Love Inspired January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Her Unexpected Cowboy\His Ideal Match\The Rancher's Secret Son (7 page)

Chapter Eight

T
his was not how it was supposed to go. Rowdy put himself between Lucy and the cow. The boys let the animal go and it sped to a corner at the far edge of the pen. Rowdy knelt down just as Lucy lifted her face out of the dirt and spat.

“This is
disgusting,
” she croaked.

“Yeah, you're right. Sorr—” Rowdy's words stuck in his throat. The sleeve of her shirt was ripped and flapped open as she sat up, exposing her arm. The skin, as far down as he could see, was puckered and angry, disfigured terribly in spots. His gaze locked on her burn scar and he couldn't tear his eyes away. Suddenly seeing him looking, she snapped a hand to her arm and pulled the material closed the best she could.

Beside them, Tony stood stock-still, staring at her arm. Even though she now had it covered, it was clear Tony had glimpsed what lay beneath the cloth.

Rowdy moved to her side and helped her as she tried to stand up, not at all sure what to say. Her collar hung loose at her neck and the other scar was visible beneath. Without thinking of his actions, he reached and gently tugged the collar close to her neck like he'd seen her do so many times. Her eyes met his and there was no missing the pain shimmering in their depths.

“Thank you.”

He nodded, his voice still lodged in his throat with the knot from his stomach. “Hey, guys, I think Lucy's been a good sport about this. We're going to call it even. Right?”

“R-right,” Wes said. His blond brows dipped together and his expression revealed that he, too, had glimpsed the gruesome burn on Lucy's arm. “You just tell us where to show up for art class and we'll paint a road that no one will be able to forget.”

That got a smile from Lucy. “We're going to start painting tomorrow. I talked to Jolie yesterday. But—” she grimaced, clearly in pain as she continued to grip her arm “—I'm going to compete in the rodeo just like I promised, so don't think I'm not going to hold up my part of the agreement. But right now I need to go home.”

Rowdy shot Morgan a glance. “I'll be back.”

“Don't worry about us. Make sure she's okay,” Morgan said, frowning with concern.

“Yeah.” Rowdy jogged after Lucy, who was already almost to his truck. He barely made it there before she did and pulled open the door for her. Without a word, she climbed in and stared straight ahead as he went around to his side. “See you fellas later,” he called to the younger ones who were craning their necks from their perches, clearly worried.

“Tell Lucy she done good,” B.J. called.

“I'll do that.” Rowdy hopped behind the wheel and had them heading back toward her place within seconds.

She continued to stare straight ahead. When he glanced worriedly at her the second time, she swallowed hard and he wondered if she was fighting tears. If so, what did he say?

“Are you hurt? Those burns on your neck and arm look like they were painful.” What an idiot. Clearly they'd been painful.

“They're well now. I think my shoulder is going to have a good-size bruise.”

Her voice was soft. He had never been so glad to get to a house in all his days. He practically spun gravel turning into her driveway. He was out and around to her side of the truck before she had time to even think about opening the door herself.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” she said, and headed toward her house, still holding her shoulder.

“Hey, I don't know what kind of men you're used to being around, but I'm not just going to drop you off alone after I got you stomped by a stinkin' cow.”

She spun around. “I'm fine. I don't need your help.”

What was with this woman?

“Of all the stubborn—” Rowdy stared at her, then marched past her to her front door. Yanking it open, he held it as she glared at him. “After you.”

“Fine,” she snapped, storming past him and through the door. “I'm going to wash my face and change my shirt—if that's okay with you?” Her eyes were like spikes.

“Fine with me. I'll be right here when you get back, and then we're going to talk.”

Her brow shot up to her hairline. “Fine.”

“Fine,” he snapped, too, and watched her storm away. All the while his head was about to bust imagining all the different things that could have caused such a burn on her neck and arm.

Every one of those scenarios was too painful to think about.

* * *

They'd seen her arm. The look of horror on Tony's face had cut to her core. The kid had almost looked as if he could feel her pain.

Drats and more drats. Her scars made people uncomfortable.

She stared at herself in the mirror. It had taken a while for her to be able to do it without cringing, herself, so how did she expect others to not react the same way?

The brutal burn ran ugly and twisted from her neck down her right arm and torso. It wrapped around her rib cage and covered the majority of her stomach. The memory of the house caving in on her swept over her, and the scent of burning flesh made her nauseated. Reaching for the clean shirt, she pulled it on. The traumatic memory faded as she buttoned the buttons with shaky fingers.

Rowdy had seen the scar before and not said anything. Today, he'd looked into her eyes and pulled her shirt closed so no one else would see it. He'd saved her from the curious stares of the kids for the most part. Tony, and maybe Wes and Joseph, had seen her arm. He'd kept them from seeing more.

She had the feeling that this time he was going to ask questions.

Not sure if she was going to answer his questions she walked from her room and rounded the corner into the kitchen/construction site. Rowdy was leaning against the counter with his back to the sink and his scuffed boots crossed in front of him as he stared at the spot where she would be when she rounded the corner. She stopped. Her stomach felt unsteady...or maybe that was her feet. And her arm throbbed like a fifteen-hundred-pound cow had stepped on it.

As soon as he saw her he pushed away from the counter and yanked a chair from the table. “Here, have a seat.”

She sat because she needed to.

He reached for a bottle of pain relievers that he'd obviously dug from her cabinet. Popping the top off he poured two into his hand and held them out to her. “You're going to need these.”

She took them, because he was right. Then she accepted the water he held out to her.

Once she'd washed them down, he took her glass and set it on the counter, where he resumed his original pose leaning against it. His deep blue eyes rested on her.

The man really made her nervous.

“You were a good sport out there.”

Not what she'd been expecting. “I still think y'all are crazy, but I'm going to do it.”

“You don't have to. In the boys' book, getting out there and trying was all they needed.”

“A deal is a deal.”

They stared at each other and the clock ticked on the wall over the stove. “I guess you're wondering about my scars.”

“I am. But if you want to tell me it's none of my business, I understand. You just seemed sort of—” He raked his hat from his head and ran his fingers through his straight dark hair. She could tell he was struggling with the right words. He didn't know that there weren't any.

She wanted to tell him it was none of his business but...he'd seen her arm. And her neck. Still, accepting them was one thing, but for her to talk about them was an entirely different one.

“Our house burned down. We were sleeping and didn't realize it until it was almost too late.” Her heart rate kicked up and she rubbed her sweating palms on her jeans, while trying to control her breathing like the therapist had taught her. “The fire was hot and the smoke was so thick when we woke. Tim shook me awake, and we were crawling to the window when the roof caved in and burning wood rained down on top of us...” She hadn't told this much of the story to anyone but her therapist. “It was— I woke up in the hospital and they told me Tim hadn't made it.”

She hadn't been able to talk about the moments of pain before she'd lost consciousness. Blinking back tears, she rubbed those that had escaped and were rolling down her cheeks. “I didn't know anything about Tim's affairs then,” she almost blurted out, but didn't. She'd believed he'd died loving her. Even after she knew that was a lie, she wouldn't have wished death on him.

“I'm sorry.” Rowdy came and pulled a chair out so he could sit facing her. He clasped her hands with his and squeezed gently. “That's tragic. All of it.”

She nodded, closing her eyes. “Yeah, especially knowing I killed him.”

Chapter Nine

“Y
ou killed him? I don't believe that,” Rowdy blurted in reflex. He didn't know her well, but she hadn't killed her husband. No way.

She looked away, toward the window that could be seen past the breakfast bar in the front room. “It's true. The fire started in my studio with some oily rags.”

Guilt was etched in her features when she turned back to him. “That may be the case, but you didn't start the fire. Things happen. I'm sorry you lost him that way.” He could tell she took what he said with a grain of salt. She looked to be around twenty-five or twenty-six. About his age.

She'd been through a lot for her age. He didn't know a lot about art, but he thought he knew making money in the art world was almost impossible. So there was one more thing to be curious about.

“You must have loved him very much.” His heart ached for her—having lost his mother at a young age, he knew the pain that went with losing someone you loved.

She lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. She stood suddenly. “Hey, thanks for bringing me home. But I need to get some things unpacked for art class tomorrow.”

“Sure,” he said, knowing a dismissal when he heard it. “You're sure you're okay? Do you need anything?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Really. I'm good.” She had begun walking toward the door the moment she'd started speaking. He followed like a puppy being sent outside. She opened the door and held it for him. He ignored the urge to touch her as he walked past. He'd been pretty harsh earlier, and now he felt like a heel.

She didn't follow him onto the porch.

“Take another couple of those painkillers before you go to bed,” he said, as if the woman didn't know how to take care of sore muscles.

“I'll do that. Good night.”

Before he got his good-night out, she'd already closed the door. He stared at it, stunned. Something tugged in his chest. And he wondered for the umpteenth time what had happened to Lucy Calvert. There was more to this story. He felt it to his core.

He didn't feel right leaving. He raised his hand to knock but let it hover just in front of the door before pulling back. Turning away, he strode to his truck and left.

Lucy had a right to her privacy.

* * *

Lucy couldn't believe she'd opened up to Rowdy about the fire. She'd had to catch herself before she said too much. And yet she'd admitted the part that tormented her. Yes, she was angry at Tim for what he'd done. But to know that she was responsible for a person losing his life... It was unthinkable.

And then there was the scene at the burn center. His girlfriend blaming her and the horrible things she'd learned that day.

Lucy poured herself a glass of iced tea and drank half the glass, suddenly feeling parched as a desert. Then, forcing the thoughts away, she headed to the back room where she'd stored her canvas and paint supplies. It was time to think about something positive. Teaching the boys to paint appealed to her. She'd never thought of teaching before, but with this wild bunch, she was certain it was going to be an adventure.

And that was exactly what she needed.

Did it matter that they'd seen her scars? She would see tomorrow. Tony would have time to let the shock of seeing them ease and they'd move on. No big deal.

No big deal.

Rowdy's soft gaze touching hers as he'd pulled her collar closed slipped into her thoughts. The man had been nothing but kind to her since she'd arrived—bossy and nosy, too, but kind. Her lips lifted thinking about him. Why was a guy like him still single? The question startled her.

She had come here so angry at Tim. At herself. And here was this handsome cowboy who wouldn't go away. Of course, she could say he was just being neighborly...but that kiss had nothing neighborly written in it. Tracing a finger along the edge of an unfinished canvas, she remembered his kiss, and the feel of it came surging back and almost took her breath away.

No, neighborly was not what she'd call that kiss.

Chemistry, yes. Very much so.

And it had been a very long time since she'd felt anything like that. For two years her life had been full of pain, inside and out. Her extensive burns hadn't been a simple fix.

God had been good to her during that time. She didn't think she could have made it through without Him, but God hadn't been able to fix the anger inside of her. He hadn't been able to fix the mistrust that ate at her.

But tonight, she'd talked to Rowdy. Opened up to him in a way she hadn't been able to do with anyone since she woke in the hospital, other than her therapist at the burn center.

She'd trusted Rowdy enough to do that.

The very idea was a breakthrough for her. Maybe God had brought her here for that reason.

Taking a deep breath, she began assessing supplies she would need tomorrow. Jolie had taken the list of paints she'd need to the art store in the larger town eighty miles away and had promised to pick up some canvases, too. Despite feeling nervous about tomorrow after all that had happened today, she went to work gathering the rest of the things she would need.

So far life here at her new home hadn't been anything like she expected, not quiet time spent alone rehabbing her house and her soul— Nope, not that at all.

Rowdy, she had to admit, was the most unexpected. Trepidation filled her again when she thought about having opened up to him. She hadn't told him about the scars on her body. Had let him think the scars on her arm and neck were all there was. Why had she done that?

She knew why she hadn't said anything about Tim's cheating for so long. It was embarrassing. But was that why she'd kept silent about the scars?

* * *

“Tony, dude, you saw how bad they were, didn't you?” Wes, Tony and Joseph were sitting out under the crooked tree back behind the schoolhouse. They'd agreed to meet there after practice, after seeing the scars on Lucy's arm. The younger boys hadn't been close enough to see them.

Tony nodded. “They were bad. Like angry welts.”

“Like yours,” Joseph said, looking sad.

Wes knew Joe had a tender heart. It was one of the reasons he was going to make a good veterinarian. Wes wasn't as tenderhearted. He got plenty mad when he thought about his life, but he stuffed it deep inside of him and for the most part enjoyed his life here on the ranch. He felt lucky to be here. Looking at Tony, he knew his life could have been rougher. At least his parents had just left him on the steps of the welfare office. They hadn't tortured him like Tony's parents had.

They hadn't tossed gas on him and struck a match.

“Yeah, like mine. I wonder what happened to her?”

“I don't know, but she's hiding them,” Wes said.

Tony looked down, rubbed his hand on his thigh. “It's easier that way,” he said, real quiet. “People look at you funny. Y'all know it. Y'all've seen the look on people's faces the first time they see my back. It ain't worth it. I totally get why Lucy covers hers up.”

Wes did, too. It was true what Tony said about people getting all shocked and horrified at the sight of his back. His back looked like roadkill. He didn't hardly ever go without his shirt.

They were all quiet for a few minutes. It was hard to say anything after something like that.

“I'm just glad you didn't die from it.” Joseph was the one to speak.

“Yeah.” Tony took a deep breath. “Truth is, till I came here to Sunrise Ranch, I kinda wished it had...you know. Killed me.” He swallowed hard and chucked the rock he'd been holding as far as it would go.

Wes figured he had it good compared to Tony, but then he still didn't get why a kid had to go through all the junk the world had to offer sometimes.

Tony smiled and changed the subject. “Did—” He started to say something, then stopped. “Did you see the way Rowdy looked at her?”

“You mean with the goo-goo eyes?” Wes grinned.

“I saw it,” Joseph said. “It's pretty clear he's into her. I mean, I could tell that when we were working at her place.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tony said. “But did you see how he didn't care about the burns?”

Wes shot Joseph a glance. They stopped grinning.

“Not everybody's going to freak over your burns, either, Tony,” Wes said, hoping he was saying the right thing.

“Yeah, maybe.” Tony shrugged, looking as though he didn't believe it.

Wes's fist knotted up and he had to knock the anger back in its dark hole. “You hold your head up, dude. It'll happen.”

“Yes, it will,” Joseph added.

Wes sure hoped so. He wondered if Lucy had the same thoughts as Tony. “Maybe Rowdy will fall in love with Lucy, you think?”

A grin spread across Joseph's and Tony's faces.

Yup, that would be the cool...and it might make Tony feel better about himself. That would be the coolest of all.

* * *

“Y'all did great today,” Lucy called, forcing her voice to sound upbeat as the kids streamed through the schoolhouse door like a herd of wild mustangs. Several shot thanks over their shoulders, but nearly pushed the others down clamoring to get away.

Lucy sighed, watching the last one escape. Her shoulders drooped; it had not exactly been the day she'd planned.

“They love working cattle, so don't let their stampede out of here get you down,” Jolie said, coming up beside her. “You did great, and I think they enjoyed themselves.”

“Like a trip to the dentist.”

Jolie chuckled. “It wasn't that bad. And remember, they're boys. When you get more to the actual painting part of the class things will get better.”

“Well, at least there's hope.” It was true that today she had to spend time teaching a little theory. Not much, but she had to explain the different art forms, the brushes and mixing the paint, etcetera.

“I'm pleased. They need a little Art 101 and it's just a wonderful thing that you showed up right here beside us. God just works everything out. It's a wonderful thing to watch.”

It was Lucy's turn to chuckle. “I'm not so sure the fellas would agree.”

“They don't have a clue what's good for them.” Jolie winked and then began straightening desks. Lucy did the same. “So how's the remodel going?”

“Pretty good. I think we've got all the walls knocked out that I can possibly knock out.”

“Well that's a good thing. I overheard something about Calamity Lucy the other day. We're studying women of the West right now and so they have heard stories of Calamity Jane. I think they were beginning to fear the house was going to fall in on you.”

She shook her head. “Crazy guys. I do admit that I kind of fell in love with certain aspects of swinging that sledgehammer. There's a lot of clearing of the head that goes into that swing.”

Jolie sat on the edge of the desk as her smile bloomed wide. “Speaking of Rowdy, how's that going?”

Had they been speaking of Rowdy? She thought they'd been speaking of her house and clearing her head. Suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation, Lucy bluffed. “What do you mean?”

“C'mon. There's something there. I saw it the other night. It's okay. I can tell you he's a good guy.”

“First of all, I'm not looking for any kind of guy right now. Just so you know. But also, he told me he's trying to mend his ways. That's a red flag to me. I bet he's very popular.”
With the ladies
went unsaid.

“And I'll be one of the first to say he needs to mend his ways. Especially after...” Jolie's words trailed off and her eyes dimmed.

Lucy didn't want to pry, but couldn't help herself. “What? After what?”

Jolie bit her lip. “I shouldn't have said that. Rowdy is a great guy. I've known him since I came here at age ten, when my parents were house parents. He didn't take his mother's death well. He got into all kinds of trouble—reckless stuff. My mom used to say it was as if his mother dying young made him think his life was going to end early, too, so he might as well live fast and furiously. He almost got killed trying to ride a bull that the best bull riders in the country had trouble riding. It stomped him—it was terrible. It scared Randolph to death.” Jolie shook her head. “Anyway, I know we all want the best for him.”

Jolie had changed what she'd been about to say, but hearing about Rowdy as a grieving boy tugged at Lucy's heart. Still, why had Jolie thrown out the “especially after” comment, then backpedalled like an Olympian?

Whatever it was, she'd already figured out it couldn't be good or Jolie would have had no reason to withhold from her.

“Rowdy just needs someone who can help mend the heart of that boy he once was. By the way, I want to say how sorry I am. I read the article about the fire.” Her eyes softened. “I'm sorry you lost your husband and were so badly burned. A terrible thing. I guess me pushing you about an interest in Rowdy is probably way off base right now. Forget I said anything. I'm just glad you're here and agreed to teach art to the guys. Working with them will bless your soul.”

Lucy tried to figure out what to say, but in the end she said nothing. Just that the boys already were getting to her in a good way, and then she'd gotten out of there as fast as she could.

She had very nearly let her defenses down where Rowdy was concerned. The thought plagued her all the way home.

There was something behind Jolie's remark. And it had a big red stop sign painted all over it. And yet, she thought about that boy who lost his mother and dealt with it by living hard and recklessly, and her heart ached for him.