Luckiest Cowboy of All--Two full books for the price of one

by Carolyn Brown

  “Maybe Darla won’t be so mean to you,” Lance badgered as they all climbed into the truck. But Levi didn’t grin. It seemed Cassidy had gotten to him.

  After a quick stop at Darla’s, where she’d flipped them off from behind the locked glass door, they stood on Naomi’s porch.

  Lance was almost afraid to knock. “Hell hath no fury like a scorned woman’s friends.”

  “No shit,” Levi said, shaking his head. He obviously didn’t know everything about women. In fact, he seemed as clueless as the rest of them.

  “Naomi will talk,” Lucas said, raising his hand to knock. “She’ll know how important this is.”

  It took a while for the door to open. Lance wondered if she’d seen them through the window and had to prepare herself. She said nothing, simply watched them all walk through her front door. Not surprisingly, her gaze lingered on Lucas, but when he came near her, she retreated to the other side of the small entryway.

  Man, she wouldn’t even stand next to him…

  “What’re you doing here, Lance?” she asked as if she already knew. Cassidy and Darla had likely warned her.

  Guess that meant he had to level with her. “I need to talk to Jessa. Where is she?”

  “Does it matter where she went?” Naomi’s cheeks looked rosier than normal and she completely avoided Lucas’s gaze. “She left. Because of what you said to her.”

  “It matters.” More than she realized. “I’m leaving and I need to see her before I go.” He needed to know she was okay. He needed to see her smile and hear her laugh and he needed to tell her he loved her.

  “Jessa doesn’t want to be found right now,” she said, leaving them behind while she walked into the kitchen.

  “Wait. Hold on.” Lucas followed her.

  The woman’s eyes instantly went soft, like she saw some warm glow haloed around him. Man, talk about love.

  “I know you’re trying to protect her,” Lucas said gently. “But I’d hate for her to miss out on something because she’s too afraid to hear what he has to say,” he murmured.

  Naomi’s tense shoulders collapsed under a sigh. “She’s at her mom’s. In Denver.”

  “Thank you,” Lucas almost whispered. Their eyes held for a moment before Naomi turned to the counter and snatched a plate out of the dishpan, drying it with frantic motions. “You didn’t hear that from me,” she said, her voice shaky.

  Lucas shoved his hands into his pockets, leading the way to the front door. “See you later, then.” His tone was as subdued as hers.

  Lance was tempted to drag Naomi over there and force her to talk to Lucas. They were obviously still hung up on each other. Before he had the chance, Lucas slipped out the front door. Guess that confrontation would have to wait. He could only manage one relationship crisis at a time.

  On the porch, Levi turned to face him. “What’re you gonna do?” Seemed like his younger brother was all out of good ideas.

  But Lance had one more. “I guess I’m going to Denver.”

  * * *

  If Jessa had learned one truth in her life, it was that you are never too old to bake cookies with your mom. There was something so comforting about it—being in the kitchen together, measuring out the ingredients, whipping and stirring while a sweet little pig dozed contentedly in a dog bed at her feet.

  Jessa’s mother had never been much of a domestic diva, but she’d always baked the best cookies, and somehow she did it in heels and a lovely fitted dress, which she’d covered with an apron, of course. Jessa, however, was still in the I don’t feel like showering phase of wallowing, so she’d opted for sweats. Elastic waistbands always came in handy after a breakup.

  She dumped an extra handful of chocolate chips into the dough and went to work folding them in with a spatula.

  “Wow.” Her mom peered over her shoulder. “That’s some serious chocolate therapy.”

  “I need it.” Though they’d already managed to fit in a lovely breakfast at a local café and pedicures, her heart still drooped with sadness. During the last few hours, she’d filled her mother in on the latest romantic debacle. And, surprisingly, her mom hadn’t resorted to any lectures. She’d simply listened and asked her questions about Lance. It made it sort of hard to forget about him while talking about how wonderful he was.

  “The oven is all preheated. Here.” Carla withdrew a cookie sheet from the cupboard and set it on the counter. “Make them as big as you want.”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Jessa said, pulling out a spoon and scooping up a huge blob of dough. These babies were going to be her lunch. Maybe her dinner, too. She was wearing sweats, after all.

  “I thought we could go shopping a little later,” her mother suggested. “If you—”

  The doorbell twinkled a lovely tune. Good lord. Even Carla’s doorbell was elegant and refined.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, untying her apron and pulling it over her head. God forbid anyone see her looking the least bit frumpy. If only Jessa’d inherited that gene. The one that cared what people thought about her appearance.

  She glanced down at her attire. Nope. She hadn’t. “Trust me, sweats are way more comfortable,” she informed Ilsa as she continued scooping huge mounds of dough onto the cookie sheet. She’d already bought too many new clothes, but shoe shopping could be fun. At least it would momentarily distract her. And she always loved to people watch at the mall…

  Her mother rushed back into the kitchen and ripped the spoon out of her had. “Lance is at the door,” she whispered. “He’d like to talk to you.”

  “Lance?” She shot to the other side of the kitchen—as far away from the front door as possible. “What is he doing here?” How the hell did he find her?

  “Maybe you should ask him,” Carla said, ushering her toward the hallway.

  She dug in her heels and stopped, looking down at her clothes again. They seemed to scream You broke my heart! and I’m too pathetic to even get dressed! “No.” She shook her head. “I can’t talk to him. I can’t see him.” Her heart fell to pieces just thinking about it. “Tell him to leave me alone,” she said, her voice wavering.

  Her mother smoothed a comforting hand down her hair. “Are you sure?”

  It was so tempting. He’d driven all the way down from Topaz Falls. Topaz Falls! But this is what she did. She always gave in. She never stood her ground. “Please. I can’t.” Yes, she was being a coward, but they’d both already said everything there was to say. “Tell him to go.”

  “All right,” Carla said uncertainly before she walked briskly down the hall.

  Jessa held her breath, but she couldn’t hear anything. After checking on Ilsa, she crept down the hallway and hid around the corner closest to the front door.

  “I’m sorry,” Carla was saying. “Jessa’s tired and not up for company.”

  “I won’t stay long.” The sound of Lance’s voice struck her. It was polite, but firm, too. “I just need two minutes.”

  “Well…” Her mother hesitated.

  Come on, Mom! Jessa almost yelled. Though she understood how hard it could be to resist Lance Cortez.

  “I’m sorry,” Carla said again. “She seemed adamant, and—”

  The pig chose that moment to come barreling down the hall, squealing like she’d been stuck with a pin, her dainty little hooves skidding on the polished wood floors.

  “Ilsa!” Jessa screeched, lunging to catch her as the pig shot by. But she missed and ended up sprawled on the floor in full view of the front door.

  Lance bent and somehow captured the pig while holding on to a bouquet of flowers.

  Ilsa grunted and thrashed, her little legs trying to run away.

  “Simmer down, Pork Chop,” Lance said, subduing her in his arms. “Not gonna hurt you.”

  Jessa lay on the floor looking up at him, and he seemed so broad and powerful that he made the pig look like a stuffed animal.

  “Hi,” he said, gazing down at her.

  “Hello,” she managed.
Not like she could avoid him now.

  “I’ll go ahead and take Ilsa,” her mother offered, reaching out her hands. “And we’ll give you two a minute.”

  Before Jessa could latch on to her ankle and beg her to stay, Carla hurried down the hall, calmly soothing the poor pig.

  “I know you don’t want to see me.” Lance reached down and took hold of her hand, pulling her up effortlessly.

  She glanced at her frumpy attire. “I’m not really dressed to see anyone.” Especially Lance. Especially looking like this. God! Why’d she have to eavesdrop?

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, his eyes seeming to take her—and all of her frumpiness—in. He held out the wilted and battered bouquet of wildflowers—daisies and wax flowers and snapdragons.

  She took them, focusing on the vivid colors so she didn’t have to look into his eyes.

  “I just came to tell you I love you,” he said quickly, as though afraid she might slam the door in his face. “You might not believe me, and I might not be great at showing it, but I do. I know I do.” He handed her an envelope that had been tucked in his pocket. “This is everything you need to come to Vegas. If you decide you want to. My flight leaves soon, but if you decide to come, there’s a flight and hotel voucher in there. And I put in special passes to the events.”

  Jessa’s hand shook so hard, she could barely grip the flimsy paper. “I can’t come.” She wouldn’t go running back to him. Not this time. She’d be like her mom and guard herself. She’d be better than the girl who went back for another round of heartache. “Sorry. It’s not going to work out.” She tried to return the envelope to him, but he backed away.

  “Keep it,” he said quietly. Hopefully. “Just in case you change your mind.” He stared at her a minute more as though storing up the vision of her face, then turned around and left.

  Trying to hold it together, Jessa dragged herself back to the kitchen, the flowers and envelope weighting her hands.

  Carla smiled brightly. “Is everything better?”

  “No.” She dumped the gifts he’d given her on the kitchen counter. “He told me he loved me. And I didn’t say anything.”

  Her mother’s sigh was both disapproving and sympathetic. Carla leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes so much like Jessa’s honed in on her face.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she demanded. “You of all people should be thrilled that I sent him away.” She’s the one who always told her she should be more careful about who she gave her heart to.

  Instead of snapping back, Carla gestured for Jessa to sit on a stool.

  “Why do I feel like I’m the one in trouble?” She slumped onto the stool. Wasn’t this what Carla wanted for her? To be an independent, strong, unaffected woman?

  “I guess I understand where he’s coming from,” her mother murmured as though the admission embarrassed her.

  Where he was coming from? “I’m sorry?”

  “I loved your father, Jessa.”

  “What?” She must not have heard that right.

  “It took me ten years of therapy to figure it out.”

  “Therapy?” Whoa. Wait a minute. Who was this woman? “You don’t do therapy.” Or at least she’d never said anything.

  “Actually, I do.” Her mother’s smile appeared almost apologetic. “You never knew your grandparents. That was on purpose. My father…he was the worst kind of bully.”

  Jessa had suspected as much, but Carla had never been exactly open about her own childhood. “You’ve never talked about him.”

  “There weren’t many good things to say.” She paused as though she had forced herself to say them now. “He wasn’t abusive, but he was controlling. And he insulted my mother constantly. He treated her like a child. Wouldn’t even let her get her driver’s license.”

  “God. Really?” Well, she was glad she’d never known him, then.

  “When I left home, I decided I’d never marry. Never fall in love. I thought it made you weak.”

  Like her grandmother. Her mom didn’t have to say it. Jessa could sense the feelings of resentment.

  Carla reached over and gripped her hand firmly. “But you’re one of the strongest people I know, Jessa. And your father was, too.” Tears glistened in her regal brown eyes, softening them. “He always told me he’d love me forever. Even if I never loved him back. And he did. He sent me cards and letters and gifts all those years.”

  The mention of her father sent a wave of grief crashing over her.

  “I felt so unworthy,” Carla went on. “I pushed him away every chance I had. I told him to move on so many times.”

  “He never did.” Buzz had never gone out on another date. He’d never said why, although Jessa had suspected he hadn’t gotten over her mom. The two of them never dragged her into their complicated relationship, though. She’d had no clue he’d sent her mother letters.

  “No. He never did move on.” She laughed a little. “He was so stubborn, that man.”

  Jessa smiled, too. Stubborn in the best way possible.

  “After you left home, I realized I wasn’t healthy,” Carla admitted, as though somewhat ashamed. “Emotionally. So I started therapy, and it helped me understand how afraid I’d been.” Her lips pursed bravely. “The week before he passed, I wrote him a letter and told him how much I loved him. I was going to go up there to see him as soon as the summer session ended…”

  But she hadn’t made it in time.

  Her mother’s obvious pain pinched Jessa’s heart. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t know.” Her head shook. “I guess I was embarrassed. I wasted all those years. We could’ve been happy. We could’ve been a family.”

  “We were a family.” Definitely not conventional, but bonded by love all the same. “And at least he knew. Before. At least you told him you loved him.” It changed things, knowing that. Knowing he had everything he’d wanted at the end.

  Mom’s eyes sought out hers. They were so solemn. “Fear does strange things to people. It makes them lash out.” An unmistakable empathy echoed through the words.

  “You think Lance is afraid.” Yeah, well he wasn’t the only one.

  Carla held her hands. “I think he loves you and I think it terrifies him.”

  “I can’t help him with that.” Not again. Not this time. He’d probably just push her away like he had before.

  Her mother lifted Jessa’s chin like she had so many times when she was young. But this was different. She understood so much more now. Looking back at Carla, she saw a woman who had been wounded, who had spent her life running from relationships. Kind of like someone else she knew…

  “How many times have you almost been attacked by an animal you were trying to rescue?” her mom asked quietly.

  “Too many to count.”

  “Why do they try to attack?”

  “Because they’re in a vulnerable position. They feel threatened, and…” As she said them, the words struck her with meaning. “Oh.”

  “What do you usually do when an animal feels vulnerable and frightened?” She already knew, but Carla obviously wanted her to say the words.

  “I move slowly,” she whispered, tears weakening her throat. “And carefully. I show it I’m not there to hurt it.” Sometimes it took a lot of convincing, especially when the animal had been neglected or abused.

  “And you never walk away,” Carla said through a sad smile.

  “No.” She’d never given up, even in the most hopeless of situations. She’d always stuck it out, done whatever it took.

  “What are you going to do this time?” Carla asked as though she already knew the answer.

  Reaching over, she slid the envelope off the counter. “I guess I’m going to Vegas.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lance had hardly stepped his spur inside the doorway to the swanky media reception before a curvaceous redhead cornered him. Up against a wall and way too far away from the bar for his comfort.

 
; “Lance Cortez,” she said in a flirty tone. “I’m Amber Hart.”

  He did his best to keep the cringe inside as he returned her dainty handshake. “Nice to meet you,” he said politely, sneaking a glance at the media badge that dangled from a lanyard hanging over her fake breasts. He didn’t recognize the name of the publication. Probably some small-town newspaper or one of those ad publications. They let just about anyone in here.

  “So how are you feeling about the final ride?” she asked, leaning into him slightly.

  Shitty. Actually, indifferent would be a better way to describe it. For the first five rounds of competition, he’d tried to maintain his focus, but each day that passed was another day he didn’t hear from Jessa. Didn’t know how she was doing. Didn’t know what she was doing. He’d held out hope, and every time he went into the arena, he’d checked the seat number he’d given her. But she hadn’t come.

  Even with that distraction, he’d managed to maintain a spot as fourth overall in the competition, which meant he’d have to have a damn near perfect ride tomorrow to take the title.

  If only he could shake the sinking feeling that maybe he’d really lost Jessa for good…

  Not that Red had rights to any of that information. Avoiding eye contact, he shrugged. “Oh, you know. I feel ready.”

  “You sure look ready,” she murmured, stripping him down with her eyes.

  Five years ago that little suggestion beaming in her gaze would’ve invited him to take her arm and lead her to the bar, where he’d buy her drinks and charm her all the way up to his hotel room, but apparently Jessa had ruined him for any uninvolved fun because, despite the slinky dress and the impressive curves, this woman did nothing for him. “Um, will you please excuse me, Miss Hart?” He made a quick sidestep and scanned the restaurant over her shoulder. “I should go find my father.” They’d come in together, but in true Luis Cortez form, he seemed to have wandered off. Smart man.

  “Oh, sure, okay,” she bubbled. “Here’s my number.” Her hand expertly slipped a card into his jean pocket, patting a little too close to his package. “Maybe we can hang out later.”