Cowboy Crazy (16 page)

“I hate to tell you this, Lane, but I suspect our workers will raise the level of class and culture in Two Shot.”

“How would you know? You barely talked to anybody there.” Lane slid his rolling desk chair over to the trailer’s mini-fridge and pulled out a Bud Light. Popping the top, he swallowed a good slug, but it didn’t cool the heat of his anger one bit.

“That’s why I’m sending Sarah to get to know the area,” Eric said. “Meet some of the people, get acquainted with the town.”

Lane set his beer can down hard on the desktop. “Hell, Eric, she doesn’t need to get acquainted with Two Shot. She grew up there.”

He closed his eyes and smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. Shit. He needed to erase those words somehow. In the irrational heat of his petty anger, he’d just betrayed Sarah’s secrets.

There was a long silence, which gave Lane plenty of time to curse himself.

“What are you talking about? She’s not from there,” Eric finally said. “She’s from—well, I don’t know where she’s from.” There was another long silence. “If she’s from Two Shot, that puts us way ahead of the game. She’d already know everybody. Wonder why she didn’t mention that when we talked?”

Lane didn’t respond. He’d said more than enough already.

“There’s something strange going on with that girl,” Eric said thoughtfully. Lane could picture him tilting back in his chair, staring up at the plaster medallions on his office ceiling, clicking the pieces of the puzzle together. “If she grew up there, she’s not being honest with me. She let me think…”

“Grew up?” Lane barked out a laugh he hoped sounded halfway convincing. “I said she
threw
up.
I shouldn’t have let that slip, though. I’m sure she’d be embarrassed.”

“She threw up? What did you do the other night—ply her with alcohol and take her home? I can’t believe she’d be that careless about drinking. She…”

“I think it was stomach flu,” Lane said. “She didn’t drink that much.”

There. Now he’d saved her secrets
and
her reputation.

“Well, whatever. I just thought I’d let you know she’s there. I saw a spark between you two, but maybe you’d better just leave her alone if things ended that way.”

Lane hung up after a few minutes of awkward small talk. His brother was right—he should leave Sarah alone.

But he’d planted a seed with Eric and he needed to warn her. It shouldn’t matter to anybody where Sarah was from—what mattered was who she was now. But Eric was big on class and status. He looked down his nose at Two Shot and the kind of people who lived there. People like Sarah.

He clicked back into the rodeo site and stared at the message again. Rusty Nail would put him on the road to the finals. He was sure of it. But going on with his own life seemed selfish when he might be leaving the wreckage of Sarah’s behind.

A cowboy could “turn out” for a rodeo—opt not to attend—without losing any points or even respect. Some did it when they had a bad draw, leaving the dud bulls for the neophytes who would ride anything anywhere. But you’d have to be crazy to turn out when you drew a bull like Rusty Nail. Crazy, or in love.

Love?

No. He just felt duty-bound to find Sarah and warn her there was a good chance he’d screwed up her life.

He sent a quick message to the rodeo committee bailing on his ride and shrugged into a Carhartt jacket. Grabbing his hat from the table, he tipped it onto his head with a practiced flip and strode from the trailer.

Maybe he could find Sarah before she left town. Otherwise, he’d have to catch her at the Love Nest.

Sarah rolled into Two Shot with white knuckles on the steering wheel. She wasn’t looking forward to this assignment, and worse yet, she couldn’t get hold of Kelsey. She’d tried to call her sister at work and they said she’d taken the day off.

Kelsey never missed work, any more than she missed any of Katie’s activities or play dates. Maybe she had one of her headaches. Up until now, she’d somehow held them off until the weekend.

Pulling up to the curb outside the trailer, Sarah threw the Malibu into park. Sure enough, Kelsey’s car was parked in the driveway. There was another vehicle there too—one Sarah had never seen before. It was a pickup, an old Chevy from the ’80s with a two-color paint job and chipped fenders. It was the kind of truck a cowboy drove when he wasn’t winning at the rodeos. Sarah stared at it a moment, foreboding roiling in her stomach.

No. It couldn’t be.
Tossing her purse over her shoulder, she practically ran up the walk to the front door. Giving it three quick raps with her knuckles, she barged in.

Kelsey sat at the kitchen table, a cup of tea halfway to her lips. Kitty-corner from her, at the head of the table, sat Mike. He paused midmotion too, a forkful of Kelsey’s famous made-from-scratch coconut cake raised halfway to his lips.

Sarah hung onto the door frame, barely able to absorb what she was seeing. Mike hadn’t sent a support check in six months. Why the hell would Kelsey be feeding the bastard?

“Sarah!” Kelsey clanged the teacup down on its saucer and jumped to her feet, almost knocking her chair over backwards. “What’s wrong?” Her eyes widened. “You should be at work.”

Sarah ignored her and turned to Mike. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Eating.” He hoisted his fork in the air as if she might not have noticed the massive sugary slab in front of him, white cake with white frosting coated in snowy white coconut curls. “How ’bout you? You didn’t get fired, did you?”

“Of course not. I can’t
afford
to get fired.” She was ready to fling some real zingers at Mike, but Kelsey hooked the leg of a chair with one foot and jerked it out from under the table, almost tipping it over.

“Sit, Sarah. We need to talk.”

Sarah sat, a little stunned. Kelsey normally didn’t order her around.

“He’s been working,” Kelsey said. “All this time.”

“Working? Let me guess. At the rodeo?” Sarah rolled her eyes. “Eight seconds at a time? Or—wait a minute. You didn’t make the eight seconds most of the time, did you? It’s probably a challenge for you to ride that kitchen chair.”

He took the insults in stride. “No rodeo,” he said. “I’m working for the Carrigan Corp. Got a job on the oil rigs. We’ve been up north of Bismarck, building roads and digging trenches.”

Sarah glanced down at his hands. He’d always had the typical cowboy calluses on his riding hand, but now he had them on every finger. Grime was etched deeply into the whorls of his fingertips and the lines in his palms. They were the hands of a working man.

“I didn’t want to go,” he continued, setting down his fork. “I mean, I wanted to go. I felt like the marriage wasn’t working, and—well, that’s personal. I know she’s your sister, but what happens between Kelsey and me is none of your business.”

“I…”

“No.” He held up a hand with such an authoritative gesture she swallowed her retort. “We were married, me and Kelsey. You weren’t in that marriage, and you don’t know how things were between us. I left because it wasn’t working, but I always meant to take care of Katie. I just didn’t have any luck.”

“Or skill,” Sarah muttered. “You couldn’t stick the coin-operated pony at Walmart.”

“You think I don’t know that?” The anger in Mike’s tone surprised her. He was usually such a mild-mannered guy. “But there are no jobs here, Sarah. I couldn’t find a ranch job after the feed store closed, and rodeo was the only thing left. Kelsey didn’t want me to leave. She thought I ought to be in Katie’s life, and I think she was right, but that didn’t leave me a whole lot of choices.”

Sarah shifted in her chair, starting to feel uneasy. Maybe she’d made too many assumptions about Mike.

“I could only deal with losing for so long, even for Katie. Carrigan had a couple guys quit on ’em and they wanted workers right away.”

Sarah reached for her only remaining shred of righteous anger like a drowning woman reaching for a scrap of flotsam. “You could have told us.”

“I don’t have to tell
you
anything. But I tried to tell Kelsey. I had to leave right away, but I called.” He flashed her a furious glare. “Thanks to you, she erased the message without listening.”

Kelsey nodded, looking down at her folded hands. “You kept telling me I shouldn’t listen to him, shouldn’t let him sweet-talk me. So I didn’t play the message. I just erased it.”

“Oh, shit,” Sarah said softly.

“Yeah, exactly,” Mike said. “I figured she didn’t want to talk to me, and the oil fields up there are out of cell range anyway. So I just kept working. And I saved almost all of it.” He cast Sarah a hard look. “That night you saw me was the first time I’d been to a bar in three months.”

“He thought he had to earn his way back to us,” Kelsey said. “So he came home and slapped—how much was it?” She looked at Mike and the two of them laughed.

“A thousand dollars,” he said. “Slapped it right down on the table in cash. Her eyes sure got big when she saw it.”

“And then I cried.”

“I can’t believe you thought I’d never come back.” Mike stroked Kelsey’s arm and cast her a lovelorn look that reminded Sarah of a cow. Not a steer or a bull, but a dairy cow, all soft brown eyes and foolishness.

“Why wouldn’t she think that?” Sarah asked. “How many nights did you go to the bar while Kelsey stayed home with Katie?”

“A lot. I was a lousy husband, okay?” Mike straightened in his chair and lost the lovelorn look as he turned to Sarah. “I married too young, and I was a jerk. I thought I wanted to hang out with my buddies more than I wanted to be with my wife and kid.” He reached over and placed his hand over Kelsey’s, and Sarah felt her stomach flutter with unease. She’d seen Mike as the villain so long that her protective instincts were still running full strength. She wanted to smack him away from her sister, drive him from the house, but now she had no reason to hate him. She felt limp as a hot-air balloon with the air let out.

“But let me tell you, you spend three months with nobody but a bunch of oil workers and you get pretty damn sick of hanging with the guys.” He interlaced his fingers with Kelsey’s and they sat there like a couple of newlyweds, beaming at each other. “I missed you and Katie so much, honey. So damn much. I never knew how much I loved you ’til I couldn’t get to you.”

Sarah blinked, surprised to find tears in her eyes.

“I know I was a jerk, Sarah, but I’ve learned my lesson and I’m back to stay.”

“To stay?”

Kelsey melted into Mike’s arm, still clinging to his hand. “We’re going to try again,” she said, flashing Sarah a heartbreakingly hopeful smile. “Be happy for me, Sis.”

Sarah looked from one to the other. She hadn’t seen Kelsey look so happy in months—not since Mike left.

“Isn’t this kind of sudden?” she asked.

“We had a long talk.”

“Just now? How can you forgive him so fast?”

Kelsey blushed. “And—and last night. And a few nights before that.”

“Oh, no. Has Katie seen him?”

The sound of a rumbling engine filled the room as air brakes gasped on the street. Sarah glanced out to see her niece hurtling down the steps of the school bus and tearing up the front walk, an oversized sheet of construction paper flapping in her hand.

“Daddy,” she shouted as she charged in the door. “I made you a picture!”

Without even glancing at Sarah, she threw herself into her father’s lap and held up the paper as proudly as Christopher Wren revealing the plans for a new cathedral. “Look, it’s a tree! And this is a cat, and a dog, and a woodchuck.”

“A woodchuck,” Mike said. “Nice.”

Katie went somber. “He’s going to eat the tree, though.”

“No, that’s beavers,” Mike said. “Woodchucks eat beetles and stuff.”

“Oh! Okay.” She slid off his lap and ran to her room, as if all the world’s problems had been solved by animal identification.

She still hadn’t noticed Sarah, who hiked her purse up on her shoulder and turned to go.

“Wait, Sarah,” Kelsey said. “You haven’t told me why you stopped by.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sarah said. “It doesn’t matter a bit. I just thought—I thought you needed me.”

***

Sarah swung open the door to Lane’s cabin and ran her hand up and down the wall to the right of the door, until she found the light switch. She hadn’t wanted to stay here. She hadn’t wanted to come to Two Shot either, but seeing more of Katie and Kelsey had made the concept of melding her two lives a little more bearable. She’d been looking forward to being there all week, really being a part of their day-to-day lives.

Now that her sister didn’t need her, she realized there wasn’t much point to all her panic about her job. Without Kelsey and Katie to take care of, her work seemed kind of pointless. She’d thought it was about money and security for herself, but here she was, homeless and on the verge of being unemployed, and she didn’t really care.

But Eric was counting on her. She’d been hired to do a job, and she was going to get it done.

She flicked on the light switch and her jaw dropped. The cabin really
was
a love nest. A huge stone fireplace dominated the far wall, surrounded by a cozy grouping of two chairs and a love seat upholstered in a warm-toned Native American pattern. The bright fabric contrasted with subdued throw rugs in red and ochre, and while the light she’d turned on was a slightly tasteless antler chandelier, it hung over a golden oak dining table that was polished to a high shine. Soft woven blankets that complemented the upholstery were draped over the back of the love seat and one of the chairs.

But what made it a love nest was the candles. They were everywhere, their wicks and wax in various stages that proved they’d been used frequently. She pictured the golden log walls lit by flickering golden light and thanked God and good luck Lane wasn’t there.

She’d seen him in the cool silver light of the moon. What would he look like in candlelight? She pictured a warm glow glossing his muscled shoulders, shadows defining the ridges of his torso, and then she was in the danger zone.

Get
out
of
there
, she told herself.
Think
about
his
face.

Obediently, her mind’s eye focused on the way his deep-set blue eyes would dance in the flicker of candle flames. Something much hotter than a candle flame shimmied around inside her when she thought of the jut of his cheekbones, the hard set of his jaw, and the sensitive lips that were such a subtle contradiction to the harsh masculinity of the rest of his face. Then she remembered what he’d done to her with those lips and decided she ought to stick with the torso.

The truth was, she shouldn’t be thinking about Lane at all. The man accused her of sleeping with his brother, for God’s sake. She’d thought he had feelings for her. She’d even thought he understood her. But clearly he’d just seen her as another floozy.

And Eric had said his brother was headed to another rodeo, all the way down in Texas—so he’d probably move on to a new floozy by tomorrow.

At least she could be sure he wouldn’t show up at the ranch—not for two weeks. She had fourteen days to win hearts and minds in Two Shot. Fourteen days with no interference from the other side of the argument.

So why was her heart fluttering like a bird in a cage as she looked around the comfy cabin? Lane wasn’t going to show up here. Sure, his mark was all over the place: in the rodeo posters on the wall, in the prize saddle mounted on a carved sawhorse in the corner, in the framed photos of him with various rodeo royals like Ty Murray and Trevor Brazile—but he was on the road and she was on her own.

And if he did turn up, he’d be angry, not amorous. He already thought she was having an affair with his brother, and he’d be even madder when he discovered she was working behind his back to get the townspeople on her side. By the time he got home he’d have lost the battle without getting a chance to fight. And Lane didn’t like to lose.

Judging from the intensity of all his other emotions, his anger would not be pretty. The notion should make her cringe, but it actually kind of turned her on. What the hell was wrong with her? She was picturing a six-four cowboy coming to the door of this tiny, isolated cabin, walking in and finding her there. He’d push her down on that sofa, and he’d…

Stop
it.

She sucked in a deep breath to clear her mind. Then she took another one. It took six or eight breaths to banish Lane to the back of her brain.

Resting one hand on the door frame, she kicked off her heels and tossed her messenger bag on a chair, heading for the kitchen. She’d make sure there was a microwave, and then she’d head into town to buy supplies—some frozen entrees, crackers and cheese, maybe some fruit. Definitely coffee.

A harsh series of knocks struck the door and she froze.

He
was
here. She wasn’t nervous; she was psychic. What was she going to do? They’d be alone. Alone with that sofa, that fireplace. In the Love Nest.

He’d push her down on that sofa, and then he’d…

No. He wouldn’t do anything. She’d simply tell him, brusquely and without emotion, that he needed to leave her alone. She’d cut him out of her life quickly and efficiently as a bruise on an apple. She was here working for Carrigan, and besides, she could never forgive him for what he’d implied about her and Eric.

Quickly, she slid her feet back into her high heels. She’d have a better chance of standing up to him if she didn’t have to hike herself up on tiptoe to meet his eyes.