A cowboy never quits, p.8
A Cowboy Never Quits, page 8
“Sounds like me,” he said, instead of rising to the bait. “But like I said, the rest of the family…”
This time her smile broke free, and she raised her hand in a fist. “Team Mama Dawson all the way.”
“What makes you think it’s my mom? My other brothers are equally responsible for you being here.”
“Okay, but saying Team Everyone but Wade seems kinda mean.” She gave a nonchalant shrug. “Just remember, you asked for it.”
He chuckled. “Good thing you reminded me, because I certainly don’t remember asking for it.” He tossed the towel aside and spun outward, his butt resting against the counter. “I mainly came to help because I feel bad about earlier. It’s my job to protect my family, and we barely know you, so I was just being cautious is all.”
“Is that an apology, or you telling me to expect mood swings?”
“Yes,” he said, and she laughed.
He twisted to face her, his eyes locking on hers. “I’m sorry about this morning. How was your walk back?”
“It was just fine.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“I mean, my ankles are still itchy from all those poky bushes, and these fancy shoes—which really aren’t fancy at all, for the record—don’t have much support.”
“There’s a place in town called Horsefeathers Western Store. You can get some boots there. If you want. If you plan on staying.”
“I do,” she said, no wiggle room, and while he originally hadn’t wanted her to take the job, her response provided him a measure of comfort. He could appreciate someone who got back on the horse after it kicked them off. He wasn’t sure if the horrible biscuits were the horse in this instance or it was him being an ass, but the idea was the same.
Jessica sighed, her chest rising and falling with the motion, and he had to remind himself not to let his gaze dwell there. Lifting it to her profile didn’t make the thread of attraction stitching its way through him go away. If anything, it grew as he took in the slant of her nose and the freckles dotting the bridge of it, drawing him right to those big, brown eyes. “I survived, and so did Chloe. And surviving a day means we can survive another.”
“Solid theory.”
She rubbed her neck, and then her eyes met his. “It’ll get easier from here, right?”
Truth or hope? He wished they were the same, but that wasn’t the way the world worked. While he liked to take emotion out of things, he also was a firm believer in logic, and logic said she needed hope.
“It’ll get better,” he said, which wasn’t exactly the same as easier, and he didn’t specify when.
She nodded a couple of times, then wished him good night.
Wade echoed it back, and as he watched her go, he prayed that the way she completely threw him off his game and brought up emotions he usually kept under lock would get better, too.
Chapter 8
“Nothing. For the third day in a row,” Chloe told the horse as she led him to a patch of grass near the creek for a breather and a snack. While Rowdy munched, she pulled out the granola bar she’d stuck in her bag.
The crumpled coffee cup was next to it, and she wished she’d thrown it away. Not because she was a neat freak—the apartment she shared with Mom often looked like someone had ransacked the place.
A pang hit her square in the chest. That was the reason she should’ve thrown it away. Mom had handed her the to-go cup this morning and whispered, “Extra strong with lots of chocolate creamer and sugar.”
“Great,” Chloe had said. “Now I’ll have energy for all the shit shoveling.”
“I’m trying here, Chloe.”
“Then let’s go home. Let’s try there.”
Mom’s face had fallen, along with Chloe’s hopes and dreams. It’d been five days since they’d arrived. It wasn’t all completely awful.
Like the horse. Rowdy nudged her shoulder, and Chloe ran her hand up his nose to his forehead, giving him a gentle scratch. Aiden said horses were good listeners, and for the first few days she’d refused to utter anything but instructional words to Rowdy. It seemed like giving in to talk to the horse. Or to the counselor. Or to anyone.
But Chloe felt like she was going to burst with the need to talk about her feelings and everything that was—or wasn’t—happening. While those kinds of conversations used to take place with Mom, that wasn’t an option anymore. Especially with anything involving Tyler.
“Mom would probably love to say, ‘I told you so,’” Chloe continued, patting Rowdy’s muscled neck as he bent to eat more grass. “I only have twenty minutes every other day to even try to talk to Tyler, and without a phone, I have to revert to archaic methods of contacting him. But he hasn’t answered any of my messages. Not on Instagram, and not on Facebook, which was really a desperate attempt, since nobody besides adults even uses it anymore. I can’t even remember the passwords for my other places because they were all on my phone. That keychain saver thing seems like a smart idea until you realize it made you dumber. Know what I mean?”
Rowdy whinnied, leading her to believe he was pretty tech savvy for a horse.
“I bet he’s just grounded. If anything, it’ll give us more to talk about when he finally answers, right? I mean, it’d be nice to know that I’m not the only one with a mom who’s gone completely crazy.” And yet, she missed talking to her. Crazy used to be one of her favorites of Mom’s qualities. They’d laugh and dance and eat dessert for dinner. Where other mothers were serious and stern, that’d never been Mom. Not before last week.
Sure, Chloe had gotten in trouble here and there, but nothing to this extent. A few months ago was the first time she’d ever been grounded, and while she hated that Mom hadn’t liked her friends or her boyfriend, she’d thought eventually her mother would see past the rough exteriors to the real people inside, the way she usually did.
At the very, very beginning, when Chloe had first told her about Tyler, Mom had asked if he was cute and funny and demanded to see pictures. They’d done some light cyberstalking, and Mom had agreed he was totally cute. The speech about being careful with boys and Chloe letting Mom know when she was ready for the next step was resurrected, but it’d been the kind of speech that left her sure that she could go to Mom. For anything.
But now? Chloe tossed the crumpled cup away from her. Hurt and anger battled it out in her chest, and her breathing grew too shallow. Mom was supposed to be the person who was on her team. She’d promised to always be on her team.
Rowdy whinnied again, an edge of concern to the sound this time. She swore he could sense her moods, and Aiden was right about him not interrupting. Rowdy moved closer and stomped a hoof, demanding her attention, and Chloe turned and hugged a horse. Like some kind of crazy person.
Even crazier, it was nice.
Then she heard more hoofbeats and the buzz of voices. Any second they’d have company. She and the other teens didn’t get a whole lot of unsupervised time, and her cute jailer who claimed not to be a jailer would be arriving soon.
She slowly let her arms slip from Rowdy’s neck, and naturally her gaze fell and fixated on the crumpled coffee cup. On the piece of trash marring the greenery and those tiny purple flowers scattered throughout. Under other circumstances, she might admit the emptiness was prettier and more calming than expected.
With a groan, she picked up the cup and shoved it back in her bag, where it’d undoubtedly pop up to give her more conflicted feelings later.
“There you are,” Aiden said, trotting his horse over to her.
“Don’t worry. If I was attempting a jail break, I’d be much sneakier than this.”
He bit back a smile, his attempt at a stern expression not working. “They sent me ahead to make sure you were okay.”
“And here I am—totally okay. Rowdy just likes to go super fast, and so do I.” Chloe gave the horse’s side a rewarding pat. “It’s painful to wait for the slowpokes, isn’t it, Rowdy?”
He neighed, because he was cool like that.
She jerked her chin toward Izzy and Jacob, who were crashing through the trees astride their horses, a reddish-brown gelding named Bud and a white mare they called Spook. “Plus, we’re pretty sure Bud and Spook are low-key dating, and we were trying to give them some alone time.”
Again, Rowdy neighed, corroborating her story.
Amusement danced across the curve of Aiden’s mouth. “How insightful and thoughtful of you two. Can’t say I’ve picked up on that vibe.”
Chloe shrugged. “Don’t feel too bad. The whole point of low key is that not a lot of people know. Still, I don’t want to get in the way of their destiny.”
“Well, it’s a relief that’s the reason you raced ahead. Because if you attempted a jail break”—he leaned across his saddle, his forearms crossed on the top of the saddle horn—“I’d have no choice but to personally hunt you down.”
Chloe gathered her reins, swung up onto Rowdy, and gave her hair a haughty flip. “I’m afraid you’d like that a little too much.”
He shook his head, and the last of the group entered the clearing. But as Aiden turned toward them, she was almost sure he muttered, “I’m afraid I would, too.”
* * *
How did one go about picking the right boots for ranch work? Jessica studied the row of pointy-toed shoes. Common sense said she should choose the most boring, sturdy pair.
But they had these cute hot-pink ones with stitched flame shapes up the sides, some that were a mix of pink and lighter pink, and an embroidered pair that made her want to rock boots.
They want how much? Jess dropped her hand from the price tag and backed away slowly, as if touching the embroidered boots might make someone run up and demand payment.
Since footwear seemed too overwhelming, she browsed the other sections. Jeans with gemstones and shirts with bling and colorful patterns greeted her at every turn. All this time she thought western wear wasn’t her style, but that was because she’d never seen the blinged-out options.
I should buy one for Wade. Just grin real big and present him with the most over-the-top shirt I can find. Ooh, I wonder if they have any with fringe…
Beyond that night in the kitchen when he’d apologized, she and Wade hadn’t had many conversations that lasted more than a minute. They mostly exchanged polite hellos, and since she found herself wanting to talk to him more while knowing that was a bad idea, she’d given him a wide berth.
For one, getting attached to the guy was a bad idea. Two, she knew he loved the rules too much to even entertain the idea of crossing lines. And three, if he snapped and went back to being curt, it’d sting, and she’d rather pretend she was killing her first week of work, no complications.
He’s still bossy as hell. This morning she’d mentioned she was finally going into town, and he’d told her the rain had made the roads rougher than usual, so take the truck, adding that the keys were in the office. Since she hadn’t wanted to admit to another skill set she’d embellished, she’d simply nodded. There was no way she was driving a big manual-transmission truck into town. While there’d been a few spots where her car had struggled, she’d made it. Barely, but still.
“Need help finding somethin’?” a female voice asked, and Jessica turned to the woman who’d asked the question.
To behave or not to behave?
A prank gift was out of her budget, and she and Wade were in a good place, so she should probably keep it that way. Which means I need to behave, dang it. Jess dropped the checkered black-and-purple shirt. “Oh, I was just sort of looking around.”
“What are you looking for? We have some lovely shirts in the women’s section.”
“Boots,” Jess said. “Let’s start with boots.”
The sales associate guided her toward the shoe section she’d fled from a few minutes ago, and Jess couldn’t help adding, “I’d like pretty ones, but, like, budget pretty ones.”
The salesgirl smiled. “I know just the pair.”
* * *
Jess added the giant tubs of potato salad and ribs next to the bags that held her new boots, as well as a pair of jeans and a shirt that’d been on clearance and matched the boots.
Over the last five days, she’d struggled her way through meal after meal. Some had turned out okay, but there’d been a few disasters in the mix. Like the incident with rolls that hadn’t risen and a too-thick soup she’d tried to turn into a casserole. It’d resisted, and soggy noodles in a pan wasn’t something you could easily choke down, especially with rocklike dough blobs moonlighting as rolls.
The next night she’d gone even simpler, just baked chicken and potatoes, sans bread. The green beans had boiled over, so while the kitchen smelled like she’d burned the food, no vegetables had been harmed.
Long story short, she was out of ideas and starting to worry about getting fired again.
Which was why, when she’d stepped out of Horsefeathers Western Store and seen the beam of sunshine pointing right to the local diner, she’d decided it was a sign.
Admittedly, when she’d stepped inside the Silver Saddle Diner and had seen the saddle-topped stools lining the bar, she wondered if God just had a funny sense of humor.
But it’d smelled amazing, and simply reading the menu items made her mouth water, so she’d ordered a ton of food, dipping into her savings to pay for it.
Once she returned to the ranch, she would throw it into pans to warm it up so that if anyone visited the kitchen, it would look like she’d worked hard to make it.
A white lie. A teeny, tiny one to get her through to tomorrow. She’d bought extra barbecue sauce to throw on to add her own twist, and she was totally going to learn how to make ribs eventually, so…
Who am I kidding? I’m desperate. No other word for it.
The door of the diner swung open, and Winona, the short, friendly woman who’d taken her order, ran over with another white bag. “You forgot the rolls.”
“Oops!” Jess planned on saying they were the frozen, pop-in-the-oven kind. That sounded realistic enough, right? That was how she’d done Thanksgiving the one—and only—time she’d attempted it.
Jessica took the warm bag and hugged it to her, the scent so amazing she had to fight the temptation to take one out and get a sneak-preview taste. “Thanks again. And, uh… Could you not mention to the Dawsons that I was here? I mean, if they straight up ask you, then I’m not asking you to lie, but…”
A big smile split Winona’s face, the white of her teeth contrasting with her russet skin and straight black hair. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that it’s hard coming up with new things to make every day. I just needed a break, and I have this other job, and…” Jess reached up and twisted a curl around her finger. “I’m a horrible person. Never mind. Go ahead and call them up and tell them I’m a fraud, and I won’t blame you one bit.”
Winona lifted one of Jess’s hands and gave it a consoling pat. “Full disclosure, we heard you were having some trouble with your biscuits.”
Jess’s cheeks flamed. She wanted to know how and where and why, and if that meant no one could keep a secret. She glanced around like a paranoid lunatic. The shops lining Main Street were all older brick buildings with varying colors of fading paint. There was the clothing store, a hardware store, a dry cleaner, and a building that used to be a movie theater but had been converted to an Italian restaurant.
Ooh, if I run out of options next week, we can have Italian.
“If you ever want to come on down and hang out in the kitchen of the diner,” Winona continued, “I’d be happy to show you a few simple meals.”
Jess spun back to face her, abandoning her attempts to look for spies who might out her for buying tonight’s dinner. “Seriously?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I was all set to tackle hug you until you went and called me ma’am.” Jess wrinkled her nose. “It makes me feel so old.”
“’Round here, people are big on respect, so I call everyone ma’am. And what are you, anyway, twenty-three? Twenty-four?”
“Winona, you’re already my favorite person in town. No need to keep up the flattery,” Jess said with a laugh. She placed the rolls next to the bags with the ribs and potato salad and slammed her trunk. The latch didn’t engage—stupid thing was about fifty-fifty these days. Since she didn’t have money for things like spotty latches, she hadn’t bothered taking it into a shop. Another slam, followed by leaning her weight on it and counting to five, and it stayed in place.
Winona watched the entire thing with a nonjudgmental smile. It still made Jess feel like a bit of a hot mess, but as a single mom, she’d often lived with things that only worked part of the time. Most everything could be temporarily fixed with a trick, though, and she was an expert at finding the right maneuvers to make do.
With the trunk secure, she asked for Winona’s number and stored it in her phone. “I’ll definitely be calling to take you up on your offer. Thank you so much.”
The time flashed across the screen as Jess closed out her contacts, sending her heart rate into overdrive. She needed to smuggle all this food into the kitchen before the guys returned from whatever they were doing out in the fields today. She called out a last goodbye, climbed into her car, and pushed the speed limit as she drove the mostly empty road out of town.
As she turned onto the road that led to the ranch, her tires slipped. A grinding noise sounded underneath her car, and she winced as she bumped farther down the road. The ruts she’d made in the mud on her way into town had partially dried, and it was like maneuvering around oil slicks, only to find crusty jumps not meant for a little car like hers.
“Oh, crap!” She hit a boggy spot, and she should’ve been going faster to get through it, but she’d been going slow to avoid the ruts. Jess pushed down on the accelerator, depressing it to the floor. Her tires slipped and spun, mud whipping up and splattering her back window, but the car didn’t move forward.
