Big-Hearted Cowboy (The Buckskin Brotherhood Book 2)

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Stephanie Bond

  Patsy, a fiftyish woman who’d been a server at the Moose ever since Millie had started coming here, hovered nearby with menus in hand. She’d worked the wedding reception the night before, too.

  Jake took the other chair and smiled at Patsy. “Have you recovered from last night’s craziness?”

  “Aw, I didn’t mind.” Beaming, she handed them each a menu. “It’s fun to see everybody dressed up and having a good time. I’m happy for Matt and Lucy.”

  “Me, too. How’s that pup of yours doing?”

  “Growing, getting into things. Cute as the devil.” She pulled out her electronic order pad and glanced at them. “Special occasion?”

  “You could say that.” Jake winked at Millie. “The lady finally agreed to go out with me.”

  “Good call, Millie. He’s a great guy.”

  “Yes, he is.” And gallant. He’d made it sound as if he’d been waging a long campaign that had finally succeeded.

  Patsy took their order. “The band should be back from their break any minute. It’s a new group Ben’s trying out. I think you’ll enjoy dancing to their music. Unless you’re all danced out after last night.”

  Jake laughed. “Heck, no. Tonight I have Millie all to myself. No fighting off the other guys. I plan to take full advantage of that.”

  “Excellent. I’ll be right back with your apple cider.” She hurried away as the band returned and picked up their instruments.

  “You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

  Leaning his forearms on the table, he gazed at her. “You are special. It’s ridiculous how long I’ve tolerated this situation.”

  “What situation?”

  “Always on my guard, making sure I didn’t show my hand by dancing with you too often or holding you closer than I should. Meanwhile I monitored every cowboy who took you out on the floor in case they were inappropriate and I had to step in.”

  “My goodness. That sounds exhausting.”

  “It was. And it ends now.” As the band played the intro to This Kiss, he leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Tonight you’re with me, just me. If any other yahoo comes over and asks for a dance, I’m asking you to please turn him down flat.”

  “Of course.”

  He stood and held out his hand. “Care to dance, Millie?”

  Warmth flooded through her. “I sure do.” She put her hand in his strong, sure grip. Good thing he was holding her steady. Her rubbery knees weren’t up to the job.

  Silly. She’d danced with Jake dozens of times, maybe even hundreds, considering the many trips to the Moose.

  He led her to the dance floor. “Are you okay?”

  “Never better.”

  “You’re quivering.”

  “Nervous excitement.”

  “Ah.” He turned back to her, his eyes alight with eagerness. “It’s a fast one. Want to wait for something slow?”

  She shook her head. “Just don’t let go of me.”

  “Oh, I won’t.” He twirled her out onto the floor.

  She could usually anticipate his moves. Not tonight. He was going for fancy. But he was true to his word and never let go of her as he executed one complicated maneuver after another.

  In her effort to keep up with him, she lost the nervousness that had given her the shakes. The band had a vocalist who sounded a lot like Faith Hill and belted out the lyrics with vigor. If Millie hadn’t been focused on the delights of kissing before, the words of the song did the trick.

  As for Jake, his carefree grin made her heart swell with joy. He was totally loose tonight, more relaxed with her than ever before, even when he’d been kidding around. Could it be that she’d never met the real Jake?

  When the song ended, he pulled her in close. “I loved that.” Then he kissed her. Not for long, but long enough to stun her into speechless wonder, long enough to discover that his mouth on hers was an amazing sensation. Drawing back, he smiled. “It was a song about kissing, after all.”

  She couldn’t breathe, let alone talk. She had to settle for nodding.

  “Let’s go have some cider. Looks like our salads have arrived, too.”

  She nodded again. She’d turned into a bobble-head doll.

  He didn’t let go of her hand until she was safely seated at the table. She appreciated that. She wasn’t entirely convinced she would have found it on her own.

  He sat down with a contented sigh. “I haven’t danced like that in years. No, that’s not true. I’ve never danced like that.”

  She took a shaky breath. “Me, either.”

  “There’s something I’d like to talk about and it feels like we should be holding hands.” He moved his salad plate aside and extended his arm across the table.

  “Okay.” She met him halfway and he laced his fingers through hers.

  He studied their clasped hands for a moment. Then he looked up, his gaze warm. “I startled you when I kissed you just now. I probably should apologize, but I—”

  “It’s fine.” More than fine. Her lips still tingled and she couldn’t stop looking at his mouth.

  “I was craving a small taste, like when you get a tiny spoonful of ice cream at the Apple Barrel.”

  “How was it?”

  Heat flashed in his eyes. “I want more.” Then he took a deep breath. “That’s why I did it here. I’m not going to forget myself in the middle of the Choosy Moose.”

  “But you might somewhere else?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Kissing you has been an obsession of mine for… months. Today I realized it was going to happen for real. I debated kissing you before I left the house this afternoon.”

  “I wondered if you would.”

  “Too dangerous with all that privacy. Same thing when I picked you up tonight.”

  “You think we’ll get carried away?” Her heartbeat had begun to settle a bit but now it was off to the races again.

  “Maybe you won’t.”

  She wasn’t so sure. Not anymore.

  He leaned closer. “But I… taking this step is leaving me feeling… not wild, exactly, but unleashed. It’s a great feeling. Energizing. I just don’t want to mess up.”

  “Like how?” As if she didn’t know.

  His voice dropped to a low, intimate murmur. “Making love to you too soon.”

  Whoa. That right there was a bedroom voice. “What’s… too soon?”

  “Tonight.”

  “I, um—” She cleared her throat. “Uh-huh.”

  “I’d like to hold off for a while, maybe a week or two, but I…” His fingers tightened. “What do you think?”

  “Sorry. My brain’s not working. Not even a little.”

  He blinked. Then he laughed and shook his head. “Oh, Millie. You’re not making this any easier. It’s a good thing I live in the bunkhouse and you have a roommate or we’d—”

  “Two steak dinners, coming up! I—oh, sorry if I’m interrupting.”

  Jake released Millie’s hand and sat back with a sheepish expression. “No worries, Patsy. We were just—”

  “Having a moment.” Patsy set down Millie’s plate first, then his. “I think that’s lovely. I know how it goes. Close friends take the plunge and it begins to look like a good idea.”

  Jake flashed her a smile. “So true.”

  So true? Surely that hadn’t just come out of his mouth.

  “I’d ask if either of you wants another mug of cider, but you haven’t touched the first ones. Or your salad. I’ll leave you to it. Signal if you need anything.” She gave Jake a pat on the shoulder before she left.

  Millie waited until she was out of earshot. “So true? Jake, she was implying that we might be considering marriage and just last night you said—”

  “I know. But I wasn’t going to tell her we were a long way from that decision.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not a gentlemanly thing to say. In fact, it would border on an insult, as if I have to think long and hard about it.”

  “But
you would!”

  “Assuming my brain is working.” He met her gaze.

  “That’s why we should hold off.”

  “It’s the smart thing to do. In theory. I thought we should talk about it and come up with a game plan, but…”

  “But?”

  “Talking about it has only made me want to do it.”

  “Then we won’t talk about it.”

  “Too late. We already did.”

  “We won’t anymore. Problem solved.”

  “I doubt it.” He lowered his voice to that sexy murmur again. “I have this image in my head of you all flushed and your eyes sparkling because you’re thinking about making love to me. You’ve all but admitted that you want this as much as I do. How am I supposed to forget that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Neither do I. Taking it slow is the right thing to do, but I’ll be damned if I know how.”

  “I have an idea.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Let’s eat our steaks. It’s good for our brains and might strengthen our resolve.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “We’ll be burning a lot of calories. We’ll need the fuel.”

  Chapter Twelve

  We’ll need the fuel. No kidding. Jake took a drink of his apple cider to cool down. Didn’t help much. Picking up his knife and fork, he cut into his steak. Looked delicious. So did the woman across the table.

  Like an idiot, he’d invited Millie to a romantic and sensual evening involving warm, succulent food and plenty of opportunities for body contact. If he’d wanted to slow things down between them, he could have taken her bowling.

  “How’s your steak, buddy?”

  He glanced up at the Choosy Moose’s cook. Nobody knew how old Ezra was, but he’d been at the Moose forever. He stood five feet nothing and probably weighed a hundred pounds dripping wet.

  Jake finished chewing and swallowed. “Amazing, as always, Ezra. You have that routine down pat—ask about the food while the customer has a mouthful.”

  Ezra chuckled and looked over at Millie. “He’s right, you know. Cooks and servers do that to amuse ourselves. How’s your steak, Millie?”

  “Perfect, Ezra. You’re the best cook within the town limits. Kate’s the best one outside them.”

  “Hey!” Jake pretended indignation. “How about including me in that statement?”

  “You’re a terrific cook, Jake, but Kate has a much bigger repertoire.”

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll grant you that.” He glanced at Ezra, who had a twinkle in his eye. The game was on. “But nobody can touch me when it comes to chuck-wagon stew.”

  Ezra sighed right on cue. “That’s the God’s truth. Too bad I can’t put it on the menu. The customers would love it.”

  “So take my recipe and call it Jake’s Chuck-Wagon Stew.” They’d had this discussion many times. It always ended the same.

  “I never stick with any recipe. You know that. It’ll have to be Ezra’s Chuck-Wagon Stew.”

  “Suit yourself. But let me know if you change your mind. We’ll work out a licensing agreement.”

  Ezra laughed and squeezed his shoulder. “When hell freezes over, buddy. Hey, it’s good to see you guys. Patsy told me you were here on an official date. I had to come see for myself.”

  “It’s an official date,” Millie said.

  “Glad to hear it. Could you do me a favor and drag this guy to the altar? I want grandchildren before I croak.”

  Millie’s eyes widened. “You’re Jake’s—”

  “It’s an honorary title. I don’t have any kids, so I appropriated Jake when he came to work here. I let him do some cooking. He owes me a couple of grandchildren. I’d prefer a boy and a girl.”

  “I see.”

  “I’m counting on you, Millie. But I’d better get back to my kitchen and work my magic. Let me know when the wedding is. I’ll be there with bells on.” He gave them each a military salute and headed off to his inner sanctum.

  “He’s right about the magic,” Millie said. “The food here is terrific.”

  “That guy has a job for life. He’s a genius in the kitchen. I knew a few things when I started, but he taught me a ton of stuff in the months I worked here. Technically I was a dishwasher, but Ezra let me cook. A lot.”

  “Was Patsy here then, too?”

  “She was.”

  “How many others?”

  “Quite a few. Turnover is small at the Moose. Ben’s a good boss.”

  “Until you told me you used to work here, I thought everyone was friendly with you because you’re friendly to them.”

  “There’s that, too. Several came on after I left, but I make it a point to remember everyone’s name.”

  “You’re onto something there. When a ranch guest takes note of my nametag and uses my name, they’ll get special treatment for the rest of their stay.”

  “Is that right, Millie Jones?” He put down his knife and fork so he could take a sip of his apple cider. “I took note of your name that first day and used it whenever possible. I don’t recall any special treatment.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You got special treatment. I don’t bonk you on the head with a mop, which is what you deserved for accusing me of being an international spy with an alias.”

  “You didn’t deny it, either. Are you?”

  “I’d tell you, but then I’d—”

  “You’d have to kill me. That’s a lousy incentive. I don’t want to die on our first date.”

  “I’m not an international spy. My last name is Jones, same as my dad’s.”

  “Ah, but is there any proof of this supposed father? Where is he?”

  “He died ten years ago. Fast-acting cancer.”

  His chest tightened. “I’m sorry. You were what, eighteen?”

  “Yep, barely out of high school. At least he saw me graduate.” She glanced at him. “He was a good dad. A good husband. He and my mom were really happy together.”

  “Must have been rough for both of you when he died. Is she doing okay?”

  Her gaze shifted away and she sighed. “A year or so later she married Stanley.”

  “You don’t like him.”

  “I don’t dislike him.”

  “Are you sure? Because you said his name like you were staring at dog doo on the sidewalk.”

  She laughed. “I suppose I did.”

  “I hope you never say my name that way.”

  “I wouldn’t. You’re the anti-Stanley.”

  “I don’t know about that. Yesterday you called me a pain in the ass.”

  “Which at least makes you interesting. Stanley is the most monochromatic person I’ve ever met.”

  “Monochromatic?”

  “Devoid of color. You know your bumper sticker? Life would be boring without me?”

  He smiled. “Thanks for noticing.”

  “Stanley needs one that says Life will be boring with me. Except Stanley would never get a bumper sticker because that would be far too interesting.”

  “I guess the big question is whether your mom’s fine with mister plain vanilla, no sprinkles.”

  “She seems to be. I haven’t had a private chat with her in forever because he’s always there. They do everything together.”

  “Boring things.”

  “Yes! On my last visit, I had lunch with them at their favorite fast food place and they spent the entire time debating whether to buy a two-slice or a four-slice toaster.”

  “And where do you stand on that question?”

  “Nowhere. I don’t care.”

  “Really? Because I can make a good argument for a rugged four-slice. Then again, a slender two-slice is—”

  “Don’t start.” She grinned.

  “A two-slice is elegantly minimalist, but a four-slice says let’s party! I personally—”

  “Jake…” She started laughing.

  “But you gotta forget the four-slice unless you’re a butter knife ninja. That fourth on
e will cool before you get to it.” He loved making her crack up. “Oh! What about slot size?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Thick for bagels, long for hot dog buns. Size matters.”

  “Stop!” She wiped her eyes with her napkin. “No more toaster talk.”

  “No more? You can’t leave me hanging. Which kind did they get?”

  “They insisted I had to go with them to buy the darned thing and it was a two-hour ordeal of comparison shopping. They finally ended up with the most basic two-slice model in the store.”

  “Will it handle bagels and buns?”

  “No.”

  “They’ll live to regret that.”

  “If they do, I’ll hear all about it in excruciating detail on my next visit.”

  He gazed at her. “I’m sorry your mom is joined at the hip to a boring man.”

  “Me, too. I wanted to be enthusiastic about her choice, but compared to my vibrant dad, Stanley is a major let-down. On the other hand, I don’t have to worry about my mom being lonely without me.”

  “See? Silver lining.”

  “It is. I’ve always been fascinated by the wild, wild West, but I was going to stick around because of her. After Stanley was entrenched, I decided to give the West a shot.”

  “Why Apple Grove?”

  “My story’s not nearly as exciting as yours. I didn’t set out on a driving trip. I searched online.”

  “Which is smarter. Saves time and money.”

  “I didn’t have a lot of either. Just the urge for something different, something bursting with creativity and color. This town is almost as appealing online as in person.”

  “The Chamber of Commerce has been working on that.”

  “They’ve done a great job. I liked what I saw and followed the Buckskin Ranch link. Henri was looking for someone to apprentice to Sue, who wanted to retire in a year. We emailed, I came out for an interview, and she hired me on the spot.”

  “I remember her telling me that she’d taken you on.”

  “Oh, yeah? What did she say?”

  “She has red hair and she’s feisty. You’ll like her.”

  Millie smiled. “She thought I was feisty?”

  “She wasn’t wrong. You’ve been giving me a hard time ever since we met.”

  “Because you were so full of yourself.”