Her Texas Cowboy

by Jill Lynn

  * * *

  Dread curled through Hunter as Rachel pushed her foot against the porch and set the swing in motion. Something was wrong. He could feel the tension coming from her, wrapping around him like a boa constrictor slithering around his chest.

  “Were you out to dinner?” And, if yes, who had she been with?

  “No.”

  He wasn’t sure whether to feel relief or concern. When he’d opened his eyes a minute ago, her outfit had felt like a sucker punch. A fancy sleeveless shirt. Dress pants that ended just above her ankles. High heels hooked in her fingertips. A bright blue, chunky beaded necklace in addition to the gold one she usually wore. Light pink sparkly polish on her toenails. His first thought was that she’d been on a date, and he’d been sleeping on her porch waiting for her. He’d wanted to kick himself.

  So, if she wasn’t at dinner, hopefully that meant she hadn’t just been on a date. Not that he was allowed to care about that stuff. Not with their rules and relationship-defining decisions. But if she wasn’t going to date him, he sure wasn’t okay with her going out with someone else. Not that they’d ever had that discussion.

  “So where were you?”

  She stared straight forward as night fully descended and the first few stars began twinkling. It reminded him of one of Kinsley’s drawings—a smattering of light in the midst of a black sheet of construction paper. “I was in Houston.”

  His lungs morphed into a balloon with a pinprick, the air slowly leaking out. “For the job?”

  She nodded.

  And she hadn’t told him.

  Maybe he’d rather hear she’d been on a date. Another guy he could fight and contend with, but the job? Not a chance. His feelings for her might be growing, but he couldn’t give them wings.

  He tried with everything in him to remember he wanted this for her. “What happened?”

  “They interviewed me again this morning.”

  He was having a hard time taking a full breath, so he counted on the shallow, painful ones to pull him through.

  “And they offered me the job.” She’d been looking at her tan bare feet as she spoke, but now her gaze lifted to him, those green embers filled with more emotion than he could decipher. “I accepted.”

  It took him a minute to speak. “Congratulations.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “When do you leave?”

  “The Monday after the parade.”

  A week and a half. Now it was his turn to stare out at the ranch. He’d known all along what her plans were, but that didn’t fix the ache that had started right between his ribs.

  He looked down at their hands. They were still touching. He’d offered her his hand as a comfort—at least, that’s what he’d told himself—and she’d accepted. But now the simple gesture felt too intimate.

  He needed to get out of here. Rachel was looking at him with wounded eyes—as if this was a choice he’d made—and he couldn’t form the right words or thoughts.

  Hunter stopped the swing and stood, the comforting warmth of her sitting beside him instantly gone. “I’m happy for you, Rach. I know how badly you wanted this.” If he sounded rote, so be it. He was doing his best.

  “Thanks.” Her quiet response barely registered.

  He felt a bit like a child who’d just had the ice cream on his cone fall to the dusty ground after his parent had warned him that very thing was about to happen. He should have expected this. She’d prepared him all along.

  “You want to watch a movie?” She motioned inside. “Not that I have that much comfortable furniture...or we could play a game instead. I mean, you came over to do something, right?”

  “I gotta—” Get out of here. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “I have some things I need to do.” Right. Even though he’d just been waiting for her for how long? But at this point, he didn’t care about logic.

  For once, it was him who needed to escape.

  * * *

  The next few days crept by with only one consistency: no Hunter. No contact from him on Saturday. At church on Sunday, Rachel somehow didn’t see him. By that night, her curiosity at his lack of presence or texts was growing. And by Monday morning, she was thoroughly confused. Almost angry.

  Hunter had said they were fine—that they were friends. But were they? Then where was he? Had her taking the job messed with their relationship?

  He couldn’t just disappear from her life without warning. He’d promised her a friendship and that’s what she expected.

  Rachel had stayed on the swing long after he’d left on Friday night, thinking. Praying. Hoping and trusting that she’d made the right decision about the job.

  If she took Hunter out of the equation, she’d feel excitement. He was the one person making her question her choice. Well...him and her family. Val. And the teens. But the fact remained, no matter how close she’d grown to any of them, she still didn’t want this life.

  Being in Houston had been so refreshing. The city was bustling. Yes, she’d missed the quiet of the country. She’d missed her swing and being at peace with her thoughts. There was a lot pulling her here. But there was also a lot drawing her away.

  Rachel busied herself all day Monday with Grayson and Ryder. But when she arrived home in the evening, the empty house haunted her. She felt...lonely. And that’s when she knew what was happening. She missed Hunter. She missed him, and she hadn’t even left yet.

  Rachel could contact him. Or she could do the smart thing and start putting some space between them. Not let any more feelings grow in the short remaining time she would be home.

  She paced the few steps from one side of her living room to the other, then threw her arms into the air with a groan of annoyance. Enough of this. She changed into workout shorts and a tank, snagged her running shoes and laced up, then tore out of the house.

  Moose didn’t even pretend to be interested in joining her. He gave one bark as she took off and tried to outrun her frustrations.

  * * *

  She was leaving.

  Hunter had been reeling from the news for three days now. Rachel’s announcement on Friday had sent him into a tailspin.

  He’d come to a very unsettling conclusion over the last few days—one he hadn’t wanted to admit, even to himself. Despite all of his attempts not to, he’d developed feelings for Rachel again. Or, more likely, they’d never truly gone away. They ran like a deep and wide river inside of him. A current he couldn’t turn off. He’d tried over the years. Even convinced himself he’d accomplished that very thing. But the reason there’d been so much angst between them after she’d left was because he’d never stopped caring for her.

  And sometime in the last few weeks, he’d started hoping she might change her mind about moving and want to stay. He hadn’t even realized the hope had started flickering until it had been abruptly snuffed out when she’d told him she’d taken the job.

  He half snorted, half laughed at his naïveté. What had he expected? She’d been very honest about the fact that she planned to leave from the first moment she’d stepped foot in this town.

  Since Friday night, he’d been a mess. Trying to regroup and figure out how to get his feelings under control. He’d been working himself to the bone, thinking manual labor might dull the ache of his new discovery. Hadn’t worked yet.

  Hunter had come in from the ranch tonight and showered, then thrown on some clean jeans, socks and a navy blue T-shirt. Now he strode over to his fridge and rummaged inside. Leftovers would suffice for dinner. He heated up beef Stroganoff and took the bowl over to the island. His elbows landed on the countertop as he bowed his head for a quick prayer, then dug in.

  When a knock sounded on his door, he didn’t bother getting up. “Come in,” he called out, scooping the last bite into his mouth before turning.

  Rachel stood in the open doorframe. Hunter swallowed,
then clamped his jaw to keep it from falling open. He scrubbed a hand over his face to make sure he didn’t have any food hitching a ride and popped up from the bar stool, walking toward her. He wanted to crush her in a hug. He wanted to tell her he’d missed her over the last few days. Instead, he said, “Hey.” Brilliant.

  She was wearing a colorful tank top, black running shorts and tennis shoes.

  Her breathing seemed labored.

  “Did you run here?”

  “Yep.”

  “You want to sit? Glass of water?”

  “Sure.”

  He went into the kitchen while she crossed to the couch. He filled a glass and handed it off to her, then sat on the love seat, not trusting himself to sit next to her.

  “I’ve never really seen your house. Besides when I picked you up. And then you were so crabby it took all of my effort and attention just to get you out of here.” She flashed a sassy grin and scanned the first floor.

  The kitchen and island were open to the living room. Upstairs he had three bedrooms. Three. Who knew what for? He’d thought for a family one day. With the way things were going, maybe he could use one as a craft room. He would have plenty of time in the rest of his unmarried life to take up a hobby. Knitting. Crochet. Scrapbooking.

  “It’s really nice.”

  “Thanks.”

  What was she doing here? Had she come with another announcement to throw his world off-kilter?

  Her legs bounced, and she jumped up from the couch and walked along the island, then went back to her seat and dropped onto the cushions.

  “Rach, what’s on your mind?”

  Surprise tugged on her features. “Nothing. I was just...out for a run.”

  Didn’t ring true, but Rachel wouldn’t give up information easily. She might not even know what she was upset about.

  He’d always been good at getting her to spill, much like she’d done with him.

  His heart squeezed. His Rachel, with all of the walls and hurt and toughness. She tried to keep up appearances. Act as if life hadn’t thrown really hard things at her. As though she could handle it all. But he knew her inside and out. And now he’d broken through. She might not be staying, but he’d chipped away at her defenses until she’d let him in. She might not love him, but she liked him. She’d come to him.

  Now he just needed to figure out why.

  “I can’t believe you went running in this heat.”

  “Me, either.”

  “Come on.” He stood, offered her a hand. When she accepted, he pulled her up, too. “I’ll drive you home. But first I have somewhere to take you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Where are we going?”

  Rachel’s annoyance filled the cab of his truck as Hunter made the last few turns, and he tamped down his amusement.

  “You’ll see.”

  Whatever happened, she reacted strongly. If she shut down, it was with ten locked doors and a No Entrance sign blazing. If she let someone in, it was like seeing the sun up close and not getting burned. He liked her highs and lows. Her passionate opinions. He even liked the driven side of her that made her want to leave here—and him—and work somewhere else.

  Hunter might not know what was going to happen between them, but in the last few days, he’d been drowning, forgetting that God’s imagination was far greater than his. He would choose to have faith that God had a plan. That He loved Hunter and Rachel, and wanted good for them. Yes, Hunter would likely have to give her up all over again. And God’s plan might turn out to be different than the one he would come up with, but he was still going to believe and pray and hope even if he didn’t know what the future looked like. One day at a time. He could handle that, couldn’t he?

  He pulled into his friend’s driveway, the fading evening light disrupted as his headlights splashed against the front windows of the house.

  Hunter unbuckled and hopped out of the truck, met by the Texas heat that reached down his throat and closed like a fist. Rachel stayed in the passenger seat with the belt still on. “Are we going to visit your friends or something? Because I’m not looking my best.” She motioned to her workout clothes.

  “Nope, we’re not. And you look perfect.”

  She rolled her eyes, and he fought a grin with everything in him. Hunter didn’t need a Rachel-induced black eye any time soon.

  “Come on.”

  Her hands tightened on the seat belt that still stretched across her chest, as though holding on would keep her from being ejected from the truck.

  “Do I need to come over there and get you?”

  She unbuckled lightning fast, the belt clinking against the metal doorframe as she got out.

  When she reached his side of the vehicle, he swung the door shut and started walking. Rachel didn’t follow, so he went back, grabbed her hand and tugged her along. Stubborn. Two could play at that game. Hunter didn’t let go of her hand. If he only got to have her for another week, he might as well enjoy it. Touching her messed with him in ways a whole day in the hot sun without a drop of hydration didn’t compare to. Surprisingly, she didn’t fight to get away.

  He went around the side of the house and found the wooden gate to the backyard, letting go of her hand in order to retrieve the key from under the rock to the right of the path. After popping the lock open, he ushered Rachel into the backyard.

  Searching along the wall of the house, he found a light switch. The space sprang to life, a string of outdoor lights stretching from one end of the cement patio area to the other, swooping down and illuminating the pool. Clear, crisp inviting water beckoned.

  “No way.” Her tone brooked no argument, but Hunter toed off one boot then the other, stuffing his socks inside, while Rachel’s voice grew louder. “Hunter McDermott, I am not getting in that pool. Are these people even home? Do they know you’re here? Are you breaking and entering?” Her pitch increased to squeaking, breaking-glass level as he knelt and began untying the laces of one of her shoes. It must have taken her a second to process his actions, because he got it and her sock off before she started screeching and generally being feisty, trying to keep the second one out of his reach. For that shoe, he had to wrap an arm around her legs to hold her still and work quickly. But he managed to remove it and her sock, tossing them to the side.

  When he stood and faced her, she looked like a mama hen whose babies had been attacked.

  He made one last attempt to convince her, nodding toward the water. “You can’t deny the appeal. It’s two hundred degrees out.”

  “We wouldn’t be alive if it was two hundred degrees out.”

  “It will feel amazing.”

  “No.” Her ponytail swung back and forth with her head.

  “In answer to your earlier question, this is my friend Marc’s house. They’re out of town. Don’t worry, I checked with him. That’s who I was texting before we left.”

  “Great.” Sarcasm dripped from the word. “I’m still not going in that pool.”

  “Okay.” His arms relaxed by his sides. “You don’t have to.”

  Her forehead puckered with doubt. “Really?”

  “No, not really.” She was standing near the edge of the pool—not her smartest choice—and he lunged, taking her out with something near a tackle and catapulting the two of them into the water. Rachel screamed so much on the way in he hoped she remembered to close her mouth.

  She came up sputtering and splashing, and he grabbed her hands, holding them still. “Tell me that doesn’t feel good.”

  “It doesn’t feel good.” At her rote answer, he dunked her. What else was he supposed to do? She was as stubborn as the day was hot. She surfaced fighting and lunged onto his back, trying to take him under. It didn’t work.

  At his laughter, she whacked him on the back and let go, swimming around to face him. “You’re annoying.”
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  “Thank you.”

  She huffed. “I’m sure my mascara is running everywhere.”

  He eased closer to her and slid his thumbs under her eyes, swiping away the black and washing the remnants on his fingers into the water. “There.” He did it one more time. “You’re fine now. Gorgeous as always.”

  Another eye roll. Would she ever believe him?

  Rachel dipped her head back into the water and then stretched her neck from side to side. Letting go. Finally.

  Now to get her talking.

  “This job...how badly do you want it on a scale of one to ten?”

  “Ten.”

  Ouch. Not even an iota of doubt or wanting to stay.

  Her hands played with the water, creating miniature waves. “When I left here the first time, I had something to prove. I think I still do. But that’s not the only reason. I’ve been praying about this, and I don’t think God would have opened this door if I wasn’t supposed to walk through it.”

  How could he argue with that?

  Her head tilted. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “No.”

  She splashed him and he scrubbed the water from his face with a grin.

  “Did you ever date anyone over the years since I’ve been gone? I mean, I’m sure you did. But anything serious?”

  Hello, loaded question. His chest heaved. He couldn’t blame her for being curious. He’d asked her as much when she’d first come back and she’d answered him.

  “Yes, I dated, but only one serious relationship.”

  “What happened?”

  She wasn’t you. And that’s when he finally understood why that relationship hadn’t worked out, why things—at least on his end—had fizzled. Nadine had been amazing. She’d had a young daughter, and Hunter had liked both of them, but love had stayed out of his reach. He’d broken up with her after he couldn’t find a way for his feelings to grow, but he’d never grasped why until now.

  “She wasn’t the one.” His answer hung in the air, snapping like an electrical wire above the pool, threatening to break and fall and electrocute them both.