This Cowboy's a Keeper

by Kimberly Krey

  Payton lifted a hand and gave Luke a soft, sad-looking wave before climbing inside.

  “Wow,” Taylor said as Olivia climbed in behind her. “I did not expect that.”

  Luke shot him a sideways glance. “Which part?”

  Taylor shook his head. “Any of it.”

  “Me neither.” Luke stepped closer to the banister as the car took off down the long, narrow drive, a cloud of dust in its wake. “Honestly, I’m not sure what just happened.” That was true enough, but one thing was certain in the aftermath of the Keller storm: Just as he’d feared, things were about to change.

  Chapter 23

  “Take me to Jason,” Olivia snapped as she slid a pair of diamond-crested sunglasses on her face.

  “Why do you think I’ll know where he is?” Payton asked, turning her gaze out the window.

  “Because you came here to do one thing, and that was to bring your brother home. Instead of doing that, you cut us off and joined him out in the wild. So what, now you’re trying to cover for him so that he can stay behind?”

  “Jason can stay behind whether you locate him or not, Mom. Just like I can.”

  “Oh, no, you can’t. Have you no idea what’s happening? The press is having a heyday with this whole Archie scandal. While you’ve been busy romping in the hay with some … barely housebroken cowboy, Archie Kendall’s been giving sob story statements about how he couldn’t make a relationship work with a woman who insisted on playing both the male and female roles in a relationship.”

  Ouch.

  Olivia leaned down, pulled a stack of magazines out of a bag at her feet, and plunked it on Payton’s lap. “And these are only the weekly reports. Just wait until the bigger guys get ahold of this.”

  The weight of the magazines on her lap was probably no more than a couple of pounds. But as Payton glanced down at the flashy cover of the one on top, she could’ve sworn each page was laced in lead. Printed across an unrelated photo of Brad Pitt was a snippet of the Keller gossip people longed for:

  Free at last, oh free at last. Ken Doll made Parchie a thing of the past.

  Tabloids were fickle; this particular magazine usually sang her praises. There was a reason Payton hadn’t wanted to check the internet or answer her calls or follow up on her emails. There was a reason she had wanted to be someone other than who she was. Someone free to decorate barns or watch chicks hatch or kiss a cowboy on a late night until she was dizzy with bliss.

  For the first time in her life, Payton Keller didn’t want to be Payton Keller anymore. Let someone else have the stress of keeping her parents together. Of keeping her ridiculous fiancé faithful, at least for appearances’ sake. Let someone else speak to her assistant’s concerns about swatches and textures and marketing. Or her PR rep’s questions about the use of real or faux leather and the way it feels to have your crappy fiancé make you look like a fool in the public eye. She wanted to leave it all behind.

  Pressure bubbled up inside her. Mounding. Aching. A volcano ready to blow. But she wouldn’t lose her cool. At least, not all of it.

  With one deliberate slip of her hand, Payton pushed the magazines off of her lap. They fell in a lazy, slouching heap on the car floor beside her feet.

  “Hey, why’d you do that?” her mom asked.

  “Because I don’t want to see them, Mom. Why do you think?”

  “Well, just because you refuse to look at something doesn’t mean it’ll go away. It doesn’t mean it never happened in the first place.”

  Payton shook her head. “I never said it did. But dwelling on them doesn’t do anything either.”

  “This isn’t the Payton I know. The Payton I know would fight back. She’d get out there and make a statement that made that chalk-faced little worm look half an inch high.”

  Little worm? Perhaps Mom was more willing to listen than Payton thought. “So you agree that I shouldn’t marry him?”

  Olivia turned toward her, the lenses of her glasses showing Payton nothing but her own reflection. “I don’t think you should marry him until you can knock him down a few pegs where he belongs. The Kellers are way bigger than the Kendalls. I don’t care how many people want to kiss butt in the Kendall world; the Kellers will always be bigger, more prestigious, and far more attractive than every one of them.”

  Payton spit out a laugh. “But you still want me to marry him. That’s rich.”

  Her mother shrugged. “I always thought we were on the same team, Pay. I thought that—together—we were going to build an empire. Not destroy the good name it’s taken years to establish.”

  Payton remained quiet as Gordon steered them toward the main town. Someone had done their research and discovered that one of Mom’s favorite bakery chains was clear out here in the country. Jason had pointed out that very thing when they’d driven into town, mainly because it had always been one of Payton’s favorites too.

  “You going to join us, Gordon?” Payton asked once the car was parked.

  “I’m afraid not,” he said, eyeing her through the rearview mirror. Moments later, he was taking her mother’s hand to help her out, and then Payton’s next.

  “Thanks, Gordon.”

  The kind man gave her a gentle grin. “You’re welcome, Ms. Payton. And might I say you look lovely today.”

  “Thank you.” As she made her way into the restaurant, the smell of fresh-baked breads mingled with vinaigrette. Payton wondered how she would get out of a situation she’d failed to move past for as long as she’d been alive.

  Going up against Mom. A woman she’d modeled her life after, sought to be like in a thousand different ways. She was brilliant, ambitious, determined, and impossible to say no to. Which led back to the very thing Payton had never even attempted. Why should she when she could become as powerful and successful as Olivia Keller?

  Already Payton was well on her way; Forbes Magazine agreed. But something about the last ten days had her wondering if that’s what she wanted at all. And it wasn’t just because her stupid now-ex-fiancé cheated on her. At least, she was pretty sure her second thoughts had more to do with Luke and his family and the wonderful place they called home.

  She’d been so distracted by her thoughts that Payton had nearly missed the question asked by the wide-eyed girl standing before them.

  “Just the two of you?” the young woman repeated. Short dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a charming gap between her two front teeth. She was probably just barely out of high school.

  “Yes, please,” Payton said. “A table for the two of us. Somewhere quiet, if that’s possible.”

  The girl nodded. “I’ll put you guys in our section reserved for large parties. I mean, not that you’re a large party, but that you’d probably like the privacy of a—”

  “We get it,” Olivia mumbled. She groaned and adjusted the glasses on her heart-shaped face.

  “Sorry,” the hostess said, putting her head down. “Follow me.”

  Payton shot her mom a look. One the woman wouldn’t catch if she had a baseball mitt the size of her face. What a snob. In Hollywood, Mom knew better than to act like this; with all the star-seekers waiting to catch a glimpse of a celebrity, you could never be too safe. Especially since those star-seekers often had their phones poised and ready to record any action they might catch.

  The girl took fast, short steps, keeping her shoulders low like a scolded pup. “Right in here,” she said, pushing open a door and stepping aside.

  Payton glanced at her nametag. “Thanks, Melanie,” she said, her mind drifting to thoughts of Luke’s adorable little niece, Mel. Come to think of it, she looked a bit like her too. And an awful lot like Rachel, Ross’s wife. “Hey, you don’t happen to know Rachel Branson, do you?”

  The girl’s face lit up. “Yes, that’s my sister!”

  Payton suddenly felt as if she wanted to hug the girl, but she reached out a hand instead. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve met your sister a few times over at the Bransons’ place.”

 
“She told me all about it, actually. I’ve been a huge fan of yours for, like, ever.”

  “Thank you,” Payton said.

  “And of yours too, Mrs. Keller.”

  “Olivia,” her mom said, offering a limp handshake. The woman lowered herself onto the seat and motioned for Payton to do the same. “Now if you’ll excuse us, I’ve got a bit of catching up to do with my daughter. We’ll both have the Super Skinny Salad with no onions, no croutons, and the dressing on the side. Ice teas to drink with lemon wedges and raw sugar, also on the side.”

  “Sounds great,” Melanie cheered. “I’ll bring that right out.”

  “Wait,” Payton said. “So are you … I mean, is Mel named after you, then?”

  She nodded, and Payton was charmed all the more by her.

  “Well, how lucky for her. You’re adorable.”

  “Thanks.” She spun around, but Payton called out once more.

  “Oh, and about the salads? Scratch mine and bring me the soup of the day with one of those giant hunks of crusty bread that has the cheese baked onto the top.” She breathed in a deep, satisfied breath of the tantalizing aroma once more, pleased that she’d actually get to taste the baked goods rather than just be tortured by the scent of them.

  “So you’re just going to sit out here looking like some … freckled frump girl while you pack on pounds and ignore your life back at home?”

  Payton’s eyes narrowed as she glared into her mother’s dark lenses. “Yup.” She spread a thick layer of country twang onto the single word, wondering when or even if she’d feel the sting of her mother’s insult. But the fact was, she was starting to see a very stark and mind-blowing truth: Having what looked like the better life didn’t make a person happy. She used to think that even if their family didn’t have all the money and success they had, she’d still be satisfied as long as the public believed that they did. What a strange thing it was to know how very wrong she’d been.

  Not so much as another word passed between Payton and her mom as they waited for Melanie to return with their drinks.

  “Here’s your tea, raw sugar packets, and lemons on the side. Be right back with your food.”

  “Thank you.” Payton slid her glass closer and tore open the paper sleeve of her straw.

  Olivia still hadn’t bothered removing her dark glasses, which was nothing new. What was out of place was the odd grin forming at one corner of her lips as she dumped a sugar packet into her drink and stirred.

  “What?” Payton asked, tilting to see past the dark lenses covering her mom’s eyes.

  A laugh sounded in the woman’s throat, then made its way onto her lips. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.” She reached for the lemon, squeezed it with a vengeance, then tossed the shriveled remains toward the small bowl and missed.

  Payton reached for the abandoned wedge and tucked it next to the others. “Didn’t see what?” she asked, playing along.

  She straightened her shoulders, the perfect picture of Olivia Keller. Blonde bob with choppy ends, high cheekbones any woman might kill for, and a pout on lips that could only belong to a plastic surgeon’s wife—not overdone, crooked, or puffy on top. Just that perfect pout most women never achieved.

  The grin came back. “Wild oats,” she explained. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize that you needed to sow a few wild oats.”

  Payton shook her head, irritated that all she could see was reflections of herself and her surroundings where her mother’s eyes should be. “Could you take off those ridiculous glasses, please?”

  “These ridiculous glasses are—”

  “I don’t care who designed them or how much they cost, Mom. Could you just take them off so we can have a conversation?”

  Her mother chuckled under her breath as she tore them from her face, revealing her brown eyes. “Testy, aren’t we?”

  “You think I’m here because I wanted to get some rebellious itch out of my system?” Payton hissed.

  “Well, that wasn’t my word choice, but yes. Something like that. And I’m pretty sure, now that I think about it, that your brother’s doing the same.”

  “Soup of the day,” Melanie chimed. “Creamy cauliflower, and it’s delicious. And here’s your salad. Can I get you ladies anything else?” She slid the food onto the table, placing the bread next to the steaming soup bowl.

  “No, I think this should do it. Thank you. Can’t wait to try it.”

  “You’re welcome! Enjoy your meals.”

  Payton felt torn between answering her mother and enjoying the food, as Melanie suggested. Chances were once Payton said what she had to say, things between them would get worse, not better.

  She dunked her spoon into the hot soup and brought it to her lips, blowing on it before spooning it into her mouth. She stifled a moan and tore off a piece of the bread, dipping it before eating that as well.

  “So you admit that that’s what you two are doing?”

  Payton glanced up, gulped, and reached for another chunk of the warm, chewy bread. It was heaven.

  “You should have seen my wild oats guy. He was attractive too. Maybe not as … movie-screen-worthy as yours, but he wasn’t bad.” She stabbed a messy cluster of spring greens with her fork, dipped the end of a stray sprig into the dressing, and ate it. Her gaze moved to a distant spot out the window. “His name was Johnny McGraw. How’s that for a country name? He was sweet. Great kisser. He might have really loved me, actually.” She sighed, a dreamy look falling over her face.

  Payton sat up straighter, realizing that her mom was opening up to her. Sharing a piece of her past that she’d never talked about before. “If he loved you,” Payton said in a whisper, “why didn’t you stay with him?”

  “Johnny worked with his father in some sheet metal factory. Blue-collar work at its finest. He had a great mind, though …” Mom’s fork slipped from the manicured tips of her fingers and clanked against the bowl. She shook her head, clearing her throat as she retrieved the fork. “It would’ve ruined the image I’d been working to achieve. I was halfway through school, already making a name for myself, working as an apprentice for Tylo Murochi—who took a liking to me right away. Plus I met your father, and he was charming and accomplished and planning a life that looked a lot like the one I wanted …” Her shoulders lifted, then dropped as she sighed, her gaze shifting to a spot beyond the window. Her expression turned wistful. “So I made a choice.”

  That last sentence hadn’t come out sounding proud or haughty, like Payton might expect it to. In her mind, she played it back just as she’d heard it. That same sad, regretful tone: I made a choice.

  “So you were dating them at the same time?” Payton asked.

  Olivia nodded. “For a little while.”

  Payton nodded as she took it in, the story sounding less and less like a rebellious bout and a whole lot more like a love triangle. Picking money or status over love. Which was depressing to think about, considering how hard Payton had worked to save her parents’ marriage over the years. It had felt like a full-time job keeping the waters calm. And what if it was like that because they were never meant to be in the first place?

  No. She rejected that idea. Thoughts like that had no place in the world of preserving a relationship. But was that what this was between Luke and Archie—a love triangle? The idea was too laughable to entertain. Not only had Archie cheated on her; the guy never even loved Payton to begin with. Not that she’d been in love with him either.

  The thought begged a new question. A very important one. Was she in love with Luke Branson? Payton’s heart fluttered wildly at the mere idea.

  “Your dad sowed some oats of his own, you know? His distraction was a real book nerd. Glasses and all. Her name was Mary.” Her mom stopped talking, began circling a knot on the alder tabletop with her fingertips. “Mary has stayed single all these years, if you can believe it. And it turns out your dad ran into her at the earth foods shop a little while back.”

  “Huh.” Payton ba
rely managed the response before realization kicked in. Her mom was about to up the stakes. If guilt wasn’t a strong enough motivation, Olivia would fall back on a trusty standby. A tactic she’d used for years: fear.

  “Mary’s never had a baby, so as you can imagine her hips are still teenager-slim. You should have heard your dad going on about her the other day …” Olivia continued to ramble, and Payton did her best to tune it out, but the damage was already done; that horrible splash of acid pooled into Payton’s stomach.

  Leave it to Olivia Keller to put it there, too. It was like she carried a pint-sized dose of disrupt in her purse to pour directly into Payton’s insides at a given moment. Without coming out and saying it, her mom was implying that Dad’s eye had wandered. Or maybe it was more than just his eye.

  Payton wasn’t aware of any substantial reason for her mother to have been so paranoid over the years. One minute she was suspicious of some bombshell of a patient who’d undergone a complete transformation herself under Michael Keller’s famous scalpel, and the next it was his chesty nursing assistant who also happened to be a former patient. And now, now her mother was about to present an even bigger threat to their relationship: the she’s-my-complete-opposite case. Book nerd with the simple life versus fashion icon who has it all.

  More acid. More worry. More panic. It was a known thing in the world of love that there was no greater threat than one’s complete opposite. It’s probably why she fell so hard and fast for Luke. But this wasn’t about her rebound romance, was it? This was about her parents. Her entire family, really. How in the world was she supposed to fix this one?

  But that was just it. She wasn’t meant to fix it at all. The man upstairs was setting her free. Opening her eyes to a pattern so taxing, so … abusive, really, that Payton should have never fallen subject to it in the first place. Sure, she’d started on her own accord as a child. But Olivia had used it to control her.