“What do you think is going to happen here, monkey?” Connor asked. “This is Brady Everett we’re talking about.”
“He’s going to court me,” Amanda said, and she must have had a terrifying look on her face because none of them laughed. At her, anyway. “And you’re going to let him. In fact, you’re going to enthusiastically support him.”
“Yeah, pass,” Riley growled. “You know this is a joke, don’t you? It will never last. Never.”
That was her worst fear, and she felt her stomach cramp up a little, but something else gripped her at the same time. A kind of relief, maybe, because it was said. It was out there.
She already knew what it felt like for Brady to break her heart. She could still feel the sharp, jagged edges inside her. It wasn’t as if she could pretend everything was perfect. Brady hadn’t said he loved her. She had no idea if he ever would.
But maybe that was the point. She had to do it on her own, and without hiding it away from the rest of her life, or how would she ever know if what she felt was real?
And Lord help her, but she wanted this to be real. She wanted it so much, it made her teeth ache.
“Then it doesn’t last,” she said quietly. To Riley. To all of them. Even her father behind his newspaper. “Isn’t that the point? Some things last. Some things don’t. But I don’t need a committee to make decisions. And I need to know I can walk around with Brady in public without risking attacks.”
“I can’t promise you that,” Riley threw right back at her.
Amanda shrugged. She matched him glare for glare. “Do your worst, Riley. Brady can handle himself. This is happening whether you have a tantrum about it or not.”
Then she turned around and walked back out into the night before they could launch another offensive. She cried all the way back to her apartment, hoping against hope that Brady had meant what he’d said. That all this would be worth it.
And that somewhere along the way she could make him love her too.
20
The entire town of Cold River seemed to know all about Amanda and Brady almost before Amanda left the Bar K Halloween night.
“Did Riley really give him a black eye?” Noah Connelly asked the next day, taking time out of his usual surly morning routine of slamming pots and pans around while cooking spiteful platters of breakfast food for the ungrateful masses.
“Brady let him land that punch,” Amanda replied. Maybe a little too testily, if Noah’s expression was any guide.
She reminded herself that Noah was the owner of Cold River Coffee and more importantly, her boss. Not one of her annoying older brothers. You don’t actually have to yell at everyone, she cautioned herself.
But it was hard to keep a civil tongue in her head when Noah paused for a moment and looked at her. In a way he never had before. A way that reminded her of Brady’s reaction when she’d offhandedly called Noah attractive.
Almost as if he’d never actually seen her until today.
Then he shook his head and turned back to his cooking. With even more slamming of heavy pots than before.
Amanda would have forgotten the weird moment during the morning rush, but it kept happening. She noticed it first with men she’d known her whole life. It wasn’t that anyone leered or made inappropriate remarks. In Amanda’s experience, it was usually the women in small towns who made remarks, not the men. She’d braced herself for pointed prayers and inquiries about her mother. Or if the women were playing hardball, her grandmother. Just to help Amanda remember her morals and how she was raised.
But today, there were pauses. An extra moment or two of a little too much focus from men who had, yesterday, looked straight through her like she was a lamp or part of the counter.
When her shift ended, she walked through the coffeehouse toward the back, passing by a table full of young moms she knew. She smiled and they all smiled back, but then there was that moment again. An extra beat—and with these women she’d known forever, she could identify it.
It was speculation, sure. But it was also recognition.
Cold River had finally noticed that little Amanda Kittredge had grown up.
Amanda had spent her entire life bemoaning the fact that no one ever saw her, until Brady. They saw the Kittredge boys’ baby sister. Her parents’ daughter, and some might like to whisper that Amanda had come around to save the marriage, but they were really talking about Ellie and Donovan. Her respected grandparents’ only granddaughter, which some older folks seemed to think came with requirements for a certain way of behaving. They saw the girl who worked in the coffee shop all the time, the one who wasn’t Abby. These days, there were perhaps some sideways looks about her bartending stint at the Coyote—but all of that within the context of all the rest of the ways she was known but never seen.
But the day after Halloween, everyone saw her.
And took a minute to really look at her.
Two weeks later, it hadn’t let up.
“I’m trying to adjust to being in the middle of all this endless scandal,” Kat said one afternoon.
They were halfway down an aisle in the little local market near the courthouse that served as a great spot to pick up a few things when a person didn’t have the time or energy to drive all the way to the big supermarket halfway to Aspen. Amanda and Kat had gotten together to spend the afternoon watching the newest episodes of their favorite shows, eating unquestionably atrocious food, and aggressively lounging. A practice they’d started when they were in high school on those nights Amanda had stayed over in town, and had carried on most recently at Amanda’s apartment.
Amanda nodded. “I’m a scarlet woman. I’m practically Kathleen Gillespie or Tracie Jakes.”
“I don’t think you’re that scarlet. You’re more of a pale magenta.” Kat leaned in closer. “Don’t look now, but Genna Dawson is giving you speculative looks from behind the produce bin.”
“That’s just her face, Kat.”
“It is not her face. She has that look.”
Amanda was very familiar with the look by now. Sometimes it was about her. Other times it varied, depending on how the person in question felt about Brady. Or Amanda’s brothers. Or any member of either of their families.
Once upon a time, Amanda had dreamed of blowing up the image the town had of her. She’d fantasized about it. But now it had happened, and it wasn’t quite how she’d imagined. Because while she kind of liked being an unknown quantity, a woman at last, she still didn’t know how things were going to go with Brady.
And she wasn’t looking forward to the way all the looks would change if it didn’t work out.
The very idea made her feel a little sick.
That was the part she hadn’t counted on. The public side of heartbreak. She felt a deep, retroactive sort of sympathy for all the people whose lives had imploded in Cold River—and then they’d stayed here. Keeping their heads up while everyone around them discussed the most painful episodes in their lives.
Amanda had been so desperate to have something—anything—happen in her life that she hadn’t stopped to consider the fallout. Because even a polite, well-meaning sort of fallout was still fallout.
There was no hiding from a scandal in a small town. It showed up in the produce aisle of the local market. It smiled thinly in the checkout line. It called your mother to report on your whereabouts, and it agreed with your grandmother that you should make more time for church.
It had been a strange two weeks. Riley didn’t take another swing at Brady, but he didn’t relent either. Neither did anyone else.
You don’t really think that you’re ever going to get their blessing, do you? Amanda had asked Brady in exasperation one night. She’d put their continuing phone conversations in the column of positive things. Reasons to hope. You know what they’re like. They’ll hold out forever, just to be stubborn.
Let them be stubborn, Brady had drawled in reply, and that drawl was definitely a positive thing. It curled around her and made her
cheeks feel warm. There’s no time limit. I’m not going anywhere. Are you?
Not at the moment, she’d said. Grumpily.
The only place Amanda was going was crazy. Because Brady refused to resume their relationship as it was before. No sneaking around, to his mind, meant no private time of any kind until said blessings were received.
And he could not be moved on that point. No matter how she tried.
“I like it,” Kat said later that same night on Amanda’s couch, when Amanda complained. “What’s better than a man who knows his own mind, respects you, and is willing to put his money where his mouth is?”
“I prefer where his mouth used to be,” Amanda grumbled.
“Of course you do.” Kat rolled her eyes and rummaged around for more popcorn. “And don’t think it’s escaped my notice that you’re the only person I’ve ever heard of who set out to have a one-night stand but ended up with a stubborn cowboy who would prefer to court you, thank you very much. And is going to go right ahead and do that whether you want him to or not.”
“When you put it that way, it sounds like a lot more fun than it is.”
“Amanda, you would have died a few months back if Brady even glanced in your direction.”
“I did die, I think. Remember? At Ty and Hannah’s wedding?”
“This is better than dying,” Kat said gently. Then she laughed. “This is the good stuff! You’re supposed to enjoy it.”
Amanda took the bowl of popcorn from her friend. “You’re only saying that because you have Brandon, and you know how it all ends. You’ve completely forgotten that it all might not work out and probably won’t.”
“Is that what you think? That after all this stuff with your family and his, it won’t happen?”
Amanda didn’t like hearing that said out loud. It was worse than when she said it in her head. She tried to smile. “It’s not happening now.”
“Yes, it is. It’s happening the right way, that’s all.”
“I liked the way it was happening before!” She saw the look on Kat’s face, then. “I’m not you, Kat. I never wanted to wait. If I’d had a Brandon in high school, I would have happily stopped waiting at any point.”
“You were always waiting, Amanda,” Kat replied calmly, which was not the reaction Amanda wanted. “I think you know you were always waiting for Brady. Now he’s waiting because it’s serious. That’s not a bad thing.”
“As long as this is him waiting,” Amanda whispered, horrified that her voice cracked—but not enough to stop. “And not him changing his mind.”
Kat reached over and wrapped an arm around Amanda’s shoulders.
“He’s not,” she said fiercely. “And if he is, your brothers will be the least of his worries.”
The idea of Kat swinging at Brady made Amanda laugh. But it didn’t ease that panicked thing inside her. She wanted nothing more than to be stretched out on her bed with Brady, right now, held so tight in his arms, they felt like a single person instead of two.
She wanted to taste his intentions, not analyze them.
That Sunday, Brady turned up at the Bar K after church and smiled blandly when Connor opened the door, Amanda at his heels. Connor scowled, but Brady went off into Donovan’s study with him anyway. A little while later, Donovan had called for Ellie to join them.
“Really?” Connor glared at Amanda as if she was personally attacking him, standing there in the hall. “What do you think this is going to accomplish?”
“I already told you,” Amanda replied. She smiled as if she’d never been more serene. “Did you think I was kidding?”
“I think Brady deliberately planned his visit when Riley and Jensen weren’t here. Did you tell him they were delivering stock this weekend?”
She hadn’t, but only because he’d already known. She gave Connor her most enigmatic look in reply.
“This is stupid, monkey,” he growled at her. “You know there’s no way out of this where you don’t get hurt, right?”
Amanda kept smiling, because it was that or admit that she was already hurt. And that she was afraid there was a lot more where that came from.
When Brady was done, he came out, smiled at her, and proceeded to be frustratingly non-forthcoming when she walked him back out to his truck.
“Are you really not going to tell me what they said?” she demanded, angrily standing a foot away from him with her arms crossed, wishing she’d worn a coat.
“Your parents aren’t the problem. They know I’ll make an honest woman out of you or get run out of this town forever.”
He grinned when he said that. Amanda should have grinned too. He told her they had to wait, and that suggested they were waiting for something. He was talking about making an honest woman out of her. About courting her, not dating her or sneaking around with her in the middle of the night, and he was doing it. It all seemed headed in the right direction … but this wasn’t how she’d imagined it.
Amanda had always figured there would be way more giddiness and heat, way more time alone with each other, and a whole lot less involvement with her family.
She blew out a breath and let the cold seep into her. The brooding sky matched her mood, and the brisk slap of the wind helped it along. But she sighed when Brady reached over and rubbed his palms over her arms, warming her up.
“You should stay for Sunday dinner,” she said quietly.
She meant, Stay with me. Stay forever.
“We’ll get there,” Brady said, and his dark green eyes gleamed so bright, she could have sworn she’d said those things out loud.
Better yet, that he’d heard her.
She was still thinking about it when Brady picked her up after her next shift at Cold River Coffee and announced they were going on a walk.
“A walk,” she repeated. Flatly. “In November. After I spent all these hours on my feet.”
“A walk, Amanda,” Brady drawled, with a grin, “is the perfect thing after a long day of work. I know you’ll agree.”
“This had better be a euphemism,” Amanda grumbled, zipping herself into her coat and following him outside into the wet and cold.
It was not.
They literally walked. Up and down Main Street. In a big, lazy loops, while keeping their hands to themselves—and not because of the weather.
When they’d completed a loop or two, he deposited her at her car. And left.
Also without involving his hands.
She went home, screamed in her shower, then got ready for her shift at the Coyote.
But he showed up again the next day. And the next.
Now it was three weeks past Halloween, to the day, and they were doing nothing but tramping around Cold River while November kicked up a fuss in the mountains and the rain flirted with hail and snow, depending on its mood.
“Maybe I don’t like walking,” she said, not doing a great job of keeping a smile welded to her face.
They were trudging past the Flower Pot, the Trujillo family’s floral shop that was one of the few businesses on Main Street that stayed open year-round. Though there were more all the time, as Cold River became more and more of a tourist destination. Something Amanda couldn’t care about the way she probably should have when all she was doing these days was collecting looks and walking.
“I don’t know why you think we need to parade around like this,” she said, glaring up at him. It was unfair that he looked as good as he did, even in the cold clutch of a fall afternoon that promised snow. Every inch of him a cowboy, impervious to the weather and able to make her knees quake with a single curve of his mouth. “And I really don’t know why the parading means there can’t be any kissing.”
“I told you there was going to be no more sneaking around,” Brady said, sounding reasonable and friendly. She wanted to strangle him. “There’s not a whole lot less sneaky than taking walks up and down Main Street in full view of the entire town.”
“I don’t remember being consulted. Because if I had been, the
no sex part would have been an immediate no for me.”
The smile Brady slanted down at her reminded her of when he’d been inside her, and it took her breath away, here on the street, the same way it had in her bed. Her heart stuttered in her chest.
“You didn’t have sex at all,” he reminded her. “For years. You’re good at waiting, remember?”
“I was good at waiting. Then I stopped waiting. Now I don’t want to wait anymore.”
“Too bad, killer,” Brady drawled. “You have to respect my boundaries anyway.” And he laughed at the expression on her face. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re going to do with your barn?”
Amanda made a noise of protest. “I didn’t agree to no sex or touching. And I didn’t agree to your breakup barn either.”
“Maybe you should start agreeing to things,” Brady suggested. “Who knows what might happen?”
Amanda hadn’t planned to go anywhere near that barn. A girl had to draw a line in the sand somewhere, surely, and the barn he’d tried to give her as a token of their breakup seemed like the perfect place to start. But he’d given her the keys a few days after Halloween, and despite herself, she’d found herself down there more and more.
As November rolled in and settled down hard on Cold River, she’d found herself making lists of all the things she would need to do to transform the space into that dream she’d had. And the more lists she made, the more she found herself talking about the farm stand. With the people who came into the coffeehouse, many of whom were exactly the sort of people she wanted to incorporate into the shop. Artists and farmers. The sisters with the new creamery. The brothers from the far hills who could build pretty much anything out of wood and make it art.
It was a great way to stop people from giving her that look, in fact.
If they were going to think of her as something other than that little Kittredge girl, they might as well think of her as the grown-up Kittredge who wanted to sell their stuff to a wider audience. And not whatever she was—or wasn’t—to Brady.
“I don’t know how you maneuvered me into this situation,” she said a few nights later, her hands shoved down deep into the pockets of her coat as she and Brady walked outside in the fog, skirting around a group of people standing outside Capricorn Books. “I’m pretty sure that none of this is really what I wanted, and yet here I am, doing it anyway.”
The Last Real Cowboy Page 28