Cowboys & Kisses (6 page)

There was a long pause. “No, Allie. I just wanted to remind you that you’re punishing yourself—”

“Maybe I deserve a little punishment.”

“Oh, Allie, that’s crazy, hon. We’re talking about your future. Something you love. You’re gifted—”

“I have to go, Sebastian. Good luck and thanks for calling.” I hung up, tossing the phone onto the couch.

Mom was waiting. “Allie?”

I looked at her. “Ready to go?”

She nodded. “Are you…”

“No. I’m not okay. But I shouldn’t be okay. Why does everyone think I should be?” My voice was still shaking. I shook my head and walked out the front door, leaning against the porch railing. I felt sick. The wind blew, making that stupid chain on the stupid swing squeak. I stared at it.

“It’s a nice swing,” Wyatt said, making me spin around. He stood just outside the door, leaning against the chipped paint siding of the old house.

“It’s broken,” I snapped.
Barely hanging on, just like me
.

“It just needs new chains.” He looked up at the porch ceiling. “Maybe a new eye-hook too. A little work. That’s all.”

I glanced at him, then the swing, and frowned. “Is that supposed to be some sort of metaphor…for life…or me…or something?”

He smiled a sort of sad smile, and looked at me for the first time. “Nope.” There was a question there, I heard it.

My mother’s voice reached us through the screened front door. “I asked you not to call.” Her voice was soft. “Things are difficult for all of us. Please respect my request.”

Had she called Sebastian? Or had he called her?
If he called her, he’d better be apologizing.

Dax came onto the porch. “You okay?”

“If one more person asks me that—” I bit off, shaking my head.

Dax held up his hands. “Chill.”

“You’ll what?” Wyatt asked, his tone curious, not antagonizing.

I shook my head, crossing and uncrossing my arms. “I’ll…God, I’ll go off…” I shook my head again. “Something. Scream,” I finished softly.

Wyatt pushed off the wall. “Scream. The world won’t end.”

4 CHAPTER FOUR

I frowned at him.
What the hell do you know about my world anyway?

Dax laughed softly. “Um, have you met my sister? Queen of repressed emotion. Well, not
all
emotion. She’s got the whole I-hate-the-world thing down.”

“Dax?” Mom called from inside.

Dax shot me a look and headed back inside.

My hands fisted reflexively, frustration taking over again. I didn’t hate the world. Not really. The world hated me.

No, that wasn’t true. The world simply didn’t care about me, my thoughts, feelings, dreams, wishes…

I glanced at Wyatt and was completely caught up in the crazy intensity of his eyes.

“What’s stopping you?” He hadn’t moved…but he seemed closer somehow.

“From?” My tone was harsh.

He shrugged. “Letting it all out.”

“I…I can’t,” I said.
Why do you care?

“Why not?” Wyatt asked, moving closer.

I shrugged.
Leave me alone.
“What’s the point?”

“Might help.” He continued to look at me.

“Screaming?” I shook my head, a bitter smile forming. “Can’t help.”

His expression shifted, revealing so much
raw
pain
…it was like someone kicked me in the chest, knocking the air out of me, and leaving me reeling. My heart twisted so tight I almost grabbed my chest.

Where had that come from? What was that about?

Wyatt… What are you hiding?

“Maybe not.” He looked away then, his face resuming his normal easy-going expression. “You never know.”

There wasn’t really anything to say to that so I didn’t say anything. I stood there, angry and confused. From the pain in his eyes, the twist of his gorgeous face, he was hurting. Really hurting.

We have that in common
.

“If you ever decide you want to,” he turned back to me, his voice low, “scream, I mean…I know a place that’s good for letting it all out.”

I scrambled to think of some snappy come-back. Nothing. Instead, I just stared at him. Whatever he’d been thinking about was gone. He was completely serious about helping me. He wasn’t teasing me or talking down to me or making fun of me, which was sort of really nice.

I swallowed. Could he understand? I mean, did
he
have something to “let out”?

Wait…I can’t care. And he doesn’t care either—not really. It’s the whole new-girl thing.

Mom came onto the porch, the screen door slamming behind her. “Let’s go.”

Wyatt turned, smiling at my mom. “I finished the fence. Dax said he’ll help me get some scraping done this afternoon. Once that’s done, we can paint.”

“Wonderful.” She looked stressed out, even though she was doing her best to act normal in front of Wyatt. I blamed my old coach for her present state of mind.
You suck, Sebastian.
“Davis said you’ll be picking up some calves?” Mom asked as she walked down the steps to her van.

Calves? Really?

Wyatt nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Sale this weekend. Goats are good, too—eat all the scrub out without having to pay for a lot of feed.”

I blinked.
Soon I’ll be gathering eggs and milking cows.

“Really?” My mother smiled at him, opening her car door.

Wyatt nodded again. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Sounds like a good idea then. You two be careful on that scaffolding, please,” she said before climbing into the car and shutting the door.

I followed, feeling confused. It was like I was living in some parallel universe where cowboys weren’t a joke and livestock replaced the family pet. I climbed into the car, knowing he was watching me but refusing to look at him.

And I almost made it. Almost. But right before we turned around in the drive, I glanced back. He was standing on the porch railing, leaning forward to assess the single eye-hook holding the corner of the swing up.

***

We’d cleaned the veterinarian clinic for hours before giving up and focusing on the filing cabinet. That had only made it worse. Not only had the previous veterinarian been clueless about hygiene, but he had also been a complete idiot. The files were in no specific order, not by date or alphabetically, and his handwriting was… What was that old joke about a doctor’s handwriting? I didn’t know how Mom was going to manage it all. There wasn’t a computer in the entire building.

The grungy clinic was a far cry from the lab, her classroom, having every available resource at her fingers—everything she’d left. I couldn’t ignore the twist of guilt…
No. It’s not my fault, dammit.
I didn’t move us here. I didn’t take her away from her dream job to bring her here. It was all too easy to really dislike my dad at times like this.

By the time we’d locked up her clinic, she was strangely quiet and I was pissed—as usual. She should torch the place and start from scratch. I thought about suggesting that, but decided she wouldn’t be amused.

The drive home was long and quiet. The sun was setting when we got back to the house.

“They got a lot done,” she said, looking out the windshield.

I stared, amazed. “Huh.” The front half of the second story was completely scraped.

“They must be exhausted.”

“Probably starving.” I shifted the bag of fried chicken to my non-sore hand and opened the car door. I climbed the steps to the porch and froze. “He fixed it,” I murmured.

My mother glanced at me, then at the newly repaired porch swing. Not only was it hanging by four new chains, it had been sanded and repainted a nice crisp apple-green.

“Looks great,” she said. “I’m glad your dad hired him.”

I nodded but didn’t say anything.

Mom opened the front door. “Let’s get them fed so they can go to bed.”

I followed her in, trying not to read too much into the swing repair. It was just a swing, for crying out loud. A broken swing, that was all.

The lights in the living room were off. The TV was on, blaring some re-cap of sports scores—not that they were watching it. They were both sound asleep. Dax was sprawled across the couch, snoring softly. Wyatt sat in our recliner, his head cocked at an awkward angle. He looked uncomfortable, like he’d get a crick in his neck.

Mom took the food from me and whispered, “I’ll go get dinner ready. You can wake them up.”

“Gosh, thanks,” I murmured, already making my way to the recliner. I stopped, wondering whether or not I should say something…or if I should poke him…or what. Instead, I cupped his cheek, tilting his head back so that it rested against the headrest of the chair. His cheek was rough, stubbly, and warm. He sighed, leaning into my hand.

“Allie?” Dax sounded as surprised as I felt.

I pulled my hand out from under Wyatt’s cheek and stepped back. Too late. His eyes popped open…sleepy…then round and surprised because I was leaning over him, invading his personal space.

My cheeks were burning as I scowled at my brother. “Dinner’s here.”

I stomped from the room, horrified that I’d been caught.
What the hell is the matter with me? Who the hell cares if he gets a crick in his neck?
I don’t. Dammit.

“Allie.” Mom didn’t look up as I came into the kitchen, which was good because I knew my face was red—I could feel it. “Could you get the tea out of the fridge, please?”

I yanked the refrigerator door open, rattling the empty jam jars on top, and grabbed the pitcher of sweet tea. It sloshed over the top as I put it, hard, on the table. I slammed the refrigerator door, making one jam jar fall off.

Wyatt caught it.

I didn’t look at him. Or my mom. Or Dax. I sat at the table and stared at the yellow and white paper box full of fried chicken.

“You boys must be exhausted,” Mom said as she sat down at the table.

“Wyatt’s a machine,” Dax complained. “Seriously. My arms feel like lead.”

Wyatt laughed. “I’ll try to go easy on you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Dax groaned.

“Believe me,” Wyatt passed the chicken to me as he spoke, “you’ll be worse off if you don’t keep working. Your muscles will tense up.”

I took the box, taking extra care not to touch Wyatt. “Muscles? Dax?” I couldn’t resist.

“Ha, ha.” Dax gave me a look. “Hilarious.”

I laughed, reaching for a roll from another box. “I thought so.” I didn’t mean to look at Wyatt, but…I did. He was smiling at me in a big way. I frowned, grabbed the roll, and sat back in my chair.

“So,” Dax said, “how’d it go for you guys at the clinic?”

My mother’s eyebrows went up. “It’s…well…”

“I think she’d be better off burning the place down and starting from scratch,” I offered, instantly regretting it.

Mom burst out laughing. “You know, I was thinking the same thing.”

We all laughed then, whether from relief or exhaustion didn’t matter. And it felt good.

“Need help?” Dax asked.

“Yes. Lots and lots and lots of it. But,” I shook my head, still smiling, “you’re just trying to get out of helping Wyatt.”

Dax grinned. “Well…okay, yeah, but if you
need
help…?”

My mother was really laughing now. And for the first time in a long time, she looked relaxed and happy. “Oh, Dax!”

“What?” His tone was all innocence. “I just want to—”

“Get out of sweating your ass off tomorrow?” I inserted. Mom kept laughing.

“There is AC in the office, right?” Dax asked. I threw a roll at him and laughed. “Allie and I can change places,” Dax offered, one eyebrow rising high as he took a sip of iced tea.

I stopped laughing then, and glanced at Wyatt.

Wyatt looked at me, shrugging. “I bet Allie can handle it. Even with a bum hand.”

“That’s cold, man.” Dax shook his head, leaning back in his chair.

I smiled shyly, hating the way my cheeks were burning—again. Wyatt winked at me and I felt something warm deep inside of me. I frowned.

“Thank you for dinner, Dr. Cooper.” Wyatt stood, cleaning off his plate and loading it into the dishwasher. “I hate to eat and run but I promised to help out at the arena.”

Mom was surprised. “You’re not done for the day?”

He shook his head, glancing at the clock. “No, ma’am. Rodeo every weekend means the younger ones have to practice in the middle of the week.”

“What events do you do?” Mom asked.

“Team roping mostly.” He rinsed out his glass. “Sometimes steer wrestling, bull riding… Money’s better.”

I gnawed my bottom lip. Sports were one thing, but a lot of the rodeo
stuff
was dangerous. “You don’t play football?” I asked him.
Random question.

He nodded. “Sometimes.”

“You stay busy.” My mom’s voice was hesitant, curious. “When do you have time for school work?”

He smiled. “After practice. In the morning, at breakfast. Whenever there’s no work to be done.”

Bet your grades suck, Cowboy. One flaw, then, at least…

My mom nodded, but didn’t say anything else.

“Want to come?” Wyatt asked. I didn’t know if he was talking to me or Dax, but I was preparing to say “No” when Wyatt added, “It’s just me and my roping partner and a bunch of kids.”

“Sure, I’ll go.” Dax cleaned off his plate and loaded it—just like Wyatt.

I glanced at Mom, hoping she’d come to my defense and get me off the hook. I wasn’t feeling my usual, argumentative self—I needed help to turn him down.

“Go.” Mom smiled at me. “Get out of the house for a little bit.”

“You don’t
have
to come,” Dax argued, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

I scowled at him. I shouldn’t go. I should stay here, find a book to read, or watch some TV or something.

“Ever ride a horse?” Wyatt asked me.

I shot him a look. “Um,
no
.”

Wyatt smiled. “Ever been to a rodeo?”

I sighed. “Of course. Texas. Rodeos. Duh.”