Craving the Cowboy

by Liz Isaacson

  “Payday,” he said. “He’s the Rocky Mountain chocolate out there.”

  She glanced over her shoulder to the horse who hadn’t even responded to her whistle. “He’s pretty.”

  “He’s my favorite. I bought him only a month ago.”

  She grinned at him, pleased when he swallowed hard. “You make it a habit to buy horses and then leave them out to pasture?”

  “I like buying horses,” he admitted.

  “And yet you own a cattle ranch.”

  “Duty,” he said. “My brother left a long time ago. My sister teaches third grade. Someone has to run the ranch my parents spent their whole lives building.”

  She cocked her head and tried to absorb what he’d said. “But if you don’t love it….”

  “I do love it,” he said. “I love this ranch. My men. Being away from the town. I just happen to love horses more than cows.” He gave her another million-watt smile. “But the cows pay most of the bills, so I’m…dabbling in horses right now.”

  Felicity laughed, the sound rich and delicious as it bubbled from her throat. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed like that. It felt good. It cleansed something inside her that had been dark and sticky before.

  “Dabbling in horses,” she said. “All right.” She turned back to the chocolate Rocky Mountain horse with the flaxen mane and tail, leaning into the fence mere inches from Dwayne. “Horse training is a full-time job. Who’s gonna do what you normally would?”

  “I will.”

  She nudged him with her shoulder playfully. The gesture felt easy, yet also a bit forced. She hadn’t flirted with a man in a while. “So you’re going to work twenty hours a day?”

  He nudged her right back. “Whatever it takes.”

  Felicity liked his drive, his hard-working spirit, the scent of his cologne. She wondered about his tremor, and how he’d come to love horses more than cows, and if they could maybe be more than two people training horses together.

  She pulled on the train of thought, trying to bring it back before it ran away. After all, she’d only met Dwayne—a man who collected wild horses like other people collected coins.

  “Maybe you can teach me how to do whatever it is you do,” she said.

  “Like fixing fences and painting barns and repairing training rings?”

  “Yeah, like that.”

  “So you’ll be dabbling in ranching.”

  She’d like to think she’d be dabbling in Dwayne, but she just smiled and said, “Sure. Dabbling in ranching.”

  Chapter Four

  Dwayne seemed uncomfortable inside his own barns, and he kept saying things like, “We’re gonna get that tack room insulated,” and “Don’t worry about those fences. I’ll get the boys to patch them up,” and “This is the training ring, but we’ll get it leveled before you start.”

  He flitted from one thing to the next like a hummingbird looking for the best nectar. His nervous energy floated like a scent on the air, and Felicity wanted to grab onto his shoulders and say, “Take a breath. It’s okay.”

  But she couldn’t reach his shoulders without some effort, and she liked walking around the ranch and just drinking in the atmosphere of it. Grape Seed was a bit different from the ranch where she’d grown up. They were larger, with nicer equipment, and a lot more money. Sure, her parents had done okay, and her two younger brothers planned to keep the ranch afloat.

  That was about what they did—stay afloat.

  Felicity had never minded, because she raised horses from foals and sold them once they were ready to be ridden.

  “How many horses do you have here?” she asked Dwayne once he’d seemed to settle on one task—feeding his collection.

  “Twenty-nine,” he said immediately. “Some are working horses for the ranch. I guess that would be the goal for all our horses.” He threw her a look over his shoulder.

  “Not necessarily,” she said. “Linus and Lucy aren’t working horses.”

  “Right. We have thirty-one horses here now.”

  “Which one’s yours?”

  “They’re all mine.”

  “No, which one’s yours?”

  Before he could answer, a dog zipped into the barn. His whole body wagged as he trotted over to Dwayne. “Hey, boy.” He handed the hose to Felicity, and she held it in the trough while he scrubbed down the border collie.

  “He’s beautiful,” she said as the dog licked Dwayne’s face, causing him to laugh. The sound lit up Felicity’s whole body. She imagined him laughing like that into the hollow of her neck, maybe whispering something sweet just before he kissed her….

  “You’re overflowing,” he said, taking the hose from her and moving down the row.

  She felt as if someone had ignited a stick of dynamite and tossed it down her throat. She could barely swallow and heat flamed in her face. Maybe if she doused herself with the hose, she’d figure out what was wrong with her.

  Nothing’s wrong, she told herself as she took the hose from Dwayne again. He’s attractive. Nothing wrong with being attracted to him.

  Though he was her boss, and she wasn’t sure what to do with those feelings of attraction. She hadn’t felt them for anyone in a while, and while she was still in Texas, she felt totally out of her element in this new town, on this new ranch, with all these new feelings.

  So she focused on the one thing that wasn’t new to her: taking care of horses.

  Dwayne stayed in place beside Felicity when he should’ve moved away. He took the hose from her when she could’ve done the job herself. He thrilled at the way she sidled back up to him and took the hose from him again.

  It was like they were dancing without touching. Without talking. Jinx had flopped in the corner of the barn, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. Usually Dwayne would talk to the border collie, ask him where Atlas was and if he’d seen any of the boys that morning for a bite of scrambled eggs or to play a quick game of fetch.

  Of course, the dog never answered, but Dwayne had always felt less lonely if he had a dog to talk to.

  “What’s the dog’s name?” Felicity asked.

  “Jinx,” he said. “And I have a German shepherd named Atlas. He’s old, though. Probably snoozing in the shade under my porch.” He forked hay into the feed bin, though there was no horse in the stall. He kept them out in the pastures during the summer, only opening the doors to the stables and barns at night.

  “So you don’t live with your parents?”

  Dwayne thought he detected a note of interest, but he quickly dismissed the notion. Felicity was beautiful and capable, and she wouldn’t be interested in a man like him. He let his eyes trace the curve of her hip before dropping his eyes to her sexy cowgirl boots. He’d never dated a cowgirl before—had never even thought of it.

  Most of the women in town were pretend cowgirls, only wearing the boots and hats to the summer rodeos. But Felicity was the real deal, and Dwayne liked everything he’d seen and almost all of what he’d heard.

  “No,” he said. “There’s a guest house on the edge of the homestead. It’s two bedrooms and two baths. I’ve been livin’ there for a while.”

  “How long’s a while?”

  “Oh, ten years now, I guess.”

  She handed him the hose as they’d reached the end of the line.

  “And what do you do in your guest house?” She was definitely flirting with him now.

  “You know,” he said, coiling the hose as he went to hang it on the holder. “Make caramel popcorn and sit on the porch with my guitar.”

  She giggled, a pretty little sound that wormed its way into Dwayne’s heart. “I didn’t think you could play the guitar with sticky fingers.”

  “Sometimes I just hold it on my lap,” he said. Anxiety punched him in the throat. Why had he said that? While it was true, he didn’t want to explain the reasons why sometimes he rocked in his chair, the guitar dormant on his lap, as he stared across the land he owned and loved.

  “Something el
se you’re dabbling in?” she asked. Her dark eyes sparkled, reminding him of black onyx and diamonds.

  “You could say that,” he said. “Were you still living with your parents before you came here?”

  She nodded, some of her fun and flirt fading. “We all worked the ranch together.”

  He noticed the past-tense verb again, but opted not to say anything this time. He nodded, and they finished the chores in the horse barn and the north stable.

  “So, do you want to meet my horse?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Yes, of course.” She folded her arms and gazed up at him. The powerful need to lean down and taste her mouth almost brought him to his knees.

  He swallowed and leaned back, trying to control his spiraling thoughts and emotions. “Don’t laugh at the name, all right? I bought him in an auction about three years ago, and the name came with.” He led her to the next stable over, which had a decent-sized pasture attached to it.

  He gestured toward the horses clustered in the corner, all of them trying to stand in the bit of shade cast by the building. “The black and white one. See how his hooves look like they’ve been dipped in white paint? That’s Gaston.”

  She half-snorted, half-scoffed, but when he cast her a quick look, she sobered.

  “I didn’t name him, remember?” He extended his hand over the fence, and Gaston came toward him, thankfully.

  The last thing he needed was for his personal horse to behave badly in front of the expert horse trainer.

  “But I think his name fits.” He stroked the horse’s cheeks, feeling a new measure of peace infuse his soul. Horses always helped him emotionally, especially after he’d come home from the Marines, which was why he felt such a draw to them.

  “He’s proud,” he continued when Felicity didn’t say anything. “A bit stubborn. Thinks he’s the cream of the crop, like all the ladies want him. Then he just hangs out with all these other male horses.” He chuckled like his horse’s behavior was truly unique.

  “Gaston.” She reached up and let the horse see her hand before touching his head. Dwayne noted the way she watched the horse, almost trying to size it up before making a judgment. “You’re a handsome horse.”

  Gladness filled Dwayne’s heart. For some reason, it was important to him that Felicity like his horse.

  “How old are you?” he asked. “Youngest in your family? Oldest?”

  “I’m the oldest. Two younger brothers still back on the ranch.”

  “I’m oldest too,” he said. “Thirty-three.”

  “Thirty-two.” She shared a smile with him, and his heart dang near exploded out of his chest. “So we’ll start tomorrow with Spotlight and Payday. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Dwayne enjoyed a few more minutes with her, then she made her good-byes and headed for that shiny red sports car. He’d never considered owning a car like that—number one, it was too low to the ground. He would never be able to fold his tall frame inside. And getting out was worse.

  But Felicity ducked into the car and the roar of a really big engine filled the air a moment later. It was a beautiful mustang, carrying a lovely woman, even if it wasn’t the type of mustang he was used to.

  He went about the rest of his day, his thoughts never far from Felicity. As he strolled over to the Cowboy Commons, as Kurt liked to call the row of cabins that flanked the road on the east side, he wondered if he’d be up to the task of training a horse the way she did.

  The cabins came into view. Eight of them in all, four on each side of the road, made up the Commons. He and Kurt had repainted them all the color of dark chocolate three years ago, and each cowboy chose the color for their front door. Dwayne’s father had bought whatever colors the boys wanted, and Dwayne passed cherry red, and mint green, and butter yellow.

  Each cowboy got their own cabin, and there was a picnic area complete with a flagpole, as if these eight houses had formed a community. The foreman had a slightly larger cabin on the other side of the picnic area, an addition to the ranch his father had put in after a few years of owning Grape Seed Ranch. He was still part of the community, though he was offset just a bit. Dwayne was not, so far removed from this part of the ranch and being the boss.

  He got along great with the men, sure. They liked him and respected him. Because Dwayne yearned to be part of something like their community, he came out to the Cowboy Commons often. It had become something and somewhere where he could be himself and belong.

  The dust finally settled after Felicity’s departure, and he wondered if she could be the one he belonged to. Belonged with.

  “There you are,” Kurt said, his voice on the upper edges of panic as he appeared around the side of his cabin. His chest heaved and he took one, two, three big breaths. “We need you in the bullpens. Tiger’s demolished the north fence, and all the bulls are out.”

  He didn’t wait for Dwayne to confirm. Kurt turned and headed back the way he’d come.

  Dwayne’s feet slipped a little in the old cowboy boots he hadn’t worn in months. But he got them moving after Kurt, his heartbeat galloping as fast as he knew his stubborn bulls were.

  Chapter Five

  Dwayne saddled Gaston faster than he ever had. He found Kurt atop a sorrel-colored horse, practically pacing as he waited. “Let’s go,” Dwayne said.

  They rode out to the bullpens, which sat on the far west side of the ranch. The same side as his mother’s rose gardens, the peach and apple trees, and her vegetable garden. As early as it was in the growing season, she didn’t have much Tiger would want.

  But Dwayne knew he’d find the bull out there, stomping through what she worked to keep beautiful, searching for something to satisfy his sweet tooth.

  “Did you get an apple?” he called to Kurt.

  “We’ve tried that. He’s not comin’ in this time.”

  Dwayne set his mouth into a tight line and urged Gaston to go faster. They arrived on the west side of the house only to see everything in order. Well, not quite. Evidence that Tiger had been here, rooting for a sweet carrot or a handful of strawberries, was obvious in the torn up ground.

  “Where is he?”

  The radio on Kurt’s hip beeped, and Austin’s voice came on, saying, “He’s headed for the south road.”

  And the south road led to town. Tiger was a regular Houdini, always trying to escape the confines of his pen. He usually just wanted a treat, but this felt like a deliberate attempt to let Dwayne know that he wasn’t happy with all the fences.

  Dwayne knew how he felt. But fences kept things neat, and carrots in the ground, and bulls from goring townspeople.

  “Call the Sheriff,” he called to Kurt, who managed to pull his cell phone from his back pocket while keeping his horse at a gallop. A flash of emotion struck Dwayne. He wasn’t sure if it was jealousy or inadequacy. Probably both. Because he couldn’t make a call and control a horse at the same time. Not since the explosion in Iraq.

  He also hadn’t ridden this aggressively in a while, and combined with the time he’d spent on the board over the water in the dunk tank, and his bones felt like they were knocking together with every stride Gaston took.

  A line of horses appeared ahead, and it took a moment for Dwayne to realize they were his cowboys. All stopped. The horses sidestepped and pawed the ground, as if nervous.

  What in the world?

  His heart dropped to his stirrups. Tiger had hurt someone.

  But why weren’t his boys doing anything?

  Please, God, he thought. Please help us get this bull contained without injury.

  He pulled up at the end of the line, the last to arrive and hating that fact. As the owner, he should be the first on any scene. He should know what to do. His father would’ve been first. His dad would know what to do.

  As Dwayne sucked in breath after breath, he couldn’t make sense of what he saw before him. Maybe his dad wouldn’t know what to do in this situation.

  Tiger, the brownish-black bull with a white face, stood with his rump towar
d the line of cowboys. Three other bulls stood slightly behind Tiger, and though they weren’t as large, they certainly made a terrifying line no one should cross.

  In a face-down with the four bulls was a red mustang. Not the horse. The car.

  With Felicity behind the wheel.

  Dwayne’s throat felt like someone had scrubbed it out with sandpaper and then lit it on fire. Men asked him questions. The radio on Austin’s hip bleeped. Kurt’s cell phone blared out its obnoxious ringtone. Jinx barked and barked, circling the bulls without tightening the radius, as if even he could sense something dangerous was about to happen.

  Dwayne didn’t have time to wonder what she was doing, coming back to the ranch instead of heading away from it.

  He needed to diffuse those bulls before they charged.

  Felicity gripped the steering wheel. The car, though made of steel, didn’t feel like adequate protection against the eight thousand pounds of angry bull standing in front of her. The all-black animal on her right had saliva dripping from its jowls, and the biggest one lowered its head as if it was about to charge.

  The car was already in reverse, but she kept her foot jammed on the brake. Number one, she wasn’t great at backing up without looking behind her. Number two, she couldn’t look away from the four pairs of bovine eyes staring at her.

  Though her windows remained up, the barking from Dwayne’s dog was plain to hear. He kept moving around the bulls, as if daring them to make one false move. Jinx switched his track to a back-and-forth motion between her car and the bulls at the same time Dwayne separated himself from the line of cowboys waiting a healthy distance away.

  He directed Gaston to her left, giving the bulls a wide berth. One by one, the other cowboys moved out too, all going to the left or right and creating a circle around her car and the bulls. Somehow she tracked them without looking away from the angry animals in front of her.