by Donna Alward
She gasped, which made him smile. She’d told him that when she’d told him about buying this florist shop. Flowers gave her hope.
He hadn’t forgotten.
“And, if possible,” he went on, taking a step closer to her, “I need it to say something about how, even when the days are quiet and the nights are dark, that I know there’s still beauty and grace in the world, even if I’m too danged dense to realize it at the time.”
“Oh,” she whispered, her heart beating wildly. “I don’t—carnations, maybe? Or lilies?”
He chuckled as he took another step toward her. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a fool about it, about you.” He reached out with one hand, still cold from the outside, and caressed her cheek. “I don’t have a good excuse, except to own up to the facts. And the fact is, I panicked. When I was with you, I wasn’t thinking about my wife, and that scared me.”
“I never wanted to replace her,” she told him, her voice shaking.
“I know. I mean, I know that now. But at the time…I guess I got it into my head that making new memories with you would somehow erase the old memories with Sue. I didn’t talk to my boys. I didn’t talk to you. I holed up in my house and forced myself to only think of her.” He gave her a weak smile. “That’s where I’ve been for the last several weeks. Until my boys got so worried about me that Tommy left college and came home just to make sure I hadn’t died.”
“Oh, Mack. I didn’t want to change your past. I don’t even want to change mine, as crappy as it was in parts. Who we were then, that’s what makes us who we are now.”
“It’s something I’m figuring out,” he admitted. “I behaved like a jerk. A first-class jerk. I had an amazing time with you that night.” A hint of blush hit his cheeks. “And that morning.”
She felt her own cheeks flush. “I was worried it was something I’d done.”
“You did. You made me feel alive again. And I wasn’t ready for it then.” He leaned down, his mouth just inches away from hers. “But I think I’m ready for it now. I think I’m ready to be happy again.” He swallowed. “I didn’t know how to say that on the phone. So I drove up to say it in person. I screwed up. I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”
She threw her arms around his neck. “Of course I do.”
He kissed her then, long and hard, and it just felt right. It felt right to have him back in her arms, to know that even though he’d screwed up, he’d step up and take responsibility for it, instead of casting blame everywhere but at himself.
He leaned back and looked her in the eye. “I want to try again. Dating. I’ll drive up to see you and you can drive down to see me, and we’ll get to know each other. No rush, no pressure. Just two adults who enjoy being together. If you want. I can’t offer you perfection, Karen. I can just offer you me as I am.”
She tried to look stern. “On one condition.”
“Yes?” His eyes widened in what might have been panic.
“The next time you get scared like that, tell me. Or tell someone. Call your sons. Promise me that you won’t ever disappear like that again. I’ve been worried about you.”
He pulled her into a tight hug. “I promise. I won’t disappear. It wasn’t fair to you and it wasn’t fair to my family.” Then he leaned back, a glint in his eye. “And I always keep my promises.”
She kissed him again, tasting his mouth, his tongue, taking in everything she’d missed about him for the last month. It wasn’t a declaration of love—but it was something better.
A declaration of honesty.
The kiss deepened and her body began to tighten in response to his—right until the sound of someone clearing her throat behind them made them both jump. Karen spun to see Flo standing in the doorway, her arms full of lilies. “Don’t mind me,” she said with a grin.
“Beg your pardon, ma’am,” Mack said, which made Karen laugh. It was, hands down, the most old-fashioned thing she’d ever heard him say.
Flo gave him a motherly look. “You the widower?”
All the color drained out of Mack’s face. “I am.”
“About time,” Flo huffed. “Took you long enough.”
“Ma’am?” Mack said again, giving Karen a terrified look.
“Mack Tucker, this is Flo Allen. Flo, this is Mack.”
“Pleased to meet you. Now go on, you two,” Flo said. “It’s almost closing time anyway. I’ve got this.”
Karen opened her mouth to protest, but Mack took her hand in his and squeezed it—not too much pressure but enough. Just right, she thought. He was just right.
“Thanks, Flo,” she said, pulling off her apron and dashing back to the office to grab her keys.
“Where to?” Mack asked the moment the door had closed behind them.
“Would you come home with me?” Then she held her breath, waiting for his answer. “Would that make you happy?
He smiled down at her. “You have no idea how happy that would make me. And I promise you this, Karen, I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy too.”
Then he leaned down, kissed her and nipped at her lower lip with his teeth. Just a little pressure that set her body on fire.
“It’s still too cold for the pickup truck,” he whispered against her mouth. “But if there was something else you wanted to try…”
She yanked him toward the car. “Come home, cowboy.”
So he did.
And he kept his word.
She was very happy.
About the Author
Award-winning author Sarah M. Anderson may live east of the Mississippi River, but her heart lies out west on the Great Plains. With a lifelong love of horses and two history teachers for parents, she had plenty of encouragement to learn everything she could about the tribes of the Great Plains.
When she started writing, it wasn’t long before her characters found themselves out in South Dakota among the Lakota Sioux. She loves to put people from two different worlds into new situations and see how their backgrounds and cultures take them someplace they never thought they’d go.
When she’s not helping out at her son’s school or walking her rescue dogs, Sarah spends her days having conversations with imaginary cowboys and American Indians, all of which is surprisingly well-tolerated by her wonderful husband. Readers can find out more about Sarah’s love of cowboys and Indians at: www.sarahmanderson.com or Facebook (Sarah-M-Anderson-Author).
You can also find Sarah at Twitter: @SarahMAnderson1, Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/SarahMAnderson or contact Sarah by snail mail at Sarah M. Anderson, 200 N 8th ST 193, Quincy, IL 62301-9996.
Look for these titles by Sarah M. Anderson
Now Available:
Men of the White Sandy
Mystic Cowboy
Masked Cowboy
Anything for a Cowboy
Jenna Bayley-Burke
Dedication
For Donna, Sarah and Heidi, who believed I could.
Chapter One
“You’re not divorced.”
Jacy Weston cringed as her best friend peered over her shoulder. She should have been finished long before now, but registering online dating profiles was a tedious task.
“Well, I’m not married. And I thought it would be harsh to kill off someone just so I could register for notmy1strodeo.com. I only have three options—divorced, widowed or complicated.” She pushed her red hair behind her ears and tried to refocus.
Carly took chair from the dining room and joined her at the antique secretary where the computer lived. “So choose complicated.”
“I think that means you’re sneaking around. I don’t want someone who’d go out with a married woman.” Jacy kept her eyes on the screen. With her profile complete, she could finish this mess and head back to work vaccinating the herd before her brothers wondered what she was up to.
“C
atch me up. What the hell are you doing?” Carly pulled her dark locks over her shoulder and started braiding them.
“Signing up with the site Slade’s using. It’s designed for people who lead a country lifestyle. If I have to just have lunch with one more boring metrosexual who starts saying howdy and yeehaw as soon as I tell him I live on a ranch, I’ll start sedating them. So I’m trying to find a guy who understands that the actors in spaghetti westerns aren’t cowboys.”
She secured her thick braid with a band she’d been wearing around her wrist. “Slade said the site was worthless.”
“My brothers all have the attention spans of a fly on a horse’s ass. Besides, this site is less of a time suck for women because the guy does all the work. Or at least starts the conversation. He tips his hat, and it is up to you on how to respond. Wink, smile or look away.”
“It tells the guys to look away? I can’t imagine your big brother taking that very well.”
“Who cares? This way I can be the one to weed out the creepers. I want to get my first time over with, but not enough to bend over for some loser.”
Carly held up a hand. “Whoa there, sister friend. Two things. People have sex differently than animals, and since when are you interested in giving up your V-card?”
Jacy turned to her best friend. “I know how people have sex. But I don’t want some big production. Just over and done with and no longer a topic of conversation that guys think is either a challenge or a code word for commitment. Virginity is something for the young. I mean, in this day and age, being a thirty-year-old virgin is ridiculous.”
“Or a sign of character and good upbringing.”
“More like overprotective brothers and a veterinary program that left me no time to sleep let alone date, and now an insane work schedule with the practice covering three counties and my responsibilities here at the ranch.” Jacy shook her head. “I should’ve listened to you and done it that spring break we went to Lake Havasu.”
“Yes, your first and only spring break. You studied the entire time.” Carly sighed. “Is this really just about your birthday?”
She shrugged. “It’s a milestone birthday. Think of it as the gift I’m giving myself.”
“That’s some seriously creative reasoning. Let me find you a few options. Your first time shouldn’t be with a stranger.”
“Oh, no, I’m not going to embarrass myself with someone I have to see again. Besides, you know my brothers have scared off every guy in our age group in this county and all the neighboring ones. I didn’t get asked for a date once in high school. Remember the way they ran off guys when we were in college? No one local, no one hoping to bag the Weston daughter to get themselves a job on the ranch. That’s why I filled out the profile as if I’m from Southern Oregon instead of here in Opal Creek.”
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this devirginizing plan of yours. I mean, you’ve divorced yourself and moved. Are you still a veterinarian? Did you change your name?”
She’d shortened her last name from Weston to West but didn’t care to own up to it. “I’m going to be me, just a few counties south. I want a moment to be something other than the good girl from Weston Ridge, you know?”
“Not really. I grew up in a trailer, remember? I can’t see being part of the Weston Ridge legacy as a problem. Or why you’d want to toss away your first time now. You’ve waited this long.”
“I should have experimented the way everyone else did. Now it makes me a freak.”
“That’s not what makes you a freak.” Carly smiled, her dark eyes twinkling. “Driving three hours south to bust a hustle does.”
“I don’t want it to be some big event. The first time is always awkward and horrible, why not handle it now and move on with my life?”
“My first time was lovely.”
Jacy cleared her throat. Things had been awkward enough when Carly and Ace had been together, and two years post break-up things still hadn’t returned to normal. “We’re not discussing my brother. Any of the four of them, not in this conversation. And you’re not to tell them either.”
“Yeah, I’m sure Ace would love to not speak to me about your sex life. But I think this is a horrible idea. You’ve never even gone below the belt with a guy. You think you’re really going to be able to lie back and think of England with a stranger?”
Jacy logged out of the program and then stood to face her friend. “I don’t have a booty call waiting the way you do. Guys do not take a number for a chance at a make-out session with me. I have to do something.”
“If I’m your bad-girl mentor, then you’re never going to be able to pull this off. Hell, I couldn’t do it, and I exercise my flirt muscles at every opportunity. I mean, you’re going to meet this dude and get naked with him an hour later. And then what? Drive home?” Carly gave a shudder. “Unless you’re more like your brothers than I realized, casual-sex Fridays are not your thing.”
“I’m not planning on making this a thing. Just a one off.”
“Then let’s go out this weekend. We’ll hit Duke’s and let guys buy us drinks until you’re ready to be an orgasm donor.”
“I hate bars. And drunk dudes I’ve known since the sandbox do not appeal. I hate going to the meet market, which is why I shop for my arm candy online.”
“Right. It has nothing to do with being socially stunted because you prefer animals to people.”
“Case in point.”
“Ouch. I want it on record I think this is a bit over the top.”
“Noted. Now I’m going to get back to pissing off cattle.”
“Mama,” Ray called from the back door. He didn’t have time to be summoned to the house today. Or any day, really. He hung up his hat and then pulled off his boots before making his way to the kitchen.
Of course, she was right there, cutting his sandwich on the diagonal the way she’d always done. As if he came to the house for lunch on the regular. He ought to be at the bunk house with the crew, making sure they were ready to head out and repair the south fence.
Ray poured the lemonade on the table into the glasses she’d set out, then pulled out her chair. His mother carried the plates over and took the seat he offered. He joined her and tucked into his sandwich. The sooner he got back out on the ranch the better.
“Busy day?” She watched him eat until he felt under inspection.
“The south pasture fence needs mending, the farrier is due by three and I promised Lad I’d get Chewbacca out of his way.”
“Did he pay the stud fee yet? Because if not, he can feed that bull until he settles up.”
“We worked something out.” He settled easier into his chair. If all she wanted to do was talk business, he’d be out the door before the hands finished with lunch.
“Ray, we cannot support half the county. The farrier doesn’t take payment in kind, and neither does our crew.”
“Mama, we’re having a good year. Lad had to take a loan to fix his barn. It’s the right thing to do. They’re good neighbors.”
She let out a long sigh. “Well, somebody raised you right.”
“Tragic, ain’t it?” He finished off his lemonade and poured himself more.
“It’s too bad you don’t have children of your own to raise.”
There it was. He picked up his dishes and marched into the kitchen. He’d suspected she was up to this again.
“You haven’t been on your September date. You promised.”
“You blackmailed me into that promise. You have two other sons to needle for grandchildren. Bother them.”
“They’re not ready. You will make someone an amazing husband.”
“Yeah, Kendra sure thought so.” Four years had passed and the failure still gnawed at him.
“Oh, let it go. The whining can’t last longer than the marriage. Besides, Kendra’s painfully stupid.”
“They were real.” She put on a pout worthy of the crocodile tears she’s shed at her last birthday.
“I don’t have time for this. Notmy1strodeo.com is nothing but a collection of women with baggage I don’t want to carry.”
“You promised one date a month for a year.”
“And after this year you promised to never mention dating to me again. If it’s going to happen, it’ll happen.”
“You spend all your time with cowboys, cattle and horses. There’s no way to meet women in your life. I had to take action.”
He raised a brow, not wanting to tell his mother most of the dates the site brokered were nothing more than a call to action. Which he’d learned quickly not to answer unless he wanted to deal with a woman blowing up his phone for weeks afterwards.
“Just tip your hat at your top three and be done with it. There’s still time to get a date for Saturday. And who knows, you might like her and have a second date next weekend for your October. Imagine that, Ray. A second date.”
His brothers really needed to man up and get girlfriends so their mom would get off his back. He’d tried marriage, failed spectacularly, and had no desire to repeat the mistake. But since his younger brothers were off playing rodeo cowboy and country songwriter, he knew the odds of either growing up any time soon were long.
“I already logged you in and searched through the new members.”
“Mama, so help me, if you pretended to be me—”
“I don’t catfish. I’m just trying to save you some time.”
“How do you know what catfishing is?” He settled into the wooden chair in front of the kitchen desk where his mother made her office.
“I’m more current than you, cowboy. You don’t even have a television in your cabin.”