The Cowgirl Rides Away (Bluebonnet Texas Book 1)

by Stuart, Amie

  "When the hell did you go shopping?" Still scowling, he swung the door open and waved me in.

  "I bought it on the internet," I replied, hobbling past.

  "When the hell did you start collecting art?" He dragged the heavy wooden crate in, grunting with the effort as he propped it against the dining room wall. He said 'art' like it was 'porn'.

  "Could you say hell just one more time, please?"

  "Sorry—oof! Now I suppose you want me to open it. And hang it."

  Poor guy. I grimaced. He couldn't seem to catch a break taking care of me.

  "I would like to see it. We can hang it tomorrow though. And while you open, I'll order pizza," I bribed with a smile.

  "Extra pepperoni," he said, heading for the kitchen for a hammer.

  I lied. After I saw the painting, I made Jace hang it in my bedroom where I could look at it when I woke up every morning.

  It was beautiful. From the detail on the bougainvillea running up the porch posts to the leaves on the oak trees. Even the screen door had a life-like quality to it.

  "So, what made you buy it?" Jace asked, using his piece of pizza as a pointer.

  "I dunno." I took a small bite and chewed, debating on how to answer. "It just felt so...serene."

  "Serene?" he laughed softly and gave me a quizzical look.

  "Well come on, look at it—" I waved a hand toward the painting, "—and tell me that doesn't make you think of the huntin' cabin up at the ranch. In the spring," I added softly. The Diamond S's hunting cabin sat on the side of a mountain and wildflowers covered the hillside from spring to deep into summer. It had been my favorite hideout as a teenager—when I was home and things got especially tense with Marlene.

  "I suppose." He shrugged and turned his attention back to Law and Order reruns.

  Whew! That was close.

  ***

  Spring did come. Finally. And my rehab wound down. I'm not sure who was more relieved, Jace, Deek or me.

  Through February and March Zack and I had emailed back and forth, and he'd never know how much those notes at the end of a day of Deek's torture meant to me. Or how much they helped me get up the following day and do it all over again. Our emails had grown steadily more personal. Which made my lies bother me even more.

  Granny Bea, my dad's mom, is the reason I'm an artist. Dad didn't mind sending my brother, Zander, to college for a criminal justice degree but he never would have paid for art school. So when she died, she made sure I had enough money to study practically anywhere and I chose the University of Florida. I wanted to get out of Bluebonnet and away from my family. Figure out who I was, since I just didn't seem to fit in. Momma is real caught up in who we are. The family name. That sounds snotty and vague but since you're from a small town, too, I'm guessing you know how it is. They all have important families. God! That sounds even worse.

  Ty and Tim married local but not well, Zander left for college but never comes home. He's in the FBI, so it's okay 'cause Momma gets to brag on him. And then I came home with Travis. Guess we didn't exactly live up to her expectations.

  I was a Stratton, and in Horsehoe Bend, Montana that meant a lot—as much as it did for Zack to be a Boudreaux in Bluebonnet. I knew exactly what he meant and understood about fitting in.

  But I don't buy into it anymore than I could buy into just being a Boudreaux, I suppose.

  If he didn't buy into the family name business, why did he go home after he graduated college? Why would he go home if he didn't have to? His dad obviously doted on Travis, though, and so did Zack, from the way he talked about his son. And his family was close. They obviously cared about what happened to each other. He'd even told me about his other brother's marital problems and how everyone was all concerned.

  A part of me was jealous at that closeness, at how they looked after one another. After all, my own father wouldn't even call or come and see me. I didn't say a word to Jace, but I'd decided to go on the offense and planned to use his birthday as the perfect excuse to swallow my pride and call home.

  The following morning I dialed the ranch, pausing to frown at my shaky fingers, then breathed a sigh of relief when he answered and not Marlene.

  "Happy birthday, Daddy." My voice shook too, despite my best attempts at early morning cheerfulness. I felt thirteen all over again.

  "Thanks, Little Bit," he said. He sounded down, or tired, or not well. I frowned up at Zack's painting on the wall across from me.

  "What's up? How are things going? Did we get a good bunch of foals this spring?" I asked, trying to keep it light.

  "Your sister's pregnant." Leave it to Daddy to cut right to the chase. It was just his way, but sometimes, I wished it wasn't.

  "Pregnant?" I know I didn't hear him right. Princess Caron had actually done the horizontal boogie?

  "Yeah, that Cutter LeRoux fella you brought home for Thanksgiving..."

  Perfect. I sighed, praying he didn't hear me. I'd brought Cutter home at Kane's suggestion after he bailed on our annual trip to the coast.

  It wasn't a big stretch to put two and two together and get nine, months that is. Cutter LeRoux, a fellow bronc buster and at one time, my biggest competition, was also a notorious lady-killer. Apparently, someone had forgotten to tell Caron.

  "Is there anything I can do?" I could hear yelling in the background but still couldn't comprehend it was Marlene yelling at Caron, her Baby Princess Girl.

  "No. I think you've done enough. I have to go. Your mama's—"

  "She's not my mama," I sighed for the billionth time. I had taken him home for Thanksgiving, but it wasn't like I'd forced Caron to sleep with him. That hadn't stopped Dad from heaping a huge portion of Caron's disaster right onto my plate. I recalled Cutter's visit while I was in the hospital and how he'd been unable to meet my eyes. At the time, I'd chalked it up to my accident. Either because he'd taken first after my big wipe-out or he feared catching my bad luck. Apparently, there'd been more too it.

  I hung up in the middle of Dad's goodbye, resisting the urge to hurl the poor phone against the far wall. Why the hell had I even bothered?! Because I'm a fucking glutton for punishment. I sat on the edge of my bed, counting in my head and staring at Zack's painting, waiting for my temper to cool. I knew he was upset over the Caron/Cutter fiasco, but I didn't force them to sleep together. I hated myself for caring so much and for letting it all get to me.

  But it hurt, damnit!

  Talking to Jace would have been more productive. Hell, banging my head against a wall would have been more productive. I couldn't even tell Jace I'd called home. He'd get pissy and call Dad, making everything exponentially worse.

  To hell with him!

  I sniffed back my tears and headed for the bathroom to dry my hair and finish dressing for therapy. Why hadn't Jace said anything? Surely he had to have known.

  I couldn't help but wonder what kind of mother she'd make. To be fair, I reminded myself Caron and I didn't know each other very well. The six-year age difference and Marlene had seen to that, then the few times, after she was grown, that I'd tried to spend time with her had been a wash. The real kicker was Caron hated ranch life even more than her mother did, and Cutter's family owned fifteen-hundred acres just outside of El Paso. What a mess.

  By the time I hobbled into the kitchen, lured by the smell of butter, scrambled eggs and fresh toast, my pity party was under control, if not over.

  While I ate, I watched Jace from under my lashes, trying to figure out the best way to approach him about Dad and Caron. Halfway through breakfast I realized Jace hadn't said more than good morning. The fact that he was a morning person who usually drove me bonkers with his motor mouth before I'd guzzled a half a cup of coffee pushed me to speak.

  "What's up?"

  Startled, he dropped his fork and it clattered against his plate. I frowned at his flushed face. He couldn't seem to meet my eyes.

  "Well...um...there's—"

  A piece of toast fell from my suddenly numb fingers. "What?" I sn
apped.

  "A rodeo," he practically whispered, his guilt hanging heavy between us.

  "So go," I insisted, angry at him for feeling guilty, for feeling like he even needed my okay. "I'm fine. This is my last week of therapy. Even Deek said I could drive and my truck's an automatic, and I can call Kane if I get in a jam."

  "Are you sure? Because I could stay if you needed me to." He looked scared and anxious. But anxious I'd say yes, or no?

  "I don't need you." I shrugged and ignored his slight wince at the bite in my voice. But I was furious. At Daddy for not caring. At myself for caring. At Jace because he could leave, go rodeo, and I was stuck here, pathetically happy just to be able to drive myself to the freaking grocery store.

  I wanted him gone.

  "I called Dad this morning to wish him a happy birthday."

  Something dark and ugly made me wanna use the palm of my hand to wipe that guilty, whupped puppy look off his face. I forced myself to sit back and shove my hands in my lap instead. "You could have told me Caron was pregnant."

  He flinched then rested his head in one hand and rubbed his temples. I was right, he had known. I threw down my fork and stood up, grabbing the edge of the table for balance. "I'll drive myself to therapy. Be gone when I get back."

  ***

  Silence isn't always golden, sometimes it's really loud.

  After therapy I drove around, finally stopping at a small park where I sat watching the progression of little kids come and go, until I got tired of the young mothers giving me strange looks and a cool stiff breeze blew up. I spent another hour just driving around, then grabbed some food on my way home.

  I dropped my dinner from Chick-fil-A on the kitchen counter, then popped The Banger Sisters into the DVD player. While the previews played, I fixed my plate, my mouth watering at the tangy smell of dill pickles. I stood nibbling salty waffle fries and trying to ignore the fact I'd run my brother off after he'd spent the last four months taking care of me. Which made me a complete shit and a horrible person.

  I sighed, pushing back thoughts of my past, my future, everything. Not tonight, please. Not right now. Maybe later.

  Picking up my plate, I headed for my favorite corner of the sectional sofa and curled up against the pillows, dinner and the remote for company. My over-exhausted brain shifted to low gear and I found myself nodding off mid-movie. Tired, sore and feeling unusually whiny, I decided to call it an early night and carried my plate into the kitchen.

  I could strip on my way to the bedroom and drop my clothes in the hallway.

  My half-hearted thoughts on the joys of being alone were interrupted by the sight of my trash. Or more specifically, the envelope from one of my sponsors that someone had done a piss poor job of hiding in the trash. Frowning, I pulled it out and shook off the coffee grounds. No letter in sight.

  With the sharp tang of dread in my mouth, I went to digging. I hit the motherload under an open carton of drippy broken eggshells. But the egg goo didn't hinder my ability to read the letter from my biggest sponsor, canceling my contract. Rodeo is like any other sport; sponsors don't sponsor athletes who no longer compete, and I couldn't compete.

  My vision blurred by tears, I stumbled down the hall to my bedroom and sank onto the unmade bed, the letter still in my egg-covered hands.

  At twenty-six my career—and in a way, my life—was officially over. Not that I hadn't known this, but it hurt. Having it end badly hurt.

  I grabbed the cellphone and dialed Trey's number. Sarah answered, and I could hear the sound of something frying and the cozy picture only made me feel worse. I got off quick. Jace didn't pick up. And would probably never speak to me again after this morning. Last, I tried Kane, who picked up on the third ring.

  "Hey, you driving?"

  "No, I'm in Louisiana."

  "Again?"

  "My grandmother died."

  "Oh, Kane, wow. I didn't even know you had—"

  "Can I call you tomorrow?"

  "Sure." Of course. Looks like I'd have to go this one alone. "And again, I'm so sorry."

  "Thanks, dollface."

  After a mind-numbingly hot shower, I crawled into bed with my laptop. Why the hell did Jace throw my letter away? I would have found out eventually. Had he really been that mad at me? Gawd, what had I done?

  There was nothing new in my email so I re-read some old emails from Zack to cheer myself up. Including the open invitation to come visit he'd sent me a few weeks ago.

  Afternoon Sunshine!

  Have I ever told you how much I hate spring in Texas? Calving season and floods. Things seem to have finally dried out and the world's turning green again. I saw a patch of Indian paintbrushes while I was out checking stock today. It made me think of you andone of our earlier conversations.

  For what felt like the first time that day I smiled. He still wanted to paint me. In a field of flowers. It all sounded so corny but I couldn't help myself.

  After almost four months I feel like I know you pretty well and I hope you feel the same. I almost wish I could do this by phone so I could hear your voice when I tell you how much I've come to care about you. How I'd like to take the next step, if you're ready, and I hope you are.

  I'm rambling, sorry.

  I hadn't really given a lot of thought to logistics until now, but I'd like for you to consider coming for a visit. Anytime. Just consider this an open invitation for when you get a break in your work schedule.

  I hadn't given him my phone numbers—home or cell—because of Jace, but with Jace gone, all that changed. Tears burned my eyes and, yes, I felt guilty and angry all over again. I wished Zack was here with me now—or I was there. That I had someone to talk to, but even if we were together right this minute, I wouldn't be able to tell him a thing. Because of course, accountants didn't have sponsors.

  The next thought that popped into my mind was what the hell would I wear.

  I was supposed to be an accountant which meant no showing up in jeans and my championship buckles. Never mind that most of my jeans and some of my belts were now too big.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  I was thinking that I really didn't have a damned thing to lose, and over the last couple of months I'd caught myself daydreaming of Zack more than once. Of what he'd feel like, smell like. What it might be like to watch him paint and play the piano, to go for a ride with him and Travis, to slow dance with him, to hear him sing to me. All the things I'd never let myself think about with any man. Until now.

  I wanted to be something different for Zack. I wanted to have something different with him, a new beginning, a new me, if that was possible.

  I scrolled down to look at the photo he'd attached. An Australian Cattle Dog puppy—so ugly it was cute with a black spot covering one eye and a dapple coat. The puppy sat on Travis's lap and his expressive crystal green eyes, the joyful expression on his little face, held me. I sighed. I fell completely in love with Travis every time I looked at that picture.

  Looked like I was going to Texas.

  Chapter Six

  Zack

  Zack sat at his desk staring at Hope's latest email. A reply to the invitation he'd spent an evening and a morning agonizing over. An invitation he'd thought she'd never take him up on. Initially, she'd said maybe...someday soon...we'll see. The time wasn't right. She was swamped at work. He'd understood about her brother and the job that apparently kept her busy.

  Dear Zack...spring in Texas and a ride with you sound heavenly, but I don't own a white dress and it's been forever since I rode just for fun. I do however have lots of vacation time coming and sooner is definitely better.

  I realize this isn't just a vacation. I know you want to see if there's something more between us than just emails and I'd really like to find out too. I suppose, like you, I wish we'd done this by phone because I'm not too good with words either.

  I'm afraid I had a bad day and my impetuous side got the better of me. I already bought a ticket and made car reservations but co
uldn't find a hotel in Bluebonnet. Could you maybe find one for me?

  I can't wait to hug you in person and meet Travis and his new puppy.

  He wondered at her change of heart but he wasn't about to tell her, "No, don't come." As much as he wanted to meet her, there would be no keeping her visit a secret. Not in Bluebonnet. He'd figured he'd deal with it if or when it happened and now it was happening. She was coming. For real, even. Smiling to himself, he debated whether to call her right then or not but Travis made the decision for him.

  Zack glanced down at the feel of a hand on his sleeve and blew out the bubble of excitement and tension Hope's news had created. "What's up, buddy?"

  "Let's read." He held up a tattered copy of Goodnight Moon,a hopeful smile on his face.

  "Is it that time already?" he asked, turning in his chair and giving Dixie a scratch behind her ears before picking Travis up.

  "Uh-huh. Yes, sir."

  He smiled at the 'sir' that came out sounding more like 'sew'. He trotted down the hall to the bathroom and they brushed their teeth and washed their faces together.

  Then he tucked his son under the denim coverlet and stretched out beside him on the twin-size bed. With the puppy at their feet, they read the book for the million-and-first time then moved on to Green Eggs and Ham. And while they read, Zack tried to find a way to break the news to Travis that they were having company. In the end he decided to wait.

  Zack lay stroking his son's sable head until he drifted off, then eased off the bed.

  "You got guard duty." He gave Dixie another scratch then paused long enough to rub her belly when she rolled over. In the hallway he left the door cracked so she could wander and headed for his studio where he grabbed his phone and padded back up the hall to get Hope's phone number.