Cowgirl Come Home (19 page)

Probably a good thing, she told herself. She looked at the next few weeks as an experiment. Would her jewelry sell? Was her brand unique enough to warrant opening a retail store in Marietta? Would her dad stay committed to his recovery? Every setback, physical or emotional—like the possibility he and Mom would have to declare bankruptcy—set Bailey on edge. She wasn’t sure how long she could live with the fear of his falling off the wagon. Thankfully, her mother’s diagnosis and prognosis were straightforward and good.

One less thing to worry about.

“My mom said she wants to meet you,” Chloe said when her circle brought her close to Bailey. “Apparently, Dad told her all about you.”

Bailey watched the back of Chloe’s pink T-shirt bounce with the rhythmic trot.
All about me? Great.

“Great,” she said, faking perkiness she didn’t feel. “Is she coming to the fair?”

“The fair? Mom? Are you kidding me?” Chloe’s bark of laughter made Skipper side-step abruptly. If she hadn’t been paying attention, she would have been left in mid-air like a cartoon character, but she managed to keep her seat. She immediately patted Skipper’s neck and spoke to him too softly for Bailey to hear.

“Good job, Chloe. Now, bring him in,” Bailey said. “I’ll meet you at the gate.”

*

Paul checked his
watch. He had ten minutes to make it to the Main Street Diner. His brother commanded this lunch date via text: “
Meet MSD today noon. B there.”

Normally, that wouldn’t be a challenge since Big Z’s was only a few blocks away from the popular café. Unfortunately, today was a full scale disaster and it wasn’t even noon.

He’d pulled his remodeling crew off a job to help Jane Weiss put out fires—so to speak—at the fairgrounds. Turning the Big Marietta Fair into a two-week event was turning out to be more complex than anybody figured.

Unfortunately, the homeowner expected the job done yesterday. She was not happy. Not that Paul blamed her. If he’d had his head on business instead of lusting after Bailey, this might not have happened.

If that explained the ass-chewing Austen had in mind, he’d take it. Although Paul doubted Austen had the slightest idea what was going on at Big Z’s. Other than acting as Big Z’s attorney of record, his brother had nothing to do with Paul’s business.

Before pulling out of the parking lot, he texted Chloe to tell her where he’d be.

For the past two weeks, she’d spent every morning on Skipper’s back, working with her new riding coach—Bailey Jenkins. It had only been a matter of time before his family found out about Bailey’s re-involvement in his life. And, although Paul could truthfully say nothing had happened between him and Bailey beyond that first, tentative kiss, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t bound and determined to convince her to stay in Marietta and give their relationship a second chance.

And the last thing he needed or wanted was his brother sticking his nose in Paul’s business. Besides, it’s not like the golden boy had all that much to brag about lately. His career was on hold, his reputation in the dumper and, if Paul understood correctly, Austen had dumped Sheri Fast—or was dumped. Paul hadn’t found time to ask.

Of course, exiting the store proved easier said than done. Mrs. Hayes stopped him in Aisle 8 and asked if they carried surgical tape.

Surgical tape? In a hardware store?

He led her to the flashy new display of patterned duct tape. But on his way there, he interrupted two summer hires—students whose names he couldn’t remember—in a lip lock by the paint mixer.

Something to deal with later.

Normally, such inappropriate workplace behavior would earn them a stern reprimand, but how could he get in their faces about inappropriate behavior when he wanted to be inappropriate with Bailey so bad it hurt?

Literally.

He woke up every morning hard as he had in high school.

He lucked out finding a parking place right beside his brother’s Land Rover. Even if he didn’t know Austen’s ride, the vanity plates were a dead giveaway: ZLAWMN.

Paul’s eyes had barely adjusted to the difference in light before he heard Austen call, “Over here, little brother.”

Little brother. Good grief.

Paul slid into the window booth across from Austen. “Hi. What’s up? I’m swamped at work. I really shouldn’t be here.”

Austen stared at him with eyes narrowed, not missing a thing. “From what I hear, there are a lot of things you shouldn’t be doing.”

“What’s that mean? I’m busy. I don’t have time for your big brother lawyer mind games. What was so important you had to pull me outta Big Z’s today?”

Austen took a pull from his ice tea. “Dad’s orders. He’s worried about you. Mom would be, too, but she’s too busy taking care of our sister. You remember Mia, right? Bald woman. Looks like me only skinnier.”

Paul’s stomach cramped. He hated thinking about what Mia was going through. He felt helpless. Worse than helpless. He adored his sister and, normally, she was the person he’d turn to for advice where his love life was concerned. Of course, he couldn’t call her now. His problems were insignificant compared to her health issues.

So, when they talked last, and she asked what was happening, he felt compelled to make the crazy mess that landed in Bailey’s lap sound like a funny plot in a sitcom.

He didn’t mention the strong connection he still felt for Bailey or the compassion he had for OC. Which probably explained why their conversations felt stilted and awkward.

“I talked to Mia last week. She said she feels like crap, but otherwise is doing fine.”

“She lied. The chemo is turning her inside out.” Austen made a growling sound. “I’d string that piece of shit ex-husband of hers up by his nuts if he had any.”

Paul didn’t point out Mia’s ex had been Austen’s college roommate and best friend at one time. He knew the line between love and hate could shift slowly like tectonic plates or suddenly quake and split, creating all kinds of long-lasting damage.

“Mom and Dad are frazzled from taking care of the kids. They’re all coming for the fair. Mom was hoping you’d help, but, as unbelievable as it sounds, you’re involved with Bailey Jenkins.”

“I picked her up at the airport when her mother asked. You would have said yes, too. Louise saved Chloe when she was floundering.”

“That was months ago. What about hiring one of the most expensive accountants in the state? Sheri doesn’t work pro bono, you know.”

He’d received her bill and paid it. He’d consider asking for restitution from what the family recovered from Marla and Jack…if they got anything.

“The truth is, I haven’t spoken with Bailey in days. I hear about her every day because she volunteered to work with Chloe and her horse. Jen refuses to have anything to do with the ranch and I’ve been too busy to take her out to ride regularly. Bailey is doing me a huge favor.” He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. He didn’t want the gossip mill to create any more havoc than it already had. “She’s not the same person she was when she left. She’s hurt and hurting but trying to move on with her life. Surely, even you can appreciate that kind of gumption.”

Austen didn’t appear convinced, but he eschewed his comment because a waitress Paul hadn’t seen before walked up to take their order. He wasn’t hungry but he ordered his usual bison burger with sweet potato fries. Mark’s favorite.

Speaking of kids…
He checked his phone. Nothing from Mrs. Knight, the mother of Mark’s best friend, Ben, who’d offered to take both boys to a day-long summer recreation camp.

“Have you talked to Sheri lately?” Paul hadn’t heard the outcome of the audit, nor had he read about any charges being filed against Marla Sawyer.

“Not really.”

“What’s that mean?”

If his brother had a conscience—a question often debated among his siblings, the slight ruddy hue that appeared in his cheeks might have indicated a blush. “You saw her but didn’t speak?”

“We bumped into each other at a gala fundraiser at the Edgewater the weekend before last. We’d both had rough weeks and drank a little too much. So, we did what unattached consenting adults sometimes do when they’re attracted to each other.”

“You had sex,” Paul exclaimed.

Too loudly.

Heads turned.

Austen snarled. “There was a suite available. We grabbed it.”

“What else did you grab?”

“Shut up. Sheri’s great. Unfortunately, as you announced in church when you were six, ‘Austen’s not nice.’”

A family story Paul had heard a thousand times growing up. Apparently, the entire church heard and laughed, which made Austen, who was turning eleven a few days later, shout a very bad word and storm away…thereby proving Paul’s point.

“I’m a better judge of character now.”

“Are you? What do you think is going to happen with Bailey? She’s suddenly going to decide that Montana isn’t as bad as she thought and settle down here for good?”

Yes.
He saw that scenario unfold in his dreams—in a dozen various incarnations—every night. He wouldn’t admit that to his big brother, though. “No.”

“Good. Because I’ve got news for you, brother, Bailey Jenkins is a user. As soon as her feet are on the ground and she’s got a grubstake, she’ll leave. Just like before. And you’ll be a heart broke puppy again.”

Before Paul could tell him where to shove his absurd prediction, their waitress arrived with their food. Paul settled for mouthing a less satisfying, “F-you.”

Austen snickered and turned on the charm to coax extra ranch dressing for his French fries—a culinary favorite no one in the family understood.

They ate in silence, the hum and energy of the diner adding to the underlying tension Paul always felt in Austen’s presence. One didn’t get to Austen’s level in the game of cutthroat politics without a lion’s share of ego and the drive to impose your will on the people closest to you.

Paul chewed a bite of the delicious burger, but when it came time to swallow, he had to reach for his glass of tea. His throat felt tight, his stomach tense.

Damn you, Austen. I wish I’d never agreed to have lunch with you.

Too late. The seed of doubt had been planted. Was Bailey using him? Again?

*

“Oh, good. Looks
like my mom is here. That must mean her check-up was good.”

Chloe chewed on her fingernail—a habit her mother hated—as the old truck pulled into the driveway behind the little house that housed Bailey’s father’s fishing business. She’d ridden her bike here from the Big Z this morning.

Now or never.

Mark was supposed to go to the ranch with her today, but he’d jumped ship the minute Ben Knight invited him to play Mindcraft at some stupid Day Camp. That was all he cared about. He didn’t care that Daddy liked Bailey. A lot. Chloe saw the mushy looks they gave each other. That night at their house, she even peeked out the window and saw them kiss. And not an old friends’ kind of kiss. The real thing. Like on TV.

A few weeks earlier, Chloe overheard her mother tell a friend that her ex was a great guy but absolutely hopeless when it came to women.

“Paul’s sweet, but that business owns his a-s-s. No woman wants to play second fiddle to a hardware store. I tried, but, trust me, the effort that went into being Mrs. Big Z was not worth the money.”

Chloe knew from what happened to Cinderella that having a stepmother who married your dad for his money was not a good idea. That’s why she decided Bailey would be perfect for him.

Anybody who liked horses couldn’t be too high maintenance. She drove an old truck. Plus, they wouldn’t have to date for years and years before getting married because they’d already dated in high school.

And Chloe was going to need a stepmother sooner rather than later if what Mark overheard was true.

Andrew, their step-dad, was up for a promotion, which would involve moving to Atlanta, Georgia. A state about a million miles away from Montana.

No, thank you.

Her horse was here. Her best friend lived here. Her dad was here. Chloe loved Montana. Even the winters.

But Chloe knew her dad didn’t trust himself to be a full-time single parent. That’s what he told Chloe and Mark when they asked to stay with him full-time and visit their mother every other weekend—instead of the other way around.