A Cowboy To Keep: A Contemporary Western Romance Collection

by Hebby Roman

  “Love in the afternoon?”

  “Well, now Daphne’s let the cat out of the bag and admitted she can hear us….”

  K.C. wiggled her brows at him. “I might be amenable to a kiss or two.”

  “A kiss or two, huh? A kiss or two?” He stood and swung her into his arms. “We’ll just see about a kiss or two and exactly where that leads.”

  * * *

  She ran a finger from his pubic line to his clavicle and back again, content. Chay was dozing, his body slack yet still firm in its rest. The lines across his stomach and chest that marked his muscles left no doubt as to his strength, the skin smooth in the rises and valleys of his body. She crouched back for a moment and looked at him, a sleeping Adonis to her eyes, his light brown hair falling over his forehead, the dimple in his chin now a pause in the strong lines of his face.

  If men could be deemed beautiful, Chay Ridgway was that.

  K.C. leaned forward and skimmed her hands up his arms, but before she had even reached his elbows, in a flash, he grabbed her and pulled her down into a deep, hungry kiss.

  “You little minx.”

  “Just admiring the merchandise.” She tilted her head with a smile, letting a drape of rich brown hair brush his chest.

  “Merchandise, huh? Is that all I am to you? A plaything?” There was humor in his voice and a smirk on his face.

  “That’s all, buster: a plaything for me. And you’re all mine.”

  Chay clasped her head and pulled her to him, the kiss sending shivers down K.C. until it was interrupted by the Alan Jackson ringtone of Chay’s phone.

  * * *

  “Breezy!” He sat up in bed as if this was a call he had been waiting for, tucking one foot under his other leg and leaning back on the bed with a huge smile.

  K.C. lay there, eyebrows raised in question.

  “I hope this is good news,” he went on. “No problems.”

  “No problems!” Breezy, whose last name no one ever seemed to know, if they had ever been told in the first place, cackled on the other end of the line. “Everything’s fine. Jarrod finished the work on time and everything looks just terrific, Chay, really good. You won’t recognize the old homestead when you see.”

  “Well, I hope he didn’t go over budget?”

  “Nope; he made the improvements and upgrades but nothing high end, ya know, just nice enough to be in the modern world without feeling you’re back there in New York. How is it, by the way?”

  “How is what?”

  “New York, you dumb cowboy.”

  “Oh, yeah. Yeah. Great.” He glanced across at K.C. as she rose and headed to the bathroom. “It’s…you know…a city. I’m a city boy now.”

  There was a guffaw down the line. “Yeah, I bet sweetheart. Pull the other one, it’s got jingle bobs on it.”

  “I’m not pulling your leg. I use the subway, live in an apartment—”

  “And dream of Wyoming every night.”

  “You’re the one who sent me here. I’m with K.C., and that’s what matters.”

  There was a momentary silence, before Breezy went on. Her voice was softer now. “How is she, these days? Studying hard?”

  “Very. And I’m…working hard.”

  “Roping dinner plates?”

  “Something like that.”

  K.C. stuck her head out of the bathroom and mouthed, ‘Send her my love.’

  Chay nodded in acknowledgement and said back to Breezy, “K.C. sends her love. You’re sure there are no problems?”

  “Chay, don’t you worry about a thing. We got a good booking coming up through the winter; you know the housing shortage out here. And when folks start thinking about their summer vacations, I’m sure it will be a big hit and even more money will roll in.”

  “I guess I just get nervous when you phone instead of email.”

  “Just wanted to make sure you were okay. Hear your sweet voice.”

  “More likely you knew I wanted to be reassured.” He let that hang for a moment. “How’s everyone at the Lazy S? Bob and the rest of the crew.”

  “Same old, same old. Everyone’s just fine and missing you and your goofy skateboard. Bob himself has been riding Dusty for you, and he’s well, too.”

  For a second, Chay felt as if he were suffocating. He could feel his eyes glazing and his throat tighten. Afraid to try to speak, he remained silent until Breezy said, “It’s only two years, Chay. You’ll be fine, and you know you want to be with K.C.” as if she could sense what was happening to him.

  “Ya,” he murmured into the phone. “I’ll be just fine.”

  Chapter Three

  K.C. put down the phone with a sigh and thought she might just pull out her hair. Since she and Chay had flown into New York, stopping for a brief exchange at her parents’ Park Avenue apartment to say hello and good-bye, her parents had ignored Chay. They had even suggested he wait in their vestibule while K.C. get some things to move to the new apartment, which Daphne had tied up for them all. Or had tied up for her and K.C., and later agreed to let Chay stay on certain terms. So, there was Daphne who resented Chay’s presence in what should have been ‘their’ apartment, and her parents who resented Chay, period. While Daphne had no doubt envisaged fun evenings out together, going to bars, clubs and other events, K.C. had now presented her with a somewhat solitary single’s life in the Big Apple. And while Chay kept telling K.C. she was free to go out with ‘her friends’ by herself, especially as he often worked late nights at the restaurant, she was loathe to do so knowing he was unhappy in New York, money was tight, and he had given up two years of his life to be with her.

  But now here was her mother phoning and asking why they never saw K.C., inviting her to come over one evening, almost demanding it, but with no mention of Chay joining them. K.C. knew Chay disliked her parents, or at least there was friction on both sides, and she knew at some stage she had to see them. It was just…at some point she was going to have to insist they recognize she and Chay were a permanent couple. You get one, you get us both, Mom.

  Preparing for bed, she mulled this over. The juggling act tired her out: keeping Daphne as happy as possible, keeping her parents contented—or at least as contented as they could be—and last, but certainly not least, trying to make Chay comfortable with life in New York. She looked at the open cap on the toothpaste, the tube that had been squeezed in the middle, shards of hair left in the sink from Chay’s morning shave. Living with someone was a whole kettle of fish different from loving them. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and pivoted straight into Chay.

  “I didn’t hear you come in!”

  “You weren’t meant to. I’m testing a new process of entering at night to see if Daphne just complains for the hell of it or really gets woken up.”

  K.C. giggled and pecked Chay on the lips, pushing him back into their bedroom with quiet care. “And what is this new process, may I ask?”

  “Boot removal. Outside in the hall. And holding the door handle while I sidle around the door and grasp the inside door handle before letting the outside one go while reaching down for the discarded boot—”

  “You have got to be kidding.”

  “It worked, didn’t it? You didn’t hear me and, by golly, by Jove, and by all the stars in heaven, it would appear the blessed Daphne didn’t hear me either. How do you like them beans, babe?”

  K.C. turned down the sheets and gave Chay a wide-eyed look. “Are you going to do that every night?”

  “Every night. I am going to be such a fantastic house-mate, Daphne will fall madly in love with me and wonder why she ever complained.”

  “Well.” K.C. slipped into bed and took up her papers from the bedside. “She had better not fall madly in love with you because I haven’t got time for any competition and I certainly don’t want any.”

  Chay perched on the side of the bed and took up her hand to kiss the palm. “You have no competition. I promise. Do I?”

  K.C. snorted.

  “I take
that as a ‘no.’”

  “There is one thing, however….”

  “Uh oh.” Chay got up and started to unbutton his shirt.

  “Chay.” K.C. knew this late at night, the thought of starting a long discussion about anything was not on his cards.

  He turned to head for the bathroom.

  “Chay,” she repeated. “My parents want us to go for dinner Saturday night, the night you’re off.”

  He turned in the bathroom doorway, shirt hanging open, belt undone, his arms up either side of the door frame as if he were supporting it. “Us or you?” he asked before twisting toward the sink. To the silence he repeated, “Us or you, K.C.?” He squeezed some paste on his toothbrush and raised it to his mouth before peering back at her over his shoulder.

  She sat still, silent, the papers in her lap.

  “They asked you, didn’t they, and you said you’d only go if they had me as well, didn’t you?”

  “We’re a couple! They have no right. And it’s time you got used to being part of the family, and they got used to you being a part of me.”

  “I don’t have to get used to ‘being a part of the family.’ I’m not going to be a part of your family; we’re not going to be living here. At least I’m not.”

  “Chay. If…if we stay together, you…have to see them, have to put up with them, at least on some occasions.” She paused. “You know darn well they’ll visit us in Wyoming.”

  Chay ignored her for a bit, the brush at his teeth. Spit hit the sink as if he were ridding his mouth of the taste of K.C.’s parents. He grabbed a towel and gave his face a peremptory wipe before throwing down the toothbrush, stripping off his shirt and confronting her. “We will stay together. I hope. But that doesn’t mean I have to like your parents, and it doesn’t mean you can’t go see them without me. There’s no point in shoving me in their face if they are so antagonistic to the thought of us being a couple. Go see them, K.C., give them my regards.”

  She watched for a moment as he stepped out of his jeans and yanked his socks off. “Will you go for Thanksgiving and Christmas?”

  He looked at her, a crooked smile just turning up his mouth, his eyes glinting. “Are you going to cook a turkey?”

  “Noooo.”

  “Then I’ll go. If I’m really, truly invited. I’ll go. Now will you go on your own, on Saturday?”

  “I’ll go on my own, but not on Saturday when it’s your day off. I’ll phone her tomorrow and arrange another evening.”

  Chay slipped into bed and slid the papers she was holding out of her hands. “That’s my girl,” he whispered as he moved in for a kiss. “That’s my girl.”

  * * *

  “Your father’s going to be late” was K.C.’s mother’s greeting. “He got held up at the office—some deal or other to tie up, regarding oil in the Middle East.”

  K.C. slipped out of her coat and threw it on a chair in the front entryway to the apartment. “If you knew that was on today why didn’t you just say another night would be better.”

  “We asked you for Saturday, Kirsten! That boy takes preference over your own father.”

  K.C. shrugged with a long sigh. “Mother, that boy as you call him has a name, and his name is Chay as you well know.”

  “Chay. What kind of a name is that? Was he named after the yachtsman?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Please stop trying to find fault with everything about him. Why can’t you just accept he’s the man I’m in love with, living with, and hope to marry—”

  “Marry. Oh, please. I can just see what kind of a wedding that would be!”

  K.C. marched toward the kitchen but with an abrupt halt, swiveled to face her mother. “You’re more concerned about what your friends would think about him, and any people he might invite, and how he’d dress, than you are concerned for my happiness!”

  “Now it’s you who are being ridiculous. Of course I want you to be happy—where are you going?”

  “I’m going to the kitchen, what does it look like?”

  “You march in here as if you still live here! Make up your mind: either you are a welcome member of this family, or you are living off on your own with a man against our wishes.”

  “Oh, jeez!” K.C. trooped into the kitchen and opened the door to the fridge.

  “What exactly is it you want, K.C.?”

  “A glass of wine.” She pulled out a bottle and popped the stopper in an open one. “You drive me to drink!”

  “I drive you to drink? I drive you to drink! That’s a good one. Here, pour me one as well.”

  K.C. reached for two glasses and poured the wine, then handed her mother a glass. They clinked and each took a swallow before K.C. asked, “What time are we eating?”

  “You can’t wait to get out now?”

  The glass came down on the counter with a ring. “Why is it, why is it Mother, everything I say or do you somehow are able to find fault with, see me in the worst light, put a completely wrong slant on? Why is that?”

  “Is it a completely wrong slant? If you have dinner guests—I presume you do have friends to dinner on occasion—when they come in, is the first question they ask what time is dinner? Wouldn’t you think they just want to get out as fast as possible? Eat and run?”

  K.C. ran a hand across her face and took up her glass again. “Okay, let’s go sit and talk for a while. Let’s see what exactly is bothering you about Chay.”

  The Daniels’ living room was a hyperbole of good taste, New York wealth personified in chintz sprays of roses, Staffordshire dogs, and plush carpeting. K.C. sank into the overstuffed sofa and leaned back to face her mother who took her favorite armchair, a family heirloom recovered to match the room.

  “So?” K.C. offered as an opening.

  “There isn’t anything we dislike about the boy—”

  “He’s a man, Mother. He just turned twenty-eight. I think that makes him a man. I also think it makes him a man that he’s been supporting himself, and his father who recently passed away, since he was in high school—”

  “Maybe you should say, ‘should have been in high school’?”

  “All right.” K.C. sat up and placed her glass on the coffee table before looking her mother in the eye. “Before he should have been in high school. When most boys his age were studying for their diploma, running around dating, and planning their college education, Chay Ridgway had to leave school, run the family ranch, take an additional job, and look after his ailing father. If that doesn’t deserve your respect, or some sort of…some recognition he is hard working and good and…and….”

  “Deserving of your love? Deserving of our respect?”

  “Yes! Yes, damnit. Most people would say, wow, that’s really something, that’s a great person, but you….”

  “We? We want what is best for our daughter. I have nothing against Chay per se. He seems nice enough; he seems like a good person. And, of course, he saved your life at that terrible ranch you insisted on working at.”

  K.C. crashed back against the sofa and stared. “Terrible ranch? Is that what you thought?”

  “We thought it unsuitable and a most peculiar idea to pull up stakes straight after graduation and go work on a ranch. I mean, what the hell gave you that idea of all things?”

  “Getting out of New York and experiencing something else is what gave me that idea, and I loved those people and had a fabulous time.”

  “Well, next time you want to get out of New York, go to the beach house. There are plenty of people to love out in East Hampton without trekking halfway—no, two thirds of the way—across country to do some menial job. If you want to see the national parks we’ll take you to see—”

  “You’ll take me? I don’t need you to take me! I’m a grown woman! When will you let go and let me lead my own life?”

  “Lead your own life? You mean like taking out a loan you didn’t need just to prove a point? Really, Kirsten, how ridiculous. You know damn well you’ll be after your father to pay that off.
It would take years to pay off a loan like that.”

  In one swift movement, K.C. rose, almost knocking over the wine still sitting there. “I think I’ve had enough, Mother. And since this is only going round in circles and you have no intention of listening to me, or…or understanding my feelings, or having any consideration for them—”

  “Oh, sit down and stop being a baby! All right! Tell me about Chay. Tell me why you love him.”

  K.C. sank back onto the sofa. “You think I can just explain to you why I love him? Let me tell you something else instead. You think, you know he saved my life that night at the July Fourth party at the ranch, but you didn’t know he saved my life another time.”

  “Good gosh! How many times was your life in danger in that place?”

  “I went out on a date with a boy you would have found totally acceptable—wealthy, very wealthy, went to boarding school and university, the whole package.”

  “So why didn’t we meet him?”

  “It was Jamie, Mother, it was the boy who tried to shoot us.”

  “What? And you think we’d have liked him?”

  “I thought I liked him. I went out with him but it turned out he took me to his house when there was no one else there and tried to rape me. He tried to drug me and rape me. I managed to run away—it was this ranch off in the middle of nowhere and I had no idea where I was, but I ran out and got down to the main road and, thank goodness, it happened to be Chay who stopped. I wasn’t going out with him at that stage, of course, but he was so kind, and so considerate of what I was going through, and then, to top it all, I had left my purse with my phone in the house and he decided to go back for it at risk to himself. Knowing what we know now about Jamie, it’s a wonder he didn’t get shot.”

  “K.C., K.C. that’s all well and good but it doesn’t change the facts. He is a high school drop-out and a cowboy, and I can’t see him supporting you or a family—”

  “He has a ranch and is going to get it working again.”

  “And that’s what you want? To be a rancher’s wife? To live in Wyoming?”