A Cowboy and a Promise

by Pam Crooks

  It had been so fast, so merciless. As always, Ava swam through the grief, bringing her head up to breathe. “I went to live with my grandmother, Granny Mae.” A petite, fiery woman with wrinkles in her cheeks and a never-dimming energy in her eyes and as much love for Ava as she could soak in. “But then, she got sick, too. Same cancer as my mother.”

  “How old were you then?”

  “Not even twelve yet.”

  “Tough.” He shook his head.

  “I took care of her as best I could. Sometimes, I had to stay home from school. I didn’t want to leave her alone like I had my mother. I was terrified Granny Mae would die when I wasn’t there. But it didn’t seem to matter what I wanted or what I tried to avoid. I couldn’t catch a break, like I had this perpetual bad luck in my life.” She swallowed. “She died on the only day I had to go to school for some state testing I couldn’t miss.”

  “You were just a kid, Ava. Kids go to school. Not your fault you couldn’t be there.”

  “I know that now. I didn’t then.”

  “Hard to imagine how you felt, knowing your dad, your mom, and grandma died alone. All three of them.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Things happen for a reason. Try to look it at that way. Makes us stronger when they do.”

  “I suppose.” But she wasn’t convinced.

  “Did you go on to live with someone else in your family after that?”

  “There was no one, really. Granny Mae was a widow, and my mother was her only child. So I went into foster care. I was terrified to live with strangers.”

  He sighed, a wealth of compassion in the gusty sound.

  “To make it worse, I got moved around for one reason or another. Just when I felt like I could at least sleep at night, comfortably anyway, I’d have to leave.”

  “What kind of reasons forced you to leave?”

  Her exhausted brain strained to remember details. “One family didn’t work out for noncompliance with government regulations; another foster mom lost her husband to a car accident and she had to move out of state to live with her parents. The last time, the foster parents were just in it for the money, and well, that wasn’t much fun, either.”

  “How old were you then?”

  “Old enough to finally age out of the system.”

  “You would’ve still been a teenager…what happened after that? Where did you go?”

  His interest and endless questions kept her talking, despite the fatigue settling into her bones.

  “My social worker encouraged me to go to a city job fair. Said she had a brother who owned a construction company and was looking for summer help. I went, I met him, and he hired me.”

  A moment passed. “That owner was Carter, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You two hit it off, right at the get-go.”

  “Yes. He was a father figure for me, which I desperately needed at the time.” The debt she owed him overwhelmed her still. “I grew to love the construction industry. To build something from the ground up, make it strong and solid, appealed to me. I learned that the structures we built gave lots of people a place to belong in some form. Something I craved. I believed it was symbolic, considering all I’d lost in my life.”

  Ava paused. Beau kept her comfortable and relaxed snuggled on his lap and against his chest. Held within his muscled arms, she was deliciously warm and protected. Sleepy, too, but she had to keep talking to convince him why it was important to return to New York City and fulfill her debt to her boss, after all he’d done.

  “That first summer I worked for him, Carter could see how I enjoyed the work. It’d become my lifeline. My motivation to learn skills and excel at them. He pulled some strings and helped me get financing and grants to go to college. That’s where I met Lucienne and Erin. Their friendship and his guidance made me feel like a human being who deserved respect instead of the contempt that sometimes came with being a ward of the state. They empowered me to work hard and accomplish something in my life. I never want to be poor and vulnerable again.” She drew in a resolved breath.

  “You’re amazing.”

  Her lashes drifted closed. But his compliment wiggled into her memory to keep forever. “No, I’m not.”

  “Easy for someone who went through what you did to sit back and do nothing but feel sorry for herself. You didn’t.”

  She lifted a shoulder in disagreement. “Yes, I did. Felt sorry for myself plenty of times.” She laid her hand on his chest, against his heart, to soften the finality of her decision. “But now, at least, you know why I have to go back, don’t you, Beau?”

  His lingering silence revealed he understood; that he hated what she had to do as much as she did.

  He held her for a long time, neither moving, neither speaking, until time ceased to exist. Until minutes failed to count. Until, through a haze of drowsiness, she incurred the sensation of being lifted while still cradled against him, of him laying her gently down on the bed, of being covered with half of the bedspread. Of being kissed, with utmost tenderness, on her cheek.

  The cabin fell dark, then, one light switch at a time. The front door latched firmly, and the pickup engine purred. Except for Gunner sleeping on his bed, she was alone.

  She rolled onto her side just as a single tear spilled on the pillow. She’d done the right thing. What she had to do. She’d spoken all the right words, justifying her obligation to Carter and her career. She explained exactly why she had to go back to New York City.

  Except for the one admission she kept padlocked inside her. The one weakness, had she revealed it, that would’ve opened her up and allowed her to bleed vulnerability. The one thing she’d failed to prevent.

  She never told Beau how much she loved him.

  *

  Beau parked his truck near the shop and got out, letting the door slam shut behind him. Too late, he remembered it was pushing midnight and that noise out here sounded louder on a quiet night. His parents and brothers would already be in bed, and hell, he hadn’t meant to, but he probably woke them all from his thoughtless door slamming.

  He wasn’t nearly ready for bed himself. His nerves were strung tight, like wire around a hay bale. His brain wired, too, from all Ava had told him.

  A yard light mounted on the edge of the shop’s roof provided enough illumination to cross the yard and find his way onto the front porch. He dropped into the closest cedar chair, one of a pair his dad made years ago from Blackstone trees, both worn and comfortable from plenty of use by anyone with a liking for porch-sitting.

  He heaved a weary groan and propped his crossed ankles on the cedar porch rail. Been a while since the world felt this heavy on his shoulders. Trouble was, he didn’t see how he could make things better. Felt like his head was caught with no way to turn, like a calf in a chute.

  The door opened, and Brock stepped out. Shirtless, bootless, wearing just his Levi’s. He took the other chair, and settled his bare feet on the porch rail, too.

  “Heard you pull in,” he said.

  “Forgot to be quiet.”

  “You been up at Ava’s?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Figured.” Brock studied him. “Everything all right?”

  “Nope.”

  His twin grunted, changed his studying from Beau to the ranch’s horizon. “Long time ’til the sun comes up. If you want to tell me about it, I’ll listen.”

  Sharing the womb with Brock had formed a bond before either of them had been born. Wasn’t anyone more suited to hearing what Beau had to say whenever he needed to get something off his chest. The words spilled out about Ava’s childhood, her job, her need to go home, and by the time Beau was finished, Brock was looking as grim as he felt.

  “Told her I loved her, too,” Beau added. “Probably made things worse.”

  “She needed to know.”

  “For all the good it does.” He recrossed his ankles. “When I was down in that shithole in Afghanistan, I thought for sure I’d neve
r have a chance to make a life with a woman. After I got out, then I figured I would. Now that Ava’s going back to New York, I still don’t. At least, not with the woman I want.” He scowled, swimming deep in his own pity. “Wish Mom hadn’t helped herself to those three hundred acres. I could’ve had that ghost town sold off by now, and then Ava never would’ve had to come here.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.”

  Brock swatted at a mosquito careening around his face. “Reckon us boys thought she was wrong to take that land from you. But we were deployed, and she had bills to pay, taking care of Dad. She did what she had to do. Not like Mom and Dad shorted you three hundred acres, Beau. They gave you three hundred different acres. Better ones, too. As good as mine and Jace’s.”

  At the time, Beau had been plenty mad at his mother for what she’d done, but he had to admit the bitterness had faded, and he hadn’t taken the time until now to realize it.

  “You always did have a soft spot for that ghost town,” Brock continued, sounding thoughtful. “We all did when we were kids. Had some good times out there, drinking beer when we shouldn’t be, but fixing those old buildings up, too. What we knew how to do, anyway. Neither Jace nor I were surprised that you claimed that ghost town for yourself.”

  “Yeah, well, it might be that keeping it in the family is better than having strangers take it over.” Had he just said that? A major concession on his part, one he never thought he’d make. “I guess, anyway,” he added on a grumble.

  Brock grinned. “Old Man Rupert would agree with that.”

  Their silence stretched on for a spell. Companionable. Pensive. Getting his worries out helped his frame of mind and the weight on his shoulders, too.

  “Which just means Ava was meant to come down here and make you fall in love with her.” Brock swung his bare feet back onto the porch floor and stood. “Never known you to back down from a fight, Bro. You want her, you’ll have to find a way to keep her.” He yawned and opened the door. “See you in the morning.”

  Beau didn’t move. But his thoughts raced. He faced a daunting battle. God knew he’d fought in some of the worst while in the military, but this one for Ava?

  He didn’t know how he could win.

  He only knew he must.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Where’s a good place to put these, Ava?”

  Ava glanced up from her laptop in the main room of Old Man Rupert’s house, a place where she could work relatively alone and concentrate. Standing in the doorway, Jace gripped the handles of a folding table in each hand. Unshaven, hair shorter than Beau’s but a body every bit as tall and broad-shouldered, he looked so much like his twin brothers, he never failed to make her look twice to identify him in the Paxton male lineup.

  She smiled and pointed to the far side of the room. “Over there. Your mom already has a pile going.”

  He headed in that direction. “You’d think she was planning for a wedding with all the stuff she wants hauled out here.”

  Ava kept her smile in place. Wedding? Why had he used that analogy? Ginny had insisted on a going-away party for Ava, claiming “a little something for her and the crew” was no trouble at all. Except, it was true, the whole thing had taken on a life of its own, which only made Ava squirm.

  She had nothing to celebrate.

  Jace returned to her empty-handed. He regarded her for a long moment, his eyes shaded beneath the brim of his Stetson. “Going to be hard to see you leave. We’re all going to miss you.”

  She managed a tight shrug. “Tomorrow’s the day.”

  “Sure wish there was something we could do to make you change your mind.”

  The dread of leaving had gnawed at her all week, forcing her stomach into a constant state of nausea. Jace was as kind and genuine as everyone else she’d met in the Paxton family. There was no pretentiousness about him, no posturing to impress her, no false compliments. If he said she would be missed, he meant it.

  “Thanks, Jace. Wish things didn’t have to happen the way they are, but—” she exhaled a gust of regret “—it’s out of my hands.”

  “Is it?”

  She blinked up at him. “Of course it is. Why would you think otherwise?”

  He angled his head, staring for a long moment through the doorless doorway, apparently oblivious to the crew and equipment beyond. Whatever his thoughts, they seemed to absorb him, until he roused and finally took a step back.

  “Not my place to say anything. Forget that I did.” He touched a finger to his hat brim in that courteous, cowboy way that never failed to melt her heart from the sheer respect the gesture implied. He moved toward the doorway. “I’d best get back to unloading Mom’s stuff.”

  She wanted to call him back and demand he tell her what he meant. She wanted to shake his thoughts right out of his head, in case he had a better answer, a perspective more superior to hers. The magic solution. Because she had agonized for hours on end, day after day, and no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, she could not find a way to keep her job, her obligation to Carter, her love for Beau, and work at the Blackstone Ranch, too.

  Impossible.

  Eyes smarting from tears she absolutely dare not shed, she slammed her laptop closed and rose, nearly upending her folding chair. She gathered up the computer and headed out the door before Jace could meet her coming back in, loaded down with more tables.

  She strode across the road, toward the picnic area. It was almost lunchtime, but no one had meandered over yet to eat. She had time to herself, for a little while, to finish the one task she was determined to see through before she left.

  Once again, she positioned herself at a table with her laptop in front of her, angling it just right to take advantage of the shade. She pored over the website displayed on the screen, and just as she was ready to email Roger a link with instructions, footsteps approached.

  She glanced up, and her brain froze. Beau drew closer, scattering her thoughts like he always did, rearranging them to center solely on him and his cowboy sexiness.

  Awareness surged through her, like ocean waves on a shore. The way his jeans fit snug across his hips and thighs. The fluid way he walked. Even the way he always wore his shirts tucked in, making his stomach look flat and lean and effortless.

  A sigh rose up, but she swallowed hard to contain it. The longing to keep him forever for her very own had never been stronger than now, when he never could be.

  “Busy?” he asked.

  “Always.”

  “Doing what?”

  She angled her head to see him better. It wasn’t like him to stop by the jobsite in the middle of the day. “You really want to know?”

  “Sure.” He came around the picnic table, sat beside her, leg and shoulder against hers. Purposely planting himself close, helping himself to her nearness, as if he claimed the right. “Show me.”

  Moments like these were nearly at an end. She refused to destroy this one by moving away.

  “It’s an idea I had for the restaurant,” she said, keeping her tone businesslike, clamping down the turmoil swirling through her. “Tell me what you think.”

  She backed out of her email; the words had blurred anyway, and she’d have to start over after he left. The website she’d been studying popped up.

  He leaned closer to the screen. “That a bar?”

  “Yes. Horseshoe shaped. Perfect for the restaurant. Specs say it’ll fit.” She enlarged the image. “Price is right, too. And get this, Beau. It’s one hundred and ten years old.”

  He emitted a grunt of surprise. “Where did you come up with it?”

  “From a little unincorporated town about fifty miles north of Austin. The place is pretty much abandoned, and the owner is closing up shop. He heard about the resort we’re building and wondered if we could use it. He wants to save his bar from demolition.”

  “Have you seen it yet?”

  “No. Just got the email this morning.”
r />   “I’ll drive you out.”

  Her enthusiasm sank like a stone. “I’d love to, but it’s not my place anymore to make these kinds of decisions.”

  “You’re still ramrodding this outfit, Ava.”

  “No, I’m not. Roger is.”

  “The historical value of the bar alone will make it a focal point of the resort and a draw for surrounding counties. You found it. You should see it.”

  Any other time, she would’ve grabbed at his enthusiasm and logic, dropped what she was doing, and hit the road.

  But her hands were tied, damn it anyway, and she’d been relegated to the back of the line, forced to stand outside the resort construction circle and look in.

  It wasn’t fair.

  There was that emotion again, flaring up when she least wanted it to, and she groped in her jeans pocket for her purse-size package of tissues. Whipping one out, then another just in case, she blew her nose and refused to look at him.

  He murmured a low-throated sound of sympathy, draped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, his chin to her temple. Normally, she would’ve put the kibosh on his show of affection with the crew around to see, but not now. Not when she wanted to fling herself into his embrace and bawl like a baby.

  “You need a break,” he said quietly. “C’mon. We’re going riding.”

  He closed the lid to her laptop with a definite, no-nonsense click. He took her hand, barely giving her time to stuff the tissue in her pocket and scramble off the picnic table bench.

  “I can’t just up and leave,” she said, tugging back. “And what do you mean, we’re going riding? Now?”

  “You said you’re not in charge anymore, right?”

  Her brows knitted. “Well, I did, but—”

  “So that means you can do whatever you want.”

  “I never said I wanted to go riding.” She found herself scurrying to keep up with him. He still had a strong, Beau-grip hold on her hand, after all. “Where are we going riding to?”

  He headed toward a pair of horses tethered to the back of his pickup, one his beautiful, caramel-colored mare, the other the gentle-natured palomino he’d given her to use when they rode together. In spite of her better judgment, she’d consented to him giving her lessons every night this week. When again would she have the opportunity?