Kiss the Cowboy

by Julie Jarnagin

  In the kitchen she leaned on the counter beside him. "What about you?" She looked up at him, those pretty brown eyes locked on his. "Will you forgive me for trying to get you fired?"

  He'd wanted to stay mad at her, but watching her cook today had pretty much done him in. "Of course I do."

  She shook her head. "You really are a good guy, Dylan."

  He laughed. "Don't sound so surprised."

  She started to remove the foil from the top of the bread pudding but stopped and turned toward him. "If I ask you something, will you promise to be completely honest?"

  He nodded.

  "Why are you doing this? Is this all for Wyatt and Heather or because if they call off the wedding, it would ruin your shot at the job?"

  Other than wanting to spend the day with you? "Wyatt was a wreck when I saw him. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't try to help him out?"

  The truth was if his friend hadn't already been in so deep, he might have told him to run the other way. He worried Wyatt was headed for a heartbreak like the one he feared he was headed for with Lucy. But something inside Dylan wanted to believe that it was still possible—that a girl like Heather could be meant for a guy like Wyatt. And maybe someone like Lucy could be meant for a cowboy like Dylan.

  #

  Dylan parked his truck in front of Lucy's building and grabbed his door handle. "I'll walk you inside."

  She'd pulled her hair out of the ponytail it had been in all day, and now it fell in wild waves around her shoulders. "You don't have to do that."

  "Now what kind of man would I be if I didn't?"

  "Well, I guess you'd be like most the men I've dated in the last ten years."

  He pictured Reed and clenched his fists. Lucy deserved to have a man who would fall all over himself to hold her hand and open doors for her. Then the rest of what she said registered. "So you're saying this is a date?"

  She squinted at him. "That's not what I said." Her expression softened. "But between the cooking and the company, if it had been a date, it would have been a great one."

  He opened his door, wanting to stretch his day with Lucy out a little longer.

  "Dylan, really—"

  He held his hand up. "Your stubbornness won't do you any good this time. Don't move."

  He jogged around to the passenger side, where she sat with her hands in her lap. "Now was that really so hard?"

  She smiled. "Torture."

  He pulled a box of kitchen supplies from the bed of his truck and carried it under one arm as she waited for him to open the big glass door to her building. "You're getting the hang of this."

  "It's not so bad—this chivalry thing."

  They stepped in the elevator. "I've spent more time in elevators in the past several weeks than I have in the past three years," Dylan said.

  Instead of laughing at his lame joke, she frowned at him.

  "What's wrong? Claustrophobic?"

  She reached out and hit a button by the door, and the elevator slowed and then jerked to a stop. "I owe you an apology."

  He shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

  She let her arms drop to her sides. "I've been unfair to you in a lot of ways. I underestimated you. Your food today was...perfect."

  He set the box on the floor. "That means a lot to me, Lucy." And it did. Not only because the compliment came from a great chef, but because it came from Lucy.

  "And it's not just your food. Lately, I've felt burned out, but I've really had fun cooking with you. It has reminded me how much I love being in the kitchen, and how much I missed being with you."

  He couldn't stop himself from smiling. He reached out and brushed a finger against her arm, overwhelmed by the need to keep this time with her from ending. "Maybe after all this is over, we could go on a real honest-to-goodness date."

  Her head cocked to one side. "But I don't date cowboys, remember?"

  He stepped a bit closer. "Ah, I almost forgot the rule. What if I promised not to wear my hat?"

  She stared at the ceiling as she considered. "You can wear a hat as long it isn't that filthy one you usually wear. And we can't let Nana find out. I don't want her to think we're being unprofessional."

  Because Nana was the embodiment of professionalism with her comments about his Wranglers and the little dog she carried in her purse. He moved one step closer, closing the gap between them. Even in the small space, he wanted to be nearer to her. "And while we're making rules, no more kissing me only to keep me quiet."

  "But it works," she said, her voice playful.

  He wrapped an arm around the waist and pulled her in close to him. Then, he pressed his lips to hers.

  She tensed at first, and then she relaxed in his arms, returning his kiss. His fingers skimmed the nape of her neck and then found their way to her untamed brown hair. The sum of everything they'd been through together, from the time they were wide-eyed teenagers to now, was held in that single kiss.

  When she finally pulled her lips from his, her face was flushed. She ducked her chin and leaned her forehead on his chest.

  Refusing to let her hide, he slid his hand under her chin and tilted her face up. "What is it?"

  She stepped back and tried to smooth her hair where he'd run his fingers through it. He loved this disheveled Lucy. It was good to see her let a little of that control go. "I'm wondering where in the world we go from here."

  He pulled her back into his arms. "As long as you kiss me like that, we can go anywhere you want."

  She laughed, and he kissed her again, this time sweet and slow.

  Smiling, she pulled away from him. She pressed a button and the doors slid open. "Good night, Dylan."

  Chapter Twenty

  "Mom." Lucy searched through the maze of rooms downstairs. "Is anyone home?" she called.

  "Up here, dear," her mom answered.

  Lucy ran her hand along the polished wood railing, framed pictures of her family smiling back at her from the wall. She'd thought she understood how the dynamics of this family worked, and she'd begun to figure out where she fit. Now that she'd learned about her mom's affair with Kenneth, she wondered what other secrets hid below the surface. She'd been so busy keeping her own secrets that she hadn't considered that anyone else was doing the same.

  After all these years, it shouldn't hurt her like it did, but it felt like a betrayal—a betrayal of her father's memory and a betrayal of the family they'd had.

  As she walked down the long hallway, she peeked into each of the bedroom doorways until she found her mother, her knees on the plush carpet of a guest room decorated in tasteful hues of beige and burgundy. Two cardboard boxes sat beside her, and the closet doors stood open.

  After her failed attempt to confront her mom, Lucy'd lost her nerve and eventually changed her mind about saying anything. What good what it do?

  Sure. Lucy might feel some relief getting the secret off her chest. But then what? If she wanted to keep any kind of relationship with her mom and stepfather, silence was the key.

  "I stopped by to see if I could borrow your tennis racket," Lucy said. When a client had mentioned she played, Lucy had told her she'd competed in high school, shamelessly trying to use a mutual interest to score the job. Now she was paying the price, because the woman had challenged her to a match. It was too late to confess that she hadn't picked up a racket since she quit the team when she was seventeen. She'd never enjoyed it, but Kenneth and her mother had insisted she play.

  Her mother clasped her hands together. "You're taking up tennis again? That's wonderful! I sent my racket to be restrung, but I'm sure I can find an old one in the garage you can keep."

  Lucy looked around at the boxes and neat piles of stuff arranged around the room. "What are you doing?"

  Her mom stood and held the edge of a quilt under her chin as she folded it. "The ladies at the country club are raising money to restore a historic train station the city plans to demolish. I'm gathering some things to donate to the sale."


  "Is that the blanket you used to keep on the foot of your bed when I was a kid?"

  Her mother touched the edge of a yellow quilt on her lap. "You remember that? Your grandmother made this and gave it to me as a wedding present."

  Lucy crouched down beside her. "I didn't know she even sewed."

  "Mama was in a quilting group at her church." She laughed. "I think the older women in the group did all the work, but she was so proud to give it to me the night before the wedding." She dropped it in the box marked as donations.

  Lucy plucked it from the box. "Why would you get rid of that?"

  "It's from a past life. I kept a few pieces of Mama's old china to remember her by. I don't need this dusty old quilt anymore."

  "If it doesn't mean anything to you, why'd you keep it this long?" Her mother had gotten rid of everything that stirred up memories of Lucy's father. Anything that had to do with their old life was off limits in this house...but she'd kept the quilt.

  Her mother dusted the wrinkles from her khakis. "It's been buried in the back of this closet. I suppose I forgot I still had it."

  Lucy hugged the weight of the quilt. "I'd like to keep it, if you don't mind."

  Her mother looked surprised. "Sure."

  Holding the quilt, she couldn't help but think about her parent's marriage, of the family they'd had, and of all she'd lost. Maybe this was a sign. Isn't that what Dylan had said that night at the ranch? That some things were just meant to be? "You know, I've been thinking a lot about Dad lately."

  Digging through the closet, her mother glanced over her shoulder with her eyebrow arched. "Why is that?"

  Lucy sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm not sure, but we've never really talked about everything that happened when he died."

  "Why would we ever need to discuss it? We were there."

  Nerves swam through her stomach. "There are some details I'm not sure you know about."

  Her mother pulled a black suitcase from the top shelf of the closet. "Dear, I don't need to know any more details than I already know. He was a man who liked to take risks, and he took one too many. It was a tragic accident."

  Lucy's heart pounded. He wasn't just a man. He was Lucy's father. "You may feel differently after I tell you."

  Her mother set the bag beside the other donations and crossed her arms. "What's bringing this on after all this time?"

  "Dylan thought that talking about it might—"

  "Dylan?" The lines around her mother's mouth tightened. "Are you still spending time with the Lawson boy?"

  "We've been working together."

  Her mother groaned. "I saw the way you looked at him at Mrs. Tornsten's banquet."

  Her mom was onto her. "I looked at him just like I looked at everyone else there."

  She put her hands on her hips. "Well, you should have kept your eyes on Reed. Getting back with Reed would be good for you."

  Lucy stood. "You're changing the subject. I don't want to talk about Dylan or Reed. I'm trying to tell you something about what happened. If you'll give me a chance—"

  "Fine. Fourteen years later, what is this important detail I need to know?"

  Lucy did her best to ignore the hostility in her mom's voice. "Well, you'd made him promise no more rodeos. No more bull riding."

  "That's right. I knew it would kill him, and I was tired of him wasting his life away traveling from one competition to the next."

  She took in a deep breath, trying to find the courage she needed to get the words out. "I told him about the rodeo. I saw it in a newspaper. I cut it out and took it to him. I told him he should go."

  The pink drained from her mother's cheeks. "Why? Why would you do that?"

  "I don't know. Maybe I wanted to please him. Everything was so tense at home. I guess I thought it would make him happy."

  Her mom was silent, staring up at the ceiling for what seemed like a lifetime. "You knew how I felt about him continuing." Her words were measured. "And to keep it from me all these years. Why would you do that?"

  Tears began to form, but she fought them back. "I was afraid of how you'd react. I was full of shame and guilt. I blamed myself." And she still did.

  Her mother straightened her shoulders, her mouth still tight. "What's done is done, but there's no reason to mention this to Kenneth."

  Lucy didn't know if she'd expected comfort or reassurance from her mom, but instead she felt more condemned than she had before. "Why does that matter?"

  "I wouldn't want it to affect his opinion of you. You know how Kenneth can be. He never thought too highly of what your father put us through."

  Standing among the boxes of items her mother no longer wanted, Lucy felt hollow. "I hardly think Kenneth has any right to judge Dad." This time she couldn't stop the tears from coming.

  Her mother's brow drew together. "Settle down. He only feels that way because I've told him about the constant rodeoing despite our money problems."

  "I won't settle down. How can you stand there and say this when you and Kenneth started dating while you were still married to Dad?"

  Her mom let out a laugh that came out as more of a choke. "What? I don't know what in the world you are—"

  "Mom. Stop. I know. I saw a photograph of you together. I know you were together before Dad died."

  Her mother closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I never intended for you to find out about that."

  Dylan had been wrong. This didn't feel like closure or healing. It felt like a wound had been ripped open. "How could you do that? To him? To our family?"

  When her mother looked up at her, her face was pale. "It was wrong. I know that. Your father and I were in a dark place in our marriage when he passed away. It hasn't been an easy thing to live with."

  All these years she'd never said anything. "But you moved on with Kenneth like nothing had happened."

  "I regret the way things ended with your father every day. Every day. But starting over, was the only way I knew to move on with all the shame I carried."

  She could relate to one thing her mother had said. They'd both carried a secret for far too long. "Did you ever love Dad?"

  Her mother wiped her tears with her fingertips and sat on the end of the bed. "In the beginning, we were madly in love. I was crazy about the man." She shook her head. "But things change. Pretty soon it was clear that your dad and I wanted different things in life."

  Lucy didn't speak.

  "Love isn't always enough." Her eyes met Lucy's. "It's like you and the Lawson boy."

  She took in a sharp breath. "How did you—?"

  "A mother just knows these things." She stood and took a tentative step toward her. "Relationships are easy when you're in a bubble, but things quickly become more complicated when you face the realities of real life."

  Her mother's words wove into the spaces of her doubts. "Just because it wouldn't be easy doesn't mean it would be impossible. It's different with Dylan. He's not rodeoing anymore. He wants to be a chef. We have similar dreams."

  "It's not just the rodeos, Lucy. Being around him the other night, his personality reminds me so much of your father. Even the way you look at him..." Her mom looked down at her hands and then back to Lucy. "There are too many similarities. He's directly from that old life we had, and I've always wanted something different—something better—for you."

  Lucy's childhood hadn't been perfect, but it stung to hear her mom reflect on it with so many regrets and bad memories.

  "I've made some terrible mistakes," her mom said. "One of them was believing that as long as I was in love, everything else would work itself out. Unfortunately, that's not the way life works. I don't want you to go through the same pain I did."

  #

  Lucy walked toward her car after a lunch with Heather, Nana, and Paige. The wedding was this Saturday, and they'd gone over the final details, but for Lucy it had been nearly impossible to concentrate. All she could think about was Dylan and everything her mom had said.

&nb
sp; He'd wanted to come along to the meeting, but she had convinced him he didn't need to be there. She needed some space to think.

  She hadn't seen him since the night at the museum. They hadn't talked about what would happen when the wedding was over, and after her conversation with her mom, she realized getting wrapped up in this romance was dangerous territory. Following her emotions would only leave her vulnerable to getting hurt.

  As she passed the corner of the restaurant, a hand grabbed her and pulled her around the side of the building.

  She jumped.

  "Well, hello, beautiful," Dylan said, his cowboy hat shading his eyes.

  With a hand over her chest, she tried to catch her breath. "What are you doing here? You almost gave me a heart attack."

  "I came to steal a kiss."

  Her head cocked to see his face. "You drove all the way here for a kiss."

  "Dad has physical therapy not far from here, but trust me, for a kiss, the drive would be worth it." He pulled her in close.

  She tensed. "Dylan, someone might see us."

  He pressed his lips to hers, and she melted into his kiss. The last time he'd kissed her, everything about it had felt safe and right. After talking to her mom, she felt a surge a fear. As perfect as this felt, it was unsustainable in the real world.

  The sound of a throat clearing came from behind her. "Look what we have here."

  She spun around to find Nana with a smirk across her face and holding a foil swan of leftovers.

  Nana's eyebrows rose. "It was the dancing that did it, wasn't it? Salsa is very sensual."

  Lucy stifled a groan. "It most definitely was not the dancing."

  "I don't know," Dylan drawled. "She looked pretty cute while she stepped on my feet."

  Lucy shot him a look, and he laughed.

  Nana put a hand on Dylan's. "You remind me of my late husband. He used to tease me like that, but I was head over heels in love with him."

  Love? Was she in love with Dylan? The thought made her want to bolt for her car.

  "I thought he was impertinent." Her expression softened. "We were married fifty-five years before he passed. I miss him every day."