Hard Loving Cowboy

by A. J. Pine

  He chuckled, then readjusted his makeshift garment.

  “Only if you put that trespassing chicken outside. Unless you’re planning on making chicken sausage for breakfast.”

  Jenna gasped and shooed him away with her free hand.

  “How dare you threaten Lucy. I’ll have you know it was her idea to come here today because she thought you might need a little company before you went off to the ranch. You spend too much time by yourself, Walker.”

  He started toward the bedroom but called back to her over his shoulder.

  “It’s because I don’t like most people.” It was partially true, but maybe what Jenna said had some truth to it as well. He’d made himself pretty scarce the past three days—volunteering for the early morning duties so he could avoid unnecessary person-to-person interaction—and he’d planned to do the same today. Just not this early. And italicize this. Maybe he’d tell Jack to send him on a delivery. Or there were always the horses in the stable. Did they have a ranch hand working today? If not, he could give the horses a workout. Looked like a nice enough day that they shouldn’t be all cooped up inside. Whatever excuse he could find, he just needed some distance from everyone and everything. Especially today. “And I don’t care what you think. That chicken’s not psychic.”

  “Yes, she is!” Jenna called back. “She walked right over to a picture of you, Jack, and Luke and pecked her beak on top of your pretty little face. So here we are. And you’re welcome for the company. Because I know you like us!”

  He shook his head ruefully even though she couldn’t see him and decided to play along. Maybe he didn’t like most people, but his aunt wasn’t most people. Jenna was happiest in the company of others. And supposedly psychic animals, apparently. She raised Walker and his brothers through their high school years. For Jack that was only six months, but for Walker—after five years without a mother and losing his father to grief and alcohol—at barely a decade older than him, Jenna had been the big sister he’d never known he needed.

  But he didn’t need anything today other than to avoid the winery, which made Jenna’s impromptu visit all the more suspect.

  Ten minutes later he was back in the kitchen, this time in a gray T-shirt and his oldest pair of Wranglers. “Better?” he asked, running a hand through his wet hair. “And is that bacon I smell or did you go and turn Lucy into sausage for me after all?”

  Jenna spun from the stove, her blond ponytail swinging, and placed her hands on her hips, giving him a pointed look. “Much better. But when are you gonna shave that beard? Makes you look ten years older.”

  He gave her a crooked grin. “And wiser?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Lucy is outside, and yes, that’s bacon you smell, the last two pieces you had sitting in your meat drawer. Surprisingly, it wasn’t expired.”

  He winked at her. “Because unlike my brothers, I actually know how to cook for myself.” He snatched one of the pieces of bacon from the plate on the kitchen table and took a bite. “So while I appreciate the gesture, you don’t need to come over at sunrise with your supposedly psychic chicken and cook for me. I can take care of myself.”

  Jenna grabbed the second piece of bacon and polished it off before he could get to it.

  Walker shook his head. “Taking a man’s last piece of bacon? I’m not sure there is anything crueler.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, well, if you don’t need my cooking, you don’t need to eat it. You know I can’t turn off the caretaker gene with you three. So it’d be nice if you indulged me every now and then.”

  He pulled a chair out from the table. “Sit.”

  Jenna’s eyes widened. “Are you tellin’ me what to do, nephew?”

  He gave her a single nod. “Yes, but I’m also making you breakfast. So sit. Please.” Maybe if he proved to her that he was self-sufficient—and still sober—that gene of hers would take a rest.

  She grinned and collapsed into the seat, and he ignored the little corner of his brain that asked him if he knew how to say please in French.

  He knew someone who did, and she’d be showing up at the winery in a couple hours, which meant he had time to humor his aunt and figure out an excuse to make himself scarce for yet another day.

  He flipped on the coffeemaker, set a pot to brewing, then threw a clean pan on the stove along with a square of butter melting in the middle of it.

  “Pancakes or eggs?” he asked.

  Jenna rested her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers. “Hmm…Tough decision. What if I want both?”

  He raised a brow. “Then I guess that’s what you’re getting.”

  He went to work cracking eggs and mixing up the batter to the soundtrack of Lucy’s squawks in the small back lot of the property.

  “You’re gonna make some lucky lady real happy one day,” Jenna said as she rose to pour them each a cup of coffee. “Ain’t nothing like a man who knows his way around a kitchen.”

  He lifted the pan, gave it a slight shake, and then flipped the pancake that was in it.

  “Sorry to disappoint. But the two pieces of bacon should be evidence enough that I’m better off cooking for one.” He followed her to the table and slid the pancake onto her plate.

  “But you made me a feast,” she argued.

  Walker shrugged. “You broke into my apartment. Not like I had much of a choice.”

  He set the pan down and picked his mug up off the counter, taking a long, savoring sip.

  “After this, I’m supposed to drive you over to the ranch so you can help Luke tag a couple new calves, and then I guess you’re heading to the winery to pick up the new girl and take her shopping for stemware.”

  Jenna’s words were spoken around a forkful of pancake, so it took a few seconds for what she’d said to register.

  The new girl, meaning the girl who’d greeted him with the kind of kiss meant for a longtime lover—the girl who’d sat on the hood of his truck and let him touch her like they were longtime lovers and not strangers playing a very dangerous game.

  He set his coffee down and blew out a breath.

  “So this is a setup,” he said as realization took hold. “Jack put you up to this.”

  “No. Jack simply said you’d been holed up in your apartment working on some chair or something, and I suggested luring you out of hiding with breakfast. You cooking for me is a bonus, though.” She pointed out back. “Is it that rocking chair in your truck?”

  He nodded. He wasn’t even sure who he was making it for. He’d seen the design in a magazine during his time at the treatment center, had ripped it out, and started working on it then and there, bringing it back home to finish.

  “And here I thought this carpentry thing of yours was a hobby. Walker, that chair is a work of art. You ever sell anything you’ve made before?”

  He shrugged. “A couple things here and there. Before…” he said, indicating a time when he often wasn’t sober enough to finish a project. Now that he was, he’d dived into his supposed hobby in the hopes of never coming up for air. If he could stay hidden beneath the surface, then maybe he’d make it another day pouring the whiskey back into the bottle instead of down his throat.

  “There’s a jam lady at the farmers market who’s decorating a new house. If the chair’s finished, you should bring it by next weekend and give her a look. I think she’d love it.”

  He raised a brow. “Jam lady?”

  Jenna balled up her napkin and threw it at him. “Her name is Sylvie. She and her husband bought this rustic beach house they’re fixing up room by room. Your chair would be perfect in a little reading nook or maybe out on her porch. Will you come by on Saturday or Sunday? I’ll give you a discount on eggs. You’re about out of everything anyway.”

  He took another sip of his coffee. He guessed he had motivation now to finish the thing. He could do it in a few days.

  Why the hell not?

  “Fine,” he said. “But if she buys the chair, I’m not buying any jam.”

  J
enna laughed. “No one said you had to, but a jar or two would be nice. Like I said, you’re about—”

  “Out of everything,” he interrupted. “So I’ve heard.”

  Maybe this was the start of something. He’d given a good portion of his share of Jack Senior’s insurance payout to the vineyard effort. At the time it was the right thing to do, and he didn’t regret it. But now he was without surplus, which meant he was stuck. This could be the way to get unstuck. He wouldn’t mind a nice chunk of change before he had to tell Sam yes or no about heading up north for the contracting gig. Each day he was here, he longed more and more for that semblance of freedom—to see what life was like without the restraint of Oak Bluff and the memories it held. Seemed like now he was close to turning the idea into reality.

  “Stemware?” he said after a long silence. “Didn’t we buy a bunch of shit for Tucker Green’s wedding last fall?” Despite the winery not yet being open, they’d already hosted a wedding in the space for Luke’s best friend, which made Walker think they were all good on supplies.

  Jenna waved him off. “That was inexpensive stuff your brothers found on short notice, and it was only enough for the small wedding. Y’all can keep it for backup if the good stuff breaks. But Jack and Ava’s wedding is going to be the real deal. Plus this is the next family business venture. You’ll want to drink a Crossroads vintage out of something with style.”

  His jaw tightened. “I don’t think you want me drinking a Crossroads vintage out of anything, style or no style.”

  Her smile faltered. “Oh, Walker. Shit. I wasn’t thinking. I don’t know that anyone’s really figured out how to reconcile, you know…”

  He let out a bitter laugh. “An addict surrounding himself with the substance he abused for ten years? I’ve been trying to reconcile that idea for two months and counting.”

  She reached across the table and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. At least, he figured she was trying to be reassuring. But no one—including himself—had the faintest idea how an alcoholic was supposed to run a vineyard.

  “You’ll figure it out,” she said.

  He cleared his throat. He could test the waters on her before mentioning anything to his brothers. “What if what I figure out is that Oak Bluff’s no good for me anymore?”

  Her eyes went glossy, and she pressed her lips together and nodded.

  “You gotta do what’s right for you, Walker. I hate to see you three boys separated now that you’re finally all back together, but they’ll understand. We’ve all got a ghost or two here. Finding out how to live with them is different for all of us. You’ve talked to Jack and Luke about this?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. I’m still doing the figuring. But I’ve got an offer to do some work up north with the Callahans. They’re moving up to Meadow Valley, building a guest ranch. They need hired hands and offered me a position.”

  She threw her hands in the air, her calm acceptance a thing of the past. “And you’re taking it? You can’t drop something like that in my lap and tell me to keep it to myself. I’m terrible at secrets.”

  “SQUAWK!” Lucy had apparently made it back up the steps.

  Jenna pushed back from the table and stalked toward the door.

  “See? Even Lucy knows something isn’t right up here. Doesn’t matter if I can keep my mouth shut about this, she’s likely to give you away.”

  Walker rolled his eyes. “She’s a chicken. She’s not psychic, and there aren’t any damned secrets. There’s nothing to keep from Jack and Luke, because there’s nothing to tell them yet. It’s just something I’m considering. So why don’t you tell me about the glasses I have to buy, and I’ll forgive you for waking me at the crack of dawn.”

  Jenna groaned, a common response whenever she was giving up the argument. He offered her a self-satisfied grin.

  “Fine. But this discussion is only paused. Not over,” she relented. “Anyway, Ava found out this wholesaler her family uses for their vineyard is going out of business and is selling off all their high-end glassware at a fraction of the cost. You’re supposed to take the wine girl—what’s her name again?—to the wholesaler to pick out the new stuff.”

  “Her name is Violet,” he muttered. “And why can’t Ava take her to this wholesaler place? What the hell do I know about stemware?”

  Jenna clapped her hands together. “Yes! Violet. That’s it! Pretty name. You interviewed her, right? You liked her?”

  He coughed on a sip of coffee, sending the hot liquid down his windpipe, which then sent him into a coughing fit that had his eyes watering and his lungs begging for air.

  Jenna was at his side, slapping him on the back in seconds.

  “You okay there, darlin’? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this girl made quite an impression on you. But it was only an interview, right?” She gave him another good whack before he had the sense to take a few steps away.

  It took him several more seconds to clear his throat and take in enough air to speak. He knew his aunt was looking out for him, but he didn’t miss the hint of accusation in her tone.

  “What the hell else would it have been other than an interview?” Perhaps playing the part of doting boyfriend for her parents. Or maybe kissing her like it was the damned apocalypse and her lips on his were his only chance for survival. Some might say it was burying his fingers inside her until muffled cries of pleasure escaped her lips, while others would suggest that it was Walker taking a cold shower, his dick in his hand as he replayed the evening’s events in his mind’s eye.

  Shit. What he and Violet experienced the other day was miles away from only an interview. He’d thought a couple days of space would have been enough to get past it, but the rigid line behind the zipper of his jeans said otherwise.

  “Someone’s a little defensive,” she said. “I didn’t mean to insinuate anything. But I know the parameters of your recovery—”

  “So do I,” he said gruffly. “And you didn’t answer my question. This is Ava’s domain. Shouldn’t she be the one going on this little field trip?”

  Jenna shook her head. “Ava’s going to show Violet around this morning, but she has a dress-fitting this afternoon.” Jenna beamed. “I can’t believe Jack and Ava are finally getting married. I bet Luke and Lily aren’t too far behind. And maybe, when you’ve put all the tough stuff behind you…”

  “I already told you I’m better off cooking for one,” he interrupted. “So let’s leave all the relationship talk at the door. Unless you want to talk about your own. You know any guy you date needs to get clearance from me, Luke, and Jack, right? Anyone you want to introduce us to?”

  His aunt’s jaw tightened. The last guy she’d dated had hit her. Walker and his brothers didn’t see eye to eye on everything, but when it came to family—to protecting their own—there was no argument. Especially when it came to Jenna, the woman who put her own life on hold to protect them.

  Her gaze softened and she strode toward him, stood on her toes, and kissed him on the cheek. “Yeah,” she said. “I know. But it’s just me, myself, and I these days. Not quite ready to get back on the horse.”

  “SQUAWK!” Lucy called from where she was still waiting at the door.

  Walker laughed at the welcome break in the tension of the moment. “I guess your hen agrees.”

  Jenna smiled. “She is a wise one, that girl.”

  Violet was grateful she and Ava wore the same shoe size. She wasn’t expecting a tour of the vineyard and had, of course, worn heels. She’d spent the first part of the morning—when the air was still cool and crisp—in her belted red shirtdress and a pair of muddied hiking boots, thanks to last night’s much needed rain.

  Jack had dropped them off at the vineyard on his way to take his and Ava’s son, Owen, to school, so they were now walking back to the ranch where Violet had parked.

  “Careful of the—well, the piles,” Ava said as they left the vineyard property for that of the pasture, the most direct line back to the ranch. Sh
e laughed as Violet rose on her toes and studied the ground beneath her feet with every step. “Don’t worry about the boots,” Ava added. “They’ve seen more than mud before. You get used to it.”

  Violet winced. She was a stylish shoe, hard ground kind of girl. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to work boots and cow pies. Luckily, this tour was simply a formality. She’d be working in the beautiful new winery, not out in the fields.

  Several yards ahead, closer to the barn, she could make out two men, blond hair peeking from beneath a couple of cowboy hats, one of them with his arms around the belly of a calf.

  She swallowed, a lump forming in her throat. She’d expected to see Walker today, had mentally prepared herself for it on the hundred-minute ride over—Thank you, traffic—but he hadn’t been there to greet her with Ava and Jack. When there was no mention of him after introductions were made, she’d assumed he wouldn’t be there at all.

  “Luke and Walker are tagging a couple of new calves,” Ava said, following Violet’s line of sight. “After we finish up your paperwork, Jack said he wrangled Walker into shopping with you for the stemware.”

  “No!” Violet blurted without even thinking. “I mean, I’m fine going on my own.”

  Squish.

  She’d stepped in it. Like, really stepped in it.

  Ava burst out laughing when she saw Violet lift her boot. “Welcome to Crossroads Ranch,” she said. “Let’s go get you back into those pretty suede booties you were wearing.” She hooked her arm through Violet’s. “I may have to borrow those. Now that we share shoes and all.”

  And because there was nothing to do but literally walk it off, Violet laughed, too, forgetting for the moment that she’d be spending the afternoon with the man she hadn’t stopped thinking about since she’d kissed him without even knowing his name.

  After signing her tax documents and employee contract back at the ranch, then slipping back into her tan suede booties, Violet felt both relieved and in control. She was going to have a steady paycheck. So she had to go shopping with Walker. She could do this.

  “Okay!” Ava said, then held out a hand. “Welcome to the family!”