Roughneck Cowboy (6 page)

Time would tell how long Sara could resist his roughneck charm.

 

S
ARA CHECKED THE CLASSROOM
clock. 4:00 p.m. School had ended an hour ago. Evidently Travis Cartwright wouldn't be keeping his promise to attend the after-school meeting to plan the Christmas party.

“Sara?”

Startled, she tore her gaze from the clock. “I'm sorry?” She smiled at Darla Kemper, one of the room mothers seated at the children's worktable.

“I designed the invitations for the party next Friday.” Darla displayed the elaborate artwork.

“They're beautiful.” Sara wished Darla put as much effort into encouraging her son to do his homework as she did designing party invitations.

“We should put a reminder inside the invitations for the school food-bank project.” Patsy Reynolds shared the room-mother duties with Darla. Sara appreciated the woman's common-sense approach to helping in the classroom.

“Good idea,” Sara said. “Let's send the invitations home with the children on Monday.” A few years ago, she'd done away with the traditional holiday gift exchange in her classroom and had the children bring in canned food for needy families in the community. The idea had been a huge success and now each grade participated in the food drive. This season, donations were down and the number of needy families had risen from twelve to eighteen.

“What about snacks for the party?” Darla said.

“How about a Victorian supper?” The mothers stared at Sara with blank faces. “Since we're reading Dickens'
A Christmas Carol
, I thought a Victorian-themed party would be nice.”

Patsy shrugged. “Why not? I'll look up Victorian foods and prepare a sign-up list for the parents.”

Bless you, Patsy.

“Oh, shoot. I need to go.” Darla shoved her notebook into her purse. “Bob's pulling a double shift today. I'd better get home before the kids tear the house apart.” Darla's husband owned a tow-truck business.

“What about the decorations?” Patsy asked.

“I've set aside time for the kids to make ornaments for the class tree.” Sara walked the ladies to the door.

“Who's bringing in the Christmas tree?” Darla asked.

“I thought I'd see if the other room parent…” Sara sucked in a quiet breath when she glanced down the hallway and spotted Travis. “Here he is now.”

“Wow. Wish I hadn't put on those extra ten pounds over Thanksgiving.” Patsy sighed. “Not that it matters. A guy like that wouldn't give girls like us a second look, would he, Sara?”

Although Sara was used to people viewing her as a simple unadorned woman, Patsy's comment still stung.

“Hello, ladies,” Travis greeted. “Sorry I'm late.”

“You're helping with the Christmas party?” Darla asked.

“Yes, ma'am.”

The deep timbre of his voice sent a shiver down Sara's spine—or maybe it was the heady scent of his cologne. She swallowed a sigh. The roughneck could
ma'am
her any day and all day. “Travis Cartwright, meet Patsy Reynolds and Darla Kemper.” She motioned to each woman. “My room mothers.”

“Nice to meet you, Travis. Gotta run.” Darla rushed off.

Patsy scribbled her telephone number on a piece of paper and handed it to Travis. “Call me if you need help finding a tree.” Patsy winked, then followed Darla.

Travis frowned at the note.

“Patsy's divorced with four children.” Sara left out the obvious—the single mother was on the hunt for a husband. Sara wandered over to her desk and organized
papers, willing her heart to cease pounding. Her memory of Travis hadn't done him justice. His broad frame filled out his cable-knit sweater, reminding her of a muscular New England fisherman.

He strolled around the classroom. “So this is Charlie's new home away from home.”

“Her desk is over there.” Sara nodded to the opposite side of the room.

“How did Charlie do this week? When I spoke to her on the phone, she sounded excited about school.”

“She did great.” Charlie had a rough first day when two boys had made fun of her name. After Sara had explained that Charlie's grandmother had recently died, the boys had decided that Charlie was a cool nickname for a girl. “She's made a new friend—Mary Parker. They eat lunch together and play during recess.”

“Charlie mentioned Mary.” Travis stopped in front of her desk. “Are you busy?”

“No.” She'd planned to grade papers until five. “Why?”

“Would you like to grab a bite to eat?” His lips curled in a sexy half-grin. “You can tell me about the tree I've been assigned to find for the classroom.”

For half a second Sara stopped breathing, then she chided herself for her silly reaction. Travis wasn't asking her out on a date. A man like him would never be interested in a woman such as herself. Good thing, because she had no intention of falling for another handsome man—been there. Done that. Paid a high price. When she was ready to dive into another relationship, she'd pick a steady Eddy, not a tall, muscular, tanned, handsome, sexy roughneck. “Patsy or Darla could give you a call next week,” she said.

His expression sobered. “There's something else we need to discuss.”

“Oh?”

“Dominick.”

The mention of her pesky neighbor startled Sara like a cold splash of water in her face. She should have expected that Dominick would send his son to do his dirty work. Maybe dinner wasn't such a bad idea. By the end of the meal Travis would understand no one bullied Sara Sanders. “How about Beulah's?” she suggested.

“I'll wait for you in the parking lot.”

As soon as Travis left the room, Sara's jittery nerves calmed. Even though she stood five-ten and weighed—never mind—Travis was still an imposing man. She gathered the student grammar tests and crammed them into her schoolbag, then put on her coat and flipped off the lights before shutting the classroom door.

When she reached the parking lot, she noticed Travis's truck idling in the spot next to her white compact. He flashed another smile—Lord, the man's teeth were white. She left the school, the truck's headlights burning into the back of her head. Ten minutes later she arrived at Beulah's and parked by the patio.

Beulah met them in the hallway when they entered through the back door. “Howdy, Sara.”

“Beulah, you remember Travis Cartwright.”

“Sure do. Where's that youngin' of yours?”

“With her grandfather,” Travis said.

They were escorted into the front room and seated by the window. “You plan to stick around for a while?” Beulah asked Travis.

“Appears that way.” Travis nodded across the table. “Sara is Charlie's new teacher.”

“Ain't that interesting.” Beulah snagged the pencil protruding from her beehive hairdo. “Ready to order?”

“I'll have the shepherd's pie and coffee.”

“Make mine the same,” Travis said.

“Be back in a jiffy.”

As soon as Beulah walked out of earshot, Sara steered the conversation toward Christmas trees. “Last year, the room mothers purchased a real evergreen for the class party, but the tree dried out too quickly and became a fire hazard.”

“What about an artificial tree?” Travis suggested.

“I was hoping for something more unique. Would you be able to come up with an idea for a homemade tree? Not too large—just big enough to hold thirteen ornaments?”

“Sure. Charlie and I will brainstorm something. When do you need the tree?”

“Next Friday.”

Beulah delivered their coffee. “Food will be right up.”

Christmas-tree talk exhausted, Sara avoided eye contact and sipped her coffee. “How—”

“What's—” They spoke at the same time.

“You go first,” he said.

“What's it like having a job in the middle of the ocean?”

“Not as glamorous as people assume. I worked the second shift—6:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. After I clocked out in the morning, I'd eat breakfast, then sleep until two.”

“What did you do for entertainment?”

“Watched movies, played pool, Ping-Pong or lifted weights.”

Her eyes strayed to his biceps—he must have lifted a lot of iron. “You didn't feel claustrophobic living in such close quarters?”

“Sometimes.” He didn't elaborate.

“I imagine your coworkers will miss you.” She wondered if any girlfriends would miss him, but Beulah returned with their food and a basket of warm bread, ending her line of questioning.

“You've lived here all your life, so you must know Matt and Samantha pretty well.” Travis buttered a roll.

“My brothers and I helped around the ranch a lot and didn't have much of a social life outside of school.” Mostly true. She saw no reason to share with Travis that his sister had been popular and had hung out with the in-crowd, while she'd been a bookworm with few friends. “How was your first Thanksgiving at the Lazy River?”

“Charlie had fun with her cousins.”

Sara noticed Travis hadn't said whether he'd enjoyed the gathering.

“The recent Cartwright weddings have been the talk of the town,” Sara said. “Duke this past February, then Matt in July and Samantha in September.” Sara had been green with envy when she'd heard Samantha and Wade Dawson were tying the knot. Sara's wish to marry and have a family of her own seemed farther out of reach than ever these days.

“There's still one Cartwright sibling that's single.” Travis winked.

Sara resisted the urge to ask why Charlie's mother wasn't in the picture, but the less she knew about Travis's personal life the better.

“How long has my father been after you to sell the Bar T to him?”

Travis didn't beat around the bush. “He hasn't told you the whole story?”

“Our schedules haven't allowed us to talk much.”

“My father took out a second mortgage on the Bar T a couple of years ago. Around the same time his health took a turn for the worse. The medical bills piled up until he died this past April.”

“I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“I didn't know that your father had passed away so recently.”

His simple confession sounded more sincere than the five-hundred-dollar flower arrangement Cartwright Oil sent to the funeral home.

“Thank you. Before my father died, we'd commissioned a soil study on the property and the ranch tested positive for oil. We'd hoped to lease the drilling rights and use that money to get out of debt.”

“What's kept you from going ahead with your plans?”

“Your father.” At Travis's surprised expression, Sara explained. “I don't have proof, but I believe your father is wielding his influence and forcing the local oil companies to lowball their bids.”

“That's not ethical.”

“I keep forgetting that you never knew your father existed until recently. In time, you'll begin to see Dominick for what he really is.”

Travis stiffened. “And what is that?”

“A bully.” Sara breathed in deeply, hoping to calm her anger. “He's forcing our backs to the wall with the bogus lawsuit he recently filed. What your father refuses to understand is that no matter what he does, we're not selling or leasing to him.”

“What's your backup plan?”

There was no backup plan. “Win the lottery.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “I promised my father that Dominick would never step foot on the Bar T.”

Pointing his fork at her food, he said, “Eat before it gets cold.”

She was grateful Travis dropped the subject of oil, and they ate in silence.

“Apple pie?” Beulah topped off their coffee cups.

“No, thank you.” She loved apple pie, but the extra calories would go straight to her hips.

“Bring two.” As soon as Beulah walked off, Travis said, “You're not one of those women who never eats dessert, are you?”

She snorted. “Do I look like a woman who never touches sweets?”

His eyes twinkled. “I like a woman who appreciates good food.”

No problem there. Sara craved all kinds of food—more than she should.

They ate dessert in silence and Travis grabbed the check as soon as Beulah set it on the table. “I'll pay for my meal,” Sara said, digging through her wallet.

“It's on me.” Travis tossed thirty dollars on the table.

“This isn't a date,” she insisted.

He leveled his lethal grin at her. “Can't a friend pick up the tab this once?”

Friend?
Travis Cartwright was dangerous to her health and heart. She had no intention of becoming friends with him.

“M
s. Sanders says if I get all my spelling words right next time, she'll put my picture on the shining-star wall.” Charlie dragged a chair to the kitchen counter, where Juanita measured ingredients for cookie dough.

This was the first Travis had heard of any
wall.
“What's a shining-star wall?”

“Kids who do something good get their picture on the bulletin board.” Charlie rolled her eyes. “Bethany always gets her picture on the wall.”

Ah, so his daughter was jealous of Bethany. “I'll quiz you on your spelling words after supper.”

“That's okay. Grandpa said he'd help me when he gets home.”

Travis ignored the sharp sting of Charlie's words. They'd lived at the Lazy River for two weeks and already his daughter believed Dominick walked on water. Travis and his father, on the other hand, were still feeling their way around one another—as if one wrong look or word would sever the invisible truce between them.

When Dominick had departed on his recent business trip, Travis had breathed a sigh of relief. He'd spent Monday and Tuesday at Cartwright Oil's corporate
office in Tulsa, familiarizing himself with the various company oil rigs and their operational logs. No one had voiced an objection to Travis working for the company, except one field supervisor who made little effort to disguise his displeasure at being forced to relinquish some of his duties to Travis.

“Ms. Sanders says I'm as good a reader as Bethany and she's the best in the class.” Charlie snuck a pinch of cookie dough when Juanita retrieved two eggs from the fridge.

“Ms. Sanders is a smart teacher,” Juanita said, cracking an egg against the side of the sink.

Ms. Sanders this. Ms. Sanders that
—the very woman responsible for Travis's grumpy mood. At the end of their impromptu dinner date at Beulah's this past Friday, he'd invited Sara out for coffee the following morning. His intention had been to show how harmless he was. He was confident that once he'd gained her trust, he could persuade her to do business with Dominick. Sara had turned down his invitation.

Not easily discouraged, he'd phoned the school on Monday and had left a message on the teacher's voice mail, inviting her to join him and Charlie for pizza that evening. She'd never returned his call. He'd phoned Sara Tuesday and had received the same response—none.

Travis wasn't a vain man, but most of the women he asked out jumped at the chance to be with him. That the schoolteacher had given him the cold shoulder both amused and frustrated him. Travis had to be careful how hard and heavy he pursued Sara—he didn't want to give her the idea he was romantically interested in her. Sara wasn't his type and he doubted she was into flings.

“Ms. Sanders said just 'cause I'm not big like the other kids it doesn't mean I'm not smart.” Charlie wrinkled her nose.

“She's right. Size has nothing to do with brains,” Travis said.

“Tell that to stupid Trevor. He thinks I have a tiny brain.”

“Want me to beat Trevor up?”

Charlie's giggle warmed Travis's heart. He couldn't recall the last time he'd made his daughter laugh.

“Ms. Sanders made Trevor stay after school and wash all the desks.”

Good for Ms. Sanders.

“And Ms. Sanders said she didn't get tall 'til high school.” Charlie took the spoon Juanita handed her and scraped the remaining cookie dough off the sides of the mixing bowl. “Do you think I'm gonna be as tall as Ms. Sanders?”

Obviously Charlie was infatuated with her new teacher. “I don't think so, Charlie. Julie was only five feet three inches.” Sara would tower over Charlie's birth mother, but if she stood toe-to-toe with Travis she'd almost stare him in the eye.
Perfect for kissing
.

Whoa.
Where had that thought come from? Friends didn't kiss—not in the way Travis had envisioned a moment ago.

“Think I'll go for a drive.” Since Sara hadn't returned his calls he'd head over to the Bar T and pay a visit to her brothers—maybe they'd be easier to sway than their sister. “Want to come along, Charlie?” He grabbed his jacket from a hook by the back door.

“Nope. I'm gonna help Juanita put the lights on the Christmas tree after we bake cookies.”

Speaking of Christmas trees…“Think about what kind of tree you want to make for the class party this Friday. When I get back, we'll talk about it.”

The Bar T Ranch was due north of the Lazy River. Travis drove along a frontage road, keeping his eyes peeled for the entrance. He'd gone a mile when he noticed Sara scuffling with a cow behind a barbed-wire fence. He checked the rearview mirror, then pulled onto the shoulder and shifted into Park.
I'll be damned
.

Sara was a sight to see in her hip-hugging blue jeans as she flailed her arms in the face of the steer and stomped her boots. The stubborn animal chewed its cud and stared right through her.

There were no other cows in sight, save the one receiving a dressing down from the schoolteacher. He turned off the truck and sidled up to the fence for a front-row view of the show.

“Blasted animal,” she muttered. “Stupid brothers.” A second later…“Damn all males to hell and back.” She kicked a petrified cow pattie sky-high.

Travis backpedaled a few steps.

“Are you going to stand there and watch or help me convince this beast to head back to the herd?” Slowly, as if she didn't trust the bovine not to charge, Sara peeked over her shoulder.

“Shouldn't you be grading papers or something?”

“Gabe took off the day after Thanksgiving.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “I came over after school to help Cole.”

“What's wrong with the cow?”

“He's a renegade. No matter where the herd grazes, he wanders off.”

“Why can't he eat where he wants?”

“Cole's inoculating the herd and this guy needs to be vaccinated.”

Sara's car sat parked on the dirt road running parallel to the pasture. “You could tie the steer to the bumper on the car and drag him back to the barn.”

“I'm tempted to, but this guy is so bullheaded I'd end up breaking his legs before he budged an inch.” She waved her hands but the cow only blinked.

“How come you won't return my calls?” Travis asked. “I thought we had a nice time at Beulah's.” Silence. “I was hoping we could get to know one another better.” After watching her amusing struggle with the cow, he decided Sara might turn out to be a fun friend.

“Becoming friends isn't a good idea.”

Was she on to him already? “Why?”

She gaped as if he'd lost his mind. “Dating the father of one of my students isn't…isn't…acceptable.”

Dating?
Who said anything about dating? At least she hadn't guessed his real motive. “Is dating the single father of a student against school rules?”

“No, but that's beside the point.” She perched her hands on her hips. “Charlie's liable to get hurt.”

“How do you figure that?”

A red flush crept up Sara's neck. “She won't understand when things don't work out.”

They'd gone from getting to know one another to dating to breaking up in the span of sixty seconds. Taking pity on her, he dropped the subject and motioned to the steer. “Tell me what to do.”

“Never mind. I'm sure you have better ways to spend your time than wrestling a cow.”

“Not really. I was on my way to the Bar T to introduce myself to your brothers.”

She balled her hands into fists and Travis wondered if she intended to punch the cow or him. A moment later, the steer moved—in the wrong direction. “Hey, come back here!” Sara trotted after the cow.

Now what—stand here and do nothing? Or make a fool out of himself and run after the animal?
What the hell.
Travis hopped the fence, then zigzagged around a minefield of cow patties as he sprinted ahead of Sara. He shouted and waved his arms. The cow stopped. Snorted. Changed directions and took off toward a gaping hole in the barbed wire.

“Don't let him get to the road!” Sara hollered.

The steer picked up speed and damned if Travis's lungs didn't burn trying to keep up. Tired of running, he launched himself at the animal, flinging his arms around its neck. He locked his knees, but the cow kept trotting and Travis swore his boot heels would be worn down to nothing by the time the beast gave in.

All of a sudden the cow did a three-sixty and Travis went airborne. He hit a patch of rocky ground, then sat in a daze, his butt numb, his palms skinned. He didn't have time to get on his feet before Sara's scream reached his ears.

“Travis, watch out!”

The demented steer charged. Travis rolled sideways in the nick of time, saving himself from being trampled. He crawled to his knees but had to pitch himself forward when the steer headed for him again. This time Travis ended up sprawled on his stomach.

Okay, bad boy. I'm pissed
. He hauled his aching body upright and glared at the animal. The steer lowered its head and walked toward Travis.

Yeah, that's right. Surrender, you stupid side of beef
.
Feeling damn proud of himself, Travis turned away and shouted, “I got him to give up!” No sooner had the words left his mouth than he felt a hard shove from behind. Travis fell to the ground—
again
.

Sara screamed like a banshee and harassed the steer until it backed off. The schoolteacher sure had a set of lungs on her. Once the animal stood at a safe distance, she dropped to her knees and patted him from head to toe. “Any broken bones?”

“I'm fine.” His face inches from Sara's chest, Travis was more than fine. How had the schoolteacher's voluptuous bosom escaped his notice?

“Did you hit your head?”

Travis didn't have a chance to answer because Sara's eyes widened, then she pinched her nose and stumbled back.

“Eew!”

“What?”

She scooted farther away. “You smell like…poo.”

He sniffed, then cringed. His clothes were covered with cow-patty debris. “You don't have to talk to me like I'm one of your third-graders,” he teased.

“What do you mean?”

“
Poo?
You're a big girl. Use a big-girl word.”

“Fine. You smell like…like…”

“Say it.” He grinned. “I dare you.”

Sara's cheeks puffed up like a blow-fish. “You smell like
shit
.”

“Say it again.”

She rolled her eyes. “Shit. Shit. Shiiit!”

“Feels good, doesn't it?”

She giggled, then kept giggling until the sound turned into a belly-laugh that led to a snort, then a
gasp of embarrassment, which brought her right back to giggling.

Fascinated by the change in Sara's usual cool demeanor, Travis leaned forward, grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her. When she didn't pull away, he pressed his lips more firmly to hers, nuzzling her cold cheek with his nose.

A horn rent the air, shattering the intimate moment. He studied Sara's dazed expression.
Damn.
He was out of his mind kissing the schoolteacher. Okay, he found her attractive—so what? That didn't mean he wanted to become romantically involved with her. Hoping she wouldn't jump to conclusions, he apologized. “Sorry, I got carried away.”

Sara winced as she rose to her feet. Crap. Had he hurt her feelings or had she hurt something else when she'd come to his rescue?

“That's Cole.” She waved her hand.

Her brother parked his truck and headed in their direction. When Cole reached them, he sniffed, then made an ugly face. “What stinks?”

“Travis, this is my brother Cole.”

“I'd shake your hand but as you can see, I'm covered in—” Travis crawled to his feet “—cow poo.”

Cole nodded, then spoke to his sister. “I was worried when you didn't come back right away.”

“Travis stopped to help, but the steer got the better of him.”

“Not much of a rancher, I guess,” Cole said.

“I'm what you'd call a roughneck cowboy. I prefer to chase oil, not cows.”

“So I heard.” Cole spoke to Sara. “It'll be dark soon. You might as well head home.” He tipped his hat to
Travis, then walked back to his truck, where he grabbed a rope to lasso the steer.

“Talkative guy,” Travis muttered.

“Thank you for trying to help.” Sara made a move to follow Cole, but Travis snagged her arm.

“Have dinner with me tonight.” Afraid she'd assume the kiss meant more to him than it had, he added, “I'd like to discuss how Charlie's doing in school.”

“Call Rosie and she'll set up a conference during my planning period.”

“I was hoping to talk to you today.”

“I'm sorry, Travis. I've got a roast in the Crock-Pot at home.”

He'd never heard that excuse before. “Let your brother eat the roast.”

“The roast and the Crock-Pot are at
my
house not the ranch.”

“You don't live at Bar T?”

“No, I bought a home in town across from the railroad tracks and the grain depot near the school.”

“You mean, that block of old Victorians?”

“The one missing all its shutters is mine.”

Sara Sanders owned the run-down gray-and-white Victorian. Why was she living in a money pit that would take at least three or four decades to renovate? “I like roast.”

“Pushy man.”

He chuckled. “I've been called worse.”

“Didn't I mention that dating isn't a good idea?”

Damn, he'd guessed right. Sara believed he was interested in her. He was, but not for the reasons she assumed. “It's not a date—it's a parent-teacher conference.”

“Six o'clock at my place.” She walked off, then stopped. “Travis.”