nodded. “Okay.”
Chapter Four
Shooter pushed the now emptied wheelbarrow to the corner of barn. He turned toward Bucky’s stall to check on him one more time before heading home when he saw a figure clad from head to toe in mint green leaning over the stall door.
Ellen. As unattractive as the boxy-shaped nurse’s scrubs were, she still looked good. He smiled. “Hey. I didn’t expect to see you here in the middle of your shift.”
Ellen spun and he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “I wanted to see him.”
“Don’t worry. He’s all right. I texted you to tell you he was doing much better.” He hesitated a second, then reached out and rubbed her back, hating the stiff feel of the fabric of her uniform.
She leaned into him. That was a change. Ellen was usually totally hands-off when it came to him. He decided to enjoy the gesture, even if it was only concern for the horse, or rather relief over his recovery that had driven her into his arms in the first place.
“I know you texted, but I was just so worried. I had to come over on my dinner break and see for myself.” Ellen drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. “You really think he’s better?”
Shooter glanced at the horse, happily munching on some hay. “Yup. I just dumped the load of manure he passed. And I can assure you he’s hasn’t been lacking in the gas department either.”