COWBOY FOR SALE--A Second-Chances Spicy Romance

by Janet Wellington

  “One more?”

  “Oscar. He’s very playful, smoky gray, gold eyes. Usually he’s upstairs. He keeps tabs on Amber and likes to lounge on the bookshelves in the study. He’ll probably bring you a wadded-up piece of paper to toss. I think he thinks he’s really a dog.”

  “I didn’t see any litter boxes--”

  “Dolly and Petunia go in and out,” Cory pointed at a flap in the bottom of the kitchen door, “and there are boxes in the basement that I clean twice a day. It’s not too bad, really, and I don’t mind doing it. They were good company for Tillie, and, now, for me.”

  “So, what else have you done to the place?”

  Cory scooted her chair back and reached for a binder that was perched on the counter behind her. The feeling of confidence grew now that she was on more familiar ground. “It’s all in here,” she explained, handing Jake the notebook.

  “Ah, a master plan--just like old times.”

  Cory felt the heat blaze in her cheeks. Was he making fun of her?

  “Reminds me of Mr. Foster’s class. We did get an ‘A-plus’ on every project, didn’t we?”

  She stared at his face and determined he was paying her a true compliment and not teasing her. His grin was irresistibly devastating and her heart pounded loud enough in her ears that she couldn’t make out what he’d just said, hoping her smile back would be enough of a reply. Jeez, pull it together, girl. It’s only Jake.

  “Do you ever see any of our old teachers?”

  “Most have retired. Mrs. Anderson’s still teaching history, I think. And Mr. Foster actually works part-time at the hardware store. He’s got some glass knobs and brass drawer pulls on order for the cabinets in here. They should be in next week, so you could see him if you want to pick them up. I’m sure he’d enjoy it.”

  “I knew he’d never really retire,” Jake added as he started paging through the notebook.

  “It’s all there.”

  “I’d say so. Jake stared at the flagged page, reading it slowly to himself. Rake mulch...check flower bulbs...rake leaves...return books to library...lunch with...Sara. Who’s Sara?” he finally asked, breaking the long silence.

  Cory swallowed her embarrassment. So she kept detailed ‘to-do’ lists. So what? What was wrong with a little organization? Maybe he wasn’t being as critical as he suddenly sounded; she should probably give him the benefit of the doubt. Taking a relaxing breath, she explained, “Sara’s the assistant librarian. She went to Faythe High--”

  “--Sara Nguyen?” he interrupted.

  She was surprised he even remembered Sara. “She’s Watkins now.”

  “As in...Ted Watkins?”

  Cory nodded and got up to clear the table, unused to so many questions at once. She’d grown accustomed to the quiet and her own thoughts.

  “Sara and Ted. Now there’s a couple I never would have seen together.”

  “They got married right after college and came back to Faythe. He travels a lot installing computer networks, but they manage to make it work. They’re really happy and it’s been nice getting reacquainted; we’re working on a project together for Faythe.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We wanted to secure one of the empty storefronts downtown for a volunteer-run monthly medical clinic. We’ve got the space; now we’re working on getting commitments from doctors to work a shift, and getting supplies donated. We have a long way to go, but I’m amazed at what we’ve accomplished so far.”

  “Didn’t she run for class president or something?”

  “And she won. Sara’s like a dog with a bone--she pretty much gets what she goes after. And she’s about to have a baby, actually. Any day, now.” Cory started filling up one side of the porcelain double sink with hot water and dish soap.

  Jake didn’t reply, but got up and grabbed a cotton dishtowel from the counter to dry the dishes as she washed them.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said.

  “Look, Cory. You don’t have to be so formal with me. We’re going to have to relax a little around each other. I’m going to live here, you know.”

  She shot him a glance, but didn’t answer. With him what seemed like only inches away from her right hip, she could feel the heat radiating from his body as he took a dripping dish from her hand. She didn’t like the way his close proximity made her feel all mushy and...well, young. Three months...only ninety days. She could certainly do ninety days...somehow the thought of days sounded so much shorter than months.

  “So, am I supposed to check your almighty lists for what needs to be done, is that it?” This time he definitely sounded like he was teasing.

  “Why don’t you just tell me what you’d rather work on, and I’ll adjust my list. Not everyone can see the big picture like you, Jake Randall. This binder has helped me deal with all that needed to be done after Tillie died. You should have been here and seen this place six weeks ago when I...” Her voice faded when she saw the storm clouds gather in his blue eyes, sure what he had heard was: six weeks ago when you should have been here.

  “I think I’m finished here,” he said. “I’ll change and then go outside and start working on the yard. I think I can find the tools I need. I could use some fresh air.”

  Jake handed her the dishtowel and turned to leave the room. She sighed. It wasn’t a great start, and she should have been more sensitive. It must have been such a shock for him to have learned about his great-aunt and then to have all his own plans dashed, forced to stay where he clearly didn’t want to stay.

  She vowed to do better the next time they were together, but she also vowed to try to keep a little more physical distance between them so she didn’t have to keep dealing with her pounding heart.

  ***

  Jake stood in front of the shabby wooden garden shed and pulled the door handle, which promptly came off in his hand. Great. By the looks of it, he’d need to rebuild most of the shed if it was to be of any real good as storage. Termites and dry rot had taken a pretty good toll on the small building.

  After trying to squeeze his fingers into the door frame to pull the door open, he finally gave up and retrieved the jack handle from his car, using it like a crowbar. The door actually came off its hinges as he pried it open, and when he peered inside, he saw an awful lot of daylight streaming in. Studs would need to be replaced and new pieces of plywood would need to be used to replace some of the walls.

  A jumble of yard tools were piled in one corner and finally he spotted the leaf rake. He took it and an empty trash can to the front yard. He started by gently raking the mulched flower beds that bordered the front of the house, knowing the dozens of tulip bulbs and daffodils Tillie had always kept planted there.

  Pointed green leaves had pushed several inches up and through the dark soil and he pulled the dead leaves away from the wider leafed tulips that, in just a couple of miraculous weeks, would produce stems, then bright red flowers.

  Tillie had insisted on only red tulips, and all the flower beds had been organized in a specific palate of color--no wonder she’d liked Cory. They were two of a kind with their lists and rules.

  He’d not been that surprised to see Cory’s notebook in the kitchen. She had always attacked any project they’d worked on together in high school with a systematic approach that had just about driven him crazy at times. They were opposites in that way. He had the ability to see the big picture, preferring to fly by the seat of his pants rather than be tied to a detailed step-by-step list she’d insisted on keeping even then.

  His creative juices would start flowing at the beginning of one of Mr. Foster’s assignments, and she’d write down all their brainstorming onto neat little pages, filling notebook after notebook for the class. The teacher had paired them at the beginning of their senior year and Jake had been a little uncomfortable at first. Especially since Cory had already approached him, and her seeming to be interested in being more than just friends.

  Cory had even mentioned at one point how it had se
emed like fate brought them together. He had been quick to correct her, reminding her Foster had said the pairs had been random. In response, she’d tipped her chin at him then, just like she’d done in Weismann’s office, her stubborn streak plainly showing.

  Jake leaned on his rake and looked around the yard, evaluating the amount of work to be done. He could probably spend the entire three months outside--between rebuilding the shed, cleaning and oiling the tools, mucking out the flower and vegetable beds, pruning the trees and bushes, painting. And maybe it would be better if they stayed away from each other. He certainly didn’t like the way he felt around her. Cory Wells--Richards--needed to stay firmly a part of his history, and besides, he had absolutely no intention of returning to any part of his past.

  Whatever they had shared was over. He hadn’t been good for her then, and he was willing to wager that nothing had really changed.

  ***

  Cory looked out her bedroom window and down to the part of the yard where Jake had been working. The breeze had stilled and with the sun shining from a cloudless sky, he’d taken off his red-and-black flannel shirt. His muscles worked as he dragged leaves into haphazard piles, stopping every so often to scoop them into a trashcan.

  She remembered the first time she’d seen him without a shirt. He’d been alone and running the track, letting off steam, he’d explained. The work his father made him do around the house plus his after school job at the plant had begun to put muscles where she’d imagined they should be...on a man’s body. To her Jake had always been a strange mix of boy and man. Now there was no mix. His solid muscular build was testament to that.

  Jake’s skin was already reddening and she was fairly certain he hadn’t bothered with sunscreen.

  She walked to the bathroom and pulled a bottle of SPF 30 sunblock out of the medicine cabinet and went downstairs.

  “You’re getting red. You should put this on.” She held the bottle out, staying at her spot on the porch.

  Jake looked up from his work, squinting in the bright sun. A trickle of sweat traveled down his cheek and he wiped it away as he walked toward her, stopping with one foot resting on the bottom step.

  “Thanks, you’re right. I haven’t been out in the sun this much in years.” He took the bottle and squeezed a generous portion into his hand, then handed her the bottle. He quickly spread the lotion over his arms and chest. “Do my back?” he asked, then turned around without waiting for an answer.

  She bit her lower lip, then squeezed a pool of white into the palm of her hand. She was doing him a favor, saving him from a bad sunburn. But the thought of running her hands over his back still made unwanted butterflies take flight in her already jumpy stomach.

  What was the matter with her? She’d touched him before, even rubbed sunscreen on him before...so what if it had been over a decade. She put the bottle on the railing, then stepped down a step as she rubbed her palms together to warm the lotion.

  Then she held her breath.

  She spread the sunscreen in slippery circles over his wide shoulders, down to his trim waist, then up again to make sure the back of his neck was sufficiently covered.

  Smoothing the lotion over his skin was doing terrible things to the butterflies in her stomach and before she passed out from the lack of oxygen, she stopped, and took a fresh breath.

  “There,” she pronounced. “I’ll let you get back to your work.”

  Quickly she grabbed the bottle, then wiped one hand on her arm so she could manage the door and, without looking back, went upstairs. After she’d returned the sunscreen to its place in the medicine chest she went back to her bedroom window.

  Jake was still standing with his back to the house, rubbing excess lotion into the skin of his arms and chest. She watched as his shoulders seemed to involuntarily shudder and she wondered if he’d felt something too when she’d touched him.

  End of excerpt.

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  Excerpt/UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL

  Chapter One

  From the instant her bedroom’s mango-peach walls glowed with the morning’s first light, Angie Fletcher knew she was about to begin one of those absolutely perfect, I’ll-remember-every-detail-forever days.

  She gave Max and Gracie each a head-scratch. In predictable response the cats purred and snuggled deeper into the pillow next to her head.

  “Don’t you two know how important today is?” Gracie yawned, then rolled onto her back hoping for a belly rub while Max simply opened one eye, just in case a treat was being offered. Neither seemed particularly interested and didn’t move from their soft throne as Angie climbed out of bed to begin her morning routine.

  Gathering her wavy blond hair into a ponytail, she paused in front of the mirror. She’d need to act surprised at the staff meeting even though Derek had leaked the news of her promotion two nights ago over their usual Saturday night dinner at The Chart House.

  The man never could keep a secret. A couple of months ago, even news of their engagement had spread through the office before she was able to make an entrance the morning after his proposal. She’d walked into the staff meeting to applause before she’d even had the chance to strategically position her left hand to show off the big-as-Texas pink diamond solitaire that graced her ring finger.

  Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, she widened her eyes and opened her mouth into a perfect “O”. Fake. Definitely a certifiably fake expression. Probably better to just let the moment happen and go with it.

  She pulled her ponytail tighter, then tucked an escaped spiral tendril behind one ear. Her hair had reverted to its normally very wavy state, all because of the increased humidity from the tropical storm that had been pounding Baja for the last few days. If she chose her shorter walking route, though, it should give her enough time to smooth her wild hair into a controlled twist before work. It would have to do.

  Besides, she probably shouldn’t look too ready to step into her new role as KSUN’s community reporter. A deep sigh escaped, and she wrinkled her nose at herself.

  Opening her mirrored cabinet she glanced at the photo she'd’ taped on the inside of the door. In the picture she stood next to her best friend, Gretchen, an emerald green background behind them of elephant’s-eye-high field corn.

  She’d had the photo enlarged so she could see her friend’s infectious smile each morning, its other purpose to give her a daily “before” image of herself. The image she’d so successfully changed. It showed the “old” her, before she’d learned to cover up her freckles to achieve a peaches and cream complexion, before she’d learned how to tame her wild curls into a more sophisticated style.

  Every day she transformed herself from farmer’s daughter to California chic. She had it down to a science.

  She smiled at Gretchen’s image, then grabbed a few essentials—applying a quick sweep of foundation powder over her nose and cheeks, and a dab of Peony Pink gloss to her lips. As a final step, she retrieved a pair of sunglasses to hide her unlined eyes and un-mascaraed lashes.

  Walking through the tiny living room, she found the remote and clicked on the television just in time to hear the KSUN morning weather forecast. According to Weatherman Will it was already a pleasant sixty-five degrees outside and he told San Diegans to expect pristine air, blue skies with a few moisture-laden clouds to the south, with a high of mid-seventies at the beaches and low eighties inland.

  Even Will forecasted a perfect day. But it was so much more...this was the day she would actually begin living the dream she’d had since she was sixteen. At twenty-nine, her life w
as as perfect as the day promised to be.

  Stepping out of her condo, she locked the door behind her and began to stretch her legs. She took several deep breaths, then added some head rolls to unkink her neck while she stared up at the tops of the tall palm trees waving in the strong winds coming off the ocean.

  Will’s forecast had neglected to mention the southwesterly breeze. She’d tease him about it later. Will had been at KSUN for his entire career and every day, without fail, he’d put his arm around her in a fatherly way and declare being a meteorologist in San Diego was the easiest job in broadcasting and that he was the luckiest man on the planet to be doing exactly what he wanted to be doing. Will had been assigned as her “orientation buddy” when she’d first started at the station and they’d been best pals ever since. When everyone else groaned as silver-haired Will started telling a well worn story, she simply smiled and listened as though it was the first time.

  And, unless she was sick, she never missed his on-air appearance in the early hours of the morning. It was another ritual of her weekday.

  After a few more lunges and knee-bends she began her usual walk on the day that was destined to go down in her personal history somewhere at least in the top five best days ever.

  The fuchsia-colored bougainvillea draped over tall wooden privacy fences that bordered the beginning of the path was always a treat. And today was no exception. She loved her ritual of early morning exercise and had partly selected the condo complex because of the pleasant walkway that surrounded the coastal property. Her other reason was the attraction to live by the ocean. To a flat-lander from Illinois, the draw had been irresistible.

  She’d been getting up early all her life, and her morning ritual was also a leftover habit from her childhood of getting up with the sun for farm chores. Regardless, she’d found she functioned much better with it than without it, even though it made for a challenging social life. Her preferred nine o’clock bedtime had her yawning just as many parties were just warming up, and she’d quickly learned the importance of a late afternoon espresso break.