Betting on Hope (23 page)

Tru felt his pride swell for Maggie as she rode into the arena behind him. Morning mist hung in the air after an overnight heavy rain, making the humidity as thick as butter. And the tension even thicker.

Maggie had progressed a long way from where she’d been when she’d walked into the barn that first day.

He admired her, and yet he was struggling to maintain his distance.

He’d never experienced anything like that kiss.

It had scorched through him like a page on fire, burning up every memory of every kiss he’d ever had before it.

The fact that his respect for her grew with every moment only made it harder to keep his distance. He was drawn to the way she dedicated herself to becoming a good rider so that her readers could see that goals could be achieved. Even if that meant he would win the bet. He loved it. Loved knowing in the long run she wanted her readers to be the winner in this deal.

How could he not respect that? How could he not find that attractive?

Maggie Hope had heart. And he wanted a part of it.

But that was impossible.

It had been five days since he’d learned he was sterile. Five days since he’d learned that he had nothing to offer Maggie. If he pursued the overpowering emotions he could have for her, it would only be out of selfishness on his part. While she, on the other hand, was being selfless. She deserved more than he could offer her.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting her. And it was about to drive him crazy.

His life had become a wreck of a mess and it was killing him.

“So what is this?” Maggie asked as she rode Stardust into the covered arena and pulled up alongside him.

It was going to be a hard morning.

“This is a mechanical flag system.” A cable stretched across the arena with a small flag attached to it. “The flag represents a calf. It will move from one side to the other, mimicking a calf that wants to dodge you and Stardust and get back to the herd. It will move casually at first. I control the speed with my remote. And as you progress, I’ll increase its movement, allowing you to learn to adjust to the seat while Stardust pivots and cuts. I’ll show you.”

He took his position, the flag started moving, and Hazy Rey played cat and mouse with the flag, doing a back and forth that required the horse to dig its front feet low and stir up dust.

“It’s fun when you get the hang of it. Now it’s your turn.”

“So now is the time that I start getting tossed out of the saddle?”

He frowned at his inability to not get distracted by everything about Maggie. “Hey, I thought we’d made it past all of that. Think positive. Do what we’ve been working on and let Stardust do his thing. He’s experienced.”

She inhaled deeply, making the big pink rose printed on her white tank top rise and fall—Tru forced himself not to get distracted by that flower.

Maggie stared at the flag. “Okay, then let’s do this.”

He agreed, needing something to do other than stand there looking at her.

He got the flag going and she and Stardust started working. Maggie started out looking good. Tru realized he was holding his breath—when Stardust planted his feet then switched the other direction, the switch-up caught Maggie by surprise. When the horse dove one way, she went the other.

Fear surged through him as he watched Maggie sail from the saddle. She hit the dirt with a thud. He was out of his saddle and kneeling beside her almost instantly. He’d done it now. She was never going to trust him. Every fear she’d had from the beginning of this bad idea had just come true.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, taking her arm.

She looked at him, brows scrunched together and determination in her eyes, but no pain. Relief overtook panic.

“I’m fine.” She stood up. He assisted her, but she didn’t need him. Not even dusting off her rear, she strode to Stardust and grabbed the reins. “I’ll do better next time.”

Tru watched in disbelief as she climbed back into the saddle without hesitating. “Who are you and where did you put the woman who was terrified of getting thrown out of the saddle?”

Mild amusement lit her face. “I lost her somewhere between the saddle and the ground. Let’s do this, cowboy.”

He shook his head, trying to knock the disbelief out of the way. “Now, that is the attitude of a winner right there. When you get knocked down, you come up fighting.”

And that is exactly what she did over the next hour. She rode—not fast, not spectacular, but she held on and started getting the feel of the horse. Determination etched her features as she managed to keep her feet in the stirrups. She remained rooted to the saddle and stayed out of the dirt.

By the time they called it quits, her smile was huge.

And he was again fighting an internal battle of wills with himself over wanting to pull her into his arms and congratulate her with another kiss.

They both led their horses into their separate stalls and Tru was glad to have a few minutes to get his frustration under control. He was still yanking at the straps of his saddle when Maggie came into his stall and leaned against the rail.

“We need to talk.”

He glanced at her from beneath his hat and kept on working.

She hiked a shoulder. “I’ll admit I’ve been pretty mad at you this week. But I’ve finally calmed down a little, and it hit me that something is different about you. If it’s the kiss, then I think we need to get this talked out and over with, so we can move forward.”

His gut twisted, but he remained silent.

“Look, we have a little less than five weeks to go. We can’t continue with this tension straining between us like this.”

He scowled. He could tell her that, yes, the kiss was a big part of it. He could not tell her his problem.

He couldn’t tell anyone.

He carried the saddle past her and out into the stable run. She followed, hurrying to keep up with him as he went into the tack room and placed the saddle on its rack. The room wasn’t very large and when he turned to her she was closer than he’d expected. Her mint-green eyes dug into him. The frame of long lashes surrounding her beautiful eyes blinked slowly before she met and held his gaze.

Every muscle in his body tensed with wanting to pull her to him.

His heart thudded in his ears.

She moistened her lips and his insides curled with longing. Watching her attack the challenge of riding had only made him want her more. He stepped toward her—yanked himself to a halt and backed up. She backed up too, bumping into the door frame and stopped, her back pressed hard against it.

“What should we talk about, Maggie?”

She inhaled a shuddering breath and held her chin up. “Why did you kiss me in the first place?” Her words were breathy, enticing when he knew she hadn’t meant for them to be.

“Because you drive me crazy.” Honesty won as he stepped off a moving train into thin air.

“Oh.” Her gaze dropped to his lips, then she frowned.

“I’m no good for you, Maggie. You know it and I know it.”

Maggie knew what he said was true. But her knees went weak realizing that he’d admitted that she drove him crazy.

She told herself to remember that she wasn’t the first woman to drive him crazy. The cowboy had made a regular habit of it if the tabloids were to be believed. And he’d just said he was no good for her.

That made it pretty obvious that there was truth mixed in with the trash.

Lifting his hand, he took a strand of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers. The air in the room vanished.

“This can’t happen.” He looked tortured for a moment, then he seemed to get control of his emotions and shields fell into place. He turned and strode from the tack room, down the alley, and out into the back of the barn.

Maggie couldn’t move. Maybe she should have followed him and asked him to explain what had just happened. But she didn’t. It was a question that had gotten all of this started. No, she pushed away from the wall and walked unsteadily to her car.

It was best to process her own emotions before pushing his again.

19

On Saturday morning Tru found himself standing beside a fryer in the overhang outside Doonie’s office. They had orders for thirty-five fried turkeys. These turkeys would be eaten sometime during the year and some of them maybe that night.

There were ice chests full of turkeys lined up around them. The eight gas burners with tall pots of oil heating up for the frying were lined up along the wall—Doobie had placed them there to be out of the slight wind that was blowing like hot breath.

“Thanks for coming to help us,” Doonie said, a whimsical grin cracking across his face. “We needed another turkey around here.”

Tru laughed. “Yeah, believe me, I’ve been called that ever since I accepted this invitation to cook with you three.”

“Hey, we’re glad you’re here,” Doobie said. He was wearing an apron with a slogan that read, “I’m not the turkey. That’s my brother.”

“Yes, I’m not exactly certain how I got entangled with this motley crew. I for one have never fried a turkey.” Rand rubbed his freshly shaven face and looked at Tru with clear eyes, which was a good sign. And a much better way to write any articles for the
Gazette
.

Tru knew how Rand had gotten pulled into it. Local folks were getting increasingly worried about Rand’s drinking. The consensus was it was time to step in, and this was part of the plan.

“After we fry thirty-five, you’ll be a pro,” Tru said. “
And
you’ll have done a civic duty, Councilman.” He grinned at the distinguished-looking man.

He gave Tru a speculative look. “Maybe since you’re here, that little Maggie and her friend will give us some good promo for Thanksgiving in July. It’s not a bad drive from the Houston area. A nice day trip for folks to support a good cause.”

Tru grimaced. He wouldn’t count on it after yesterday. “Only because I’m with you turkeys.”

That got him chuckles. “We work hard at it.”

And they did. The mayor might be a funny man, but he—and/or his brother—had come up with this idea last year and it was turning out to be a huge success.

“We have more ordered this year and if it keeps up we might have to rope more turkeys into helping us fry.”

“That’d be great.” Tru watched Doonie start the flame under each fryer.

Folks were gathering at the booths that were set up along Main Street. There had been several vendors setting up with homemade food. Peg and Lana had the girls who were able help out at a pie table. There were five of them all together and he could see Jenna there, too, getting ready for the people that would soon start showing up.

He looked around for Maggie. She’d said she was coming and he knew she wouldn’t miss it. There was going to be a lot to put into a column for this and the town was already talking about trying more things to include in her column. They wanted to advertise the town while they could. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but then again, it didn’t matter. Once this was over, he’d get on back to his ranch and his work and it wouldn’t matter to him how many people came to town looking for their dreams. His were right there on his ranch.

Grief, sharp and caustic, cut through him for the family he would never know. He knew he was going to have to learn to deal with the loss—

Someone yelled, and he spun to see flames bursting from one of the fryers reaching for the overhang of the house.

It was the burner at the far end of the cookers from where Tru stood. Doonie was reaching to try and turn it off. Tru yelled.

Maggie had her pen and paper out for notes on the Thanksgiving in July Day. She was very aware of Tru down the street where the turkey frying was getting under way. After yesterday’s encounter in the barn she was hyperaware. He’d said he was no good for her, and she believed it, but the look in his eyes said he didn’t want to believe his words. Why had he looked so troubled and gruff as he’d walked away from her?

Tru Monahan was not easy to understand. And she’d begun to think he wasn’t at all the man she’d thought him to be.

He intrigued her, attracted her and by all accounts should be off-limits to her, but she could not stop thinking about him. And in order to concentrate on her column she needed to desperately. Her editor had called the day before. Helen Davenport had not been happy. Yes, the column had garnered some interest, but there was no real meat to what she was writing about. There needed to be something more to hook and sustain the readership of the project. Maggie had to come up with something. It was time to give the column life and focus, but what?

Spotting Peg standing beside a booth that had all manner of handmade items and cookies for sale, Maggie headed that way.

“Hi, Peg,” she said, “How is it going?”

Peg broke into a huge smile when she saw Maggie. “Oh, Maggie, come here and let me give you a hug.” She did exactly that, engulfing Maggie, squeezing her hard then patting her arm as she released her.

“You did good yesterday. So good. Jenna needed that outing more than you’ll ever know. Most of our girls come to us looking for a way out, a way to get back to their lives and start fresh, knowing that they gave their child a future with loving adoptive parents. But there are a few of our older young women who just need help and come here to have their babies while they get their lives sorted out for themselves and their newborns. But Jenna, poor kid, is struggling. Your involvement with her is a blessing. The kid is so alone. You’re being a great friend to her and it means the world.”