The Cowboy Who Got Away

by Nancy Robards Thompson

  “No, go ahead.”

  “So, wait, is she representing you or the buyer? Because it doesn’t seem like Smooches has your best interests at heart.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because she should advise you not to let them undercut you with bogus claims.”

  He was smiling at her like she was adorable. And then he laughed. “I’m aware of their bogus claims. Afton is an old friend. She knows, too. She also understands that I’m on the fence about selling the property. I wasn’t actively looking for a buyer. But she brought me the offer.”

  “But she knows you well enough to know you own the property. Is she an old girlfriend?”

  “You are jealous.”

  Juliette handed him his phone. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

  “You didn’t look at the attachment.”

  Juliette shook her head. “I’ll let you do the honors of opening it. Especially since you haven’t looked at it yet. That has nothing to do with jealousy and everything to do with self-preservation. Who knows what other surprises Smooches might have in store for you.”

  His gaze flickered to hers. For a split second he looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He honed in on his phone. “The offer is from an outfit called the MAG Holdings Limited Partnership. Never heard of them. Have you?”

  Juliette shook her head. “Do an internet search and see what you can find out.”

  “It says here that MAG Holdings is the parent company for Metro Arrow Homes.”

  That didn’t sound very good. “Jude, they build houses. Like those cookie-cutter shoeboxes that all look alike. If they want to put a subdivision in here, they can’t. It’s not zoned for single-family housing.

  “They must have something up their sleeve,” Juliette said. “Because I doubt that they’d be willing to fork over a lot of money to turn the property into a nature preserve. It’s a nice idea, but I don’t think so.”

  His brows knit together as he read the information that was on the screen. “This isn’t okay. In fact, it’s not going to happen.”

  He shook his head as he continued to read. “No, this is no good at all. Besides, with the way they’re trying to undercut the asking price...I think this deal is off.”

  Both of them were silent, watching a couple of sandhill cranes fly in and land in the lake’s shallow water near the shore.

  “I think that’s smart,” Juliette said. “Judging by what they’re trying to pull with the lake and the slab, it sounds like they aren’t very honest.”

  “Yeah, there are few things I hate more than wheeler dealers,” Jude said.

  “Of course,” Juliette said.

  They walked in silence back the way they came. Juliette focused on the unchanged beauty of the place and tried not to wonder whether or not he’d ask Afton to look for another buyer. The lush green grass, the smattering of trees, the big live oak on the other side of the cabin, where they used to seek shade on hot summer days. It was like reuniting with an old friend or time traveling. If she squinted her eyes and blocked out everything else—especially the voices in her head—she was transported back to a much simpler time, when she and Jude were in love and their only worry had been not attracting the sheriff when they lit a bonfire on a cold fall night.

  “Are you seeing anyone?” he asked out of the blue, breaking the silence.

  The non sequitur made her breath catch. Really, the question shouldn’t have been so surprising. It was an obvious question that old friends would ask each other. Although, they might start with the less important and build up to this. But, hey, leave it to Jude to take the leap.

  “Who wants to know?” She raised her brows at him, trying to lighten the mood.

  “I want to know, Jules.”

  “In this moment, I’m seeing you,” she said, “walking next to me. That’s all that matters.”

  He nodded. “Then I’ll take that as a no, that you’re not otherwise involved with anyone.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “What about you? Do you have someone special or is it just the Saturday night special...an endless line of Aftons?”

  Okay, that was corny. She was trying to be funny, but obviously funny wasn’t her thing.

  “No, there’s no one special in my life right now. And for the record, I don’t have time for Saturday night specials, as you put it. What does that even mean?”

  Juliette shrugged. “Random women. You know, a different Afton every Saturday night.”

  “Most Saturday nights I’m at a competition and by the time I’m done—after I’ve been tossed around, thrown and sometimes kicked or stepped on—this body is not always in the mood for a Saturday night special.”

  Juliette smiled. “That’s good to know. I mean, it’s not good that you get thrown and stepped on.” She grimaced. “You know that’s why I always had a hard time watching you compete. I couldn’t stand to see you get hurt. You know, come to think of it, you never answered my question. What are you doing back in Celebration when there’s still a month left on the tour? I know you said you were home to check out the property, but that doesn’t take two weeks. In two weeks it will be time for the world championship. What’s going on, Jude?”

  He stiffened and crossed his arms over his chest. Defensive body language. But Juliette was determined not to speak first, because if she did it might give him an out—he might latch onto it and change the subject.

  His gaze met hers. She raised her brows.

  “I ran into some trouble. I got thrown a little too hard in a couple of matches and I had to sit out the next ones.”

  “Oh, no. Are you okay?”

  Jude tore his gaze away from hers. He kicked at the dirt with the toe of his boot, as if giving himself more time to form his words.

  “I suffered a couple of concussions. I couldn’t ride because of it. Now I don’t have enough points to qualify for the world championship.” He cursed under his breath. “How about that? I’m the reigning world champion and I won’t even be able to defend my title.”

  He laughed, but it was a dry and brittle sound.

  She resisted the urge to hug him. “Jude, I’m proud of you for doing the right thing. Your health—your well-being—is so much more important than a competition.”

  His face fell. “It’s my livelihood, Jules. It’s not just a competition. It’s what I do. It’s what I’m good at. It’s who I am.”

  “I get it, Jude. But if the doctor is telling you it’s not a good idea for you to take the risk and ride, if you go against doctor’s orders to do it, the repercussions could be...”

  She shuddered. She couldn’t bring herself to say the word—deadly. Even the thought of it made her heart hurt.

  Jude shrugged. The look on his face said he didn’t agree. They’d had this conversation about the risk of him getting hurt so many times when they were in high school—or at least variations of it.

  Having been away from him all these years, she hadn’t allowed herself to think about the reality of what he was doing every day, how he earned his living. The risk he faced every day. Sure, she’d kept up with him. She’d been happy to read about the results of his competitions. The internet was a beautiful thing in that regard. She loved seeing that he was doing well, seeing his steady climb to the top of his game. But reading the CliffsNotes also meant that she didn’t have to see him get thrown and come within centimeters of getting stomped.

  They’d always been at odds over this—for as far back as she could remember. And nothing had changed. It was best to change the subject.

  Their gazes found each other and locked in a silent truce.

  She could agree with that. She didn’t want to fight with him. Not on the first day seeing him after all these years. She wasn’t sure what his plans were. She had no idea if she was eve
n going to get to see him very much while he was home. She realized in that moment that she wanted to. But still, they had this moment. Maybe that was all that mattered.

  When they got back to the truck, Jude walked to the tailgate, opened it and started peeling back the bed cover.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I need to get my things out of here,” he called over his shoulder.

  “What things?”

  “My suitcase. All the things I brought with me.”

  “So, you really haven’t been here yet?”

  “Nope. Just arriving.”

  That meant his first stop really had been to see her at the wedding barn. When he’d told Dottie that, she thought he would have at least stopped by the cabin and unpacked first.

  As he unloaded, Juliette walked over to the ancient tree near the cabin, the one they’d carved their initials into.

  “Remember this?” she said, tracing a finger over the words etched into the rough bark, time-weathered and darkened like a wound that had left a scar.

  Jude walked up behind her. “‘Jude and Juliette 4-ever.’” His voice sounded hoarse and throaty. “And here we are again.”

  He set down his bags, reached out and traced the words the same way she had. Then he covered her hand with his. She stood there for a moment memorizing the warmth of his hand on hers.

  “Jude.”

  He leaned in so close she could feel the heat of him, but she didn’t turn around. She didn’t pull away, either.

  Instinctively, she knew if she turned around his lips would be much too close to hers. She might kiss him. She wanted to kiss him, wanted to taste his lips again and see if, like everything else out here, the taste of them, the feel of them, was still the same.

  “I wanted to check on the sapling we planted, but I had forgotten about this tree,” he said. “How could I forget it?”

  She shrugged. The gesture seemed to pull him in closer. She could smell that Jude smell—a mixture of leather and citrus and grassy undertones. Usually, people were a product of their environment. How was it that so much time had gone by and Jude still smelled exactly the same? She breathed in deeply, turning her head toward him slightly.

  The nearness of him made her shiver and relax into him. “It’s still here. It stood the test of time,” she whispered.

  A long moment passed with his words hanging between them. “I’m glad you didn’t forget about me, Jules.”

  If she didn’t reclaim her personal space, she was going to do something she might regret.

  Might regret.

  Then again, she might not.

  “You’re pretty hard to forget.”

  It was eerie to find themselves back at the spot where everything had started. And ended. It was as if they were here for a do-over—or a second chance to make things right.

  More than once, when she’d kissed another man, her mind had conjured Jude. Then the letdown she’d suffer when she opened her eyes to find herself in the arms of a familiar stranger would be devastating. The memory of Jude’s kiss took her back. It was as if she was seeing everything that was once so familiar through brand-new eyes.

  He turned her around. His arms slid around her. He pulled her close and placed a soft kiss on her lips. She put her hands on the sides of his face and anchored his mouth to hers. The kiss started slow and soft. But that lasted for a mere second before his arms tightened around her and he took possession of her mouth. Passion ignited a ravenous hunger. She parted her lips to deepen the kiss. She leaned into him as if her next breath depended on him.

  For a moment, common sense upended and the whole world disappeared. He pulled her tighter, staking his claim, unspoken feelings pouring out in this wordless confession.

  He tasted like blueberries from the pie they’d shared earlier and coffee and the cinnamon gum he’d been chewing in the truck and something so familiar it made her ache. It was the comfort of their history, mixed with the promise of the future.

  Finally.

  After all these years.

  A moment ago she had been worried about all the other women, and now he was kissing her so thoroughly she just might let herself believe they could have a second chance. The feelings that had stirred when she saw him standing in the doorway of the Campbell Wedding Barn were fully awake now. And they just might consume her if she let them.

  Juliette had no idea how much time had passed when they finally broke apart. It was even better than she remembered. Because they weren’t kids anymore. They weren’t hiding out, stealing moments. This was Jude, holding her close, kissing her lips, rendering the lost years irrelevant.

  “There’s so much we left undone.” He rested his forehead against hers. His lips were a whisper away. “What are we going to do about it?”

  How had things gone so wrong? It was hard to remember.

  That was the burning question, and it brought her back to earth with a thud. It made her feel a little hollow inside. They’d once meant so much to each other, but after they’d broken up, it had seemed really and truly over. They hadn’t spoken in years, yet mere hours after they’d seen each other...here they were.

  She knew what she wanted, what she needed. But who knew how long he was staying. They needed to talk about things, about what happened. No matter how good things felt in this moment, they couldn’t just bury the past and pretend what happened didn’t happen. But she didn’t know how much of the dark side of their past she wanted to dredge up right now.

  Chapter Three

  Kissing Jude had been like stepping back in time. They were eighteen again. They had no worries. As always, when they were together, the rest of the world didn’t exist. But forty-five minutes later, Juliette was back at her house. Jude had dropped her off at the Campbell Wedding Barn where she’d left her car. She hadn’t meant to make the goodbye so awkward, but Zane’s truck was parked next to Lucy’s house, which meant Zane and Lucy were back from their day out. If Lucy saw her climbing out of Jude’s truck, her friend would have bombarded them with questions she didn’t know how to answer right now. Plus, one look at herself in the rearview mirror had revealed mussed hair, kiss-swollen lips and telltale traces of the makeup she’d applied this morning. It was most definitely a post-kissing face.

  Yes, one look at her and Lucy would have twigged to the situation like a divining rod. So, Juliette had gathered her purse, given Jude a quick peck on the lips, and beelined for her car before that could happen and the awkward what’s next? conversation could present itself.

  As she pulled out of the parking lot, Jude had looked a little bewildered. He’d caught her eye and put his thumb to his ear and his pinky to his mouth, making the international I’ll call you sign.

  Juliette just waved as if she hadn’t noticed.

  Ugh. Of course she’d noticed. But she had no idea what to do next—what she wanted or whether or not it was a good idea to even let herself go there, to let herself hope. Of course, it wasn’t a good idea. Common sense dictated as much, but it seemed her heart wasn’t getting the memo that reminded her that this wasn’t her first Jude Campbell rodeo, and the sponsor of this one was heartache.

  As if that wasn’t enough, she had more pressing matters to contend with. Her mother’s and Chelsea’s cars were parked in the driveway, forcing Juliette to park in the street and do her best to get rid of the mascara smudges under her eyes. Suddenly, she was reduced to feeling like a teenager again, sneaking in after she and Jude had stolen a forbidden afternoon together. She was mortified at the prospect of facing her mother, who had never been a fan of Jude Campbell. In fact, she’d done everything in her power to throw monkey wrenches and scholarships into the path of her relationship with Jude.

  What in the world were her mother and Chelsea doing here? Of course, her mother never waited for an invitation.
That was Guinevere. As Juliette unlocked the door and pushed it open, she steeled herself for whatever crisis or drama or any number of other situations had enticed Guinevere out of her ivory tower.

  Before she could clear the foyer, her little corgi, Franklin, came bounding around the corner, skidding on the hardwood as he barked his greeting. Juliette bent down and gave him some strokes. “Some watchdog you are, Franklin. You’re supposed to keep people out, not invite them in.”

  The little dog rolled over on his back so she could scratch his belly. “You’re hopeless. Thank goodness you’re so cute.” She stood up again and called, “Hello?”

  “Hello?” Guinevere answered. “Juliette, darling? Is that you? We are in the kitchen. Join us, please.”

  Juliette was tempted to thank her mother for the invitation to enter her own kitchen, but she didn’t feel like sparring. What she wanted to do was sink into a nice hot bubble bath and replay the afternoon with Jude in her head. But when she walked into the kitchen, her mother was sitting at the kitchen table with dozens of fabric swatches in front of her, sipping something from a teacup as Chelsea stood, holding up different fabric combinations, comparing them to one another. Guinevere would offer yes or no verdicts and Chelsea, who was an interior designer, would deposit them into the corresponding piles.

  “Ah, there you are,” Guinevere said when she saw Juliette. “I’m so glad you’re home. I desperately need your expert advice. But, oh, Juliette, Chelsea is such a dear. She has agreed to help me choose the fabric for the new house. When Chelsea told me she was available to meet this afternoon, I tried to call you, but you weren’t picking up. Where were you, darling?”

  Juliette’s gaze locked with Chelsea’s, whose eyes widened as if she could read Juliette’s mind, before her expression settled into a knowing smirk. Juliette tried to telegraph back, I’ll tell you everything later. She looked away before she could ascertain whether or not Chelsea had gotten the message.

  She needed to appear as normal as possible so that her mother didn’t pick up on anything. As a general rule, Guinevere didn’t pick up on nonverbal cues very often, but just when Juliette started to write her off as obtuse, her mother would surprise her.