Cowboys & Kisses (2 page)

The bird chirped from the box in the corner.

“Thanks for the help.” I sighed, fighting with the window.

Suddenly, the window slipped up an inch, then jammed on something. The wood frame splintered in my grip, a thick splinter gouging into my finger. “Ow! Ow, crud, crap, darn it,” I bit out, staring at the bird before I realized I didn’t have to keep my language PG. “Shit.” I pulled out the splinter and sucked on my finger. “Son of a bitch.” I turned back to the window, fueled by months of frustration and anger…and now pain.

“Open, dammit!” I shoved, putting all of my weight behind it…shattering the glass pane and sending shards onto the side yard below. With most of the glass gone, I pitched forward, one arm windmilling forward and knocking the screen out before I could catch it. I caught myself on the window frame, grabbing frantically. A sharp burst of pain radiated along my palm and up my arm. “Shit!” I yelled, pulling my hand back. A nasty gash throbbed, oozing blood. “Perfect. Just perfect!”

“Allie?” I heard my mother call me from outside.

“What?” I bit out. The bird flew out the window, its wings ruffling my hair as it escaped. “You’re welcome,” I called after the bird.

Dax was laughing. “What did you do
now
?”

I lifted my other hand off the window. The remaining wood and glass fell around me on the floor, the crash echoing in the empty room. I shut my eyes and stood, furious and bleeding. There wasn’t a sound from outside, just footsteps on the stairs.
Perfect
.

I heard a squeak in the hallway—the same board that told Dax and me when Grandma was almost to our room so we needed to pretend we were sleeping. Which meant I was about to get an audience for this.
Stupid bird
. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, waiting.

Footsteps on the steps…

“You okay?”

I didn’t know that voice. I opened one eye, hesitant. Then both.

I didn’t know this…this
cowboy
. This
really
cute, golden-tanned, copper-eyed cowboy taking up the doorway space. His light brown hair brushed the doorframe as he walked in…because he was tall and broad and so freaking cute. I stared at him like a complete idiot, while he stared at my hand.

“No, she’s not. Okay’s not a word we use to describe her.” Dax followed Cute Cowboy Guy into my room, looking at me with a mixture of amazement and frustration.

“Cut your hand?” Cute Cowboy Guy came forward. He took my hand, lifted it close, and inspected the gash. He sucked in his breath, a sharp hissing sound. “You did a good job on that. Might need stitches.”

I stared at my hand in his. His hands were rough and big, but his touch was gentle. Gentle or not, why was he in my room? Why was I letting him touch me?
Snap out of it, Allie.
“Who the hell are you?” I pulled my hand from his, wincing.

“Nice,” Dax muttered. “Allie, this is Wyatt, our new neighbor. He came by. To
help
.”

New neighbor? “Oh,” I said, giving him a quick head-to-toe inspection. His faded jeans were ripped along his left thigh, and the sleeves of his plaid snap-front shirt were rolled up to his elbows. And his face…well…he was way too good-looking. Way
way
–

Wyatt smiled. He had a really good smile, white teeth, dimples. “Nice to meet you.” And a Texas twang.

I looked at him but didn’t say anything. It might have been nice to meet him if I wasn’t bleeding all over the floor of a bedroom in the middle of Hell. But—as much as I hated to admit it—even bleeding on the floor, he was pretty easy to look at.

My mother came into the room then, her small medical bag in hand. “What happened?” Her voice had that edge to it, the
why do you do what you do?
exasperation that only I brought out so well.

“There was a bird,” I mumbled.

My mother probed around the cut, making me wince. “A bird?” she asked, clearly not believing me.

“Yes. A
bird,
” I repeated. “I tried to let it out. The damn window stuck.” She looked at me, one eyebrow rising.

“It was a starling,” Wyatt said, pulling my attention back to him.

I cocked an eyebrow in question. My mother did too.

“The bird. I saw it fly out the window.” He smiled a slow, easygoing smile. “It was a starling.”

“Oh,” I answered coolly. I had to work at the tone though—because he was backing up what I was saying. And that might be the only reason Mom would believe me. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye.

“They’re pests. Build nests in your eaves, in your light fixtures, cause damage.” He was watching me, still smiling. “Some target practice will fix that.”

“Shoot it?” I narrowed my eyes and frowned. “I hope it doesn’t decide to live at your place.”

Wyatt shrugged. “It wouldn’t for long.”

Not so interesting after all
. I leveled my best bitch-face at hunky cowboy.

“Allie…I need to stitch it.” My mother spoke softly, thoughtfully. I watched her cover the cut with a clean gauze pad, knowing this would go on the list of Allie’s Screw-ups. “I’ll be right back.” Her big blue eyes—Dax and I both got her eyes—bore into mine for just a second, and then she left. Mom was a veterinarian and had patched me and Dax up many times. It was a lot easier than having to go to the emergency room.

“Broom unpacked?” Wyatt asked, following her from the bedroom.

Dax looked at me with an elevated eyebrow. “It’s been less than an hour and you’re breaking windows. What’s the deal, really?”

I shook my head at him. “You wouldn’t understand. You didn’t have any real friends so you didn’t leave anything behind.” I shot him a smug smile, knowing I was being hateful and not caring.

“Seriously? You think your freaks will miss you? All of
this
charm and charisma?” Dax snorted.

Wyatt came in carrying a broom, dustpan, and trash bag. He glanced between Dax and me and said, “You should sit, keep that hand elevated.”

He started sweeping, ignoring me altogether. Which was fine. I didn’t want to be the center of attention, no matter what my family might think.

I sat on one of the large boxes, holding my injured hand. Why did this sort of thing happen to me? Some sort of cosmic target? Or just plain karma? I deserved this…all of it. I sighed, catching Wyatt’s glance my way.

He smiled at me. I frowned at him, closed my eyes, and leaned back against the wall. Dax said something and Wyatt laughed. I peeked at them. Not at Dax so much, just Wyatt. I knew his type: all nice and polite for the adults but a real prick with his friends. He had that look, that cocky, arrogant look.

But Mom was gone and he
was
still sweeping up my mess, which was a surprisingly decent thing to do…

Not buying it.

He was too good-looking to be a nice guy. In my experience, that never happened. And Wyatt was beyond good-looking. He was seriously smoking-cowboy-hot. If you were into that sort of thing. Which I wasn’t. Hot guys don’t faze me.

Most of the guys I hung out with were athletes, the ripped, self-absorbed, say-whatever-they-need-to-say-to-get-in-your-pants-and–tell-all-their-friends types. None of them had anything to tell about me. Dating and boys hadn’t been important. Correction—
isn’t
important.

Wyatt was no different. I could tell. I didn’t know what he was after—yet. But no one did something for free. Coming in, acting concerned over my hand, sweeping my floor, wearing tight jeans that hugged his thighs, with a leather tag on the butt… Now I couldn’t stop staring at his butt.

My mother reappeared with her big medical bag just as the boys were finishing up. Except for the missing window and my bloody palm, there was no evidence of my latest mistake. “Thanks, boys.” My mother smiled. “If you can give us a little privacy now, I need to fix up her hand.”

I tried to act like I was enthralled with the contents of my mother’s bag as they left the room. I hated needles and my mom knew it. I appreciated that she’d made them leave.

She asked softly, “You’re not trying to hurt yourself, are you, Allie?”

I stared at her.
Seriously
? “I didn’t break the window
or
cut myself on purpose, Mom. I told you.”

My mother had one of those faces that said everything even when she wasn’t actually saying anything. She didn’t exactly believe me. “What happened?”

I tried to ignore the pain, from the stitches
and
from my mom. “Nothing.” I stared at my hand.

She sighed. “You’re going to have to get a handle on your temper. Maybe we can find you someone here you can talk to, okay?”

“Awesome,” I ground out. She didn’t want to hear what I had to say, she just wanted to fix me, to make me a smiling, happy, obedient teenage daughter. As long as I
acted
like nothing was wrong, no one had to acknowledge that something
was
wrong.

“I think everything is off the truck, so now we can unpack. Once your room is more like what you’re used to, it’ll feel more like home.” She snipped the thread and smiled at me, a sad, awkward smile. “Just give it a chance. Please. School doesn’t start for a while so you’ll have time to get situated.”

I looked at her, feeling angry all over again.
Feel more like home?

“You done?” Dax asked from the other side of the door.

“Yep,” I said.

My bedroom door opened and Dax and Wyatt came in, carrying my bed. “This is your room?” Dax asked.

I glanced at my mom. She nodded. “Yeah,” I murmured.

“Over here?” Wyatt asked, indicating the space under the window. He had really light eyes, more honey-colored than brown—kind of startling beneath his crazy thick eyelashes.

I blinked, breaking the hold those eyes had on me, and nodded. “Under the window, in the closet, in the backyard—I so don’t care.”

“Thanks, boys,” my mother said and smiled at them. “She really shouldn’t do anything with her hand like that.” She left, patting Dax on the shoulder as she went.
He gets a pat on the shoulder, I get stitches and impatient sighs
.
My day just gets better and better.

Dax waited until Mom had left before he said, “I’m impressed. Slicing yourself open to get out of work. That’s real dedication, sis.” He was teasing, I knew it. But Wyatt obviously didn’t.

“She just got stitches,” Wyatt said, leveling a disbelieving look at Dax.

I shrugged. “He’s a jerk. You’ll get used to it.”

Dax stared at me, his eyebrows high. “And you’re such an angel, right?”

I used my innocent face, the one I used on teachers to turn in papers late without losing points. The one that got me off the hook when Lindie and I did something we both
knew
we shouldn’t have done…

God. Thinking of Lindie
hurt
.

My eyes grew hot, burning
.
My throat felt tight.
“No. No angel here.”
I shook my head.

“Allie?” Dax sounded worried…regretful.

I glanced at him, managing to pull it together. They were both staring at me.
Great
.

Dax cleared his throat. “I’m sorry…”

I shook my head and reached up to smooth my hair—which pulled my stitches. “Shit.” I grabbed my hand, wincing. Dax and Wyatt both winced too, catching me off guard and making me smile.

And that’s when something really strange happened. Something that made my stomach knot and my lungs feel empty. Wyatt stared at me. Not a little, a lot. His eyes were intense, crazy, stare-into-your-soul, go-in-for-the-kiss stare. He froze completely, a full-bodied statue, which was weird and kind of cool, so I kind of…sort of…stared back.

Because, seriously, he was really gorgeous…
Holy crap. Is it hot in here?

“She doesn’t do that often,” Dax whispered loudly to Wyatt. Wyatt blinked, the muscles of his jaw rigid.

I blinked too, looking away.
What was that? What just happened? And what had Dax said?
“What?” I asked.

Dax shook his head at me. “You’re clueless.”

I glanced at Wyatt, but he was snapping the bed frame together.

“Going for more boxes,” Dax announced as he left.

I felt nervous, which was weird. There was some hunky cowboy putting together my bed—so what? It wasn’t like I’d never had a hot guy in my room before. Well, okay, I hadn’t…not alone. But it was no big deal. He was just some guy…working in my room.

Why was he helping out? Why was he so
hot?

Wyatt looked at me then and smiled—all dimples and white teeth.

2 CHAPTER TWO

I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling back.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Need anything?”

I shook my head, holding my breath.

He finished assembling the bed frame and stood up. I admit, I totally checked him out. Again. He was so…tall. And broad. And ripped. He was probably an athlete. He looked like an athlete. Another strike against him. Athletes only loved two things: sports and themselves.

He pulled the box springs onto the frame then plopped the mattress down on top. He pushed the whole thing under the window. His arms flexed. I swallowed.

“Good?” he asked, glancing at me. I nodded. He grinned. “Big change? Moving here?”

I frowned. “You have no idea.”

He laughed. It was a nice laugh. He
seemed
like a genuinely nice guy. A nice guy that was insanely hot.

Oh, he’s good. I’m not falling for it.
My frown turned into a scowl.

Dax backed into the room, three boxes stacked high in his arms. “Mom said we’re going out to eat.”

Thank God.
I needed to get out of here. “Okay.” I practically ran from the room and down the stairs.
What the hell?

I was obviously more stressed out than I thought. I needed to find a hobby, fast. Boys were a waste of time. And a cowboy?
Not
my type—no matter what he looked like. I was so not going to hook up with this guy just because he was
here
. And freaking gorgeous…and I was lonely. I’d never been one of those annoying clingy girls that needed a guy around. I wasn’t going to become one now.