Guardian Cowboy

“Tell me why you don’t have a relationship with your mother?” he asked once Carlie had left the booth.

“Oh, it’s a long, boring story. I’d much rather hear about you,” she replied. “Through the years I’ve heard so many rumors about all you men on the Holiday Ranch.”

He grinned. “Probably at least half of them aren’t true.”

She could listen to the sound of his deep laughter forever. “So, you weren’t all found under lily pads in Big Cass’s pond.” She’d wanted him to laugh again and she was successful.

“No,” he replied, a sparkle of humor in his eyes. “And we weren’t all brought in from a reform school when we were kids. But we were all runaways or throwaways who took to the streets when we were young.”

“And which one were you? A runaway or a throwaway?”

“A runaway,” he replied.

“Why?” These were the kinds of things she wanted to know. Who he was as a man, where he’d come from, and what forces might be at play in his life that made him drink himself into a stupor on most Saturday nights when he came into the bar.

He looked so sexy tonight in his jeans and a rust-colored shirt that matched his slightly unruly hair and stretched across his broad shoulders.

“Unlike a lot of the other men who suffered from mental and physical abuse, I ran away when my mom died because I didn’t want to go into foster care.” He gave a dry chuckle. “At fifteen years old, I thought I was old enough and strong enough to survive on my own. But if it hadn’t been for Cass Holiday and Francine Rogers, I probably would have died on the streets or wound up in jail.”

“Who is Francine Rogers?” Everyone in town had known Big Cass Holiday, who had died a year ago in a tornado.

“She was a social worker and a good friend of Cass’s. She worked the streets at night in Oklahoma City. She tried to reunite kids with their parents, if possible. She’s the one responsible for getting us all off the streets and working for Cass. Unfortunately we heard Francine passed away a couple of months ago.”

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their orders. “Anything else I can get you?” Carlie asked once she had placed their plates in front of them.

“I think we’re good,” Sawyer replied. When she left, Sawyer looked at Janis, his eyes lit with curiosity. “Now, tell me about you. I know you’ve worked at the bar for a long time, but I don’t know much about your personal life.”

“That’s because I don’t have much of a personal life,” she replied ruefully as she dragged one of her fries through a puddle of ketchup. “I live at the bar. I work at the bar. And that’s about the sum of it.”

“What do you do for fun?”

“I love to read and sometimes I just like to drive out into the country and sit and listen to the soft noise of nature at work.” A blush warmed her cheeks. “I know it probably sounds silly.”

“It doesn’t sound silly at all to me,” he replied. “Living with eleven other rowdy cowboys, sometimes I just need to get away and enjoy the sounds of nature. When that happens, I usually grab my fishing pole and head down to the pond.”

“That sounds like fun,” she replied.

“Maybe on a warm day I’ll take you to the pond with me.”

Her heart swelled at his words. “That would be nice,” she said. But once she told him the truth about the night before, he might be so angry he wouldn’t be speaking to her tomorrow or on the next warm day.

For the next hour they ate and talked and laughed. Sawyer seemed to be the man she’d thought he would be...easygoing, easy to talk to, and with a great sense of humor.

She loved the way his eyes shone when he talked about his work at the ranch and the other ranch hands, who were like brothers to him. She also liked that he was fiercely loyal to Cassie Bowie, who was Big Cass’s niece and had taken over the ranch after Cass had died.

It would be easy to allow her crush on him to blossom into something more, but first Janis had to tell him the truth.

She’d tell him at her doorstep, she thought. That way, if he was really angry with her, at least she’d already be home. Besides, she wasn’t ready for this pleasant time with him to end yet.

“Are you a dessert kind of girl?” he asked when they’d finished the meal.

“I wouldn’t turn up my nose at a piece of chocolate cake,” she replied.

“Then the lady shall eat cake,” he replied and gestured to get Carlie’s attention.

“I hope the lady won’t be eating cake all alone?”

He grinned at her. “I can’t walk out of here without eating a piece of Mandy’s fancy crème brûlée cake.”

“I noticed it was a new item on the menu. I’m assuming it’s good?”

His eyes warmed and a sensual curl of his lips shot heat through her. “It’s good enough to make a grown man weep,” he replied.

Oh, my, but she’d love for him to look that way, to talk that way, about her.

They had just been served their desserts and coffee when Tony Nakni, his wife, Mary, and Mary’s grandmother, Halena, came in.

Tony and Mary waved as they took a booth on the opposite side of the café, while Halena wove her way through the tables in the center to approach Janis and Sawyer.

“Hi, Halena,” Janis said.

Halena Redwing was one of the more colorful characters in Bitterroot. She had the proud, beautiful, facial features of her Choctaw blood and a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes. Rumor had it she loved dancing naked in rainstorms. She also had a penchant for funky hats and evening dresses.

Tonight she was clad in a red gown with glittery matching shoes. A little hat of black-and-red feathers sat atop her shiny silver hair.

“Evening, ma’am,” Sawyer said.

“Sawyer, it’s nice to see you out with a good woman,” Halena said. “It’s past time for you to get married and have a bunch of babies.”

“Halena.” Janis laughed. “We’re just having dinner,” she protested.

“Dinner is a good start and you could do a lot worse.” Halena leaned into Janis. “He’s got the sexiest, most pinchable butt in all of Bitterroot,” she said in a loud, mock whisper.

“Geez, Halena.” Sawyer’s cheeks flushed red.

“Just saying,” she said and then turned on her sparkly red shoes and headed back to the booth where Tony and Mary awaited her.

“Halena is definitely a pip,” Janis said.

“I swear that woman likes to torment me whenever she sees me,” Sawyer said, but his voice held a wealth of affection. “She steals my hat whenever she can and goes out of her way to embarrass me whenever possible.”

“At least she gave me some valuable information.” Janis grinned at him teasingly.

Once again Sawyer’s cheeks dusted with color. “And now would be a great time to change the subject.”

They lingered over coffee and their conversation remained light and easy.

“Favorite music?” he asked her.