Cowboy Crush

“Right,” he said, toasting her with a cheese doodle.

* * *

AFTER THE SANDWICH SUPPER, Maggie pulled out what was left of the dinnerware and filled the sink with soapy water. Some of the pieces had been broken by the kids who’d busted in the back door so they could party. She’d put in a call to the sheriff’s office regarding the vandalism, but they’d told her Charlie had already filed a complaint and they’d investigated to no avail. But they would send deputies by for the next week or so until word got out that the Triple J was now occupied. Deputy Riser felt sure that the occupancy would eliminate the ranch as a go-to party zone.

Cal sat at the table, frowning at his phone. “Signal’s crap.”

“Well, since you can’t play on your phone, you can dry,” she said, tossing him a drying cloth.

“Hey, I’m an eight-to-five guy. I’m off.”

“Pay for your dinner,” she said, setting a stack of plates into the dishwater.

“That means I have to dry only one plate. Maybe a cup.” But she heard the chair scrape against the floor. He moved behind her, prickling her nerve ends, making her want to lean back and feel him pressed to her.

That kiss.

That kiss had been so good. Like the first lick of mint chocolate chip ice cream. But going there was walking a tightrope and if there was one thing she didn’t need at the moment, it was a combustible relationship turning sour in the ninth inning. She needed this place fixed up and ready to sell. That meant she needed Cal to stay focused on the job she’d hired him to do. No hanky-panky, no matter how incredible he kissed or how much she loved his aw-shucks sexiness. “So tell me about bull riding. How’d you get started?”

“When I was ten years old, my mom won tickets off the radio to a PRCA event in Fort Worth. All of it was exciting—roping, bronc bustin’ and even the barrel events. But when the end rolled around and those bulls hit the chute, I felt something electric. I’ll never forget the way my stomach dropped when that gate opened and that cowboy rode that big sucker. I decided right then and there, I wanted to do that.”

“But it’s so dangerous.”

“That’s part of it. It ain’t just holding on. It’s riding. There’s a difference. And when you can hit that zone, when you know what the bull is going to do because it’s there in your bones, there’s nothing like it. Maybe it’s like getting high or something. I don’t know. But it’s indescribable.”

His words carried a reverence. She could tell he loved climbing onto a snorting, huge monster. “So don’t you win a buckle or something? How many have you won?”

Cal smiled and took the soapy plate from her. “I’ve won a few.”

“You don’t want to talk about it, huh? Is it the injury?”

“No,” he said, his lower lip curving.

He had nice lips that knew their way around. Probably all those women who showed up at the corrals—what did they call them again? She couldn’t remember. “Then what?”

“I don’t know. I’m taking a break from all that right now. Trying to heal and get my mind right. Guess I don’t feel like talking about the bulls and the buckles and the—”

“Bunnies?” she said, finally remembering the name that escaped her. “I’ve heard that term before.”

Cal looked over at her. “Them, too.”

Something ugly moved inside her. She didn’t like the idea of faceless women in shiny halter tops and boots kissing his boo-boos better. Which was strange because she had no stake in Cal. He was a guy who’d done her a solid a few days ago, a guy she’d hired for a job, and pretty much the one person in Texas she could count on. Who he screwed or didn’t screw shouldn’t bother her.

But it did.

She peered out into the Texas night through a window that needed serious cleaning as she scrubbed the dishes. The dishwasher was already full of the cookware and silverware. Thankfully it had worked, as had the dried-up chunk of dish-washing detergent she’d pried out of the Cascade box under the sink. Cal remained silent, taking the plates she handed to him, drying and stacking them in a pile on the counter.

The whole scene felt strange and yet oddly comforting.

So much inside her twisted like a tornado. Everything had proved easier said than done. Her secret hope of finding a perfect place to land had been washed down the drain. Not that she had actually truly entertained the idea of moving to the middle of Nowhere, Texas. Probably had internalized all those stories Bud had told her about life in Texas and created a fairy-tale ideal or something. Like the faraway castle every little girl dreamed of. Or maybe it was she hated the thought of giving any of Bud’s selfish, whiny children part of the proceeds. Or maybe she had merely hoped things would be easier than they were. That she would have driven up to the Triple J, fallen in love with her new home and found a million dollars buried in the backyard. She had wanted to feel something for this place.

But she hadn’t. Not really.

Instead it felt like a big pain in the ass and now her life was on pause.

But perhaps being stuck on pause wasn’t a bad thing. Maybe she needed to take time to think about what her future held. For many years she’d been on autopilot, taking care of Bud’s affairs, balancing work and merely existing. Not much passion in her life and not much time to study the stars, wash a dish and listen to the absolute quiet of the night.

She’d just pulled the drain plug when a pair of headlights swept over the barn.

“Cal,” she whispered. “Look.”

He leaned over, his shoulder brushing against hers. “Shit.”

“What do we do?”

“We run their asses out of here is what we do,” he said, tossing the towel and heading toward the screened door.

“Wait, what if they have a gun or something?”

“They’re local punks. I used to be one. I know how to deal with them,” he said, pushing out the door. She saw the headlights cut off. The truck had parked right by the pens.