Into the Arms of a Cowboy

by Isabella Ashe

  At Jess’s direction, Cassie parked at the curb in front of Dan Tracy’s nursery. “Do you need help getting out?” she asked, when she brought him his crutches.

  “I can manage.” Jess eased from the truck and balanced on the crutches. “I’m going to get a few things here. Some seedlings for the garden. Want to come in?”

  With a rueful grin, Cassie shook her head. “I’ve had enough gardening for a while. I think I’ll just window shop.”

  Inside the nursery, Dan himself waited on Jess. The man looked like one of his own saplings, or so Jess had always thought. At 72, Dan’s fingers were like thin but healthy twigs, his face tanned and weathered to resemble tree bark. The nursery owner squinted out the front window, where Cassie still stood on the sidewalk next to Jess’s Chevy.

  “That’s the young lady who’s been staying up at your place, isn’t it?” Dan asked, cocking his head to one side. “I heard about her from Gerald Perkins, who heard from Dick Cooper, whose kid goes to the middle school with that little Jamison girl, Tanya.”

  Jess stifled a groan. Small town gossip. He should have known. “She’s just a friend,” he said, hoping to minimize the damage to Cassie’s reputation. “She’s been helping me out since my accident. I had some bad luck with a bull at the rodeo last weekend.” He nodded toward the bandage-wrapped ankle. “As you can see.”

  “Yeah, I heard something about that.” Like Gus, Dan was far more interested in Cassie than in Jess’s injuries. “Hell, Jess, no one gives a damn whether you’re shacking up with her. We’re all just glad you finally got yourself some female company up there. You sure took it hard when that so-called wife of yours took off.”

  “Dan,” Jess growled, scowling at the old man, “I’m going to need some seedlings--tomatoes, peppers, and eggplant--plus I’m thinking I’ll add a few pear trees to my orchard this year. Can you help me out?”

  The nursery owner shrugged. “Sure, sure I can. I’ve got a bunch of nice looking Bosc pears in the back. You up to planting them yourself? But then I reckon you’ll have that pretty young lady to lend a hand. What was her name again? Where’d you come across her, by the way?”

  By the time he escaped the nursery, Jess wouldn’t have been surprised to stumble into an impromptu town meeting, with the mayor leading a discussion on whether the approved of Cassie or not.

  Instead, he spotted Cassie standing alone two blocks away. She was staring into a shop window. He slipped up behind her. “Which dress do you like?” he asked.

  “The blue one. Did you get the plants?”

  “Yes, and a few other things. As we speak, Dan’s assistant is loading up the pickup.”

  “Hmm. Good.” Her eyes were still focused on the dress, a dazzling electric blue number with spaghetti straps, a dress sewn from some kind of sparkly, stretchy fabric. In his mind’s eye, Jess saw the same bright material hugging Cassie’s generous curves and setting off her creamy skin.

  “You ought to try it on,” he said.

  “Oh, no. I can’t--I mean, I don’t--” She flushed and averted her eyes. “Forget it. Let’s go.” She tugged at the sleeve of his coat.

  Jess glanced at the dress again. It had Cassie’s name written all over it. Strange, because this little outfit was fun, flirty, eye-catching--exactly opposite of the sophisticated black dress she’d worn in San Francisco. This one was much more in tune with her personality.

  “Try it on,” he said. “I insist.”

  Cassie sputtered a few more token words of protest, but she let Jess drag her into the store. The shop owner--Ruby Jamison, Tanya’s mother--greeted them warmly and pumped Cassie’s hand. She was a short, roly-poly blonde woman with warm blue eyes.

  “My daughter’s told me so much about you,” she gushed. “Tanya tells me you’re wonderful with those darling baby raccoons. I was so sad to hear about the one you lost, of course. But those things happen. So. What can I do for you today?”

  “That outfit in the window.” Jess pointed to the blue dress. “She’d like to try it.”

  Ruby’s face brightened. “Oh, yes. That’s just the thing.” She eyed Cassie’s figure. “It ought to fit, too--lucky, since it’s the only one I’ve got. Not much call for something so fancy around this town.”

  The shop owner fetched the dress, then chatted with Jess as Cassie disappeared into the fitting room. Unfortunately, she wanted to discuss Cassie. Where was she from? How did Jess meet her? Did she plan to stay in Bitter Creek? If only he knew the answer to Ruby’s last question, Jess figured he’d sleep easier at night.

  “Well? What do you think?”

  Jess turned to look. Good Lord. What a knockout! After days of seeing Cassie in his T-shirts or his aunt’s shapeless, somewhat drab clothes, the new Cassie made his heart bang like a drum in his chest.

  The dress emphasized her womanly shape, from the full breasts to the slender waist and the exquisite flare of her hips. Her eyes sparkled to match the fabric, more blue than gray as they reflected the dress’s vibrant color. The satin ribbons of Cassie’s hair flowed over bare, faintly freckled shoulders.

  “Perfect,” Ruby declared.

  Jess’s body seconded the emotion.

  “We’ll take it,” he said.

  Embarrassment stained Cassie’s cheeks a deep pink. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. I can’t--”

  “My treat.” Jess pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. “She’ll need shoes, too. Got anything to go with the dress?”

  Ruby nodded. “In the storeroom. What’s your size, honey?”

  “Seven and a half. But--” She fixed Jess with a worried stare. “Jess, I can’t. Really.”

  The shop owner glanced back and forth between her two customers, then raised her brows. “I’ll just go look for those shoes,” she said, then disappeared through a pair of swinging French doors.

  “I can’t let you buy this for me,” Cassie said fiercely, once the older woman was out of earshot. “You’ve done too much for me already. Besides, when would I wear something like this?”

  “You need that dress,” Jess insisted. “Let’s call it an early birthday present.”

  She stamped one bare foot in annoyance. “You don’t even know when my birthday is.”

  “So tell me.”

  Her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Day after tomorrow. I’ll be 25. But that’s not the point.”

  Grinning, Jess snapped his fingers. “There you go. Two birds with one stone. The dress is your birthday present, and you’ll wear it to your party.”

  “My party?”

  “Sure. We’ll invite Gus and Tanya, barbecue some hamburgers, bake a cake--can you bake?” He thought back to the housekeeping and gardening. “Never mind. I’ll bake the cake.”

  She was really smiling now. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I can bake. Well, as long as we get that Betty Crocker mix that comes in a box, and I don’t forget to set the oven timer.”

  “Hey, I said I’d do it. What flavor?”

  “Chocolate. Definitely chocolate.”

  “You got it.” He flashed on their shared ice-cream bar, and felt the shock of arousal at the memory of her lips under his. “And the frosting?”

  “Also chocolate.”

  “Huh. I’m sensing a trend here.”

  Her high, joyful laughter blended with his throaty chuckle as Ruby burst back into the room, her arms overflowing with cardboard boxes.

  “Sounds like you’ve settled things,” she said. “Now, how about trying some shoes?”

  After Jess paid for the dress and a pair of strappy, high-heeled sandals, he led Cassie across the street to Lorna’s Cafe. They sat across from each other at a booth in the back, with Cassie’s back to the door. Jess ordered his usual pork chops with mashed potatoes and country gravy, while Cassie chose the shepherd’s pie. As they ate, they made plans for the party. Cassie could barely sit still. Jess leaned back to watch her, taking pleasure in her excitement. She bubbled over with it, as if she couldn’t contain all the
joy inside.

  There was something bothering Jess, though. Some fact she’d told him. It made him uneasy to think he’s missed something. A key. . . .

  It slipped into place.

  Her birthday. He knew her birthday.

  He knew Cassie’s birthday, and her first name, and the fact that she’d been arrested eight years ago in a particular neighborhood. The key to the puzzle.

  As he fiddled with his mashed potatoes, his appetite suddenly gone, Jess struggled against the urge to turn that key in the lock. A little research. A few phone calls. That’s all it would take. It was amazing what you could find out about a person in the new millennium, the age of information, with a few little facts in hand.

  But.

  There was one catch.

  He would have to betray Cassie’s trust. Violate her privacy. Even with the best of intentions, he couldn’t do it. She’d been through so much already. After a horror show of a childhood, Cassie needed someone she could depend on. Someone who accepted her for who she was now.

  By the time they ordered dessert--blackberry pie for him, chocolate cheesecake for her--Jess had made up his mind. What he learned about Cassie would come from her own mouth. No more pushing. No more questions, unless she opened that door herself.

  The decision made, he relaxed and concentrated on his pie. Lorna baked a damn fine blackberry pie. He glanced up only when the bells over the door chimed to announce new customers--Chad Cummings and Angela Bender, both in uniform, Glock .40s in their holsters. They spotted Jess and grinned as he waved them over.

  “Hey, Cassie,” he said, leaning across the table toward her, “I want you to meet two of my right-hand men--er, people. My favorite deputy sheriffs.”

  She stiffened. Color drained from her face. Her fork clattered on her plate, her cheesecake only half eaten.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  She shook her head unconvincingly, her eyes wide. “E-excuse me,” she said. “I--I have to--”

  He frowned as she made a sudden dash for the ladies room. Was his theory right? Had she been abused by someone in law enforcement? It would account for her fear at the rodeo, when he told her his occupation, and her flight now as his deputies approached the table.

  But Chad and Angela were hardly threatening. Chad, in fact, resembled a young Santa Claus--round-cheeked, ruddy, and short enough to qualify for elfhood, though Jess would never say so to the younger man’s face. Angela, on the other hand, was something of an Amazon: at 5’9”, just two inches shy of Jess’s own height, and wiry and tough enough to command respect from any drunk or wife beater who dared cross her.

  “Looky here,” Chad crowed. “It’s our very own Captain Logan, shirking his duty again.”

  Jess chuckled and extended his bandage-encased right foot. “Hardly. I’ve got a doctor’s note this time.”

  A frown creased Angela’s broad forehead. “Your friend--is she all right? She ran off pretty quick.”

  Jess glanced toward the bathroom door, with its painted wooden cutout of a long-skirted milkmaid on the front. “I think so. I’ll introduce her when she gets back.”

  But, though they talked business for several minutes--an assault case coming up at the county courthouse, a problem with the radio in one of the patrol cars, an upcoming career day at the high school--Cassie didn’t reappear, even when Jess’s deputies paid for their thermos’s full of Lorna’s famous coffee and headed for the door.

  Worried, he knocked on the door of the ladies room. “Cassie? Are you sick?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Cassie huddled on top of the closed toilet lid, hugging herself for comfort. The bathroom was warm enough, but her teeth still chattered. For an hour or two, in the dress shop and the cafe, she’d almost managed to forget she was a wanted woman. Wanted by the SFPD, unfortunately, and not Bitter Creek’s cowboy-turned-sheriff.

  Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Jess desired her. She’d bet her telephoto lens on that. But he wouldn’t make love to her, not until she said she’d stay with him, and she could hardly make that kind of rash promise.

  The appearance of Jess’s deputies was a vivid reminder of her situation. At least they hadn’t seen her face. But here she was, for the second time in a week, hiding out in a bathroom. She couldn’t spend her whole life ducking into the ladies room every time she spotted a badge and gun.

  She sighed, stood up, and peeked into the mirror. Tension etched tiny lines around her mouth, and she’d smeared her lipstick. She was touching it up when she heard Jess’s voice outside.

  “I’m fine,” she called. “Just a minute.”

  She opened the door, scanned the cafe, then--when she had reassured herself that the deputies were gone--eased herself out of the bathroom. “I’m fine,” she repeated.

  “Why don’t I buy that?” Jess’s brown eyes narrowed to study her face. “You don’t look fine. You look haunted. Something--someone--from the past?”

  “Jess. . . .” She tried to brush past him.

  He grabbed her wrist, and though his grip was gentle, she sensed the strength behind his restraining hand, and the coiled power of his muscular body. “All right, I won’t ask. But I think it’s time to go home, don’t you?”

  She could only nod tiredly. At the cabin, at least, she felt safe, anonymous, as if she could afford to forget her past. “Yes,” she said. “Time to go.”

  Cassie woke that night to find Jess gone.

  She wasn’t sure how she knew he wasn’t there. It was dark in the cabin, except for a soft hint of moonglow leaking in through the kitchen window, and from her bed in the loft she couldn’t see the living area below. But Jess’s absence was palpable. The cabin felt empty, deserted, and sure enough when she snapped on the light and peered over the edge of the loft, she saw nothing but rumpled sheets where Jess usually slept. He’d pushed the chenille bedspread to the floor.

  She crept down the ladder, padded across the floor, and slipped outside. It was a clear night with a new moon, cool but not cold, and even in her T-shirt and a pair of Jess’s boxer shorts she wasn’t tempted to pull on a robe. In fact, she loved the feel of the night air against her skin.

  The stars were out, burning bright and crisp against the black sky, but there was no sign of Jess. Cassie pushed her feet into the espadrilles she’d left on the porch and headed toward the orchard. As she passed Harry’s doghouse, he stirred, lifted his muzzle, and opened one dark eye. Apparently he recognized her, because he lowered his head and went back to sleep, his paws twitching.

  She’d walked halfway down the gently sloping hillside when she spotted Jess. He sat in the middle of the large clearing to the north of the apple trees, one knee drawn up to his chest, his right leg stretched out before him, his head thrown back, his eyes fixed on the sky. The apple blossoms shone ghost-white among the leaves and gnarled branches. Only a few scattered lights illuminated the dark valley below. Jess sat without moving, his back to her, his crutches in a pile next to him. He wore a white T-shirt and a pair of plaid flannel pajama bottoms, the right cuff rolled up to bare his bandaged ankle.

  Softly, Cassie said his name.

  He turned, nodded at her without smiling, and went back to contemplating the sky. Cassie took the hint. She settled down near him and crossed her legs Indian-style. Together, without speaking, they watched the stars. They made her think fleetingly of her old apartment in San Francisco, and the ceilings she’d painted dark blue and studded with paste-on luminescent stars. This was better, though. This was the real thing.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” Jess said, finally.

  “Why?”

  “Thinking. I just kept on thinking. . . .” He sighed and scooted closer, until the sleeve of his sweater brushed her bare arm. Cassie was silent, waiting for Jess to tell her what was worrying him. Instead, he gestured around at the grassy, open field, scattered with dandelions and purple iris. “See this place?”

  “Sure.”

  “This is where I wanted to build that ho
use, the one in the blueprints. The master bedroom would’ve had a view of the valley, and a skylight so I--so my wife and I--could look at the stars at night. I put one in the nursery, too.”

  “The nursery?”

  He nodded, his dark eyes veiled and distant. “When she came to find me in Las Vegas, Danielle told she was six weeks pregnant. I married her the next day, in the Chapel O’Love.”

  “Did you--did you want to? I mean. . . .”

  He shrugged and traced a constellation with his fingertip, still refusing to meet Cassie’s eyes. “Not at first. But it was the right thing to do. The honorable thing. And then,” his voice softened, “Then I guess it started to sound okay. Settling down, you know, and, well, a baby. . . . Yeah, I liked that idea a lot.”

  “But Danielle didn’t take to Bitter Creek.”

  “No. She wanted to go on the road with me, watch me ride the bulls. I tried to tell her it wouldn’t work. I was about to become a father. I couldn’t take those kinds of risks any more.”

  “And what did she say?”

  “She left. She packed up and left. I tried to stop her. ‘What about our baby?’ I asked her.” His voice was calm, neutral, his eyes on the sky, but his jaw clenched and she saw that he was pulling at the grass under his fingers--yanking up whole handfuls, roots and all, the muscles in his arms and shoulders tense under the tight-fitting T-shirt. “And do you know what she did then?”

  “What?”

  “She laughed at me. ‘I never thought you’d fool so easy,’ she said. ‘You’re so damn naive, Jess.’ There never was a baby. She was going to wait another week or two and tell me she’d lost it. But I guess she didn’t even care enough to keep on lying.”

  Jess’s pain and disappointment lay heavy in the air between them. Lightly, Cassie touched the back of his hand. “That must have been horrible. I can’t understand how she could do something like that.”