A Cowboy To Keep: A Contemporary Western Romance Collection

by Hebby Roman

  “First off, you’re too hard on yourself, and second, to be fair, how much catering would this little town need? I don’t really see the farmers and ranchers having tea parties for their cattle or goats.”

  She knew he was trying to help, but he was falling way short. “I get that you’re trying to make me feel better about myself, but apparently, I lack vision, as well.”

  He didn’t interrupt her that time, just gave her his undivided attention. His gaze was so intense, she almost lost her nerve.

  “When I left last fall, I did it for me, I didn’t do it to hurt you.” When he didn’t respond, she pressed, “You do know that right?”

  “No, I don’t know that,” he answered after a heavy silence. “I woke one morning, my life in tune and intact, and at the end of the day, it was gone to hell in a suitcase, with you attached to the handle.”

  “I’m so sorry, Ben.” The look on his face, the sadness in his eyes, nearly undid her. “I desperately wanted to prove to myself that I could take care of myself, by myself, and I couldn’t do it here.”

  “Okay.” He took her hand in his. “What’d you find out?”

  She shivered at his touch, as his thumb grazed her knuckles. “What I discovered is that I can make decisions, good or bad, but I’d rather make those decisions with family and friends that I love.” Drawing in a deep breath, she went for broke. “And, I love you, Ben Hammond.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “What am I supposed to do with that declaration?”

  “Believe me? Trust me?” When he gazed out the windshield, she slipped her fingers beneath his chin and guided him around to face her. “Say you love me, too?”

  “If you don’t know that I love you, by now, then . . .” He reached his right hand into her hair, wrapped a few strands around his fingers and asked, “Blonde? Seriously?”

  And just like that, she knew where she wanted and needed to be.

  Right here.

  Right now.

  Her choice.

  With a mischievous grin, she grabbed handfuls of his shirt and pulled him toward her.

  “Let it go, sheriff, and kiss me.”

  * * *

  Ben deliberated for only half a second before his hand wrapped around the column of Dinah’s neck. He leaned in, covered her mouth with his, and kissed her the way he knew she liked. He applied just the right amount of pressure and suction. Lightly, he ran his tongue across the seam of her soft lips.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, through the sex-induced fog, he knew she might bolt, as she’d done before, but he didn’t stop. He pushed his tongue past her teeth, tasting all of her. His marginal control slipped a fraction when she reached her arms up and around his neck and tried to lever herself over the console.

  With her lips still fused to his, she mumbled, “Ugh, g-shi . . .”

  The image of her long legs wrapped around him fought for space in the haze and caused him to miss what she meant. Breaking contact with her mouth, he slid his hand from her thigh to behind her knee, lifted, and pulled her toward his lap. “Here, baby, I’ll help you over the console.”

  “No, ow! I said the gear shift is in the way.”

  “Okay.”

  She urged, “Get in the back seat.”

  He didn’t know if that was humanly possible. But whatever it took, he was bound and determined to see the other half of that butterfly tattoo, and they couldn’t move as a single unit. He had that much clarity. Suddenly, a male voice snapped him back to the here and now.

  “I wish you two would find a room, or at least, park in someone else’s driveway for a change.”

  “Graeme!” Dinah sputtered. “A little warning?” She tugged on her skirt, that was now almost up to her waist, in an effort to cover herself. Ben heard the rip at the same time she did, when his watch got caught in the chiffon material. “How’d you even know we were out here?”

  Graeme pointed inside the vehicle. “One of you keyed the mic.”

  “What!? How?”

  “Sometimes I leave the police scanner on when we go to bed.”

  Ben checked and saw her foot next to the microphone. “Di, look.”

  She followed his line-of-sight, and said, “Well, that’s just craptastic. What all did you hear?”

  “It came on about the time Casanova here said, Here, baby I’ll help you over the console.”

  Dinah lowered her head in her hands. “Go in the house, Graeme,” she groaned.

  Graeme chuckled. “Good night, you two. Don’t make me come back out here.”

  When he’d closed the front door behind him, Dinah uncovered her face, checked the mic, and said, “I guess the moment’s over.”

  “Not if you don’t want it to be.”

  “I don’t.” She glanced out her window and off-handedly pointed toward the house. “We can choose Door Number One, and go to my room, down the hall from grandpa, or . . .”

  “No way in hell.” He started the car, waggled his eyebrows, and said, “I choose Door Number Two.”

  Chapter Eight

  Dinah slowly opened her eyes the next morning, as Ben pulled her close, nuzzling her neck and pressing his morning arousal against her bottom.

  “Mornin’.” His voice resonated pleasantly in her ear.

  “Good morning.” She smiled, turned in his arms to face him, and relished the feel of bare skin to bare skin, which was how they’d spent most of the night. Easing her hand down between their bodies, she wrapped her fingers around the length of him, and gently massaged.

  He surprised her when he took her hand, raised it above her head and held it gently in place. “Not this time, darlin’, this time’s for you.” He draped his leg across her lower body, resting his knee and calf between her thighs. With his free hand, he explored her body from the underside of her arms, to her collar bone, down to her breasts, where he gave equal attention to both.

  She reveled in the way his fingers kneaded each one in turn and squeezed each nipple with just the right amount of pressure to excite. His mouth found her breast just as his fingers slid inside her, and his thumb circled her most sensitive spot. In a matter of seconds, lights exploded behind her closed eyelids. The most delicious warming spasms spread in waves from the juncture at her thighs throughout her body.

  Her heart beat loudly in her ears and her breathing was labored as if she’d run a couple of miles. “Wow,” she whispered. “Don’t ever stop doing that.”

  When he circled his thumb again, she scooted out of the bed, away from his hand and the sweet torture he inflicted. “I didn’t mean right now.”

  “Are you sure?” he teased, reaching for her.

  “Positive.” Grabbing her clothes, she told him, “I’m going to take a shower and then we need to go somewhere to get some breakfast. I’m starving.”

  “We don’t have to go out, I stopped and bought groceries a couple of days ago.”

  Peeking her head around the bathroom door, she said, “I should be proud of you, but did you do it thinking you might get me here overnight?”

  He sat on the side of the bed. “Would you shoot a guy for trying any ploy?”

  “Well . . . not today.”

  Two omelets and a pan of dirty dishes later, Dinah joined Ben in the dining room, at the table, where he pored over contents from another box. He’d placed a stack of letters and various newspaper clippings in a semi-circle in front of him.

  She pulled a chair out and sat beside him. Leaning forward, braced on her forearms, she perused the items and asked, “How’s it going?”

  “Pretty good, I’d say. Inside this box, we picked up, is a collection of things, that appear to have belonged to Irene.”

  “It makes sense, since she lived there.” She picked up a clipping from the top of the stack, with the heading, Armored Truck Hijacked. “Did you read this?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I asked you if you’d read this one?” She flashed the article at him and continued to
scan the story. “It says, the stolen truck disappeared and was never seen again. The driver . . . Ben, listen to this, one of the guards was Otis Baker. He was shot, but recovered from his wounds. The authorities had three suspects in the robbery, but never made the connection. Holy shit, Ben, this is major!”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “Did you read the names of the suspects?”

  She read further. “Dickie Hobbs, Lester Hobbs, and Bailey Harper. Well, what do you think about that?”

  * * *

  Ben thought plenty about that, but did it amount to a hill of beans? He didn’t know yet. He had to read more articles and get Dinah into the letters. With any luck, Irene Baker would feel like talking today.

  His phone rang, and he answered on the third ring, putting the call on speaker. “Hello?”

  “Mr. Hammond? This is the East Texas Hatchery.”

  “Yes, I want to thank you for your timeliness of delivery, though I still have to pay you. Do I send you a check or can I pay you by credit card over the phone?”

  “Well, that’s why I’m calling, sir.”

  “Yes?”

  “Our driver couldn’t make the appointment earlier in the week, so he’s coming this afternoon, if that’s okay with you.”

  Dinah looked up from her reading.

  Ben glanced at her, and then stared at the phone. He was confused. There were signs someone had been there. “I’m sorry, are you sure no one was at my place stocking my tank?”

  “I’m sure, Mr. Hammond. Can we come today?”

  “No.” He started running the series of events over in his mind. Something was off.

  “Sir?”

  “No, I’ll have to get back with you to re-schedule.” He ended the call, stood, grabbed his keys from the table, and went to the gun safe. After retrieving his gun and badge, he put on his Stetson. “Di, I’m going out for a while.”

  “Oh, no you don’t, I’m going with you.” Dressed in an old pair of jeans, she’d left behind, and one of Ben’s tee shirts, she grabbed her purse and followed him out the door.

  He parked in the same place he had, when he’d brought Dinah and the kids out. He walked around the perimeter of the tank and found two other places where tire ruts and footprints had been made in the soft earth. He took out his phone and began taking pictures.

  Dinah came up beside him. “What’s wrong? Why are you taking pics?”

  “You heard the guy from the hatchery say they didn’t deliver my Bream and Catfish the other day?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, if the fish weren’t delivered, where’d these tracks and footprints come from? How did they get in here without someone noticing?”

  “How’re you going to figure that out?”

  He readied the photos to send off in email. “There’re databases available for the identification of tire tracks, shoes too, except I don’t think these shoe prints are distinctive enough to ID. I’m sending the pics to Gene, too, but I’m also going to get the County out here to make a cast of the track.”

  “Sort of like CSI.”

  He grinned. “Not sort of . . . it is.”

  Dinah surveyed her surroundings, and knelt beside Ben, mimicking his pose. “So, do you think someone was out here looking for the money?”

  “Baby, you’ve read too much hype from those old articles that were written to sell newspapers.” Her eyes had lit up the first time they’d come across the mention of buried treasure. He knew it, just as sure as he sat here looking at the evidence of a trespasser. “Trust me, there’s no money buried out here.”

  She gazed out across the surface of the water. “Well, there’s something out there.”

  Since it was obvious she wasn’t going to turn loose of this notion anytime soon, and since he was waiting to hear from his emails, he decided to indulge her for a minute. “What’re you talking about?”

  “Remember the other day when Andy followed the fishing rod into the tank?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “While you went after the rod and reel, I dried him off, and got him to talking about his experience.”

  “Yeah . . .” Where in the world was she going with this? “What did he say, Di?”

  “He said a man had grabbed the line and pulled it out of his hands. I told him it was probably a tree trunk or something else that had been thrown into the water.” She wrung her hands, pinned him with a penetrating look. “And then you found the dog tags.”

  “Are you saying there’s a body in the tank?”

  She stood and bracketed both hips with her hands. “I’m saying it’s a possibility, and I think you should keep an open mind.”

  “I waded out into the water and didn’t see a body, only some bleached out tree limbs.”

  “I know what you said you saw, but while Andy has an active imagination, he’s very specific and doesn’t embellish.”

  “What do you want me to do, drain the tank?”

  “Is that a lot of trouble?”

  He huffed out a sigh, this was bordering on the ridiculous. “Yes, it’s no small thing, to get the equipment out here to drain it. I need evidence, not just imagination and wild-ass speculation.” Instantly, he knew he’d said the wrong thing.

  “Wild-ass spec—”

  His phone rang and stopped her mid-rant, when he answered. He listened and then said, “We’ll be there in a few. Okay.”

  “Who was that?” she asked.

  “Elliott. It seems Irene is swapping stories with Andrew this morning, and he thought we might want to join them. Are you ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  Ben led the way to the SUV, but in no way, was he under any illusions. He hadn’t dodged a bullet with Elliott’s phone call. Di was simply derailed for the moment due to her wanting to hear what Irene had to say. He would eventually have to pay for the wild-ass remark.

  * * *

  Elliott met Ben and Dinah at the door.

  “So far,” he told them, “She hasn’t said too much of interest, but what she has told us makes me want to punch Moon’s grandfather in the nose.”

  “He was bad, huh?”

  “Warren, Sr. was a real son-of-a-bitch. So far, I blame him for Moon heading down the wrong path.”

  “Are y’all out back?”

  “Yeah.” Elliott nodded in the general direction.

  They found Irene and the others on the patio and Ben walked over to greet her. “How are you this morning, Ms. Irene?”

  “Pretty good. Mr. Hammond, I was telling Mr. Benning earlier that your make-up test isn’t scheduled until this afternoon, but I give extra credit for being prompt. If you’ve studied, you gentlemen should be able to graduate with your class.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he said with, both gratitude, and genuine sadness. He sincerely wished he’d known her before this illness began taking her mind. “I appreciate the opportunity.”

  “Irene,” Andrew said, softly. “We were remembering Moon.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said. Glancing out into the yard, she squinted, furrowing her brow. “You know, he really was a good boy until he hooked up with Lester and Dickie. I told him time and time again they were no good, but he just wouldn’t listen . . .

  “Stop harpin’ on me, Renie, you’re worse than a wife,” Bailey complained.

  “How would you know? You’ve never been married,” Irene countered. “You’re only seventeen.”

  “I know, because that’s what Dickie’s old man says all the time, and he ought to know ‘cause he’s been shackled to the same woman for a good many years.”

  “That sounds like a direct quote from Mr. Hobbs. You know, not every marriage is bad. My parents weren’t that way.”

  “You don’t know that,” he popped back. “Your pa didn’t live long enough to know misery.”

  Irene started to cry at his unkind remarks. “How dare you! You didn’t know my father at all. He loved my mother with all his heart.”

  He put his arms around her and held her. “I’
m sorry, Renie, don’t cry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just that everybody’s always on my back about somethin’,” he explained. “If I ever did anythin’ right for my grandpa, I’d shit and fall back in it!”

  “I know he’s tough, but you push him too far.” She moved out of his embrace and swiped at her eyes. “I’m worried for you, Bailey. If you don’t stop running with those Hobbs boys, you’re going to end up in jail or worse.”

  Laughing, he told her, “You may be right about jail, but worse? I don’t see that happening. Grandpa’s told me too many times, I don’t mean nothin’ to nobody, I’m not worth a bullet.”

  She laid her hand on his arm. “Bailey, I’m truly sorry he said that. I don’t believe that for a minute.” She kissed him on the cheek. “You mean the world to me.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes.” She smiled.

  “I don’t care what that old man thinks anyway,” he said firmly. “From here on out, I’m through with that old bastard.”

  “What do you mean? What are you going to do?”

  “I got a bunch of new friends down at the firehouse. They taught me how to play that game of dominoes called, Moon.” His face broke into a wide grin. “As a matter of fact, I’m so good, they’ve started calling me, Moon, instead of my given name, and I like it.”

  “Well, I don’t. You’ll always be Bailey to me.”

  “Yeah?” He looked at her, and the corner of his mouth kicked up. “Okay.”

  “The rest of that year, and through our senior year, he was in and out of trouble. At Christmas time, Bailey asked me to go steady. He let me wear his beloved leather jacket and gave me a . . . a promise ring, I think they call it now. I felt so special, none of the other girls had a ring.

  “After the first of the year, the problems intensified in Viet Nam. So many boys were drafted, or they enlisted, Mother said it reminded her of when my dad went to Korea.

  “Just before graduation that spring, some money went missing at the firehouse. Bailey swore he didn’t do it, and the firemen gave him the benefit of the doubt. When it happened a second time in as many weeks, they told him he wasn’t welcome and not to come back. Well, close to graduation, a couple of other thefts took place in town, and that time, Bailey and Dickie were arrested.