Hard Loving Cowboy

by A. J. Pine

  Maybe their weeks together was all they’d have, but that didn’t stop her wondering what he’d been thinking while—other than the kiss in the rain—they’d each kept their distance all week.

  She finished the song to a standing ovation—at least from their two tables.

  She laughed. “They’re with me,” she said, pointing to where Ava, Lily, and Olivia were whistling and catcalling. It wasn’t until the spotlight dimmed and the screen went dark as the DJ readied for the next singer that she saw a familiar figure standing right inside the entrance, arms crossed over his broad chest as he leaned against the door. What was it about that cool, aloof lean that made him so sexy? Then she reminded herself that pretty much everything he did elicited that sort of reaction from her.

  “Walker?” she said aloud, then added “Oh shit!” forgetting she was still standing at the microphone, now apparently gripping it with white knuckles. Her voice reverberated above the din of the karaoke bar patrons as she peeled her fingers free and beelined for the stairs and then straight to the ladies’ room—which turned out to be a one-person unisex bathroom. Even better.

  She braced her hands on the edge of the sink and steadied her breath. Then she stared at herself in the mirror, giving herself a mental reminder that she was pretty damned amazing. She was juggling three jobs in Oak Bluff, coordinating her mom’s treatment abroad—albeit behind her back—and just gave a kickass performance of “Cowboy Take Me Away.” There was a chance the tequila and beer were talking here, but she’d only had one of each.

  “You are amazing,” she reassured herself aloud. “And if that stupid, gorgeous jerk of a cowboy doesn’t get it, well then—his loss.”

  She washed her hands so the bathroom visit wasn’t a total waste. Then she squared her shoulders, threw open the door…and walked straight into a hard, muscular chest. A man’s chest. Walker Everett’s man chest.

  She yelped and took a step back. “Why do you keep doing that?”

  “Doing what?” he asked, holding his hands up as if trying not to frighten her.

  She slid out of the doorway and leaned against the wall of the little restroom alcove.

  “Showing up when I don’t expect you. We don’t talk all week. And then you—you kiss me with no explanation, in public no less, and now here you are, right outside the door when I need a damned second to catch my breath. So tell me, Walker. What are you doing here now?”

  His expression remained stoic as ever. “Picking up Luke and Lily. Since Ava and Jack are heading the rest of the way to Los Olivos, and Olivia can’t fit everyone into that pocket-size car of hers, I told Luke I’d lend a hand.”

  Right. He was here for them, not her.

  Violet narrowed her eyes at him. “Why weren’t you with everyone tonight?” she asked.

  “Working,” he said.

  It took her eyes several seconds to get used to the darkness of the hallway, but when they did she noticed his eyes were bloodshot, and his normally tanned cheeks were flushed. Despite her confusion at the past several days and what the hell was going on between her and this man, she rose onto her toes and cupped his face in her palms.

  “You’re burning up,” she said.

  “I’m fine,” he answered back.

  She rolled her eyes. He still wanted to push her away? Well, she certainly wasn’t going to force her way in. “Okay, well, my ride is out there.”

  He shook his head. “Cash is going with Olivia, and I’ve got you, Luke, and Lily.”

  That feeling of the night soaring toward spectacular suddenly fizzled. She opened her mouth to protest, but what could she say? That she’d squeeze into Olivia’s almost nonexistent backseat so she could be the third wheel to her and Cash when there was plenty of room in the cab of Walker’s truck? She snapped her mouth shut and crossed her arms over her chest. It appeared they were at a conversational impasse.

  “I should go pay for my drinks, then,” she said, trying to come up with any means to vacate their little nook of the bar.

  “Sure,” he said. “I’ll meet you all by the door.”

  She pushed off the wall, but Walker interrupted her attempted exit.

  “Wait,” he said, his voice quiet but insistent.

  She blew out a breath. “For what?”

  “For me to say what I need to say. The thing is, I’m real good at being a dick sometimes.”

  “Or asshole,” she mumbled. “I was giving you space. At least, that’s what I thought I was doing.”

  He let out a short laugh. “Or asshole. I’m an expert at asshole. You caught me off guard Sunday night. And then yesterday—I should have called after—”

  “After you planted one on me so the whole town could see my knees turn to jelly?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “I make you weak in the knees, huh?” he teased, but she shook her head.

  “Sorry for the interruption. I believe you were in the middle of groveling for my forgiveness.”

  This got him to laugh. “I might have crashed yesterday afternoon and slept ’til morning.”

  “Because you’re sick,” she insisted.

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m fine,” he repeated, but she was far from convinced.

  “You know, all you had to say after Sunday was that you needed some space. If that’s what you need, I can give it to you.”

  He nodded. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have much of a way with words.”

  She laughed. “Well, I appreciate the ones you give me. But right now I’m going to have to ask for your keys.”

  His brows drew together. “Why the hell do you want my keys?” He swayed slightly where he stood.

  “That.” She pointed at him. “You’re sick and in no shape to drive.”

  “And you’ve been drinking. You’ve all been drinking.”

  Shit. He was right. Even if she’d only had the one shot and the one beer, it was enough that she’d felt buzzed onstage.

  “Fine,” she said. “But as soon as we get back, you need to take something to bring that fever down.”

  He offered her a single nod, and she decided not to push the matter any further—until they got home.

  Home. Wasn’t that an interesting word?

  The ride back to Oak Bluff was interesting as well, to say the least, with a tipsy Luke and Lily in the back who couldn’t stop sneaking kisses when they thought Violet and Walker weren’t paying attention. But Walker didn’t drive a luxury pickup with a spacious cab, which meant even if Violet and Walker weren’t paying attention, they sorta were.

  They pulled up in front of Luke’s house thirty smooch-filled minutes later. Luke clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Thanks for the ride.”

  Lily popped her head into the front seat as well.

  “Why don’t you two come over for a late breakfast tomorrow? I can whip up an egg soufflé, and you can meet Lucky.”

  “Lucky the pet cow?” Violet laughed, and Lily nodded enthusiastically. “Thank you, but I’ll have to take a rain check. I have to head back to Santa Barbara until Monday morning. I have some family stuff to take care of.”

  Lily wagged her finger at Violet. “I’m holding you to that rain check, then.” She turned her head toward Walker. “Invitation still stands for you. You’re welcome any time, you know.”

  Walker nodded his response, and Luke and Lily exited the truck.

  They pulled back onto the road in silence. Despite her understanding of Walker’s behavior this week, the silence between them was still thick with tension.

  “So,” Violet said. “You ever do karaoke?”

  He smiled. It was a small one, but a smile nonetheless. She’d take it.

  “No. Luke’s the one who likes to be the center of attention. I’ll leave the karaoke to him.”

  She pivoted slightly in her seat as they turned onto Oak Bluff Way. “Okay, so if Luke is the attention seeker, who is Jack?”

  “The hero,” he said without hesitation. And something in the way he sai
d it made her ache.

  “And…you?” she asked.

  He pulled into a spot on the street a block away from the B and B.

  “The bad seed,” he said. “The black sheep. The wreck. Take your pick.”

  “Sounds a little harsh,” she said. “It doesn’t seem like your brothers see it that way. Or anyone else for that matter. Everyone acts like they care a whole lot about you. Any chance you might be harder on yourself than everyone else is?”

  He put the truck in park and pulled the key from the ignition.

  “Anything’s possible, Teach,” was all he said before opening his door.

  She did the same, hopping out onto the sidewalk where he met her to walk the rest of the way.

  “So I still get to be Teach even though you need space?” she asked.

  He glanced down at her and raised his brows. “It’s what you want to be, right? A teacher? You’ll be damned good at it once you get back to it.”

  Violet was grateful for the cover of darkness as she felt a rush of heat in her neck and cheeks.

  “Yeah. It’s what I want to be. Someday.”

  They stopped in front of the Oak Bluff Bed and Breakfast, and she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.

  “So you’ll take something for the fever, right?” she asked.

  “I’m not sick,” he said. Then he sneezed. “Yeah, fine. I’ll take something.”

  “So,” she said, looking for that path they’d travel toward truly being friends this time, “a week ago this would have been the part where you kiss me good night. But you’re sick, and maybe you still need space…” Didn’t stop her from thinking about his lips on hers or that beard scratching her chin.

  He exhaled a long breath. “No. I guess tonight we go our separate ways.”

  “We could hug, though,” she blurted, not satisfied with not getting to touch him in some way, shape, or form before the night was over. “I am sort of a hugger.”

  She took a step toward him, and when he didn’t back away, she slid her arms around his waist, pressed her cheek to his chest, and squeezed.

  It took him a second, but then he wrapped his arms around her, too.

  She breathed him in, taking in his scent because how could she not when they were this close?

  “You’re not a bad seed to me,” she said. “In case you were wondering.”

  Then she pulled away and smiled at him.

  “Good night, Walker. Thanks for the ride.”

  “Night, Teach.”

  He waited until she made her way up the walkway and didn’t turn from her until she pushed through the door to the bed-and-breakfast.

  When she closed it behind her, she peeked through the beveled glass.

  Walker lingered on the sidewalk in front of the B and B for the better part of a minute, his head tilted toward the starry sky. Then he shook it as if answering a question before he finally slipped out of her line of sight.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Walker had been back in bed for the better part of an hour, his head throbbing and chest aching, when someone pounded on the door.

  “Shit,” he hissed. “What now?” Or better, who now? Because in the past two days he’d had check-ins from the sheriff, his aunt, and his two brothers with their congratulatory ambush. Everyone had just seen him sober at the karaoke bar as well, so that left him puzzled as hell and—though he’d only admit it to himself—feeling like complete and utter shit from whatever asshole bug had invaded his body.

  It took everything in him to get himself upright again. He caught sight of himself in the bedroom mirror. He was almost unrecognizable. His thick sandy hair was flattened in places and stood on end in others. His eyes were bloodshot, and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. He wore a pair of gray sweats and stood slightly hunched, wearing his comforter like a cape as he clasped it over his shoulders.

  He trudged to the door wondering how an hour could be the difference between feeling like crap and feeling like he’d been run over by a Zamboni.

  Whoever was there pounded impatiently again.

  “What the hell is your problem?” he yelled, throwing the door open to find Violet standing there about to knock again.

  “Sorry!” she said, wincing. Then she reached a hand to his cheek. “I know you don’t lock the door, but I didn’t want to barge in. I knew it. You didn’t take anything, and you’re still burning up.”

  “Really?” he said, his voice hoarse and muffled with congestion. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  She gripped him by the shoulders and spun him back the way he came without any resistance. “Back to bed, mister. I’m assuming you didn’t take my advice because you thought you could sleep it off. But you can’t. So tell me where you keep your thermometer, ibuprofen, decongestants. Basically, point me toward your medicine cabinet, and I’ll get you whatever you need.”

  He shuffled toward the bedroom with her behind him.

  “I don’t have one,” he said.

  “A thermometer?”

  He shook his head as he walked through the bedroom door, then turned slowly to face her.

  “A medicine cabinet. I’ve only lived here a few months, and like I tried explaining, I don’t get sick.” He sneezed into a tissue he had hidden in his fist. “Didn’t think I needed one.”

  She sighed and ran a hand through his crazy bedhead.

  “Guess what, tough guy? You’re pretty darn sick.”

  “I’m fine,” he insisted, but knew he wasn’t convincing anyone. “I can just sleep it off.”

  She laughed softly. “Yeah, you can. But you also need to push fluids and maybe take a little something to help you rest better. Stay here. I’ll be right back,” she said, then headed into the bathroom.

  “Damn,” he said. “Guess I’ll have to cancel that midnight bull ride I was looking forward to.”

  She popped her head out of the bathroom doorway and narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Sarcasm? So you’re a snarky sick boy, huh?”

  He collapsed onto his back and groaned, and he heard her rummaging under the sink where he kept a small stack of towels and washcloths. Then he heard her start the tap, and he half wondered if she was cleaning his bathroom now that she’d gotten a good look at it.

  “This is my asshole brothers’ fault,” he mumbled as she sat beside him. “The sparkling grape juice and the damned rain.” He realized she might ask why his brothers sprayed him with grape juice and swore under his breath.

  She laughed softly. “You don’t get sick like this from the rain.”

  “That’s what I told Jenna, but here we are.”

  Violet sat on the edge of the bed and shook her head, then laid a cool cloth on his forehead. “Whatever this is, it was brewing before you got caught in the rain.”

  He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “Shit, that feels good. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  Probably because he wasn’t sick. He figured the more he said it, the more it would be true. Mind over matter and all.

  Something else cold and wet hit his bare chest.

  He hissed in a breath.

  “Sorry!” she said. “I should have warned you that was coming.”

  He shook his head. “Just surprised me. That one feels even better than the one on my head.”

  She pulled the comforter over him, and he opened his eyes.

  “I know you’re hot, but five minutes from now you’ll probably have the chills. So you’ve got the cold cloths to cool you and the blanket to keep you warm. Try to get some sleep.”

  “You’re leaving?” he asked, even though he knew it was irrational to want her to stay. He’d been a dick avoiding her all week and then pulling that stunt in front of the B and B. Now, after telling her he still needed space, he was one hell of a mess. He’d run from himself if he could.

  He let out a bitter laugh. Wasn’t that what he’d been doing for the past decade? Only his running always led to the bottom of a whiskey bottle. Now it felt like he ha
d nowhere to go, so he was running from her—running as far out of town as he could.

  His head throbbed. This thinking shit was starting to hurt.

  She stroked the damp hair on his forehead, and damn her touch felt so good. “I’ll be back. I’m running to the bed-and-breakfast to get you some of the basics. I’m sure Olivia has her own little over-the-counter pharmacy for the guests. I can’t believe you have nothing.”

  He groaned. “I don’t. Get. Sick,” he insisted.

  “Let it go. You’re sick.” Then she kissed him on top of the head and left him there to rest.

  He fell in and out of sleep and also in and out of dreams while she was gone. In one dream he was eight, one of the last times he remembered being sick. It was before his mom had been diagnosed, so she was the one taking care of him. There was a flash of memory of him getting his throat swabbed at the doctor’s office, then of his mom unwrapping one of those spaceship-looking popsicles for him to suck on because it had hurt so bad to swallow.

  In what felt like seconds later, he woke in a cold sweat, gasping for breath, his hand to his cheek feeling the sting of Jack Senior backhanding him after he tried to pull an empty bottle from his passed-out father’s grasp.

  Shit. These weren’t dreams. He was just too much of a mess to keep everything at bay, so instead it was all rising to the surface, every last bit of it from the first time his father split open Jack’s lower lip to the last time he ever laid a hand on any of them—the time that left Jack broken and unconscious at the foot of the wooden stairs.

  He heard the apartment door open and close again.

  Hell. He didn’t want Violet to see him like this, his body infected with who knows what and his mind poisoned with every damned memory he’d spent a decade trying to erase.

  She rifled around in the kitchen—loud as hell as she did—but he couldn’t fault her for it. She was there to help him, however noisy she was in doing so.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, trying like hell to rebury what had already been unearthed.

  The microwave beeped, and seconds later she strode into the room with a cutting board in her hands as a makeshift tray. She set it down on the nightstand, and he could see various pills in pairs along with a glass of water, orange juice, and a mug of something steaming.