A Real Cowboy Always Trusts His Heart

by Stephanie Rowe

  He sighed and pressed his lips together as he gently thumbed her tear away.

  Dammit. She didn't want to be like this, all weak and pathetic. She hadn't come back here to be a burden on anyone. She pulled away. "You know what? It's fine. I'm happy to help her out. It'll be fine. Everything's fine." She stood up, gripping her coffee. "I'll just change and go."

  "Wait." Ryder caught her wrist, gently pulling her to a stop.

  Zoey bit her lip and glanced at him. "What?"

  "Meet me here after your shift? I have an idea."

  Desperate hope leapt through her. "An idea for what?" Fixing the empty void inside her? A direction? A how-to guide on slapping some sense into her stupid head and getting herself back on track? Because those would be super helpful.

  "It's a surprise."

  She sighed. A new set of earrings wouldn't help. She'd already tried that. "What kind of surprise?"

  He grinned. "Don't you trust me?"

  She hesitated. She used to. Did she now?

  Sadness flashed in his eyes. "Stupid question," he said softly. "I don't deserve your trust, I know. But it's a good surprise. Meet here after your shift?"

  She managed a smile. "It'll be super late. I'm sure I'll be exhausted—"

  "It's agreed, then. After your shift." He grabbed the bags of clothes. "If you aren't here, I'll track you down. You know I can find you anywhere, ZoeyBear, so don't test me."

  She couldn't help the small smile as she followed him up the stairs. "It's kind of fun to test you."

  "I know. Drives me nuts."

  Her smile faded at his words. "Is that what happened? Do I drive you nuts?"

  He stopped in her doorway and turned to face her. With a sigh, he dropped the bags on the floor and walked over to her. He slid his hands down her arms and encircled her wrists with his fingers. "We need to talk, don't we?"

  Did she really want to know what had happened that night? Yes. She needed to. Maybe resolution over that night would start a healing process that she couldn't seem to accomplish on her own. A large part of her didn't want to rehash a crappy night from a decade ago, but it would be a lie to say that it didn't still haunt her. Reluctantly, she nodded. Maybe that was why she'd come home. To face Ryder. To start at the beginning and heal. "I think that would be good."

  He sighed. "Tonight."

  "Can we do it now?" Otherwise, she'd be stressing about it all day. Was he going to say things that would wrench the knife into her heart more deeply? She wasn't sure there was anything he could say that would erase the pain. "Get it over with?"

  He hesitated. "You have to leave soon. Lissa's expecting you."

  "It's been ten years, Ryder. Just talk to me, for God's sake." She searched his face. "Just tell me. Right now. It's time."

  He rubbed his fingers on the inside of her wrists, then finally sighed. "You deserve more than a rush job. Tonight. I swear."

  She wrinkled her nose. "You're a pain in the ass."

  "Yeah. But I'll tell you everything tonight."

  She searched his face. "You promise?"

  He met her gaze. "I promise."

  She knew he meant it, and sudden fear gripped her. She was finally going to find out why the boy she'd loved, the only person in the world she'd ever allowed to get close to her, the only guy she'd ever trusted, had made love to her and then walked away without another word.

  Could she handle the truth?

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Tonight, ZoeyBear," he said softly. "Tonight."

  She was going to find out.

  Chapter Nine

  Twelve hours later, Zoey was beyond exhausted, and happy about it. Happy because it meant she would probably be able to sleep tonight, instead of lying awake all night, haunted by emotions she couldn't shake.

  She could barely keep her eyes open as she drove along Ryder's driveway, her injured ankle was aching from waitress hell, and her throat was sore from talking all night. Not one Stockton had come in. No one she knew at all, despite the fact she'd grown up here. She'd been anonymous, practically running back and forth from the kitchen with food, too busy to think about anything but what the hell the customer had just asked her for.

  It had been exhausting, but at the same time, it had been a beautiful relief to be so busy she didn't have time to dwell. She'd even found herself laughing a few times, sharing a moment with customers over french fries or a cheeseburger gone wrong.

  Cleaning up with Lissa had been enjoyable, too. Lissa was fun, hard-working, and had a sense of humor that Zoey appreciated. She hadn't been friends with a woman for a long time, and it had felt good to be working side-by-side with her. Travis had been home with their daughter, so it had just been them. It hadn't taken Lissa's five million "thank you's" for Zoey to know that her help had made a difference tonight.

  She'd mattered, and it felt good.

  So, when Lissa had begged her to come back for the rest of the week to help out…well…she'd said yes.

  Four more days in town. At the time, she'd almost leapt at the chance to lose herself in the distraction of waitressing, but once she'd gotten in the car and started driving, the high of the evening had quickly begun to fade.

  Staying in town for a few more days hadn't seemed like such a bad idea at the time, but as Zoey drove toward the house and Ryder, the weight began to settle on her again.

  What if tonight was terrible with him? What if she couldn't take staying in the same house with him afterwards? Was she going to sleep in her car?

  She parked her car in front of the house and rested her arms on the steering wheel, staring at the lights blazing from inside the house. Was Ryder in there, waiting for her?

  The front door opened, and he stepped out onto the front porch.

  Her breath caught as he folded his arms and leaned against a pillar, waiting for her. He was wearing jeans and cowboy boots, his dark hair was reflecting the glow from the porch light, and his biceps were so freaking muscular. He was pure male, and her stupid heart did a little leap at the sight of him.

  This was it.

  Time to break down the walls that had stood between them for the last decade.

  She took a deep breath, and then opened her car door. "Hi."

  "Hi." His voice was low and rough, sliding under her skin like the caress she'd dreamed of so many times when she was younger. "How was the night?"

  "Long. Hard. A good distraction." Her sneakers crunched on the gravel as she walked toward him. "She talked me into another four days."

  He smiled, that same adorable smile that used to make her feel so safe. "She's pesky like that. Every Stockton has spent many a day in that place helping out. I think she might actually avoid hiring actual staff so she has an excuse to keep us busy. Welcome to her family."

  Zoey relaxed slightly at his easy tone. "Thanks. She's really nice."

  "That she is." Ryder didn't move as she walked up the steps, blocking her path.

  She stopped. "Are you going to let me in?"

  "Yeah." He didn't move, though. He just studied her, searching her face as if her eyes held the answers to the questions he'd been asking his entire life. "Zoey," he said softly. "You're really here."

  Her heart tightened. "Don't talk to me like that, Ryder. You're not allowed."

  His brow furrowed. "Like what?"

  "Like you care." She pushed him out of the way. "I'm going inside." She waited for him to stop her, but he didn't.

  He just followed her into the house and closed the door behind them. "Want a drink?"

  "No." She headed right for the stairs. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

  His voice stopped her. "Zoey."

  She closed her eyes but didn't turn around. "What?"

  "Come to the porch for a moment."

  She shook her head. "I don't want to do this anymore," she whispered. "Forget it."

  He said nothing, but she heard his footsteps as he walked up behind her. She tensed as he slid his fingers through hers. The feel of his hand arou
nd hers made her suck in her breath. Why did it feel so good to touch him? "Come on, ZoeyBear. I got you something."

  She held herself rigid. "Can we do it in the morning?"

  "Nope." He tugged gently on her hand. "Come on. You'll like it." Still gripping her hand, he began to back toward the porch, pulling her with him.

  She opened her eyes with a sigh. "You're incorrigible."

  He grinned, and she realized there was a sparkle in his eye, one she hadn't seen since she'd been back. "I am. I think you'll like this. Come on."

  Realizing that resistance was futile, Zoey gave in and allowed him to lead her down the hall toward the kitchen. He stopped just before the porch door. "Close your eyes."

  She raised her brows. "Seriously?"

  "Yep." He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at her.

  She giggled at his goofiness, a tiny spark of excitement fluttering through her. "If I close my eyes, I might fall asleep on my feet."

  "No problem. I work out. I could lift you with my left pinkie." He rolled his eyes impatiently. "Close your damn eyes, Wilson. I got shit to show you."

  She burst out laughing and closed her eyes. "Fine. You're so bossy."

  "Damn straight I am." He set his hands on her shoulders. "Walk forward, hot stuff. I'll direct you."

  She settled into the strength of his hands and started walking, limping slightly. "Don't drive me into a wall."

  "Damn. You ruined the surprise. I guess I'll have to come up with something else. Watch the carpet."

  She lifted her foot high enough to clear the edge of the rug. "It's kind of chilly out here."

  "It's Wyoming spring. What do you expect? This ain't the tropics of Boston, girl." He stopped her. "Okay. Hold out your hand."

  "Should I be scared?" She put her hand out, palm up.

  "Probably." He set something in her hand, but she couldn't tell what it was. "Okay. Go for it."

  She opened her eyes and looked down. In her hand was a paintbrush, the same kind he'd bought her as a sweet sixteen birthday present. Back then, it had been the most beautiful, most expensive, most thoughtful gift she'd ever received. Her heart clenched, and she looked up at him. "I don't paint anymore," she said reluctantly. "I don't even own a canvas."

  He grinned and gestured to his right.

  Her gaze jumped in that direction, and then she gasped. An easel was set up by the back wall, with a large canvas on it. In front of it was a tall stool, and on a table to the left were more paint brushes, a palette, and her favorite paint. It was set up so she could look across the river and plains and paint the scene that had taken her breath away earlier that morning.

  "Oh, Ryder." She breathed his name, too stunned to say anything more. His thoughtfulness was overwhelming.

  His face softened. "Go check it out."

  Fighting against the almost insurmountable need to cry, she silently walked over to it and spread her palm tentatively across the canvas, feeling the fabric under her fingers. She could almost feel how alive it was, begging to be brought to life with magic that had once been a part of her. "It's beautiful," she whispered.

  "Painting used to make you smile," Ryder said quietly. "I was hoping it would help you find your smile again."

  At his words, tears filled her eyes. "Is it that obvious?" she asked. She tried to hide it. To be strong.

  "To me, yeah."

  She looked over at him. "I stopped painting because the pictures wouldn't come anymore," she admitted. "I would sit there at the easel, and nothing would happen. Eventually, I just stopped trying." She picked up a tube of paint, waiting for images to flash through her mind of what that paint wanted to be, but there was nothing. Just…nothing. She looked at him. "Still nothing." Where had her spark gone? She needed to find it so desperately.

  He sighed and held out his hand. "Come sit. We need to talk."

  She tensed. "About prom night?"

  "Yeah." He continued to hold his hand out to her. "It's time."

  For a long moment, she didn't move. Now that the chance for the truth was here, she was suddenly afraid.

  "We need to do this," he said quietly. "We both do."

  She met his gaze, and saw the raw pain in them, pain that surprised her. Had that night been haunting him all this time as well? God, how stupid they'd been to let one night mean so much. He was right. It was time to let it go. She put her hand in his. "Okay."

  Chapter Ten

  "I'm an ass."

  Zoey almost laughed at the serious expression on Ryder's face as he sat across from her at the kitchen table. "That's not an excuse, Ryder."

  He ran his hand through his hair, shifting restlessly. She was surprised at how tense he was. She'd thought he hadn't given her a thought since she'd left, but she was beginning to think she was wrong.

  "No, it's not an excuse. It's a reason."

  She frowned. "What do you mean?"

  He stood up and paced across the kitchen. His shoulders were taut, and his jaw was flexing. When he reached the far side of the kitchen, as distant as he could get and still be in the same room, he turned to face her. "You were eighteen. Innocent. I stole that."

  She leaned back in her chair, watching him. "Innocent? Really?"

  "Yeah."

  She leaned forward. "Here's how I see it. My parents died in a wreck when I was seven. I barely remember them, but I remember my uncle and how he would look at me. I know why you and your brothers and Dane slept in my room. I knew what you were protecting me from."

  He looked at her sharply. "He didn't—"

  "No, because you never let him." Sadness filled her heart. "I saw the rages your dad went into. I saw the cigarette burns on your arms from your dad. I saw the string of women who lived in your house after your mom died. I saw the anger and fury in your eyes, and those of your brothers. Innocence died for me when my parents died, Ryder. Hanging out with the Stocktons opened my eyes even more. I was far from innocent on the night of my prom."

  Ryder rubbed his hand over his forearm, where a tattoo of an eagle now covered the marks his father had left on him. "You were a virgin."

  She sighed. "Yes, this is true."

  He stalked back across the room and perched on the edge of a chair. "You were this innocent, ebullient, sassy kid. You were like my little sister, and I would have gone after anyone who hurt you. When you were ten, and I was a fucked-up sixteen-year-old, you were the only thing that got me off my shit. If I hadn't had to make sure you were safe, I would have gone off drinking or turned to drugs to get away from the monster in my head, but I knew that if I was fucked up, no one would look out for you." He searched her face. "You saved me, Zoey. Without you, I would have followed my dad into hell."

  Her throat tightened. She knew none of the Stockton brothers ever drank alcohol because of their dad, but she hadn't known that Ryder had abstained for her. "I didn't know I was helping you."

  "You saved me."

  His words were simple, but they made her eyes get a little teary. "I'm glad I was able to give you something back. You gave me safety, and I treasured that." She thought of how Ryder's fury and anger had made her feel safe. It was never directed at her. Instead, it surrounded her with a shield that no one would dare penetrate. "So, why did you walk away after prom night?"

  He swore under his breath and got up, pacing away from her again.

  She draped her arm across the back of her chair and turned to watch him, surprised by the level of tension radiating through him. He'd fought through a lot of tough stuff as a kid, but since she'd been back, he'd seemed more chill and relaxed, but right now, she could feel those same emotions rumbling beneath the surface.

  He stood in front of the sink, his hands clasped on top of his head. "You were Dane's little sister. That's how I always thought of you. My friend's little sister. When he said that you weren't going to the prom because no one would go with you, I got pissed. What the fuck was wrong with the kids that no one could see how amazing you were?"

  She smiled, rememberin
g his prom offer. "You stormed into my room, said that all the kids in my class were stupid fucks, and you were taking me to my damn prom, and then left."

  He grimaced. "Yeah, it was classy, right?"

  "It was you. It was perfect."

  He let out his breath. "Here's the thing, Zoey. When I made the offer, it was to my best friend's little sister. But Dane came to me the next day and he said…" He swore. "He said that you were falling in love with me, and I had to back off. He was worried you would decide to give up your scholarship to Harvard and stay in town to be with me."

  Zoey blinked. "Dane said that?"

  "Yeah." Ryder walked back over and sat down again at the table. "Here's the thing, Zoey. Before Dane told me that, I'd never thought about you romantically. I was six years older than you were. You were a kid. But when he said that, he put something in my head, and when you walked out the door in that dress on prom night." He shook his head. "You were a fucking goddess. In that moment, you were no longer a kid. You were the most beautiful, most amazing woman and all I wanted to do was make you mine."

  She blinked, her cheeks heating up at the roughness in his voice. "Really?"

  "Yeah." He leaned forward. "I seduced you that night, Zoey. I knew I was going to have you. I had to have you."

  "You didn't seduce me," she said. "I wanted you. I chose that dress on purpose—"

  "No. You were an eighteen-year-old innocent. I was a twenty-four-year-old fuck-up who had no business seducing a girl whose destiny was to become more than the salvation of some bastard pig who would never be good enough for her."

  The venom in his voice was startling, both in its intensity, and how it was directed at himself. "Ryder—"

  "No." He held up his hand to silence her. "I need to finish."

  She bit her lip and nodded. "Okay."

  "When we were lying there after we made love, you were in my arms, your head on my chest. I could feel the beat of your heart against my ribs. You were so small and vulnerable, your skin so smooth and pure compared to all the scars on mine. You smelled like lilacs. It was the best moment of my entire fucking life. I lay there, holding you, and, then this thought went through my mind."