One Wild Cowboy (11 page)

Dylan murmured, “It was a small local haunt that anyone who was anyone knew about.”

“And that alone made it special.” Emily sighed. “But in retrospect I see that was a mistake.”

Dylan listened, understanding that, too.

“And while I can't just put an addition on a historic building to increase seating in the café, I am permitted by the city to use the sidewalks surrounding the building. So I can put up tables that line the front and wrap around the corner immediately. And that's what I plan to do,” she announced proudly, satisfied that she was back on the path to success. “Starting tomorrow morning, patrons will be able to dine alfresco.”

Dylan knew that was what Emily hoped would happen. He couldn't help but wonder if she was just setting herself up for more disappointment.

 

I
T WAS NEARLY
ten-thirty that night by the time they returned to Laramie, precious cargo in tow. Eleven-thirty, by the time they unloaded the truck and set up the five umbrella tables and twenty chairs. And though Dylan had handled the trip well, he noted Emily was looking pretty tired as midnight neared. Which wasn't surprising, given she had been up since four that the morning. Whereas he, as usual, had slept in until six…

Her expression supremely content, Emily stepped back, looking at their handiwork beneath the glow of the street lights. “That's really nice, isn't it?” she asked Dylan.

He nodded in agreement. There was no doubt about it—the outdoor seating added a lot of charm to the storefront of her building. He wasn't sure, however, that a four-thousand-dollar expenditure was good for Emily
financially
at the moment. But since he had no idea what the café's bottom line was, he couldn't comment.

Instead, he focused on the positive. “The outdoor seating should help a lot, when the usual crowds return.” He reached out to playfully tug the end of her ponytail. “I know I'll appreciate a shorter wait time for a table.”

The corners of her soft lips turned up. “When,” she repeated, her blue eyes sparkling. “I like the sound of that.” She sighed, then added less certainly, “I only hope the prediction comes true as soon as possible.”

Dylan consoled her with a hug. Forcing himself to keep it friendly, he gave her an extra squeeze and let her go. Stepping back from her, he held her gaze and reminded, “You're an amazing chef, Emily. Sooner or later, people are going to remember that and return in droves.”

Emily's slender body tensed. She lifted her hands to her
head and removed the clasp holding her ponytail in place. “I hope so.”

Dylan watched the spill of silky hair fall over her shoulders. Recalling their agreement, he tamped down his desire. “Want me to take the truck back to the lot?”

The tension left her shoulders. She slanted him a grateful glance, her weariness beginning to show. “If you wouldn't mind, that would be great,” she told him softly. She looked around for the scissors she'd brought out of the café. “I'll stay and cut the tags off everything.” She inclined her head slightly, added casually, “If you want to return, maybe we can have some pie à la mode or…something…”

Dylan didn't know what he was looking forward to more—eating one of the desserts she'd made or simply spending more time with her. “Sounds great,” he said. Eager to get back, Dylan took off.

 

E
MILY WAS NEARLY DONE
cutting off the tags, when footsteps sounded. She looked up to see Xavier coming down the sidewalk, toward her.

Great. Just what she did not need!

Looking like a teenager who'd just had his car keys taken away, he started right in on her, demanding pugnaciously, “Why didn't you come out of the kitchen today when I brought you flowers?”

Emily wondered if the spoiled teen's bullying had ever worked on any woman. It sure did nothing for her. “I was busy.”

His jaw thrust forward in what looked like a permanent pout. “You're making a mistake. You should date me, not Dylan Reeves,” he told her scornfully.

Emily drew a bolstering breath and tried to be kind. “Xavier, I am sure there is a cougar somewhere right now who is calling your name. Some woman who would be
delighted by the ardent attentions of a much younger man. It is just not me.”

He blinked as if he couldn't believe the rejection. “I'm a great guy.”

“Who is trying to run me out of business,” Emily couldn't resist pointing out.

“A great guy who wants to succeed,” Xavier insisted.

Emily moved to the next table and continued cutting off tags. “Then I wish you all the best. Now, if you don't mind, I have my own problems to deal with.”

Once again, the kid refused to take the hint and, instead, followed her from place to place. “Dylan Reeves acts like a hero, but he's not.” Xavier positioned himself so she had no choice but to look at him. “Dylan Reeves is a
criminal,
Emily.”

Xavier's words carried an implicit threat that chilled Emily to the bone. She paused long enough to look him in the eye.

“What are you talking about?” she demanded evenly, all the while telling herself this could not be true.

He smiled smugly. “Dylan is a former juvenile delinquent, with a very long record. He spent time at the Libertyville Boys Ranch as a kid.”

If that was correct, Emily thought, privately reeling at the news, it certainly explained a lot. Why Dylan had insisted on taking such a hard line with Andrew from the get-go. Why he was so involved with philanthropic work for the boys ranch. Maybe even why he was incredibly committed to his profession.

Determined to keep her feelings to herself, she regarded Xavier evenly. “Dylan Reeves is also my friend. And I don't let anyone talk trash about my friends.”

Xavier glared at her. “You're a McCabe, a member of the most powerful, respected family in the state.”

Was that why he had chosen Laramie as a site for his franchise diner? So he could hook up with her? The idea seemed bizarre and yet it made sense. The kid was definitely a social-climbing, billionaire wannabe who was looking for a shortcut to success. Perhaps he'd set his sights on the Laramie, Texas, McCabes, because they had powerful ties to ranching, oil and technology—as well as a host of other potentially lucrative professions, like commercial real estate development, movie-making and the designer clothing industry….

“There are plenty of other respected, powerful clans with single daughters. Girls,” Emily emphasized bluntly, “more your age.”

“None on par with the McCabes,” Xavier argued back. “Or you.”

Emily didn't really know what to say to that. It was true—her family was enormously successful. Enough to attract all kinds of people just looking for a quick ride to success. That didn't, however, make it right. She wished she knew a way to explain that entry into her world was not an immediate guarantee to personal happiness. But she knew that would fall on deaf ears to an obviously emotionally neglected kid like Xavier, who'd likely used money as the method to solve every problem. Deep down she sensed what the kid
really
needed was what she'd had—lots of familial love and attention….

Sometimes, too much attention.

“You'd really choose a small-time horse trainer over me?” he asked finally, aghast as the reality of the situation finally began to sink in.

“Horse whisperer,” Emily corrected, “and I already have.” She looked at Xavier with the little bit of patience and compassion she had left. “So I would appreciate it if you and I never had this discussion again, because it's clearly uncomfortable for both of us.”

Hurt and astonishment gave way to boiling anger. “This is really the way it's going to be?”

“It really is,” Emily stated firmly.

He balled his fists at his sides. “Then you're going to be sorry. You
both
will.
No one
disrespects me and gets away with it.”

 

D
YLAN ARRIVED
, just as Shillingsworth stormed away. He parked his truck at the curb, in front of the restaurant, and came toward her. “What was that all about?” he demanded.

Emily's pulse picked up. “Let's take this inside, okay?”

Dylan searched her eyes, recognizing right away that something was wrong. “Did he hurt you? Because if he did…”

“He didn't touch me—it was just a verbal exchange.” She led the way inside the café and shut the door after them.

Dylan waited, his brow furrowed in concern.

Emily swallowed hard and then drew a breath. “Xavier told me you had a criminal record.”

Dylan's shoulders slumped. “It's true.”

Hurt warred with confusion. “Why didn't you tell me any of this before—when it sort of came up because of Andrew?” she asked, feeling her cheeks heat.

He folded his arms. “It wasn't relevant to us.”

She bore her eyes into his. “I thought we were friends.”

His expression remained impassive. “We are.”

Doubt reared. “Good friends tell each other stuff.”

Silence fell as the moment of reckoning came. Emily expected Dylan to shut her out again, but he became unexpectedly gentle, let his guard down. “What do you want to know?”

Figuring if they did this right, it would take a while, Emily walked into the kitchen. “Everything. How and why you landed in juve—”

Dylan sat down on a stool. “I stole a car.”

Emily set a chocolate-chip-pecan pie and a carton of vanilla ice cream on the prep table. “There has to be more to it than that.”

His lips thinned. “There always is. There's no excuse for what I did.”

Emily waited, but nothing else was immediately forthcoming. “What did your parents think?” she asked quietly.

“My father left before I was born. And my mom died during routine surgery when I was fourteen. This happened after.”

“Did family take you in?”

“They were asked. But they didn't want me any more than they wanted my mom or me when she got pregnant at sixteen. So I was sent to foster care.”

Emily's heart went out to him. “You must have been hurt.”

Dylan inclined his head. “And angry enough to act out, the same way Andrew is acting out now. I fell in with a bad crowd. And did something really stupid, trying to prove I was tough.” He paused, reflecting stoically, “Who knows what would have happened to me if I hadn't been sent to the Libertyville Boys Ranch? The people there turned my life around.”

Emily cut two pieces of pie and topped them with ice cream. “Is that where you became interested in horses?”

Dylan accepted the plate and fork with a nod of thanks. “Learning to care for and about animals is a great lesson for kids, because animals are like us. They just want to be loved and understood.”

He said that so easily. It was the first hint of real sentimentality she had seen in him. Emily yearned for more. “
Do
you want to be loved?” Emily murmured curiously before she could stop herself. “Because sometimes, Dylan, I am not so sure.”

Suddenly he grinned, as at ease with his sexuality as she was with being part of a family. He stood and walked around
the table to take her in his arms. “In my way, yes, Emily, I want to be loved,” he murmured softly.

An erotic thrill whispered through her, as hot and exciting as the feel of his body next to hers.

Emily tried to contain her disappointment that he wasn't more romantic in his view, that he still didn't want what she wanted—a love that would last forever. “You mean physically,” she guessed, her pulse pounding.

Dylan shrugged, as matter-of-fact as ever. “It's a lot less complicated.”

The question was, could she ever be satisfied with just that?
Was this a risk she was willing to take?

Dylan didn't know what Emily was going to do. He knew what she was
tempted
to do. The slight hitch in her breath, the quickening of the pulse in her throat, the way she leaned slightly toward him, all told him that she was as ready to make love with him again as he was with her. At least, physically.

Emotionally was another matter. There, she still had her reservations, he decided. He couldn't blame her.

The two of them weren't well suited.

And never would be. Unless one of them changed significantly, and that was about as likely to happen as a snowfall in the Texas spring…

Her mood suddenly seeming as ambivalent as his, Emily edged away. “Well, I better go in. I have to get up at four, to get breakfast started in the café.”

The gentlemanly thing to do would be to wish her well and let her go. But the desire flaring between them was almost impossible to resist. So Dylan found himself saying, “Are you planning on helping out with the mustangs tomorrow afternoon?”

Emily smiled. “Tell Ginger, Salt and Pepper I'll see them then.”

Happy he had a reason to keep seeing Emily on a regular basis, Dylan promised he would.

Bypassing the temptation of a good-night kiss, for fear of
starting something that would be tough to step away from, Dylan headed home.

He spent the night dreaming about Emily, and woke, wanting her more than ever.

Storm clouds obscured the dawn.

By the time he had finished caring for the herd, rain was pouring down. Just in time to ruin Emily's breakfast rush. What was left of it, anyway.

Dylan drove by the café. Because of the weather, the exterior was deserted. Inside, the Daybreak Café looked just as sparsely attended.

While down the street, the Cowtown Diner had a respectable crowd inside, from the looks of it, and no line at all outside.

Knowing the hungry cowpokes had to be somewhere, Dylan headed for the feed store.

Inside, as he predicted, were three dozen cowboys and ranchers, using the inclement weather as reason enough to get their supplies in. Among them were all three of Emily's brothers.

Holden McCabe was the first to approach Dylan. He extended his hand. “I want to thank you for doing your part to help scare off Shillingsworth.”

Not sure he should be accepting congratulations for having had a fling with Emily, Dylan returned the handshake, anyway. “I guess you heard—”

“About that arrogant kid setting his sights on Emily?” Hank McCabe prompted, joining them. “Everyone knows about it. Shillingsworth has been running all over town for a week now, embarrassing himself by telling people that Emily is going to be his cougar.”

“Which in itself is no surprise,” Jeb chuckled. “Given that our baby sis is such a bum magnet.” He shook his head in mock consternation, then turned back to Dylan. “Fortunately,
whatever she is pretending to have going on with you has caused the kid to change his mind. As of last night, Shillingsworth is saying he's no longer interested in Emily.”

“Which of course is good news to us,” Holden said.

Maybe not, Dylan thought, if the kid made good on his promise to seek revenge on their sister, and him.

Jeb ran a hand across his jaw, ruminating, “The mystery is that Shillingsworth ever thought he had a shot with her in the first place.”

“Clearly, he doesn't understand what it takes to be a McCabe, or fraternize with one,” another cowboy said, joining the group. “The sense of integrity and community…”

“Unfortunately,” Holden said, “it doesn't matter how many suitable guys are attracted to her, or who we introduce her to, she always ends up with the completely unmarriageable types.”

The feed-store owner walked up to join the group. “So maybe that means you have a shot,” he ribbed Dylan with a grin. “Since you've vowed not only to never get married, but never be tamed by any woman.”

Not about to publicly confess he was beginning to wonder if he should reconsider that declaration, Dylan shrugged.

Figuring Emily would not want anyone getting the idea that the two of them had once been intimate, Dylan kept up the expected ruse. “And for good reason, since freedom is the most important attribute a man can possess,” he boasted with the expected machismo. “And the only thing that will ever guarantee happiness.”

Everyone fell silent in an abrupt, uncomfortable way that let Dylan know he had missed something important. He turned slowly. Emily was standing in the open doorway of the feed store. The distressed look on her face said she had heard just about everything.

 

E
MILY KNEW
some guys acted as if matrimony was a prison sentence when they were standing around, shooting the breeze. It was one thing to be aware of that; another to witness it when she was the person supposedly carrying the potential ball and chain guaranteed to bring a lifetime of misery to whomever she one day married.

If she ever married.

That prospect seemed less likely every day.

In the meantime, she had a job to do. An awkward silence to end… “Hey, fellas,” she grinned, sauntering nonchalantly forward, as if all her romantic hopes had not just been crushed to smithereens. She pulled the sheaf of coupons from the plastic protector in her hand and slapped them down on the feed-store counter.

“I hope you-all are hungry,” she informed them in her sweet-as-pie Texas belle voice. “Because we've got quite the special going over at the café this morning. Buy one of our bottomless cups of coffee, and you'll get a free breakfast entrée. But the special is only good for today.”

Hoots and hollers echoed throughout the warehouse-style feed store. There was a near stampede for the coupons and then the exit. Giving Dylan and her brothers no chance to say anything to her, she followed the hungry cowboys out the door.

As Emily had expected, the next few hours were incredibly busy. Although the tables outside were empty due to the downpour, the inside was hopping, just the way it used to be.

They served one hundred customers between seven and ten, and because she extended the special through lunchtime, another seventy-five after that.

Finally, it was time for closing.

And that was when Dylan Reeves walked in, his expression inscrutable. “I want to talk,” he said.

“I can handle things down here,” Simone said.

Bobbie Sue and Billy Ray concurred. “We'll clean up and close up,” they said.

Figuring what she had to say to Dylan was best accomplished without an audience, Emily thanked them and led the way to her apartment over the restaurant.

Dylan shrugged out of his rain slicker.

He continued to look at her in his very sexy, very determined way. “About what you heard this morning at the feed store…”

“I think I got the gist of it.”

He adopted a no-nonsense stance, legs braced apart, hands bracketing his waist. It would have been very intimidating had she allowed it to affect her. She didn't.

“The guys were just…”

Emily lifted her chin, daring him to try and spin it. “Having a chuckle at my expense? I know. Not to worry… I'm not serious about you, either, Dylan. I know better than that.” And if she hadn't before, she did now.

“If I were interested in being tied down…” he said.

“Or tied up,” Emily said, trying to lighten the mood with her flip comment. “I'm sure you'd just rush to the phone and call me.”

Dylan ignored her comment and kept his eyes on hers. “You're an amazing woman,” he told her quietly. “Everyone knows that.”

How had this turned into the preliminary to a break-up speech? Emily wondered. And why did it hurt so much to think that was what it might be?

None of this had been real. She knew that. Didn't she…?

Years of being the kid sister, and hence the recipient of her older brothers' incessant teasing and interference, enabled her to regain her footing and pretend she was okay with all this.

Emily cleared her throat with exaggerated enthusiasm.
“And you're an amazing man,” she recapped for him, cheerfully. “And neither of us are interested in marrying each other. So it's okay.” She flashed a reassuring smile she could not even begin to feel. “Really.”

The narrowed eyes indicated he disagreed with the attempt to just write off the mishap and move on.

Fearing that he would say something that would make her want to forget all about this and forgive him, she leaned closer still. “I get that we are just helping each other out in the short term.” Emily took a bolstering breath and forced herself to hold his eyes in the same deliberate way he was holding hers. “I understand that you are a distraction for me from all my problems in the same way I am a source of free meals and an occasional horse wrangler for you.”

Finally, he saw where this was going.

Dylan's lips thinned into a grim line. “You really think that's all we are to each other?” He studied her incredulously. “Aides-de-camp?”

She had to be logical,
stop
trying to turn guys into all they could be,
start
accepting them for who and what they were. And no matter how much it hurt, leave it at that.

Resolved that no matter what happened she would not cry, Emily faced Dylan. “That's a fancy term, cowboy, but given how all this started, with me asking you to be my pretend boyfriend? Glorified assistants slash occasional companions are all we can be to each other.” She set her jaw and finished flatly, “All we should be.”

That said, she showed him the door. The look on her face warned him not to expect anything to change any time soon.

 

F
OUR DAYS LATER
, Dylan was in the Last Chance stable, commending Andrew on a job well done, when he heard the sound of Emily's car. He finished giving Andrew instructions on
the making of the bran mash the horses would be getting for dinner, then walked out to the edge of the stable.

Emily was already heading toward the paddock where the three mustangs were waiting.

The younger two had already received their two training sessions for the day. Ginger was still waiting for her second schooling.

All looked glad to see the pretty dark-haired woman striding happily toward them.

Despite the way they had parted, Dylan was glad to see her, too.

“Why does being out on a ranch always make me feel better?” Emily asked the horses as she approached the pasture fence. The three mustangs, which had been standing together against the fence, moseyed over to greet her.

Emily stepped up on the second rail, the action making her tall enough to reach them. She smiled and ran her hands over the faces of the white filly and the black gelding, offering both a carrot for their trouble, and then turned to the leader of the mustangs, three-year-old Ginger.

The mare stuck her head over the fence, too, wanting her treat. Emily gave it to her first, then waited to see what Ginger would do.

Just as she'd done during the past three days of training Ginger pushed her head toward Emily, wanting to be petted.

Dylan knew how that felt, too.

Although they had seen each other numerous times over the past week, Emily had managed not to touch him once.

Or look him in the eye, either.

He'd given her the space she seemed to require, but that didn't mean he didn't miss her.

And that was a surprise.

Dylan had never missed any woman who had come in and gone out of his life. He'd never
allowed
himself to do so.

With Emily, it wasn't a choice.

He felt the way he felt.

Just as she felt the way she apparently felt.

“How is it,” Emily continued in a soft voice Dylan would not have been able to make out, had he not been coming up behind her, “that horses in general and you in particular always lift my spirits no matter what else is going on?” she asked Ginger rhetorically.

Dylan wanted to know the answer to that, too.

Had he been a fool to think—even after the downward turn of their relationship—that Emily had rushed out to see him, as well as the mustangs? That she enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed hers, even when she was still obviously angry with him? Or was he the one believing in fairy tales now? Indulging in wishful thinking…hoping someone would change even when they showed no real disposition to do so…?

As if sensing the conflicted nature of his thoughts, Ginger nickered softly in response and swung her head toward Dylan, dipping her nose.

As Dylan reached up to pet the mustang, Emily turned slightly and caught sight of him. He inhaled the familiar scent of her hair and skin. “You look tired.” The words were out before he could stop himself.

She lifted an eyebrow at the unusual display of over-protectiveness.

Dylan had to admit he was a little stunned himself. He didn't usually comment on the shadows beneath anyone else's eyes. Even eyes as pretty as Emily's.

The intimacy in her expression faded as quickly as it had appeared. “It's been crazy busy at the café all week, from
open to close,” Emily said with a shrug. “Even with the tables outside, we are jam-packed.”

Dylan was glad she was getting her clientele back.

It was easy to see why.

Thus far this week, the specials had changed every day. After the success of her free entrée with a cup of coffee, she had gone on to offer a half-price breakfast special—which had been a fruit plate, biscuits and breakfast casserole. The third day it had been all the blueberry pancakes you could eat, for a dollar. This morning, there had been huge fifty-cent cinnamon rolls and coffee. Dylan had eaten there all four days.

The lunch specials the café was showcasing were just as amazing.

“I guess the additional promotions and the specials are really working out for you?”

Emily beamed. “I've got all my regular clientele back and then some.”

“Good to hear.” He liked to see her so blissfully happy and content.