Taming the Cowboy

by Aarsen, Carolyne

  “Why don’t you give me your suit jacket?” he asked. “I can dry it and my shirt at the same time.”

  She wasn’t so sure she wanted to take her coat off. Her shirt underneath was damp, and the thin silk would probably cling to every part of her body.

  “You’ll warm up faster if you take it off,” he said, sensing her hesitation.

  This was sensible advice and made her self-consciousness seem silly. She shrugged her jacket off, and he helped her, his rough hands scraping over the fine fabric of her shirt.

  “Sorry,” he apologized. “I hope I didn’t snag anything with my callouses. And I’m also sorry about your ripped skirt.”

  Kinsley couldn’t stop the blush that crept up her neck, warming her rain-cooled cheeks. “I guess I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

  “I probably should have kept quiet. Kane and Lucas always say I run off at the mouth too much.” He shrugged. “But I felt it give way when I carried you. I felt bad for you because I know how you like your suits.”

  He took her jacket and his shirt and draped them over a broken wooden chair that he dragged closer to the fire.

  “Like I said, I like to look professional.”

  “Why? You think you can’t look professional in blue jeans? I mean, I do,” he said with a teasing smile, waving at his own jeans. “My office clothes.”

  Which made her laugh.

  “Each profession has its own dress code, I guess,” she replied.

  “And your dress code is tailored suits. Have you always liked to dress so…” He waved his hand at her jacket. “Like that?” He’d hesitated, which made her wonder what he was really going to say.

  “Actually, no. I grew up wearing sweat pants and the loose, sloppy clothes my mother chose. Once I started working in the wedding planning business, I bought a suit.” Not that it made much difference to Drake’s mother. She’d always made Kinsley feel that she was lacking.

  Elliot flashed her a puzzled look. “I can’t imagine you in sweats.”

  “I even had matching warm-up jackets.” Easier to wear in a wheelchair, her mother would say. “So you can see, I’ve always liked suits. Just wore a different kind then,” she added in a breezy tone she hoped would stop his line of questioning.

  He chuckled at that.

  The light of the fire silhouetted his figure, drawing her attention. He was exactly the kind of guy she would have been attracted to in high school. If someone like him would ever have given Crooked Kinsley the time of day.

  “So do you think Kane would listen to you if you talked to him?” she asked, returning to a safer topic. At least safer for her. “If you found out how he feels?”

  “So instead of talking about your fashion choices we’re going back to my life choices?” Elliot shot her a wry look as he got up. “This really matters to you, doesn’t it?”

  Kinsley shrugged off his question. “I have an ulterior motive. This wedding is important to me, and I want things to go off without a hitch. Underlying tension doesn't look good in family wedding photos.” She added a smile of her own, hoping he would think she was teasing him.

  She was, just a bit. But she came from such a close family, it bothered her to see other families at odds. As a wedding planner she often had to deal with the emotions of distrustful in-laws, ex-husbands and wives, and extended families. From some of the things Faith had said, the Tye family had had their difficulties, but they had always been close. And the fact that the sons had come from such disparate backgrounds and still created a family with Tricia, Zach and Grace was a testament to the love they had shared and been given.

  Elliot tunneled his fingers through his hair, rearranging its messy waves. Then he turned his shirt around, shaking it to dry it.

  “I guess that’s a good enough reason,” Elliot agreed. “I just don’t know how to introduce the topic.”

  “You could just start.”

  He looked at her, a slow smile lighting his face. “So I should walk up to Kane some day and say something like, ‘Kane, I know Faith and I took off together, but it wasn’t what you thought it was.’ Would that work?”

  Again Kinsley caught a hint of bitterness.

  “It’s a start. But I’m wondering if he doesn’t know that already. I’m sure he and Faith have talked about it.”

  “If he already knows, why should I talk to him then?”

  His question seemed legitimate, and part of Kinsley was telling her to let it go. It wasn’t any of her business. But there was something about Elliot that called to her. Something hidden beneath that posturing and strength that she had never seen in Drake. A hint of vulnerability, which he tried hard to hide.

  “Maybe it would be good to get it out in the open between the two of you.”

  Elliot didn’t respond to that. Instead he pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket. He looked at it in disgust. “Still dead.” As if he expected it to charge while he was carrying it. He dropped the phone back into his pocket, checking his shirt again.

  “Well, this will have to do,” he said, walking over to her. He bent down and lifted her ankle.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We need to wrap this so it doesn’t swell. I didn’t want to do it with the shirt so wet. It’s not completely dry, but the fact that it’s damp will make it cool, which will also help keep the swelling down.”

  “You think of everything, don’t you?” she said with a shaky laugh as he adjusted the shirt, wrapping it around her ankle. “You’ve obviously done this before.” She was dismayed at the breathless tone of her voice. It seemed rather intimate, having a man tend to her, hold her leg, wrap his shirt around it.

  “Once or twice,” he said, tying the sleeves of his shirt together and easing her leg back onto the couch. “Us cowboys know how to take care of each other. Though a tensor bandage would be easier to work with.”

  “Thanks. That helps a lot.” Though her hip was still aching, the pressure felt good on her ankle.

  “What about your hip?”

  Could he read her mind?

  “It’ll be okay,” she said, glancing away. She didn’t want his pity. She’d seen enough of that in her life.

  “So, what happened? To your hip?”

  His straightforward question was unexpected, surprising, and not entirely welcome. Then again, this was Elliot. From what she’d seen of him, he preferred to get to the point.

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, I get it, but seeing as how you were giving me all this relationship advice…” He flashed her a teasing smile as if to say he hadn’t really minded.

  “I guess fair is fair,” she conceded, unable to stay self-conscious in front of someone who was so direct. “I actually injured it riding a horse.”

  “Really?” He pursed his lips, nodding. “Well, that explains a lot.” He got up and tossed another couple of logs on the fire then returned to the couch. He lifted both her feet this time and set them on his lap, checking the pressure of his shirt.

  Kinsley swallowed down her reaction. He was just being kind. There wasn’t enough room on the couch for her to stretch out, and it wasn’t right of her to take up the whole space and make him sit on the floor.

  But the feel of his legs under her feet, the casual way he rested his hand on her lower leg, was more intimate than she liked. He had done this many times before, she guessed, reminding herself that this was nothing special to him. Just a guy trying to get comfortable while sitting with a girl in front of a fire. No big deal.

  She drew in a slow breath, trying to steady her pounding heart, annoyed at the reaction he created in her.

  Her brain reminded her he wasn’t her type. At all.

  Take care of you, she reminded herself. Don’t get pulled into other people’s lives.

  “So how old were you when you got hurt?” Elliot asked, obviously not content with the bits of information she had given him.

  “I was fourteen.” She kept her tone matter of fact. Just a simple retelling of an ol
d story.

  “How did it happen?”

  He wasn’t letting this go either.

  “I’d been out riding a few times before with my friend,” she said, keeping her tone light. Conversational. “We used to get together every Saturday and go riding on her farm. I was never comfortable, but her horses were old, stable. Easy to ride. That day she had a cousin over who wanted to join us. So I was switched to a younger horse I was unfamiliar with. Cousins get priority, you know,” she said, slanting him a self-deprecating smile. “My friend and her cousin decided they wanted to race, and I didn’t think I should. I didn’t trust my horse. It was raining, like now,” she said, waving her hand, trying to sound casual. No big deal. “I held him back, trying to keep him to a walk while my friend and her cousin galloped away from me. But my horse went crazy being separated from the others. I couldn’t control him. He took off. We got to a muddy spot on the trail and he slipped and panicked. He lost his footing, I couldn’t get my foot out of the stirrups fast enough, and when he fell over, he pinned me underneath.” She stopped there, fighting an unwelcome surge of fear. She clenched her fists, restraining the memories. Keeping them at bay.

  “So how long were you pinned underneath him?”

  “I’m not sure. By the time they noticed I wasn’t behind them, they were already back at the farm. It was raining hard, and they took a while to find me. They had to put the horse down because he broke his leg. Thankfully they didn’t treat me the same way.” She released a harsh laugh.

  “So what was the prognosis? For you?”

  “My pelvis was broken, as was my femur. So it was a good thing they found me when they did.”

  “You could’ve died.” The anger in his voice surprised her. “A broken femur? That’s ridiculous dangerous.”

  “You’re right,” she said, smiling at his adjective.

  “So I’m guessing it required a long hospital stay and a lot of therapy.”

  The fingers of the hand resting on her leg, made gentle circles, as if trying to assure her.

  The movements sent gentle shivers up and down her spine. She wished he would stop. It was doing nothing for her equilibrium. She was feeling vulnerable right now. Thankfully his face was devoid of pity.

  “It did. I spent months at a rehab hospital in Edmonton. The staff was fantastic and encouraging but—”

  “Things weren’t the same as before,” he said, his voice matter-of-fact.

  “Not exactly. The doctor told me I was fortunate to walk at all.”

  “Well, there’s that,” Elliot said, nodding his head as if in agreement.

  She couldn’t help a flash of annoyance, as if he, like everyone else she had worked with at the hospital, assumed she should be content. That she should be thankful.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I was glad I could be walking eventually. But it’s hard when you’re a teenage girl, to come back to school in a wheelchair. And then, when you finally can walk, you’ve got a permanent limp.”

  “What about your friend and her family? Did your parents sue them?”

  She shot him a puzzled frown. “No. Not at all. It wasn’t their fault.”

  “It kinda was. It was their horse. Your parents never talked about that? Never threatened to do anything?”

  Another memory returned. Her sitting in her wheelchair, sobbing that she might not be able to walk again. Her parents kindly and gently reassuring her that she should be content with what she had. She knew they meant well and were trying to support her. But their lack of outrage, their lack of desire for justice for her, had bothered her for a while.

  “They said it wasn’t the Christian thing to do.”

  “That might well be, but parents are supposed to look out for their kids. They’re supposed to fight for them.”

  The way his eyes narrowed, the hint of anger in his voice, puzzled her and raised further questions about his own life. “Did the Tye family not look out for you?”

  His gaze shot to her, his eyes dark with tamped anger. “I never said that.”

  She held her hands up as if to defend herself. “I’m sorry. It was just… The way you’re talking…” She let her voice trail off, not sure anymore of her conversational footing.

  He removed his hand from her leg and rubbed his forehead. “No. I’m sorry. I wasn’t talking about Mom and Zach. I was talking about…well… My biological dad.”

  He lifted her legs, stood, and laid them back down on the couch. He grabbed some more logs, setting them carefully on the fire. His movements seemed deliberate. As if he was holding himself in, holding back.

  “Is he still alive?”

  Elliot gave a tight nod. “Yeah. Very much so.”

  “So, are you in contact with him?”

  Elliot poked the fire with another stick, his features hard, set. Again Kinsley caught undercurrents of a deep and unresolved anger.

  “Not out of any choice of mine. I wish he was out of my life. Completely.”

  Chapter 7

  Elliot wished she would quit poking and prodding. He didn’t want to talk about Dennis.

  “I’m sorry for prying. I think I hit a nerve,” Kinsley said, her voice quiet through the snap of the fire.

  Elliot took a deep breath and fought down the usual bitterness and anger his father could create. He forced himself to smile. Something Grace had taught him.

  Make yourself smile and be happy. Often feelings will follow actions.

  Her calm voice smoothed the edges of his emotions. And when he forced the smile, the tension gripping his shoulders eased.

  “Dennis has a way of doing that,” he joked, deepening his smile as he looked back at her.

  The firelight cast a gentle glow over her features, enhancing her cheekbones, making her dark eyes even more mysterious, highlighting the sheen of hair that had escaped from the severe bun she always wore.

  Yet the faint frown between her arched brows seemed to suggest his forced humor hadn't fooled her.

  “Was it because of him you ended up at the Tye family?”

  “Yeah. Not exactly a candidate for Father of the Year.”

  “What was he like when you were with him?”

  Elliot turned back to the fire, giving it another poke. He wished she would let it go but, other than Grace and Zach, she was the first person who seemed interested in his relationship with his biological father. Previous girlfriends seldom asked him about Dennis. Most of them knew who his father was and preferred to avoid him.

  “Mean. Nasty. Vindictive. Had a wicked left hook.” Elliot tried to keep his tone light. As if he were simply describing a character in a book. Someone who would make a delicious villain you could dislike and not feel guilty about.

  For a moment the only sound in the room was the murmur of the wind outside, the rain ticking at the windows, and the snap and crackle of the fire. Kinsley had obviously been rendered silent by his comment.

  Just as well. Talking about Dennis drained him.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” she finally said. “That must have been difficult.”

  Guess they weren’t finished with this.

  “Well…that’s how I ended up with the Tye family off and on.”

  “What do you mean off and on?”

  Trust her not to miss that slip.

  Elliot sat down by the fire, preferring to keep his distance from her. She was too pretty, too appealing, and sitting with her on the couch had been a mistake. She was becoming a distraction he couldn’t afford to indulge in and one, he knew, Kane would warn him off of.

  And Kane would be right.

  So he rested his back against the rough-hewn stones. Stones he and Tanner had heaved and dug out of the riverbed and brought here.

  “I’m not sure. It was like I’d be with the Tyes for half a year and then Social Services would take me back. Dad always told me it was ’cause the Tye family didn’t want me anymore. But that didn’t make sense, because as soon as things went south with him, I’d end up back at the Tye ran
ch.” He rested his wrists on his upraised knees, looking at his hands. One of his fingers was crooked from the time Dennis grabbed it and twisted it, breaking it. He blinked, trying to erase the memory.

  She said nothing, but her posture, the tilt of her head, showed she was listening. Intently. Something about her made him want to tell her more. To unload.

  “The third time I landed back with Zach and Mom as a permanent ward.” He tried another smile, but knew it failed. “Never got adopted, but I spent my best years there.”

  Kinsley held his gaze, her expression serious but, thankfully, not pitying. “I hope you found happiness with the Tye family.”

  This time his smile was genuine. “I did. We had a lot of fun together, me, Lucas, Kane, and Tricia. Zach encouraged me in my dreams to become a saddle bronc rider. He bought me my first saddle and helped me get lessons. He and Mom put a lot of miles on driving us from rodeo to rodeo.”

  “Did Kane and Lucas ride rodeo too?”

  “Lucas quit in high school. He was always afraid of hurting himself. He knew fairly early on that he wanted to join the military. And he wanted nothing to jeopardize that. His biological dad was military. He always had a dream of being like him.” Elliot released a harsh laugh. “We weren’t biological brothers, but we were both trying to compete with our fathers. Except Lucas’s father was a really good guy.”

  “You tried to compete with your father?”

  “Forget I said anything,” Elliot said. Again, he was frustrated with how easily he shared information with this woman. She had a quiet way about her, an unexpected way of holding your gaze, as if completely interested in everything you might have to say. Maybe it was part of her job, but at the same time he sensed listening and caring came naturally to her.

  “I’m sorry,” Kinsley said. “Again, I’m prying too much.”

  “It’s okay,” Elliot said shrugging off her objections. “I try to avoid Dennis as much as possible though he calls me every time I compete. To give me tips.” Too late he realized how that came out. Bitter. Angry. She would pounce on that.

  But thankfully she kept quiet, the hiss and snap of the fire in the fireplace filling the silence.