Grumpy cowboy, p.18
Grumpy Cowboy, page 18
“I met this woman at Ford’s math night,” he said. “Rosalie Reynolds?” He mumbled the name, and Travis looked at Will.
“Did you get that?”
“I did not,” Will said.
“Rosalie Reynolds,” Lee barked. “She’s this super-smart, super-attractive, way-out-of-my-league game developer. There’s no way I can ask her. We don’t run in the same circles at all.”
Travis’s mind spit all kinds of ideas at him, but it was Will who said, “This is easy, Lee. She was at Ford’s math night? Why?”
“She did a demo on this math facts video game.”
“Did you buy the game for Ford?” Will asked.
“No,” Lee said. “It was—” His brain obviously caught up to his mouth, because he once again cut off, his eyebrows flying toward the ceiling.
“Buy the game for Ford,” Will said. “Then, you’ll have a reason to contact her. Next thing you know, you have the woman’s number.”
“Then you’ll ask her to the wedding,” Travis said, grinning at Lee.
“This isn’t that easy,” Lee said, but the wheels were obviously spinning in his mind.
“All right,” Travis said, plucking Will’s phone from his hand as he had it out again. “Now, let’s talk about how you’re going to make up with Gretchen…”
“Travis,” Will growled. “I was texting with one of our cowboys about his vacation days.”
“Come on, bro,” Travis said. “This is way more important than that.”
“I agree with Trav,” Lee said. “You shouldn’t walk away from her just because a few things got hard while she rebuilt her shop.”
“That’s not why I walked away,” Will said.
“You’re who she wants,” Lee said, and when he spoke in his older-brother, caring tone, Travis usually sat up and listened.
Will did too, and he looked past Travis as they arrived at the check-out counter to order his tuxedo. “You think so?”
“I know so,” Lee said. “You’re just like Trav—you get too far inside your head. You’ve invented all these reasons you can’t be together, none of which Gretchen has actually said.”
Travis nodded in an overdramatic way, and Will sighed. “Fine,” he said. “So how do I get her back?”
Travis took his credit card back from the salesman. “I have a few ideas,” he said. “Actually, these come from Shay, but she’s going to be so proud of me for finding a way to suggest them today.” He beamed at his brothers, but for some reason, they didn’t smile back.
24
Lee couldn’t sleep, and he spent a good thirty minutes tossing from left to right before he got up. He paused in the doorway of his son’s bedroom, the silver moonlight falling across the floor but not touching the boy.
Ford meant the world to him, and Lee questioned whether he should try to bring another woman into either of their lives. He had Martha, his mother, and she didn’t seem to worry about dating or the men she introduced into Ford’s life.
He leaned into the doorway, the chill of the air conditioning kissing his bare chest. Lee had never felt so torn in his life. He’d always known he’d inherit Sweet Water Falls Farm and the accompany dairy operation, Cooper & Co. Always, and he’d always wanted it.
He loved working outside, loved cows and horses and dogs and goats and chickens, and he couldn’t remember a day he didn’t love putting on his cowboy boots and hat, finishing his coffee, and heading out into the dawn of a new day.
When he’d married Martha, he’d not had a single second thought. When she’d filed for divorce only a couple of years later, he’d been expecting it. He even paid her back for the fee to do so. Lee never doubted what he felt or what the next step should be.
Until now.
Ford was almost nine years old. He’d be moving into the fourth grade this year, and he understood things Lee didn’t want to explain to him. At the same time, Lee could admit he was lonely—only to himself—and he wanted to try to tame the temper-tantrum-beast inside him and find someone he could kiss in the evenings. Someone who would bring him hot tea when he didn’t feel well, and who’d curl into him when he tossed and whispered that she was right there and everything was okay.
Sighing, he turned away from Ford’s bedroom and padded down the hall in only his boxer shorts. He wanted to be someone’s soft place to fall too. He wanted to hold his wife while she cried and reassure her that he was right there, and he’d make sure whatever had upset her, he’d fix.
Right now, in his dark kitchen, he opened the fridge and flooded his retinas with light. Squinting, he pulled out an energy drink and popped the tab. If he was lucky, he’d get down a few swallows, find his cowboy courage, and get Ford’s backpack from the boy’s bedroom.
Lee drank a lot of coffee during the day, but his energy drinks had twice as much caffeine, and he felt it infusing him with strength to get this job done. Travis’s wedding sat on the calendar, almost like a death date to Lee. A noose around his neck he felt tightening centimeter by centimeter.
He took another swallow of the grape-flavored drink and slammed the can on the countertop. A bit splashed out and hit his hand, but he just wiped it on his shorts as he strode back toward the back of the cabin. Ford slept like the dead, and it wasn’t hard for Lee to step into the bedroom, cross it to the corner desk, and lift the backpack from the floor.
His son hadn’t closed it, and Lee wasn’t surprised when the front of the pack flopped open and several papers fell out. He stooped, scooped them all back in, and kept going.
Out in the kitchen again, Lee switched on the light and dumped the backpack upside down. Everything inside came clattering or fluttering out, his heart beating the same way against his ribs and down into his stomach.
It had been weeks since the order form for Fire-breathing Facts had come home. Ford had mentioned it once, and Lee couldn’t even remember what he’d said about it. Maybe Martha had bought the program for their son; he honestly didn’t know.
She did most of Ford’s homework with him. She signed the permission forms. She dealt with ninety-percent of the school stuff. As he sifted through old, graded homework papers, a note about a field trip that was three weeks past, and the handwriting sheets he found so insufferable, he didn’t find the note about the software.
Desperation built inside him until finally, he had to admit it wasn’t there. He shoved everything back inside Ford’s pack and very nearly tossed it out the window in his frustration. He pulled back on his own inner fire-breathing dragon, his chest heaving, and forced himself to think.
“You have the Internet,” he said right out loud. Because he lived in a three-bedroom cabin and didn’t have much space, the computer sat on the edge of the living room carpet, almost in the dining area of the kitchen. Lee wanted it where he could see what Ford did too, and he picked up his energy drink and went toward the machine.
It brightened, and his fingers flew across the keyboard as he searched for the software Rosalie Reynolds had been selling at math night almost seven weeks ago now. With the combination of her name and what Lee remembered about the program, the website for Curious Kids appeared before his eyes.
Fire-breathing Facts sat right at the top, and he clicked to learn more about it. The price nearly knocked him back to bed, and he was sure the flyer he hadn’t been able to find had contained a discount.
“So what?” he muttered to himself, actually leaning forward to see the screen better. He’d just gotten glasses last week, and he still wasn’t used to wearing them. “You think you can’t afford it?”
He could, and he put the software in his cart. Hesitation gripped him, and he paused, the mouse clicker hovering right over the purchase button. “Who else are you going to ask?”
He bought the software, and an announcement came up that said he’d have a confirmation email already and his product in hand very soon. He navigated to his email, and sure enough, the receipt for the math facts software sat there.
It had a customer service number, the website, and email address. Lee’s pulse pounced through his body, and his throat felt so, so dry.
“She probably has people who answer her customer service emails and phone calls,” he said. He didn’t have access to her personal line…yet.
That pesky yet touched his mind and wouldn’t let go. He went back to the Curious Kids website and poked around a little bit, finally clicking past all of the other products—only one other computer game—to the About page.
He sucked in a breath at the full-color, smiles-for-miles photo of Rosalie. The dark curls, the pink lips, the mesmerizing eyes. In the picture, she was clearly laughing, and Lee couldn’t take his eyes from the joy radiating from her.
When he finally did, he started to read the beginnings of her company.
Rosalie Reynolds has been developing educational games for almost two decades. She started when she was ten years old and her younger sister, who is autistic, needed a way to learn how to add and subtract. She finally launched Curious Kids in the Coastal Bend of Texas after developing and designing educational games for Pearson Parents and Educational Leadership for five years.
She is the sole employee and wears every label from CEO to shipping consultant. If you have a problem with any product from Curious Kids, when you call, you’ll get Rosalie personally.
Lee leaned away from the screen, his eyes unable to see the small text. His mind whirred, spitting back facts he’d read.
She has an autistic sister. So she’d be patient, right? Lee needed someone who could be patient with him, patient with Ford, and patient with farm life.
When he calls, he’ll get her on the other end of the line. If he called. Not when. If. Lee felt like he’d need an entire case of his grape energy drinks to dial Rosalie’s number, company or personal.
His brain misfired then, screaming something about how she’s only thirty years old.
“That can’t be right,” he muttered, leaning forward and squinting to be able to read the top of the paragraph again.
Rosalie Reynolds has been developing educational games for almost two decades. She started when she was ten years old…
That didn’t mean she was only thirty. Or “almost thirty,” which would be far worse. Surely, she hadn’t gone all the way back to age ten, and then added the two decades. It meant from the time she’d started working for the other companies.
“Has to,” Lee whispered. He was forty-two and not getting any younger. Down the hall, the alarm on his phone started to sing, and Lee groaned as he picked up his energy drink and went to turn it off.
He’d done what he could for now. He’d ordered the software. He could continue to grapple with himself for another day.
“Dad!” Ford came barreling into the administration building. “Look what came!” He waved a box left and right as he entered the office where Lee sat with Will. He still hadn’t spoken to Gretchen, and Lee didn’t know how to bring it up the way Travis did. The shopping trip only a few days ago had been excruciating for Lee too, but in a different way.
“What’s that?” Will asked, but Lee knew what it was. He let his heart bang and beat as Will whipped out his pocketknife and cut through the tape on the box.
“It was on the porch,” Ford said. “It didn’t even have a shipping label.” He looked from his uncle to Lee. “It just had my name on it.”
Will met Lee’s eyes, and Lee simply folded his arms across his chest so his heart wouldn’t beat right through skin and bone. Will pulled out the box with the giant, red, fire-breathing dragon, and Ford yelled.
“You bought it?” He spun and grinned at Lee, and he couldn’t keep his face straight when his son looked so happy. “Thanks, Dad!” He came around the desk and launched himself at Lee, the two of them laughing.
“Can I go put it on the computer right now?” Ford asked. “When did you get it?” He searched Lee’s face, and Lee had never been much of a liar.
“I ordered it on Saturday night,” he said. Sunday morning. Whatever. It was still dark when he’d put in the order.
“It came in one day?” Will asked, flipping over the shipping box. He looked up and met Lee’s eyes. His curiosity knew no bounds, and Lee shook his head just once. A silent plea for his brother to please wait a minute.
Since Will wasn’t Travis, and the man had more sense than even Lee himself, he snapped his mouth shut and went back to examining the shipping box.
Ford returned to Will and took the box with the disc inside. “I’m going to go put it on right now.”
“Okay,” Lee said. “But you can’t play for long. You have to go feed Queenie and help Grandpa with the steaks.”
Ford groaned and his shoulders slumped, but he’d do what he was supposed to do. He’d been working around the farm all day today, as it was a professional day for teachers and the students didn’t have to go to school. Lee would take him to school in the morning, and Martha would pick him up from there.
Then his son would be gone until the weekend.
Ford took his new prize and left the office. Lee watched him go, then waited for the outer door to slam closed. He flinched when it did, closing his eyes.
“You ordered it on Saturday night?” Will prompted. “And it was hand-delivered to your door by Monday afternoon.”
Lee wasn’t about to tell him it had been ordered about five a.m. on Sunday morning. He opened his eyes and met his brother’s. “Yes,” he said. “Apparently.”
“Who do you think delivered it?” He turned over the box again and held it up as if Lee hadn’t seen it. “Without a label?”
Lee swallowed, because he knew who. She is the sole employee and wears every label from CEO to shipping consultant. You’ll get Rosalie personally.
“I don’t know,” he said, and Will’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline.
“Lee—”
“Have you gone to talk to Gretchen?” Lee asked, glaring at his brother.
Will glared on back, his eyes throwing ninja stars and stabs of darkness into Lee’s face. “She’s busy on Mondays,” he said.
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Lee said, standing up. “I’m going to go monitor my son on the computer. You keep lying to yourself.”
“I’m not lying to anyone,” Will yelled as Lee left the office. But he was. He knew he was, and Lee knew he was. Lee also knew he was lying to himself as well. When he arrived at the cabin, he pulled out his phone and searched his email for the receipt he’d gotten from Curious Kids.
The phone number sat right there. He could just call and say thank you for hand-delivering the game, right? That would be appropriate, wouldn’t it?
Before he could, Ford came running out of the front door, the box in his hand. He skipped several stairs on the way down, causing Lee to have a mini-heart attack when he felt sure his son would trip and break both legs.
He hastened to get out of the truck, and he said, “Ford.”
The boy hadn’t even looked toward the driveway, but he did now. “The game doesn’t work,” he said, holding it up. “It just sits there and spins and doesn’t do anything.”
“You sure?” Lee asked, and Ford gave him a withering look, worthy of any Cooper. He reached his son and took the game. “Let me just try, okay?”
They went back into the house together, and sure enough, when Lee put in the disk, it spun. And spun, and spun. It never loaded, and it never prompted them to install the game. He wasn’t sure if his stomach was sick from excitement or all the caramels he’d been eating that afternoon. He’d gone to Gretchen’s re-opening, and he may have bought too many sweets.
“I’ll call them,” he said, pushing the button to make the tray spit out the disk. He had to call now, and his insides shook as he looked around for his phone. “Shoot, my phone’s in the truck. C’mon.”
“Are you going to call?”
“Yes,” Lee said, irritation shooting through him. “I paid a lot of money for this game.” He followed Ford back to the truck. “I’ll get you over to Grandma and Grandpa’s. Then I’ll call.”
“Dad.”
“I said I was going to call,” he barked at Ford, who fell silent. Regret lanced through Lee. “Sorry, bud,” he murmured.
“Sorry it doesn’t work,” Ford said.
“It’s not your fault.” Lee looked over at his son, but he stared out the side window. “Hey, Ford.”
He turned and looked at him. “It’s not your fault. I’ll call, and they’ll send another one. That’s all.”
He nodded, and Lee wished he could bring back the excitement and joy from only fifteen minutes ago. They pulled up to the white farmhouse, and Lee nodded toward it. “Go on now. Be helpful to your grandparents this afternoon.”
Ford opened his door and got out. Lee rolled down his window and waited for Ford to round the truck. “Ford,” he called, and his son turned back to him. “I love you, bud. I didn’t mean to get upset.”
“I know,” Ford said, smiling. “Love you too, Dad. Thanks for the game.” With that, he bounced up the front steps and into the farmhouse. Lee wished he could bounce back from the difficult and trying things in his life as easily as an eight-year-old.
With a sigh, he picked up his phone and dialed the number for Curious Kids. The line rang twice, and he almost threw his phone right through the windshield.
“Curious Kids,” a woman said, perfectly pleasant and professional. Perfectly Rosalie. “This is Rosalie Reynolds. What can I help you with?”
Lee sat there, frozen, the sound of her voice so melodic and so beautiful.
“Hello?” she asked.
“Yes,” he blurted out. “Sorry. This is Lee Cooper, and I ordered that dragon computer game?”
“Yes, Lee,” she said as if he hadn’t fallen into a trance. His face burned, and he reminded himself he was on the phone with her. She couldn’t see him. “Did you get it? I dropped it off today.”
“Why didn’t you mail it?” he asked.
“It’s cheaper to bring for someone local,” she said. “There are all these taxes for computer software and the postal…anyway.” She cleared her throat. “Is there a problem?”
