Best of Cowboys Bundle

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Barbara White Daille, Judy Christenberry, Christine Wenger, Shirley Rogers, Crystal Green, Nina Bruhns, Candance Schuler, Carole Mortimer

  “Sit still,” he ordered gruffly. Without speaking, she brooded, her arms crossed in front of her voluptuous chest, her bottom lip stuck out in a pout.

  Irritated by the entire situation, he grabbed hold of another kitchen chair. As he pulled it away from the table, a large stack of magazines slid off it and fell to the floor. “Sorry,” he muttered, then bent down and began gathering them.

  “It’s okay,” she replied, watching him, and her cheeks reddened slightly.

  Deke continued stacking them together, noticing that they were dated and worn. The one that ended up on the top of the pile had a picturesque location easily identified as Paris, France, by the Eiffel Tower. He picked up the magazines and straightened them, then put the pile on the table.

  Grabbing the chair again, he positioned it in front of her, then carefully elevated her leg.

  “I have to see to the cattle,” she stated when she could no longer hold her silence.

  “I’ll make sure they’re taken care of,” Deke assured her. “But first, we need to do something to get that swelling down. Stay put.” His threatening look dared her to disobey.

  “This is ridiculous.” Mary Beth examined her ankle. “It’s not that bad.” Still, she didn’t get up. “Besides, I don’t have to be on my ankle to round up cattle.”

  “What if you have to get off your horse?”

  “It won’t hurt me to walk on it for a little while.”

  “Yes, it will. I don’t think your ankle’s broken, but it might be a good idea to get it x-rayed.”

  Mary Beth mentally reviewed her dwindling bank account. A visit to the doctor would cost precious money she didn’t have to spare. “I don’t need it x-rayed. It’s just a sprain.”

  “Well, I’ve had a lot of sprains, and I’ve learned enough about treating them to know that the first twenty-four hours are the most important. If you don’t get the swelling down, it’ll take even longer for it to heal.”

  She huffed. Deke ignored her and started opening and closing the drawers in the kitchen cabinets. Mary Beth looked around the dismal room and cringed. A path was worn across the faded cream-colored vinyl floor, and at best the gas stove could be called a relic. The yellow-flowered curtains sewn by her mother years ago were shabby, bleached by constant morning sun. Mary Beth could still remember the day she’d helped her mother hang them. Sadly, it was the last thing Della Adams had ever done before she’d taken ill.

  Having just graduated high school, Mary Beth had set her sights on leaving Crockett. It was a blow to her plans when her mother had become sick. Mary Beth stayed home to care for her, and it had been months before the doctors had discovered her cancer. Della had fought the terrible disease for six years. They’d driven countless times to San Antonio, then later to San Luis once the new hospital had opened.

  But the cancer had continued to spread, leaving her mother with little energy to fight it. And when she’d lost her mother, Mary Beth had lost her best friend.

  What must Deke be thinking? she wondered. Her cheeks colored slightly as she sat in the dumpy room watching him. His family’s ranch, the Bar M, was large and prosperous, a far cry from the failing acres of Paradise.

  Because her days were now spent trying to care for the livestock and the land, Mary Beth hadn’t had the time, or the money for that matter, to fix up the inside of the house. She done her best to tidy the small place when she’d first returned home, but sparing the time had been difficult. Nowadays, she rarely had energy at the end of the day to do more than pick up behind herself.

  Hearing that her father had been hurt after being thrown from his horse, Mary Beth had made arrangements to take a leave from her job and come home and help him. Upon arriving, she’d learned that he’d broken several ribs and his leg. One of his ribs had punctured a lung, and because his health was poor, he’d developed pneumonia. Unable to fight it off, Hank Adams had died shortly after she’d arrived.

  The slamming of yet another drawer drew her attention. Mary Beth found herself watching Deke’s rear end as he moved around the room. His worn jeans encased his butt in a tight, all-too-appealing fit. She gritted her teeth, hating that he still had an effect on her.

  “What are you looking for?” she demanded when he continued to peruse her cabinet drawers. His quick movements were maddening when she just wanted him gone.

  “A cloth or something to put some ice in.”

  “They’re over there.” She pointed to a drawer across the room.

  Deke looked in the direction she indicated, then walked over and yanked open the drawer. “This’ll do.” He pulled out a frayed white dishcloth with multicolored stripes, crossed the room to the old refrigerator and opened the freezer door. Reaching inside, he took some ice, gathered it in the cloth, then spread it on the counter and methodically adjusted the cubes, folding them inside.

  “Here you go,” he said as he approached her.

  She waited for him to put the ice on her ankle, then caught her breath when the cold compress touched her skin. The weight of it made her ankle ache even more.

  “How does that feel?”

  She glared at him. “Cold.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, well, that’s how it’s supposed to feel.” Deke let go and stepped back, pleased with his work.

  The ice pack fell to the side.

  Frowning, he picked it up and put it back on. Before he could move away, it fell off again. “Damn,” he muttered.

  “I can hold it,” she told him, and reached for the compress.

  “Yeah? How? You can’t lean over and hold it on there for very long. Your back’ll be sore after a while.” Before she could protest, he gave her the ice pack, then lifted her and carried her toward the living room.

  “Will you put me down?” Mary Beth rasped, her tone revealing her frustration.

  “In a minute.” He settled her on the sofa, then grabbed a small throw pillow and stuffed it under her foot. “I’ll get you a more comfortable one from your bedroom in a minute,” he told her. Taking the ice pack from her, he put it back on the sprain. This time, propped against the sofa, it stayed in place.

  “This is fine.” Mary Beth didn’t want to think about Deke going anywhere near her bedroom. The last time he’d been in her house, he’d not only been in her bedroom, but in her bed.

  And they’d made love.

  Had sex, she corrected herself. For Deke it surely hadn’t been anything more, as he’d proven when he’d walked out the next morning and never bothered to call her. He’d probably felt sorry for her because her father had just died. Undoubtedly, he’d been just as surprised as she was when he’d kissed her. When she’d returned his kisses, well, she supposed he was used to women offering him sex.

  It hadn’t been that way for her. The crush on him she’d nurtured as a teenager had resurfaced when Deke had taken her in his arms, when he’d kissed her. She’d always wondered what it would be like to be intimate with him.

  And the instant his lips had touched hers, she’d known that she couldn’t deny herself the pleasure of finding out. She’d waited a long time for Deke McCall to notice her. And making love with him had been…incredible. Everything she’d dreamed it would be.

  His voice interrupted her thoughts, and she gave him a blank look. “What?”

  “I said, now that you’ve got ice on it, how about something for the pain?” he repeated, his tone a shade more tolerant than a minute ago.

  “I’m sure there’s something in the kitchen or bathroom, but don’t worry about it. I’ll take something later,” she said, unwilling to admit that her ankle was throbbing. And on top of everything else, her head felt as if someone was pounding on it with a large rock. The thought of Deke prowling through her personal belongings made it feel a thousand times worse.

  “You need to take something now.”

  She sat forward, and her expression sobered. “I appreciate your help, but I can take care of myself. I’m used to doing it.” Used to not depending on a man. Her father h
ad taught her that lesson well, because he’d never been around when he was needed.

  Deke’s blue eyes sailed into hers. “Well, it won’t hurt you to let someone else look after you for a change.” She had a right to be angry with him. And he damned well didn’t deserve her forgiveness. He wouldn’t ask her for it because he could never make it up to her. But the least he could do before he left was to make sure she was okay. “I’ll see to the horses, then I’ll find something for you to take for the pain.”

  Without waiting for her to answer, Deke went outside. He made short work of unsaddling the horses, then returned to the house. As he searched the kitchen cabinets for some medicine, he noticed the walls were badly in need of a fresh coat of paint, and the floor looked as if it was a lot older than his twenty-eight years.

  Deke figured that the house was easily over seventy years old, and sadly, it showed. Mary Beth’s father sure hadn’t taken much interest in keeping the place up. Shaking his head, Deke thought the entire ranch needed a dreadful amount of work before it would begin to look decent. The barn was missing shingles, and the machine shed desperately needed a new coat of paint.

  He’d only been home for a short break from the rodeo, but that had been long enough to hear the rumors of Mary Beth’s struggles to keep the ranch afloat since her father’s death. And now her only ranch hand had quit. How was she going to manage alone—especially since she’d injured her ankle?

  Logically Deke knew Mary Beth’s problems shouldn’t concern him, but he couldn’t help thinking about how hard it was going to be for her. She needed help. And, after all, he was her neighbor. Maybe lending her a hand would go a long way toward making amends for treating her so badly.

  Remembering the stray cattle that still needed tending, as he continued to poke through her cabinets, he grabbed the phone receiver off the wall. His sister-in-law, Ashley, who was married to Ryder, answered on the third ring. Deke asked her to let one of his brothers, Ryder or Jake, know about the strays and the fencing so they could get someone out there to handle the problem. Then he explained that Mary Beth had hurt herself, and he was going to hang around awhile to be sure she was okay.

  That done and unable to find any medicine, Deke left the kitchen and headed toward the bathroom. A quick search of the old wooden cabinet in the bathroom turned up a bottle of over-the-counter medicine. He filled a glass sitting on the side of the sink with water, then went in search of a couple of pillows to make her more comfortable.

  As he walked down the narrow hallway, he noticed that all of the bedroom doors were shut. He started to go into what he remembered as Mary Beth’s room, but instead turned toward the room her father had used, figuring she’d moved into the larger room after his death. As soon as he stepped inside, he halted in his tracks.

  The musty, unused smell hit him as he scanned the room. The faded, drawn curtains filtered a smattering of light from the late-afternoon sun. He flipped the switch, bathing the room in soft light from a ceiling fixture covered by a square of milky-white glass.

  The room was clean and tidy. A little too neat. The closet door was shut, the bed undisturbed. Still, something didn’t quite seem right.

  Then he saw them. A pair of man’s shoes in the corner of the room.

  Deke’s heart stopped. Did Mary Beth have a man living with her? No, that didn’t make sense. If a man was living here, where was he? Who was he? Irritation at someone sharing her bed, however illogical, twisted his gut. Then he paused.

  If she was living with someone, he would have heard about it for sure. Old Mrs. Weaver, Crockett’s worst gossip, would have made sure the entire town knew about it.

  Deke sniffed the stale air. Curious, he moved farther into the room. A man’s gold wristwatch rested on a wooden tray on the dresser, along with a small amount of change and a large pocket knife. He frowned as he studied the articles.

  Opening the closet door, Deke found it half-full of a man’s clothes. The floor of the closet was filled with boxes and shoes. The shelf above held more boxes. What the hell was going on? He checked the dresser drawers, and most of them held piles of neatly folded shirts and pants, tainted with the fragrance of time. In the adjoining bathroom, he discovered more unsettling clues. Though clean, it looked undisturbed. An array of shaving lotion and cologne covered almost one whole side of the small countertop. A toothbrush hung in a rusting metal fixture.

  Then he realized that the room hadn’t been touched since Mary Beth’s father had died.

  Deke was dumbfounded.

  She’s still grieving for Hank, he thought.

  Feeling empathy, he could understand, because he was still dealing with his own demons concerning his relationship with his father. The fight they’d had haunted him. He would take every word back if it was in his power. But that time was long lost.

  Shaking his head, Deke didn’t think it was a good sign that Mary Beth was hanging on to Hank’s belongings. And it probably wasn’t his place to mention it, but then again, if he didn’t, who would? Mary Beth was all alone out here.

  Still mulling over what he should do, he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He stepped across the hall and opened the door to Mary Beth’s bedroom. As he walked inside, her unique womanly scent halted his movements. This room was also tidy, though the bed was unmade, as if she’d just climbed from it.

  Deke stared at the rumpled bedding, and the memory of making love to Mary Beth right there on that bed caused his chest to ache. Why couldn’t he forget what it felt like to make love to her? What was it about her that was so different from other women he’d known?

  It had been good between him and Mary Beth. Too damn good. Good enough to scare the pants off him. He snatched two pillows from the bed. Tucking them under his arm, he went back to the living room. Mary Beth was scrunched down on the sofa, her head resting against the arm. She looked so damn vulnerable. So fragile.

  She would probably laugh at that, he thought with sardonic amusement. He had a feeling that Mary Beth wouldn’t appreciate him thinking of her as fragile in any way. Deke walked over and gently touched her shoulder.

  “Oh,” she murmured as she slowly opened her eyes.

  When she appeared to gain her bearings, he handed her the glass of water. “Here, take these,” he instructed softly, opening the medicine bottle.

  She held out her hand, and he dropped two white pills in her palm. “Thank you.” She popped the pills in her mouth, then drank some water. “There. Are you satisfied?”

  Deke frowned as he placed one of the pillows behind her so she could rest easier. “I’m only trying to help.” Despite her surly tone, he tried to make her more comfortable by sliding the other pillow under her foot.

  Mary Beth looked repentant. Okay, so he had been helpful, and she should have expressed a little gratitude instead of being so disagreeable. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Taking the glass from her, he set it beside yet another stack of old magazines on the table beside the sofa. He stared absently at them a moment, then turned his head to look at her. “I called the Bar M. Someone’s going to round up your cattle and repair the hole in the fence. So you don’t have to worry about anything.”

  Mary Beth cocked her head as she looked into his eyes. “I appreciate the help, Deke. Really. But your family’s already done too much for me these past two years.” She was relieved that the cattle were being seen to, but that the McCalls were handling the problem made her feel even more indebted to them. How could she ever repay their kindness?

  Taking note of the worn fabric on the arms, Deke made himself comfortable in a chair across from her. “It’s not a big deal, Mary Beth.”

  Her eyes fell away from his. “Yes, it is.”

  The problems at Paradise were becoming overwhelming, and the weight of her need to make the ranch successful was dragging her down. Though she was barely hanging on, she refused to depend on others to help her.

  She had to prove her father wrong.

  He’d never
given her a chance to show him that she could help. It was a man’s job, he’d told her more than once, with a harsh tone that revealed his disappointment in having a daughter and not a son.

  “Not if you don’t make it one.”

  Deke’s soft reply interrupted her thoughts. Her gaze went to his again, and he smiled. Her stomach tingled, like tiny butterflies were having a party inside it. “I’m not trying to be difficult.”

  “Sure could’ve fooled me.” His eyes stayed on hers.

  “I appreciate everything you’ve done. I’m just not used to having someone around helping.”

  “Like your father?”

  Mary Beth wanted to say no. She really did. But that wouldn’t have been an honest answer. Her father had never been around when she and her mother had needed him. He’d only cared about money. Money he never seemed to have. Feeling her spirits fall, she tried to hold the bitter feelings at bay. “Yeah.”

  “I can understand how hard it’s been.”

  She swallowed hard. Deke didn’t know. No one had any idea that she held bitter feelings toward her father. Shamefully, she hadn’t even wanted to come back when she’d heard he was ill. But if she hadn’t, people would’ve talked. The lump that had lodged in her throat refused to move when she swallowed.

  An awkward moment of silence filled the room. She looked at Deke, and his mouth quirked up at one corner. Mary Beth found the sight much too appealing. He started to speak, stopped himself as if considering his words, then sighed.

  “What?”

  He waited a moment, then asked, “Why haven’t you cleaned out your father’s things?”

  She stilled. “What…what do you mean?”

  “I wasn’t snooping,” he said quickly. “I was looking for some pillows, and I went into your father’s bedroom, thinking that you’d made it your room since his death.”

  “You went into his room?”

  He nodded. “I guess you’ve had a rough time.”

  “Losing my father, you mean?” She wasn’t sure what to say. He was expecting her to tell him all about how she’d cried, how hard it had been to lose someone she’d loved. So hard that she hadn’t been able to bring herself to go through his belongings.