Lauri Robinson

by What a Cowboy Wants

  It was like pulling teeth, dragging her eyes off him, and then she saw Jesse step in for a hug from his brother. The three of them stood there, holding on to each other, and for the first time ever, Ester felt like an intruder in Brett’s life. That had her throat balling up and her cheeks quivering.

  She turned, opened the screen door and made her way back to the kitchen, where she finished the dishes in complete silence. They were grieving the loss of their parents. She understood that, but she wanted to be with them, sharing their pain. In her heart, the entire Richards family had been her family, too. All the years growing up with Brett as her beau had left that lasting mark on her.

  The widow who died less than a year after Brett had left appeared in Ester’s mind.

  You’d be a fool to go with him, Mrs. Wilson had told Ester all those years ago. That boy will get hisself killed out there. Just like my Lester did. Brought me out here as a bride when Cutter’s Corner was nothing but a wide spot in the road, and less than a year later, he died, not half a mile from our house, lost in a blizzard. That’s what’ll happen to you, too. You’ll be out there in Montana all by yourself. Having to take in sewing, like I did, just to eat.

  Ester pressed a hand to her forehead, willing the memory to fade. She couldn’t go with him. Not then, and not now.

  The kitchen was clean, the dishes were put away and the cup of tea she’d made herself had gone cold when she heard the screen door open and close. She remained seated at the table, watching the archway to see who had entered.

  Her heart thrashed about so much it was painful even before Brett rounded the corner and stopped to lean against the wall. His shoulders were broader beneath the tan shirt than they’d been five years ago, and his waist leaner where the gun belt hung low on the hips covered with brown pants.

  “We need to talk, Ester.”

  She gave a clipped nod. Anger had renewed itself—at how he’d left her so easily, how he held such little regard for his own life—but the desire he’d sparked inside her this afternoon with that one kiss was just as strong and had built into an all-compassing need that had her ready to burst like a canning jar boiled too long.

  “Jess tells me he graduates next week.”

  Brett had grown, or aged, in other ways, too, and the stern tone he used increased the resentment inside her. “Yes, he does,” she replied just as coldly.

  “We’ll wait until after that before heading home. Back to Montana. I’d be obliged if they could go on staying here. I could take another room at the hotel, but seeing this has been their home…” He paused, glanced around.

  “It would be best for them to remain here,” she replied, wishing she’d added forever.

  “I thank you for taking care of them these past months,” he said. “I’ll pay you whatever the costs have been.”

  “There have been no costs, Brett.” She stopped before telling him Jesse and Hannah were family. Chin up, she breathed through her nose, refusing to admit, even to herself, how he was once again shredding her heart.

  He straightened, rocked on his heels and slapped his hat against his thigh. “We’re going to walk up to the hotel and have a piece of pie or some ice cream. You’re welcome to join us.”

  Though she wanted to leap out of her chair, Ester shook her head. “No, they need some time getting to know you again, but they do have school tomorrow, so please don’t be too late.”

  “We won’t,” he answered, planting his hat on his head. Without another word, he was gone.

  Sitting there all alone, Ester wondered, yet again, what Montana could possibly have that Iowa didn’t. This time, in a way, she knew the answer.

  Brett.

  And that’s what had been missing in Cutter’s Corner the past five years.

  She made sure to be at the door when they returned, but Brett stopped in the front yard and after kissing Hannah and ruffling Jesse’s hair, he simply gave her a nod before starting back up the road.

  “Time for bed,” she told the children, holding the door wide and watching him walk away.

  A short time later, while braiding Hannah’s hair as the girl chatted about Montana, all Brett had told her and their visit to the hotel, Ester’s spine was ice-cold, but all of a sudden threatened to snap in two. “What did you say?”

  Hannah twisted to look over her shoulder. Her big brown eyes, so like her older brother’s, grew thoughtful for a moment. “That I had plum syrup on my ice cream?”

  “No, after that,” Ester said.

  “Oh, that Lenore said she’d love to see Montana.” Hannah turned back around for Ester to finish the braid.

  Flipping the hair with utmost speed while her teeth clenched, Ester asked, “Did she join you for pie and ice cream?”

  Lenore Wicks had always had a crush on Brett, and practically lived for the chance to rub Ester’s nose in the fact Brett had gone to Montana without her.

  “No, she waited on us. She has a job at the restaurant now, but she doesn’t really like it. She had to go to work, though, on account her folks’ house burnt the same time ours did.”

  “I see,” Ester said. “Jump into bed now. You have a test at school tomorrow.”

  “I know. Good Night.”

  Ester paused as she bent down to blow out the lamp, her stomach tying itself in knots. “Was Brett happy to see Lenore?”

  Already snuggled beneath the covers, Hannah shrugged. “I dunno. He said he didn’t remember her living next door to us.”

  “That’s because she didn’t when he lived there.”

  “That’s what she told him. Good night, Ester.”

  “Good night,” Ester repeated, blowing out the lamp and leaving the room. Jealousy—she knew that’s what it was since she’d felt it anytime Brett spoke to another girl—was flaring hotter than it ever had before.

  * * *

  Unable to sleep, knowing Brett was staying in the same hotel Lenore worked at, Ester was up long before the sun, and as soon as the children left for school, she started up the road, set upon putting the other woman in her place.

  Half a block from the hotel, she spied her adversary walking out of the dry goods store. “Lenore,” she said, quite sternly.

  Dressed in a pale orange dress that Ester hated to admit was very stylish and quite stunning, the woman spun around. “I thought you worked at the hotel,” Ester said.

  “I do,” Lenore said. “The evening shift.” She fluffed the sides of her hair so the golden curls fell over her shoulders. “I’m assuming you know Brett’s in town.”

  “Of course I know he’s in town. I’m sure I was the first to know.”

  Lenore let out a derisive laugh. “Really? He didn’t mention that when he and I had our little visit last night.”

  Steam was about to shoot out of her ears. “You mean when you served him and Jesse and Hannah pie and ice cream.”

  A bit of Lenore’s haughtiness slipped from her face.

  It was enough to give Ester a slight whiff of victory. “I believe Brett and Jess each had apple pie and Hannah had ice cream, with plum sauce.”

  Lenore’s lips pursed, but then a gleam appeared in her green eyes. “How do you know Brett and I didn’t see each other after that?”

  Holding her ground for all she was worth, Ester replied, “Because I know Brett.”

  Another chortle sounded as the woman tipped her head back to enhance her laugh. “Maybe five years ago you knew a boy, and perhaps now I know the man.”

  Ester took a step forward, believing with all she had the woman was wrong. In her heart of hearts, Brett was hers, would forever be. “I’ve always known the man, even before he appeared.”

  “Tsk, tsk.” Lenore waggled a finger. “Poor little Ester. You’re growing as mean and bitter as old Widow Wilson was. You need to remember, dear, you gave up all your rights to Brett when you didn’t go to Montana with him.”

  Her heart was beating like she’d just run a mile, and there was enough fire in her belly to bake pies. A dozen of th
em. Ester folded her arms across her chest and leaned close to seethe, “And you’re still jealous. Wishing he’d have asked you to go.”

  Lenore’s nose was mere inches away as she responded, “I’m not ashamed to admit I’d go to the moon and back if that man asked.”

  “Don’t pack your bags,” Ester growled.

  “And who’s gonna stop me?” Lenore sneered. “Some lonely seamstress living in her lonely house on the edge of town?”

  Chapter Three

  Brett was just walking out of the hotel when a screeching noise split the air. It sounded to him like two cats had had their tails tied together and been flung over a clothesline. Not that he knew exactly what that sounded like. He hadn’t been with Frank Hespers and his brother Owen behind the schoolhouse when they’d done just that to Widow Wilson’s cats.

  Spinning toward the sound, he took a double take at the skirts and hair flying as two women rolled into the street. Clawing and screeching and leaving strands of hair floating amongst the dust.

  Blond hair. And there was a rabbit-fur pouch on the boardwalk.

  He ran.

  Grabbing a waist, not really sure whose it was until the familiar shape filled his palms, he lifted Ester high into the air, swinging her out of the way as the other woman kicked pointed-toed boots. One jab caught the side of his leg with enough force there’d be a bruise. A big one. Luckily someone else grabbed her off the ground.

  Focusing his attention on the woman in his arms, whose fists were still flying, punching nothing but air, he asked, “Ester, what are you doing?”

  “Put me down, Brett. I’m not finished with that trollop.”

  “I’d rather be a trollop than an old bitty,” the other woman shouted.

  “Lenore?” Brett gawked at the woman who’d served him and the kids pie the night before at the hotel.

  Ester squirmed harder in his arms. “Put me down, Brett. I’m gonna show her—”

  “No, you’re not,” he said, hooking her tighter with one arm to plant her firmly against his side, her feet still kicking. Her aloofness yesterday—which had kept him up most of the night—had been an act, and that tickled him, probably more than it should.

  “Don’t pack your bags,” she shouted at Lenore.

  Still thrashing, the other woman, hair askew and one dress sleeve torn, was confined by a red-bearded man who looked vaguely familiar. Then again, half the town appeared somewhat familiar to Brett.

  “I don’t have to worry about you packing your bags, do I?” Lenore yelled. “You didn’t before and you won’t now.”

  “You spiteful cow!”

  “Ester, that’s enough,” Brett said, spinning around and heading toward her house on the edge of town. There was only one thing that ever set her off like this.

  “Brett!”

  He glanced over his shoulder.

  “Here.” The man held Lenore with one hand as he tossed the rabbit-fur pouch. “It’s Ester’s.”

  The voice he recognized. As Brett caught the bag with his free hand, he said, “Frank Hespers, I was just thinking about you.”

  “We’ll get together.” Frank paused to hoist Lenore, who looked like she was trying to run but going nowhere, higher in his arms. “After things calm down.”

  “I’ll look you up,” Brett said, tucking the bag in his pocket so he could use both hands to keep Ester under control until he got her home.

  Once there, in her house, he planted her firmly on the little sofa. “What the hell was that all about?”

  She tossed her head back, making her long, straight hair flutter as it settled around her shoulders. “Oh, like you don’t know,” she spat, blue eyes snapping. “You didn’t waste any time reacquainting yourself with specific people, did you?”

  “Lenore?”

  “Yes, Lenore,” she snapped. The words came out so snootily he had to laugh, and that reaction turned her cheeks red. “You think it’s funny?”

  “Yeah, I think it’s funny.” Lenore Wicks had been irritating years ago, and last night, though he’d hardly recognized her, after one minute he remembered exactly how annoying she was. However, the fact Ester was jealous of the woman had him happier than a kid with a new slingshot.

  “Brett Richards, I oughta…”

  “What?” he challenged, while kneeling down in front of the sofa, reading those beautiful blue eyes. “Kiss me?”

  She was so quiet for a moment he wondered if she was breathing. Then, her eyes narrowed, sending his heart beating faster than a stampede.

  “Yes,” she piped back while her hands grasped his neck.

  The kiss, her lips meeting his, was beyond anything imaginable. After years of believing he may never see her again, and months on end where he’d wondered if he should return to Iowa, to her, he couldn’t stop from pulling her closer, and when her lips parted, giving him full access, he took it.

  Remembering her kisses was nothing like experiencing them, and he couldn’t stop—he just snatched a bit of air whenever possible. They’d kissed a lot over their years of courting, and they’d explored each other’s bodies a bit, but had never broken any rules, not like he wanted to do right now.

  His hands roamed up, found her breasts. They were like heaven, round and plump and firm. The nipples pebbled beneath his touch and a thrill shot through him. The two of them were no longer kids, but a man and woman with unmistakable needs that were blazing hot right now.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered, kissing her neck all the way to the neckline of her dress.

  “Me, too, Brett,” she answered, with a velvety moan. “Me, too.”

  He went lower then, kissing the fabric covering her breasts, and when he opened his mouth, he settled it around her nipple, material and all. Her fingers, combing through his hair, tightened and held him there. He didn’t mind in the least, and moved only enough to explore the other breast, nibble on the tip beneath the cloth.

  One of his hands found its way under the layers of her skirt, shimmied up her leg and felt the heat of her skin beneath the thin layer of her pantaloons. His palm flattened near the top of her leg while his thumb twirled the innermost region of her thigh.

  “Brett,” she whispered, sounding breathless.

  “Hmmm,” he mumbled, since his mouth was still busy. They’d always stopped long before now, all those years ago, and he knew they should again, but the need, the want pulsing through his body, had never been this strong before.

  “We…we…could go upstairs.” She was gasping and arching her back.

  It was tempting, so very, very tempting, yet, at the same time, brought a bit of sensibility back to Brett. He kissed his way back up to her lips, and took her mouth again for a very long, long time. Throbbing and aching, he finally lifted his head.

  Her eyes were smoldering, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed, and she’d never looked more beautiful. “Yes, Ester,” he said, though breathing was a challenge. “But if we went up those stairs, how would you feel about it next week when the kids and I leave for Montana?”

  She went as stiff as a fence post. The only things moving were her breasts and the wet material covering them as she tried to catch her breath.

  “I’m leaving again, Ester.” He had to tell her that, make her understand, though it was almost gutting him. “I’m going back to Montana, and not even spending time in your bed will change that.”

  Ester wanted to hold her breath, take a moment to think beyond the wild storm of desire that had her breasts aching for his return and her very womanhood throbbing, but she couldn’t. Air wouldn’t catch in her lungs, and the only thing she could think was, He’s doing it again, choosing Montana.

  The thought of him leaving was devastating, something she didn’t think she could live through again, but how could she fight Montana? It wasn’t like Lenore, where she could physically stake her claim.

  He was watching her, waiting for her to respond, and she wanted to say she’d go with him when he left, but she couldn’t. Just
couldn’t.

  Slowly, shaking his head, he stood.

  She threw herself against the back of the sofa and, bowing her head, gnawed on her lip at the frustration tearing her apart, wishing she could erase Montana from the face of the earth.

  “Here,” he said. “You dropped this on the boardwalk.”

  She took the rabbit-fur pouch, her greatest treasure in the world, for he’d made it for her years ago. “Brett, I—”

  “Don’t, Ester,” he said, picking his hat off the floor. “Your eyes already told me your answer.”

  As the screen door snapped shut, she grabbed the pillow off the sofa and threw it across the room, where it hit the potted fern on the plant stand, spewing dirt and leaves across the room.

  Chapter Four

  Ester waited until after Jesse had changed his clothes and left for his after-school job at the feed store before she called up the stairway. “Hannah, come down here, please.”

  She had only a few days to show Brett what he’d be missing when he left this time. Prove to him she had more to offer than Montana did.

  “I left my test on the kitchen table,” the girl said, running down the steps. “Didn’t you see it? I got a hundred percent.”

  “I saw it,” Ester assured. “That’s wonderful. I’m proud of you.” Licking her lips, she said, “I’d like you to go to the hotel and invite Brett to have supper with us.”

  “I already did,” Hannah said. “He can’t.”

  “What do you mean, ‘He can’t’? How—when did you see him?”

  “He was at the school when it let out. Said he’d see us after supper. I told him he could eat with us, that you wouldn’t mind, but he said no, he was already eating someplace tonight.”

  “Who is he eating with?”

  “I dunno. I didn’t ask.”

  Lenore’s face flashed before Ester’s eyes, making her hands ball into fists. The chicken she’d butchered this afternoon was already soaking in buttermilk, waiting to be rolled in flour and fried, and a pan of corn bread was ready to go in the oven, as soon as the apple pie was done baking. The fury coiling around her spine had her wanting to shove the pie in the trollop’s face and watch Brett choke on a chicken bone.