Faith in the Cowboy (Taming the Cowboy) (2 page)

“I’ve got to go,” Teresa said, pouring coffee into her travel cup. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

She swung the front door open, only to come face-to-face with the Viking. Lord. Could this day get any worse? She shoved her hair out of her face as he dipped his head in greeting, his smile morphing into the expression of horror men always got when they saw a crying woman.

“Excuse me,” she murmured. “I’m late for work.”

“You—going to be okay?” he asked, stepping aside.

“Sure.” She pushed her hair back and sniffed—deeply—before swiping at her nose with the napkin and heading past him to her car.

A couple of twists of the key— “Please start. Please!”—and the engine roared to life. She winced when she saw the Viking watching, shifted into reverse and sped toward school.

*****

Visitation day. Seeing her daughter shouldn’t make her nervous, but her daughter wasn’t the same person anymore—or maybe it was just that she wasn’t the same around her grandmother.

Teresa certainly wasn’t the same around Emily’s grandmother.

She’d spent almost an hour with the flat-iron, which was fine, since she’d been awake since four this morning. She’d changed her outfit three times, since her former mother-in-law got judgy about jeans or shirts that were too tight. She settled on her favorite work skirt, a flowy thing a little too cool for late February, but it made her feel pretty.

“Wow,” Liam said, looking up from his coffee at the kitchen table. “You look great.”

Why, oh why, did she have to pass the kitchen on the way to the front door? And why was someone in this family always in there?

“Thank you,” she said, but kept walking. If she stopped to talk, her nerves would overtake her.

She stepped outside and shivered. She considered going back in for a jacket, but she’d have to see Liam again, and she didn’t want to explain. At least her car had a heater.

She crossed to it, wishing she didn’t notice the dings and the primer, all signs of her not being good enough, wealthy enough, strong enough for her daughter. She got in, tucking her skirt around her legs before she closed the door.

And, naturally, the car wouldn’t start.

She knew, even as she twisted the key the fourth time, that it wouldn’t start, that she was out of luck. She lowered her forehead to the steering wheel, determined not to cry, a strange relief rolling through her, along with frustration and sorrow.

The rap on the window had her snapping upright, and she looked into West’s blue eyes. He motioned toward the hood, signaling her to open it. Knowing it wouldn’t help, she reached beneath the dash for the release and popped it anyway. Wrapping her arms around herself against the chill in the air, she stepped out of the car and walked to stand beside him as he propped the hood open and inspected the engine with his hands on his hips.

“Do you know a lot about cars?” she asked.

“I’ve driven more than my share of pieces of shit,” he replied.

She turned to him, eyebrows raised. “My car does not like to be called a piece of shit.”

He chuckled. “Does it get offended?”

“It does.”

He checked the battery connections, then the wires connecting it to the starter. “I’ll have to apologize to it.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You look nice. Going somewhere?”

“Just dressed up to sit in my car.”

His laugh was muffled as he turned his attention back to the engine. “I meant, did you have to be somewhere at a certain time? I don’t know how quick of a fix this is.”

“I’m—yes. I’m supposed to be somewhere at eleven.”

His glance was startled. “Got an early start?”

“It’s far. And important.”

“Want to take my truck?”

She straightened. “You don’t know me.” She looked toward the behemoth parked beside his RV. “And no way could I drive that thing.”

He straightened, taking a bandana from his back pocket. “I could take you where you’re going, look at this when I get back.”

Her mouth opened and closed for a moment. “No, I can’t—Grace can give me a ride, or let me borrow her car.”

“Grace isn’t here. She and Noah took Boomer to the vet. Liam’s waiting for a plumber, and Kennedy and Luke aren’t up yet. So I’m your choice.”

She could call and cancel. She could do that, instead of riding in a truck with a stranger, letting him see her at her most vulnerable, raising questions about him from her former mother-in-law, who was already adept at finding fault with her.

But that would mean another week until she saw her daughter, another week of Emily being fed whatever lies Layla wanted to tell her about Teresa. At least, Teresa felt that if she saw Emily, she could show her daughter that what she was told wasn’t true.

She turned to West and nodded.

“Got time for me to wash my hands?”

She nodded again.

“Go ahead and get in the truck.” He dug out his keys, aimed his remote and unlocked the door, then started it. He grinned when she gasped. “Get in, get warm. I’ll be right out.”

She started toward the truck, her stomach pitching. She didn’t know this man. Why was he helping her? Why was she allowing him?

Because she didn’t have a choice.

She vaulted into the high leather seat of the giant truck and sank into the comfort of it for a moment before a memory snapped her upright. Opening the door, she hopped out and ran back to her car, just as West walked out of the house.

“What’s going on?” he called.

Without a word, she reached in the back seat and pulled out the bag with the stuffed dog that looked just like Boomer. Noah had helped her pick it out as a gift for Emily, hoping that it would make her daughter want to come visit Teresa at her home.

She closed the door with the same window-rattling force and turned to see she’d left the door of the truck open, and West stood impatiently nearby. Her rolling stomach turned rock-hard. He would be mad. He was doing her a favor and he’d be mad at her for letting the cool air in his truck, for making him wait.

She practically ran back to the truck and jumped in, closing the door carefully behind her. “Sorry, sorry!” she managed breathlessly.

“No big deal.” He looked into the bag she placed by her feet. “That looks like Noah’s dog.”

“Yes, I-I’m—” Why did she hesitate? He’d have to know where he was taking her sooner or later. “I’m going to see my daughter today.”

He nodded, not appearing surprised. Of course, Grace had probably already told him her situation. Teresa’s face burned with embarrassment.

“Her grandmother’s house is in Henderson. Do you know how to get there?”

“This is my first trip to Vegas.”

She gave him directions, marveling at the quiet hum of the truck’s engine, so unlike her own rattletrap car.

“So you ride in the rodeo,” she said before he could ask her why her child didn’t live with her. “What event?”

“I’m a rodeo clown.”

She whipped her head around, a laugh tearing from her throat. “You’re joking.”

His smile was good-natured. “I get that a lot.”

“The guy who wears make-up and pants that are too big and jumps in barrels?”

“Well, I haven’t jumped in a barrel in a while, and the big clothes cover up the Kevlar and make it easier to move. Depending on the venue, sometimes I wear make-up and sometimes I don’t.”

“Why? What made you want to do that?”

“I used to ride bulls. So did my best friend. He’s alive today because rodeo clowns got to him when his bull fell on top of him. He doesn’t ride any more, but I decided that was what I wanted to do, save cowboys’ lives.”

“There are other ways to do that, surely, besides throwing yourself in the path of a pissed-off bull.”

“Nothing as direct.”

She shook her head. She didn’t understand taking risks like that. What had risks ever gotten her? “How did you get interested in the rodeo?”

“My best friend, Jonas. He was obsessed with it, and when we were kids, we started riding in local rodeos. He was really good. I was barely good enough to go along with him when he started going on the road.”

“Did you like it, riding?”

He nodded. “I did. I really did. There was nothing like the charge of getting on a bull. And you’re right. They’re pissed. You can feel it, all through your body, how pissed they are. How determined they are to destroy you. And then there are the glorious seconds before they drop you in the dirt.”

That surprised another laugh from her. She couldn’t remember laughing, except with Noah, in...well, months.

“Grace says that you’re a preschool teacher.”

“An assistant in pre-kindergarten, yes.”

“What made you want to do that?”

“I was a new mother, and it seemed like a job where I could spend the most time with my child.”

“How old is your daughter?”

“She’s seven.”

“You don’t look old enough to have a seven-year-old.”

“I was a young mother, but not terribly. In my first year of college. I was so happy when Miguel asked me to marry him, to be a family.” She hadn’t had much of a family of her own, had worked from the time she was fourteen to earn money for college so she could get away. She’d been determined that her pregnancy would only delay her dreams, that being married to Miguel meant she had a partner, someone who would work with her toward her goal, not someone who would hold her back.

Boy, had she been surprised when she’d started talking about school again and he’d told her they couldn’t afford it, that she couldn’t take time away from the baby. She’d been so frustrated, but his family, her family, they all stood with him.

She’d pushed—used to fighting for what she wanted. He was not used to fighting a woman, and hit her. He’d held her captive with a firm grip on the purse strings, making it impossible for her to put any money away. She played meek until she almost believed that was who she was, all the while tucking whatever money away.

But it hadn’t worked out the way she’d planned. He’d found out, and she’d lost everything.

“Hey, you okay?” West asked.

She gave him a sad smile. “I’d much rather talk about the rodeo.”

“Maybe you can come watch me.”

“Will I recognize you in your clown make-up?” She couldn’t believe her own flirty tone. And hell yes, she’d recognize him, make-up or no make-up.

He shot her a grin that hit her deep, in a place she hadn’t thought she had anymore.

The ride seemed short with his stories of the rodeo, of Liam. As they pulled onto her mother-in-law’s street, though, her nerves came back. What was he going to do during her four hours with Emily? It was too far of a drive for him to go back to the ranch and come back and get her, but him waiting was out of the question. She rested her hand on the door handle as she tried to reason it out.

“Going to jump out?” he teased.

“Trying to think. I get four hours with her.”

“Do you want me to take y’all somewhere?”

She shook her head. She didn’t want him intruding on her time with her daughter, didn’t want to show him that side of herself yet, wanted to keep it for her and Emily, for their own memories.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think. It’s a lot to ask of you. I don’t know what you’ll do until two.”

“I’ll find something.” He stopped in front of the house she indicated. “I’ll pick you up here?”

“Yes. Please.” She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought this through. She was going to owe him for this, and she had no way to repay him. “Thank you, West.”

“No problem. Beats banging nails on the roof.”

She smiled. “I guess it does.” She slid out of the truck and faced the house, taking a deep breath.

Gone were the days when Emily would be waiting for her, would barrel off the porch and into her arms, would wrap her arms so tightly around her neck as if she’d been lost without her mother. Teresa felt a kick of regret, but forced her feet forward.

Her mother-in-law Layla opened the door and looked past her to the truck pulling away from the curb.

“Who’s that?”

“Just a ride. My car wouldn’t start.”

“And it’s no wonder. Piece of junk.”

Teresa just nodded, not wanting to spend precious time arguing. She craned her neck past the woman for sight of her daughter.

Emily sat on the couch, engrossed in a television show. She didn’t look up when Teresa walked in.

“Hi, Emily,” Teresa said brightly, but wondered if the child could hear the falseness. Teresa certainly did. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week. I brought you a present.”

That earned a glimpse—curious, not hopeful—toward the bag Teresa held out. She took it, careful not to touch Teresa’s hand, like a feral cat. She glanced in the bag, then set it down without taking the stuffed dog out.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice ghostly.

Teresa suppressed the shiver that ran down her spine. What had Layla done to her daughter to take the life from her? Forcing cheerfulness, pushing aside her own frustration, she pulled the toy from the bag.

“Noah, the little boy who lives with us, has a puppy who looks just like this. This one doesn’t poop as much, though.” She wiggled the dog to make its ears flap, but she wasn’t sure if the comment or the movement was what made her daughter smile—sort of.

She edged closer when Emily turned her attention back to the television. If Emily was her child, that is, if Teresa didn’t have to share her, Teresa would chide her about her rudeness. As it was, not having custody, not in her own house, she felt like she had to walk on eggshells with her own child.

The tension ratcheted when Layla sat down in a chair and started watching the show with Emily. Teresa battled the tears that burned the back of her throat as she resigned herself to do the same.

*****

She hated that she was so glad to see West’s truck pull up a few hours later. She thought about running down the sidewalk and flinging herself inside. Instead, she kissed her daughter’s head, said a polite farewell to Layla, and with her heart breaking, walked out to the truck.

Something she hadn’t considered—he was going to ask her how her visit had been, and she didn’t have the strength to lie. She was using every bit of her tattered courage to keep from bursting into tears. If she’d had her own car, she might pull into the parking lot down the road and cry her heart out.