A Cowboy’s Worth: The McGavin Brothers

by Thompson, Vicki Lewis

  When they met, it wasn’t like in the movies, where a graceful slow-motion sequence ended with him twirling her around. They smacked into each other and damned near fell. He couldn’t kiss her because he was doubled over laughing. She was in the same fix.

  Eventually he straightened and wiped the tears from his eyes. “That maneuver could use some work.”

  She took off her glasses and wiped her face on her sleeve. “It always looks so romantic in the movies, but maybe that was after a hundred takes.”

  “I’d believe it.” He drew in a lungful of air scented with evergreen and the aroma of her shampoo. Their wee shower had smelled so much like her he’d almost developed a woody.

  “How did it go with Aleck?”

  “Fine. I think we might be done. I hope so.”

  She put on her glasses. “Want to talk about it?”

  He shook his head.

  “Okay.” She held out her hand. “Ready to go have a great lunch at Pie in the Sky?”

  “I’d tell you what I’m ready for, but since that’s a non-starter, let’s have lunch. I probably shouldn’t even kiss you.”

  “If the last one you gave me is any example, you probably shouldn’t. That was a doozy.”

  “Aye. Rocked me back, too. Took a few minutes before I was up to shovelin’.” He laced his fingers through hers as they started back toward the ranch.

  “Maybe we should ration ourselves until tonight.”

  “Sad to say, maybe we should.” He might have communicated a wee bit too much with that kiss. Even if he hadn’t come right out and said how he felt about her, she could have formulated an idea by now. Best not to discuss that, either.

  “I texted Kendra to let her know our plans for the afternoon.”

  “Good.”

  “I offered to pick up dessert for tonight and she said Quinn’s partial to cherry pie so we’ll see if they have some.”

  “I hope they do. I’m partial to that myself.” He wasn’t kissing her as he’d longed to do, but just strolling along a sunny path holding hands and talking about ordinary things soothed his soul.

  “Zane’s looking forward to us coming by this afternoon. He asked how you liked mucking out stalls. I said you seemed happy enough when you were doing it.”

  “I was. I’ve never minded the work that comes with carin’ for animals. It’s satisfyin’. The company was good, too.”

  “Then you’d be willing to pitch in every morning?”

  “Definitely. I appreciate Kendra’s hospitality so helpin’ out seems like the thing to do.”

  “And it’s the cowboy way.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Any good hand likes being useful. Besides, most of the ones I’ve known say mucking out stalls keeps them grounded.”

  “Makes sense.” The more he learned about this life, the better he liked it.

  “We’re almost there. Do you need to go inside for anything?”

  “Nope. Got the keys in my pocket. And just so you know, that’s all I have in my pocket.”

  “That’s as it should be.” She walked along without saying anything for a while.

  He didn’t say anything, either. Likely they were both focused on the subject they weren’t supposed to be focused on.

  She broke the silence first. “What colors are in your plaid?”

  “Where’d that question come from?”

  “Just wondering.”

  Sure, she was. “Green, black, dark blue and white with a wee red stripe. My gran and grandpa researched it. May not be quite like the original, but it’s close.” He glanced at her. “Wouldn’t be anticipatin’ our evenin’, would you, now?”

  “Who, me?”

  “Now you got me thinkin’ about it.” Like he hadn’t been before. “And wantin’ to be with ye.”

  She squeezed his hand. “We’ll have our time together. I shouldn’t have asked about your plaid. I just…”

  “I understand, lass. It’s not easy to put such matters out of your mind. We’re navigatin’ a tricky path, and I’m not talkin’ about this one.”

  * * *

  Pie in the Sky lived up to his expectations and then some. He didn’t quite fit in the wee metal chairs, but once he tasted his thick sandwich made with homemade bread he didn’t care whether those chairs were comfortable or not. By the time he bit into the best fudge brownie ever, he’d decided those chairs were fine.

  One hunger satisfied, anyway. Next stop, Raptors Rise. He backed out of the parking space with more confidence than he’d had the day before. “Let’s put this place on the schedule for tomorrow, too.”

  “Fine with me. I’m glad you liked it.”

  “I haven’t found a single thing in this town I don’t like.”

  “Yes, you have.”

  “Name it.”

  “Catsup.”

  He grinned. “I was puttin’ on a show for you. I don’t hate it all that much. I noticed they have hamburgers at the GG. I could probably tolerate catsup on one of those.”

  “We’ll test it. We’ll pick a night to go there for dinner.”

  “And dancin’?”

  “I’d love that.”

  He glanced at her in surprise. “Truly?”

  “I keep thinking about that waltz in Pills and Pop. Once I found the rhythm, it was like floating in your arms. I want to try it again.”

  “Then we will.” Her eagerness to waltz with him made him ridiculously happy. “Maybe we should go tonight after dinner.”

  “It’s a thought, except…I was hoping to have you all to myself.”

  “Oh.” His groin tightened. “Right. Forget the GG. Don’t know what I was thinkin’.”

  “We can go another night. We’ll have four more to choose from.”

  “Aye.” Five nights. Four full days. They’d go by like lightning. Saturday would be here before he could blink.

  “Well, except Thursday. Mandy’s hosting a girls’ movie night and I said I’d go. But that still leaves three nights for the GG.”

  “Sure does.” Without warning, several hours he’d been hoarding like a miser had just been snatched away. He’d take the hit like a man, though. He had no right to monopolize her, even if that was exactly what he—

  “You missed the turn.”

  “No, I didn’t. The ranch road is up ahead.”

  “I mean the turn for Raptors Rise.”

  “Why, so I did. Was wool gatherin’ and lost track of the plan.” He pulled to the shoulder, checked for traffic, and made a quick U-turn. “Let me know when it’s comin’ up.”

  “You didn’t go very far past it. There it is. See the sign?”

  “Yep.” He put on his signal, waited for a couple of pickups to go by and turned in. “Wouldn’t mind havin’ one of those to drive.”

  “A truck?”

  “Seems like the right thing for this area.”

  “When I got my license, I wanted one so bad. But I had no excuse for driving a truck. I didn’t need to haul hay or pull a horse trailer.” She leaned forward. “Around this curve the road forks. Go to the right and follow the signs to the visitor’s center.”

  “It’s nice this operation is tucked away in the woods.”

  “Zane was determined to create it that way for the sake of the birds. Some people advised him to rent a storefront in town and take some of the birds there for more visibility. He chose not to.”

  “Good man.” He found a parking space. “Plenty of cars.”

  “Word is spreading.” She started to open her door and paused. “Remember the Sawyer grouping on my spreadsheet?”

  “It’s vague in my mind, lass. I have a bead on Quinn, Roxanne, and Wes. After that it’s chaos.”

  “You’re only missing two—Pete, the oldest, and Gage, the middle son. I only bring it up because Gage works here. I had a chance to talk with him at the rehearsal dinner. He walked into this facility last year and fell in love with it. You might do the same.”

  He gazed at her. “I likely wi
ll, but why do you think so?”

  “You almost went into wildlife management. I understand why you didn’t chose it, but this operation isn’t about managing wild creatures. It’s about saving them.”

  He nodded. “That speaks to me.” He opened his door. “I’m eager to meet Gage.”

  The middle Sawyer son wasn’t difficult to find. Damaris pointed him out the minute they stepped into the spacious lobby. His bearing and the tilt of his Stetson marked him as Quinn’s son, but his dark hair must have come from his mother. He stood inside a semi-circle of visitors with a golden eagle perched on his arm.

  A leather gauntlet protected him from the bird’s talons. A healthy, mature golden had a grip powerful enough to carry off a newborn lamb. Rory had seen it happen.

  Behind Gage, Quinn’s impressive artwork depicted a bald eagle family in a massive nest—mother, father and three fledglings. A plaque next to it read Home Sweet Home. Rory beckoned to Damaris and they joined the group.

  They’d missed part of the presentation, but Rory got the gist. The eagle had been shot several times and left for dead. Four operations later, she was mostly healed but would never fly again.

  “We’ve named her Victory,” Gage said, “and she’s become the face of Raptors Rise. We’re determined to win this fight to protect our magnificent birds of prey. Thank you for your attention and your support.”

  Rory applauded with the rest of the group, his heart full as he met the solemn gaze of that noble bird. Then he glanced at Damaris. “Thank you for makin’ sure we came here.”

  She smiled up at him, her green eyes luminous. “In love, yet?”

  A sucker punch to the gut. He gulped for air. Only one answer to that question. “Aye.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Damaris stared at Rory in dismay. “I didn’t mean…”

  “Are ye sure?” His voice was soft, the light in his eyes tender.

  She met his warm gaze and took a shaky breath. “No.”

  “Dinna think so.” His smile held a tinge of sorrow.

  She swallowed. “Me, too, Rory.”

  He nodded. “I know, lass.”

  “Hey, Damaris.” She turned as Gage came toward them, the golden eagle on his arm. “Zane said you two were coming by. Rory, I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m Gage Sawyer.”

  “Glad to know you.” Rory extended his hand. “Never been this close to a golden. She doesn’t seem nervous bein’ around so many people.”

  “Victory’s been our ambassador for a while. We eased her into it gradually and now she takes it all in stride. If you two would like to come with me, I’ll carry her back to her enclosure. Then I’ll text Zane and see if he’s free. If not, I’d be happy to take you around.”

  “Thanks, Gage.” The brief discussion about Victory had allowed Damaris to calm herself after her Freudian slip. “I’ve heard so much about this place that I feel as if I’ve already toured it, but I haven’t.”

  “Then you’re in for a treat. Follow me.” He started down a hallway. Victory swiveled her head to watch Damaris and Rory as they walked behind him.

  “She’s keeping an eye on us,” Damaris said.

  “Aye.” He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze and lowered his voice. “It’ll be all right, lass.”

  “I know it will.” Somehow.

  The tour of Raptors Rise provided a strong dose of optimism. Zane had created something beautiful and hopeful with his rescue operation. Eagles, hawks, falcons and owls had roomy enclosures tucked into the trees. Most were slated to be released once their medical problems had been resolved. Victory’s story was the exception, not the rule.

  The nursery was a revelation, too. Badger’s name was on it because he’d donated a chunk of money from his sizable trust fund to equip the room. Rory couldn’t stop talking about that nursery as they drove back to Wild Creek.

  “Those wee birds, Damaris! Nothin’ but piles of fluff. And without Raptors Rise, they wouldn’t make it. I wish I’d known durin’ the weddin’ that Badger gave the money for that nursery. I’d like to shake his hand.”

  “Why don’t I find out what his schedule is like this week? Ryker won’t be back to take you up in the Beechcraft, but Badger would probably get a kick out of showing you Eagles Nest from the air.”

  “Would you come with me?”

  “Sure. Do small planes make you nervous?”

  He smiled. “Nay. Love ’em. Just want to be with you as much as I can.”

  Her heart turned over. “Ditto.”

  * * *

  They made it back in time to help feed the horses and spend a few minutes watching Eclipse learning how to walk on his spindly legs. Dinner was only the four of them again.

  The prospect of going back to the cabin after the meal tempted Damaris to bolt her food, but a lively discussion about the visit to Raptors Rise kept her from eating too fast. Good thing. Indigestion wasn’t romantic.

  Rory seemed to be pacing himself, too, until pie and coffee were served. He’d polished off his slice before she was half-finished with hers.

  “Goodness, you must like cherry pie,” Kendra said. “How about another piece?”

  “I do love it, but no more for me, thank you.” He took a sip of his coffee and settled back in his chair. “How did Zane get started rescuin’ birds of prey?”

  “He’s always loved raptors,” Kendra said. “He was living up in the cabin when he brought home his first injured golden. Built an enclosure for it near the cabin, nursed it back to health and released it again. That was the beginning.”

  “Amazin’.” Rory drummed his fingers silently against his thigh. “He just did what came naturally. I admire that enterprisin’ spirit.”

  “Me, too,” Damaris said. “I didn’t know that’s how he started.” She ate faster as Rory asked more questions about the growth of the operation. Meanwhile his fingers continued their restless tapping.

  Damaris finished her pie, but Kendra and Quinn were still eating theirs. She picked up her coffee mug and took a sip while moving her right knee until it touched Rory’s.

  His tapping stopped and he shifted his hand until it rested lightly on her thigh. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t press down, just left it there.

  How could such a minimal touch generate so much heat? Somehow she managed to sip her coffee and even contribute to the discussion as warmth from his touch spread, flowing in every direction, affecting her breathing, her heart rate, her sanity.

  Kendra finished her pie and glanced at Quinn. “Seconds?”

  “No, thanks. But it was delicious, kids.” He pushed back his chair. “Don’t worry about helping with the dishes tonight. We’ve got this.”

  “We absolutely do,” Kendra added.

  Rory was out of his seat in no time. “If you’re sure.”

  “Very sure. Take off, you two.”

  Damaris put down her coffee and stood. “Dinner was great. Thank you.”

  “Aye, thank you.” Rory took her hand. “We’ll see you in the mornin’.”

  Damaris glanced at Kendra and Quinn, who were both grinning. What did a person say at a moment like this? She gulped. “’Bye.” Then she hurried out the door with Rory.

  He started off with ground-eating strides, then caught himself and slowed. “Sorry, lass. I’m a wee bit impatient.”

  “Do you want to forget about putting on your—”

  “Nay, your heart’s set on it. I unpacked everythin’ before I left the cabin. Made the bed and laid a fire on the hearth, too.”

  “That was sweet of you.”

  “I’m partial to makin’ love by the warmth of a cracklin’ fire. And I’m glad I have a reason to wear everythin’ at least once.” He smiled. “Dunna expect to have it on long, though.”

  “At least long enough for me to take a mental picture.”

  “Ye can take a real one.”

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “Nay. I’d be honored.” After they climbed the steps to the porch, he
let go of her hand. “It’s best if ye stay here while I put it all on.”

  “Are you afraid I might tackle you the minute you’re naked?”

  He smiled. “Maybe I won’t be naked. Maybe I’ll leave on my briefs.”

  “Don’t you dare. I want the true Scot experience.”

  “Then that’s what ye’ll get, lass.” He gave her a quick, fierce kiss before going inside.

  She moved toward one of the Adirondack chairs but changed her mind. An owl had tuned up in the trees near the cabin. Going back down the steps, she tried to gauge its position. The scent of wood smoke told her Rory had lit the fire before putting on his Scottish duds.

  Another owl hooted from a different tree. Maybe they were the same pair she and Rory had heard last night. The soft call went out and was answered. Owl courtship. Was it simple for owls? Or did it seem that way because she didn’t know their challenges?

  For several minutes the owls were the only sound in the still night. Then another sound was added to the owls’ mating call—the chime of a cell phone from inside the cabin. It stopped and Rory’s brogue drifted out to her.

  Her stomach tightened. Only one person could be calling. His brother. Pulling her cell from her pocket, she checked the time. It was three in the morning in Scotland.

  She turned toward the cabin as the door opened and Rory came out, backlit by the light coming through it. Her breath caught. She’d never seen anyone so beautiful in her life.

  But he wasn’t smiling. Even without his signature grin, though, he was magnificent. His loose cotton shirt was the stuff of romance novel covers. Heck, the entire presentation fit that description.

  A length of dark blue and green plaid hung from his shoulder, held there with an ornate pin. The plaid stretched diagonally across his broad chest and disappeared into the waist of the kilt belted around his slim hips.

  An embroidered pouch hung from the center of the kilt’s belt—the sporran. Kilts had no pockets so the sporran was practical, or so the story went. Why not admit it was a blatant attempt to draw the eye to a man’s family jewels? White socks with tassels at the cuff hugged his muscled calves. Soft leather shoes were on his feet.