How to Marry a Cowboy (Cowboys & Brides) (7 page)

“Only child. Adopted.”

For the hundredth time since she’d sold the ranch, she regretted it again. It had only been a section of land, six hundred and forty acres, with a one-story ranch house, but it had been home. And now she wished that instead of a suitcase full of money and a bank account she’d never touched, that she had the dirt and cows.

She inhaled deeply and went on to say, “I was raised on a small ranch outside Thicket, that’s not far from Beaumont. Daddy grew Angus and dabbled around with some fancy breeds for fun. They were well into their forties when they adopted me, and they died within six months of each other when I was a senior in college. I sold the ranch a few weeks after Mama died.”

“You sound wistful,” he said.

“After a day with the girls, I am,” she admitted.

“If you hadn’t sold the ranch, you wouldn’t be where you are today.”

She smiled. “Philosophical, are you?”

“If I am, then it’s because life made me that way. I didn’t know jack shit about babies when Holly died. Barely knew how to change a diaper, but I learned real fast. Mother offered to come live with me, but she and Dad deserved their retirement, and I wanted to prove that I could run a ranch and raise two kids all on my own. Sometimes I felt like Holly was laughing at me. I talked to her—especially that first year, and”—he stopped for a full minute before he went on—“on occasion, I still do. It took a few months, but one morning I woke up and realized I was making it work all by myself. Maybe not a good job, but I was getting it done. It’s been a long time since I liked a day as much as I have today, Annie Rose. Guess that was a lot of information all at once. When I’m nervous, I tend to use forty words when four would do the trick.”

“So do I. It’s my second-biggest failing,” she said.

“What’s the first?” he asked.

She wiggled her eyebrows. “I’d tell you, but then… well, you know the rest. And you’ve got two kids that adore you and need you.”

The silence that surrounded them wasn’t uncomfortable. It didn’t need to be filled with words or stories. Even the tension that had been between them when he sat down was more relaxed now that they were talking. He chanced a glance over at her. The moonlight danced on her blond hair as the swing moved back and forth and took her from shadows into light.

“I should tell you,” he finally said, “that the investigator I hired to check out your story told me that Nick Trahan had a new girlfriend. She’s the one that set up that bridal thing you were in, and it’s a probability that he was there to see her.”

Annie Rose sighed. “He vowed if I ever left him he’d hunt me down and kill me.”

Mason laid a hand on her shoulder and she didn’t flinch. “You’re safe here on Bois D’Arc Bend.”

“Thank you for everything. I should be going inside now. Good night, Mason.”

“Good night,” he said. “I’m going to sit here a little longer. I’ll lock up when I come in.”

How in the hell two goats could be so wily was beyond Annie Rose’s wildest imagination. She and the girls had finished setting the table for dinner and everything was staying warm, either in the oven or on top of the stove, when it sounded like a whole wagonload of cats got into a major fight in the backyard.

She tossed her apron on the cabinet and took off toward the back door with both girls right behind her, screaming that O’Malley had come home and was into it again with his arch enemy, the wild barn cat. It would have been a good thing if it had been two old tomcats having a showdown with fur flying and claws out.

But it went way further than that scenario. There was old O’Malley halfway up the porch post, hair all standing on end, tail puffed out, and eyes that were nigh unto popping right out of the sockets. Djali must have thought the cat’s tail was a big ball of cotton candy, because he was standing on his hind legs trying to eat it. Jeb was right behind Djali, fighting for a chance at the cat’s tail.

Lily stomped her foot and screamed, “Jeb, you get your sorry goat ass back in your pen or I’m going to butcher you for supper.”

“I think you’ll have to drag him to the pen,” Annie Rose said. “He’s sure not going to turn around because you are yelling at him.”

“You catch him, and then I’m going to sell his ass at the auction. I’m tired of being a goat owner,” she said.

“He’s your goat. Not mine. If he kills your cat, then don’t come crying to me. I’m going back in the house to put dinner on the table.” Annie Rose turned around in time to see Mason crossing the yard in long strides.

Lily had Jeb in a death grip by his collar, dragging him back to the pen, with Gabby right behind her, manhandling Djali. O’Malley jumped down from his perch, shot across the yard like a tornado, crawled right up Mason’s frame as if he were a pecan tree, all the way to his shoulder, and jumped off into the pickup bed.

“What in the hell happened?” he hollered.

“The goats got out of their pen and treed O’Malley. Lily is of the opinion that she doesn’t want to be a goat herder anymore, but I vote that she has to keep him a good deal longer to learn her lesson.” Annie Rose held the door open for him. “By the time you get washed up, they’ll have them back in the pens.”

“You are the Mama-Nanny. I’ll support your decision.” He adjusted the water in the mudroom sink and washed his hands. “Is that roast that I smell?”

“It is, and the girls helped make the yeast rolls. They’re a lot of fun, Mason.”

“Even when the goats get out of the pen?”

“My God, you are bleeding. It’s spotting your shirt. Take it off so I can clean the wounds. Cat claws are dirty and can cause a fever that’s miserable.” She grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around to unbutton his shirt. She had to tiptoe to pull it over his shoulders and toss it over on the washer. Quickly, she lathered up her hands with soap and cleaned each puncture wound dotting his hard body from belly button to up over his shoulder and halfway down his back.

“Where is the medicine cabinet?” she asked.

He nodded toward the cabinet above the sink. She rinsed her hands and reached for the familiar brown bottle and a tube of ointment. She wiped the soap away with a clean washcloth, then flushed the claw marks clean with hydrogen peroxide before she dotted each one with an antibiotic ointment. “I’d put Band-Aids on each one, but I think the bleeding has stopped now, and it would be better for them to air out.”

“Yes, Dr. Annie,” he said.

“Here they come. You’d better go find another shirt. They’ll kill that cat if they think he hurt their daddy. They’ve already threatened both cat and goats,” she said. And besides, touching his hard body had her in a fizz that would take a few minutes to settle.

The girls washed the goat smell from their hands in the sink, and Annie Rose held her own hands out to see if they were shaking as badly as her insides. To her surprise, they were steady as a rock.

Mason changed into a pale blue pocket T-shirt that hugged his body like a glove, every taut muscle begging to be touched. Annie Rose was glad that Gabby started to talk to ease the silence in the room.

“Them damn goats got out of the pen and treed poor old O’Malley on the porch post and that’s why O’Malley was running away. He must have thought you were a tree, Daddy. Did he hurt you?” Gabby asked.

Mason shook his head but couldn’t get a word in edgewise before Lily started.

“And Mama-Nanny says that I can’t sell Jeb at the auction next week. I swear to God, Daddy, that goat is more trouble than he’s worth, and I don’t know why I even wanted one for my birthday.”

Gabby started while Lily caught her breath, “We can’t sell them, Lily. It would hurt Kenna’s feelings, and besides, if we did, Doc might give us a shot just to get even, since he gave them to us.”

“Well, shit. I’m not even going to apologize for saying that, Daddy, because it’s the way I feel,” Lily said.

Mason sipped at his sweet tea and raised an eyebrow toward Annie Rose.

She shrugged. “Just another day in paradise.”

***

Gabby and Lily were reading.

Mason was in his office.

Annie Rose slipped out the front door.

The swing had become her friend and called to her to come out and play. Evening had always been her favorite time of the day: a time to sift through the happenings and save the sweet memories for another time when there might not be any, to giggle again at the antics of two girls, two goats, and a rangy old tomcat named O’Malley.

Mason surprised her when he sat down on his end of the swing. Her reflexes were getting entirely too lax if someone could sneak up on her like that. She glanced his way to see that he was wearing lounge pants, a tank top, and no shoes. The darkness couldn’t cover a five-o’clock shadow or erase the scent that was a mixture of soap and something far more personal that belonged to Mason and no one else.

“So did you like this day in paradise?” he asked.

He handed her a longneck bottle of beer so cold that the sides were sweating. She rolled it around on her forehead before she twisted the cap off and took a long gulp. “Thank you. That really hits the spot on a hot night. And yes, boss man, I liked this day.”

His mouth turned up in a slightly crooked grin. “Not boss man. Just Mason. I told you that. Here’s hoping you stay here for a long, long time.” He tipped his bottle over to touch hers.

“That’s my intention right now… Mason.”

“I talked to the girls and kissed them good night. They told me how they made that delicious mousse that we had for dinner. Lily says she might be a chef when she’s not touring with her country music band.” He chuckled.

“It’ll take a little more than instant pudding, whipped topping, and chocolate curls to turn her into a chef, but it’s a start. We practiced the fiddle today for an hour and you’re going to be surprised on Friday night.”

“What is she going to play?” he asked.

“Well, it’s not ‘The Devil Went Down to Georgia,’ but it could be in a few months. She’s really got an ear and a handle on how to play that thing. You sure she hasn’t been sneaking it out of your room?”

“Honey, I’m never sure of anything when it comes to those two. My grandpa could make that thing do everything but tell you bedtime stories. Maybe she picked up the ability to play from him. She’s sure pestered me a long time about it, but her mama wanted them to take piano lessons, so I tried to steer them in that direction.”

Annie Rose put the swing in motion again and tucked her feet up under her, sitting cross-legged and facing Mason. “I showed her three chords yesterday. I figured I’d have to show her again today, but when I put the lyrics and music in front of her, she remembered, and she’s pretty damn good at knowing exactly when to change.”

“So I might have a country music star and a chef?” he teased.

She took another sip of her beer and set it on the porch. “The sky is the limit where those two are concerned.”

He was ten steps past sexy in that gauze undershirt. They called them wifebeater shirts, but something down deep in her soul told her that Mason Harper was not a wife beater. He might argue and raise his voice, but he’d never lift his fist to a woman he loved. It was in the eyes, like her mama said.

“You ever get mad enough to hit a woman?” she asked bluntly.

“Yep, I have. Lots of times. But I didn’t. I walked out, slammed the door, and kept walking ’til I got to the barn.”

“What’d you do then, hit a bale of hay?” she asked, imagining those big arms hugging her close rather than slinging punches at a hay bale.

“No, I usually worked like a fiend, cleaning stalls that didn’t need cleaning or else I crawled up on a four-wheeler and drove it out to Nash’s place so recklessly that only the grace of God kept me safe. Nash and I would sit on his porch, sometimes without saying a word until I cooled down, and then I’d come back home.”

“Nash is your friend?”

“More than that. He’s my foreman Skip’s granddad. He was the foreman before Skip, and he’s a wise old fart.” Mason’s handsome face lit up in a smile that rivaled the stars in the heavens.

“So Holly could make you that mad?” Annie Rose asked.

“Yep, she had red hair and a temper to go with it. We argued and we disagreed, but we loved each other. I would have never, ever hit her.”

“What did you do then? After you came back into the house?”

“Well, we’d both cooled off enough by then to talk about the problem.”

“Which was?”

“It’s hard to explain now, but it was important to both of us that we had our own way, but that wasn’t enough. The other one had to approve and like the decision. Her temper got worse about six weeks before she died and we had some really big arguments, mostly about nothing. I chalked it up to her job and two feisty girls needing so much attention at night. Now I wonder if it wasn’t that thing in her head all along.”

“The brain is a tricky little thing and aneurisms are crazy. We don’t know what kind of effect they have before they decide to explode.”

“Tell me about Nicky.” He changed the subject so quickly that she had to think fast to keep up.

Annie Rose scratched her left eyebrow. Failing number three—messing with her eyebrow when she didn’t want to talk about something, but Mason had been open about his wife, so she should reciprocate.

Therapy is talking to strangers about personal things.

Gina Lou, her best friend, had told her to find a damn good therapist when she disappeared, but fear kept her from doing it. What if Nicky had found her because she’d sought out a doctor? But talking to Mason wasn’t difficult at all. It was like she was talking to a friend.

“You are so strong and wise. Why would you ever fall for a playboy?” Mason asked.

The laughter that escaped was more sarcastic than happy. “A strong, wise woman would have seen through him, listened to her heart and her friends. I didn’t do any of those things, so it’s hard to trust my judgment about anything anymore.”

Mason waited.

“He had a minor fender bender and came into the ER where I was working. Looking back, it was most likely my predecessor who got tired of his shit and tried to run him off the road. In my defense, he was damn good-looking and a charmer, even when he was whining about a few bruises on his pretty face. And I was in a very bad place in my life. My folks both died within six months of each other. I was on a guilt trip for selling the ranch, and I’d broken up with my boyfriend of three years a month before.”

“And he asked you out?”

“Not that night. We put an IV in his arm, filled him up with fluids and medicine, and sent him home with a couple of prescriptions. I got a dozen roses the next day with a lovely note thanking me for saving his life.”

Mason’s hand touched hers and she immediately jerked hers away. She tucked it firmly under her thigh.

“And?” he asked.

It took effort but she forced herself to unwind. Talking about Nicky always brought about the same knee-jerk reactions. “The next day he sent another dozen roses and a card asking me if he could call me. Ten minutes after the flowers arrived, the ER phone rang, and it was Nicky. That’s when he asked me out.”

“And you said no?”

“I said yes so fast that he probably wondered why he wasted his money on the second vase of roses. He was a smooth talker, and six weeks later we were living together. The third month after our first date, he gave me an engagement ring. On the fourth month, he gave me my first black eye.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No need for apologies. After that first one, he was careful not to leave bruises where they could be seen. I made excuses for him until one morning I woke up and realized that the diamond ring on my finger had bought me a life of hell. That’s the day I started planning my escape. It took several weeks and a lot of patience before I could leave, but when I did, I never regretted my decision.”

“Therapy?” he asked.

She shook her head. “You?”

“Couldn’t do it. Mother thought I should, but how do you tell your darkest secrets to a stranger?” Mason asked.

“Exactly, and yet here I sit doing just that.”

“Hey!” He patted her on the knee and she didn’t tense up. “We have lived through goats and tomcats and cleaning two little girls’ rooms. I’d say that makes us pretty good friends.”

“It does, and friends can tell each other anything.”

“Almost. I’m not going to tell you about the first time I got drunk.” He laughed.

“Oh, honey, I’m not so sure we’ll ever be that good of friends that I’d discuss my first drunk with you,” she told him.

He stood and pulled her up with him. “I should make sure the honor system is working tonight.”

“Me, too.”

He took one step then stopped.” I like talking to you, Annie Rose.”

“Me, too,” she said again.

“Let’s go make sure the lights are out. Maybe we’ll run into each other again out here on the porch.”

“It’s my favorite part of the day. That swing and I are pretty good friends now,” she said.

Lights were out.

Mason disappeared into his room and closed the door softly.