It Started with a Cowboy

by Jennie Marts

  Chloe chuckled. “From the sounds of your vocabulary, I’d say your mom is a pretty good teacher.”

  He shrugged. “I guess. But I’m still trying to talk her into letting me switch to the grade school. Especially now that I have Milo.”

  Chloe peered down at the dog, who was sitting obediently next to the boy’s chair. “He’s a beautiful dog.”

  “He’s the best.” Spencer rubbed the dog’s head as he looked toward his dad. “Mom wanted me to tell you dinner’s going to be on the table in thirty minutes.”

  “Okay, thanks, buddy. Tell her I’ll wash up and be there in a few.”

  “Nice to meet you,” the boy said as he turned the wheelchair around and eased back through the door.

  “You too, Spencer,” she called, then turned back to Justin. “He seems like a great kid. And smart. Your wife is doing a great job with him. If she ever needs any support or teaching materials, she can call me. I’d be happy to help.”

  “That’s kind of you. I can see why Colt likes you.”

  Heat flared to her cheeks. What the heck had he told this guy about her? She wished she could ask. For now, it was easier to change the subject. “I love golden retrievers. Milo seems to do really well with Spencer. Is he a service dog?”

  Justin nodded. “He’s the best. That dog has changed our lives. Besides being the first friend my kid’s ever had, he’s allowed Spence to be more independent and given him a purpose. He’s a different kid now that he has Milo. It used to be there were days when he didn’t want to leave his room, and we could forget getting him out of the house. Now he jumps out of bed to feed Milo, and he begs us to take the two of them to the park.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  Justin narrowed his eyes and tilted his head as if he were taking her measure. She must have passed his squinty-eyed test, because he nodded his head slightly before he spoke. “Milo was sired by Colt’s golden, Watson. Colt sponsored the pup and spent six months training him to be a service dog. Then he spent another six months working with Spence and Milo together, teaching them how to work as a team and training the dog to do tasks specific to our son’s needs.”

  Oh.

  He glanced toward the doorless car then back at her. “Do you understand now?”

  She nodded, unable to speak around the emotion clogging her throat. Yes, she understood now.

  “I had to order a couple of parts for the door, but they’ll be here Monday, and I should have the car back to you, good as new, by the middle of the week.”

  “Thank you.” There was nothing else for her to say. No other choice. How could she take this away—this chance he had to finally do something for the man who had given him an immeasurable gift? “And thank you for telling me. It was really nice to meet you. And Spencer and Milo. I’ll let you get back to work.”

  He smiled. “It was really nice to meet you too, Miss Bishop.”

  “You’ll tell your wife? To call me at the school? Or just drop by. I meant what I said. I’m happy to help.”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  * * *

  Later that night, Chloe paced her living room, glancing at the clock for the fifteenth time. The minute hand crept closer to seven, and she resisted the temptation to nibble her freshly painted hot-pink nails.

  By this time on any other Friday night, she’d already be in her comfy flannel pajamas curled up on the sofa with a frozen pizza and bowl of popcorn big enough to make it through several hours of binge-watching some series on Netflix.

  But tonight, she was dressed in jeans and an oversize sweatshirt and had finished eating dinner twenty minutes ago. She’d also spent the last thirty minutes studying the rules of the game of hockey. Which might be all for nothing. Who knew if Colt still wanted her to help coach?

  She caught her breath as she heard an engine pull up out front. Crud. What now? Should she act like she wasn’t expecting him or like she was? She rushed over to the sofa and plopped down, crossed her legs, and nonchalantly threw her hand over the back of the cushions. No—too prim. She uncrossed her legs, slouched against the pillows, reached for her knitting.

  Oh, for the love of bean dip. This was ridiculous. It didn’t matter how she was sitting. If he came to the door, she’d have to get up to answer anyway. It’s not like he was going to waltz through her front door and find her casually sprawled on the sofa working a purl stitch.

  A soft knock sounded at the door. She caught her breath and cocked her head, trying to interpret the intensity of the noise. Was it a hesitant knock like “I hope she doesn’t hear me. Then I can leave and say I tried”? Was it a questioning knock like “I have no idea if she still wants to do this or if she’s going to be glad, or mad, to see me”? Or was it a confident knock like “Last night didn’t matter, and we’re going to pretend it didn’t happen anyway”?

  Another more insistent knock sounded, and she jumped. “Chloe?” Colt’s deep voice came through the door.

  Get up and answer the door before he leaves.

  She pushed off from the sofa and rushed to the door, her knitting project still clutched in her hand and oblivious to the ball of yarn that fell off the sofa and trailed behind her, unraveling as it rolled. “Be right there,” she called.

  She sucked in her breath and pulled open the door.

  Chapter 9

  Chloe’s breath caught as she took in the tall cowboy standing in the pool of light on her porch. He wore jeans and boots and a brown felt cowboy hat pushed low over his forehead. His tan Carhartt coat was unzipped and open, and he wore a faded denim shirt over an ivory thermal Henley. He looked good enough to eat.

  He offered her a shy grin, almost as if he didn’t know what to expect from her either. It was a small smile, no teeth, just the slimmest curve of his lips coupled with a slight inquisitive tilt of his head, but it was enough to twist her stomach in a nervous knot and have her mouth going dry.

  Quit looking at his lips and say hello.

  “Uh, hi. Colt,” she stammered, then took a step back. “Come on in.”

  She must have been shadowed by the light behind her, because when he stepped into the house, his mouth dropped open.

  “Wow, look at your hair,” he said, his eyes going wide.

  Her free hand fluttered to the side of her head, the knot in her stomach rolling over. With her other hand, she clasped her knitting to her chest, as if the stitched yarn could somehow muffle the sound of her heart pounding against her chest.

  What had she done? Had changing her hair been a dumb decision? Did it make it seem like she was trying too hard? She cursed Carley and her mood-lightening highlights. “I had it cut this afternoon.”

  “It looks amazing,” he said, then held up his hands. “I mean, it looked good before, I liked it the way it was, but it looks really great now.” He stopped, took a breath, and let it out. “I don’t know why my mouth is not connecting to my brain tonight. Your hair looks nice, Chloe. You look real pretty.”

  She bit her lip to keep the beaming smile from completely taking over her face. “Thank you.” They stared at each other, both smiling, but neither offering anything more to say.

  “Meow.” Thankfully, the cat saved them as she strolled into the room and rubbed herself against Colt’s legs.

  Lucky cat.

  He bent down and stroked Agatha’s back, then straightened and nodded his head toward the door. “We should probably get going. You ready?”

  “Uh, yeah. The hockey thing. Sure.” She twisted the knitted yarn in her hands. “I didn’t know… I wasn’t sure if you still wanted me.”

  “Of course I want you. I mean…of course I want you to help me coach the team,” he stammered. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  She stared down at her hands. “Because of last night.”

  “You mean because you can’t skate that well?”

  Yeah, Colt.
That’s what I mean. I was worried about last night because of my skating abilities. Nothing at all to do with the lip-locking kiss I awkwardly forced on you while we were on the ice.

  But, if that’s how he wanted to play it, she’d go along with the “ignore it and maybe it will go away” option.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Half the kids on the team can barely skate. You’ll learn with them. You just need more practice.”

  He could say that again. She needed more practice with a lot of things. Like how to deal with handsome men who made her palms sweat and her chest tight.

  His brows knit together. “Do you still want to help with the team?”

  “Yes. I do. Maddie really wants to play, and I want her to have that chance. I don’t want to let her down.” She held up the scrunched wad of yarn in her hands. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to pick me up, or if I was still coaching, so I was just doing a little knitting.” Yes, of course, if she couldn’t look nonchalant, she should clumsily try to explain how relaxed and unconcerned she was about whether he was going to show up or not.

  “It looks like Agatha is helping you.” He gestured behind her, and she turned to see the cat batting and chasing the ball of yarn that had trailed behind her. A long line of purple yarn was now wrapped around one leg of the coffee table and had unrolled willy-nilly across the room as the cat pursued it like a hunter stalking its prey.

  “Oh Mylanta,” Chloe cried, shooing the cat away and trying to gather the yarn as Colt chuckled behind her. Tossing the whole wad on the sofa, she turned back to him. “I’ll deal with this later. Let’s go.” She grabbed her coat off the hook by the door and shoved her arms into the sleeves.

  He peered into the tote bag sitting on the bench by the door, then offered her a teasing grin. “For not knowing if I was coming to get you or not, it’s a good thing you were ready.”

  She gave a noncommittal shrug, trying to ignore the surges of heat his grin sent racing down her spine. “I like to be prepared.”

  “I can tell. It looks like you conveniently prepared a notebook, a clipboard, a Hockey for Dummies handbook, and a first aid kit, and had them ready by the door.”

  She playfully glared at him, then grabbed the bag and nudged him on the shoulder as she walked out the door. “Oh, hush up.” At least he was grinning and teasing her again. She’d take that over awkward and embarrassed any day.

  As she walked to the truck, Chloe let out a small sigh of relief that they didn’t have to talk about the kiss or what had happened the night before. She was good with pretending it didn’t happen and going back to being friends. She knew how to pretend. She’d spent a lifetime pretending everything was okay. And she could do the same with Colt. Even if hanging around him had her body heating up like a solar panel on a sunny day, she’d take the burn if it meant being with him, hearing him laugh, and having him occasionally touch her back or brush against her hip.

  If being Colt’s friend was all she was going to get, then she’d take it.

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, Colt held the door open for Chloe as they walked into the ice arena. The smell of her hair had him wanting to drag her back to the pickup and have his way with her, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not just because they had a dozen kids and their parents waiting for them, but because Chloe had made it clear the night before that she wasn’t interested in their relationship going in that direction.

  She’d still seemed nervous when he picked her up, but that was most likely due to the awkwardness of the botched kiss. He’d done his best to tease her out of it, and he felt like they were okay again. Even if she didn’t want to steam up the windows of his truck with him, he was happy just being around her. She had this thing about her—he couldn’t describe it—it was kind of like the way sunshine felt warm against his skin.

  Geez, man. Get a grip on yourself. Since when did he think about women as sunshine and rainbows? Chloe was a nice person, and he felt good when he was around her. He also felt like he had a swarm of angry hornets buzzing in his gut when she smiled at him, but he’d think about that later.

  Right now, he had a bunch of kids to get laced into skates and a practice to run. He led Chloe toward the skate-rental booth where he’d left her skates the night before. Logan and Max were standing in front of the booth.

  Colt introduced Chloe to his neighbor. “Have you met Logan Rivers? He’s Quinn’s brother, our neighbor, and next to my brothers, probably my best friend.”

  She nodded. “We’ve met at some of Max’s school functions and when we all went out after the alumni game this summer. Hi, Logan.”

  He tipped his head and smiled warmly. “Hey, Chloe. Thanks for helping out. It’s great that we’ll have a girl on the team. I wish Quinn could have played as a girl. She used to mess around on the pond with us when we were kids, and she could stickhandle better than me.”

  “My dog can stickhandle better than you,” Colt ribbed him.

  “Hi, Miss Bishop.” Max shouldered his way in front of his uncle and held up a gleaming red-and-black hockey stick. “Isn’t this cool? Rock gave me this new stick, just tonight. I’m gonna score a goal with this one. I just know it.”

  “I’ll bet you do,” Chloe agreed.

  Colt liked the way she encouraged everyone. “First we’ve got to get the team together, buddy. Can you help me round everyone up?”

  Five minutes later, Colt stood in front of the bleachers where Chloe, Logan, a handful of parents, and twelve excited and nervous kids sat.

  He introduced himself, Chloe, and Logan, and had the kids say their names and what position they’d like to play. He caught most of the names, trying to memorize them as the kids said either their desired position or mumbled a version of “I don’t know.” He knew Max and Maddie, so he was good with two. He noticed Chloe was furiously scribbling notes on her clipboard as he mentally ran through the other kids’ names—Brock, Dillon, Ryan, Brady, Keith, Floyd, kid with the taped glasses, red-haired set of twins, and a taller heavy-set kid named Gordy, who thankfully said he wanted to play goalie.

  As far as Colt was concerned, the kid could have the position. It was much harder to assign the role, so he was thrilled at least one kid had stepped up.

  Maddie had claimed she wanted to be the quarterback, and he was fairly certain he’d seen Chloe jot that down. “You don’t have to write that one,” he told her. “We don’t have a quarterback in hockey.”

  “I know.” She nodded wisely, then casually erased a line on her page.

  “This is a twelve-week season,” Colt explained to everyone. “We’ll practice once a week on Mondays and an occasional Saturday if I can get the ice time, and we’ll have games every Wednesday. I know this is Friday, but tonight is kind of a special deal since we’re doing this meeting and passing out equipment and making sure everyone’s skates fit. I got us an extra hour of ice time because I wanted to give us enough time to skate and go through a couple of basic drills and see where everyone’s skating abilities are.” He raised his gaze to the parents. “We’ll email you with the final schedules, so make sure we have your correct email address and a good phone number to reach you.” This was also how he was planning to get Chloe’s number without having to come out and ask her for it.

  “As you know, our sponsor, Rock James, is donating pads and equipment to everyone on the team. We took the measurements and sizes you turned in when you registered, and we have a bag for each of you that contains your skates, helmet, and all your pads.” He patted the line of a dozen roller bags that he and Logan had brought in earlier. “We’re not using sticks tonight, but you all have a certificate to use at the Skate Shop next door to get one free stick of your choice. Otis runs the shop, and he’ll cut your stick to the right height and show you how to tape it up.

  “Once you know everything fits and is going to work for you, I want you to have it all labeled wi
th your name before you come to practice on Monday night. Before I pass out the bags, I’m going to go through the uniform and show you how to put everything on.” He held up each piece, starting with the breezers, then moving through the pads, socks, and gloves. Some of the items were self-explanatory, but Colt didn’t want any of the kids to feel dumb for not knowing how something worked or how to put it on. “Gordy will have a few extra pieces, like a blocker and a catcher, and he’ll have extra leg pads since he’s the goalie.”

  Gordy grinned, and his shoulders pulled back as the other kids looked at him with envy.

  “Everybody wears a helmet and a mouth guard, no exceptions.” He held up a piece of white plastic. “Also, everybody gets one of these. This is an athletic cup, and it protects your family jewels. Trust me on this one. You do not want to forget to put this on. And everyone has to wear one.” He glanced at Madison who was listening intently. “Well, almost everyone. You don’t have to worry about this piece of equipment, Maddie.”

  The girl pulled her head back. “Why not? Why don’t I get to wear one too? I’m athletic, and I like to protect my family’s jewels. My mom might not have a lot of diamonds, but she still has some pretty jewelry.”

  The boys around her smirked and tittered, some of them knowing what a cup was for and others just knowing what their family jewels were.

  “It’s not those kind of jewels, honey,” Chloe told her. She leaned closer and must have whispered the true purpose of the cup into the girl’s ear.

  Maddie wrinkled her nose and gave Colt a scathing look. “No thank you. I’ve decided to pass on wearing a cup to practice. Or anywhere.”

  “Good choice.” He offered a grateful smile to Chloe, who was holding her clipboard in front of her mouth and trying not to laugh. “Everybody gets a bag, a helmet, and skates tonight. We’ll pass out the bags, and we want you to spread out and get dressed and get your skates on. We’ll come around to help adjust your helmets and answer questions and make sure everything fits.”