Cowboy Courage

If Kerri-Leigh had any suspicions about Lauren’s reason for the instructions, she didn’t let on. “But what about you? How will you get out of here?”

“I’ll call a cab and get a hotel room in the nearest town.”

“You might have a heck of a time finding a cab that will come all the way out to Tannen.”

“Then I’ll hitch a ride,” Lauren lied, her voice sounding more confident than she felt. “Don’t worry about me.”

“My brother, Cole, will be here soon. He’ll take you anywhere you need to go, especially since you’ve helped me. He’s honorable about that sort of thing.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Laurie said.

“All right,” Kerri-Leigh said as she began to unbutton her blouse. “Brady had just ordered another drink when I excused myself. Maybe he won’t notice at that.”

Within minutes, they exchanged clothing. Lauren did the best she could to pull Kerri-Leigh’s hair into a twist and clip the ends. A quick but thick application of red lipstick, followed by dark sunglasses made Kerri-Leigh appear older, wiser and certainly different.

While the smaller woman admired the makeover, Lauren ran her fingers through her own strands, knowing they’d never look as stringy as her new friend’s had. But then, she just needed to appear similar, at least from the backside, and only for a few minutes. She studied her reflection in the mirror, and a stranger wearing hot pink leggings and an oversized white shirt stared back at her. She garnered a smile. “Okay, let’s give it a try.”

As they stood before the door, Kerri-Leigh paused, then reached for Lauren’s hand. “You’ve been a real friend. And taken on more than most women would. I really appreciate this. What’s your name?”

Lauren opened her mouth to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. What was her name? Lauren? Not originally.

Her mother had called her Laurie. The nickname evoked vague memories of love and warmth. Lauren wondered if she might, at some level, try to tap into the person she should have been, instead of the polished, manipulated aristocrat who had tried to please everyone but herself. A woman who had the means to purchase anything her heart desired—except happiness. “Laurie,” she answered, hearing the sweet, simple sound for the first time in years.

Kerri-Leigh smiled. “I won’t forget you, Laurie. You’re a saint.”

A saint? Hardly, she thought. God knew she had tried, but it was never enough. She could still hear the crisp, nasal sound of Aunt Caroline’s voice. Laurie Smith is simply too plain, too common. You’re a Taylor now. You need a name that reflects money, culture and class. Lauren Taylor suits you much better.

And, according to Aunt Caroline, so had a liberal arts degree instead of pre-med.

And blond hair instead of brown.

As Kerri-Leigh reached for the doorknob, Lauren tapped her shoulder. “Wait. Before we go, where’s the nearest hair salon?”

“You mean beauty shop?”

Lauren nodded. “I’d like to have my hair dyed.”

Kerri-Leigh furrowed her brow. “Why? The color is perfect.”

A perfect color? It should be, at the rate she’d paid Jonathan to lighten it. “Thank you, but I want to darken it.”

“It’s cheaper to do it yourself.”

Cost had never been an issue. Jonathan was the best in Beverly Hills, where a simple shampoo and style cost well over a hundred dollars. “I feel more comfortable having a professional do it.”

Kerri-Leigh sighed. “In that case, I’d recommend Sandy at Carla’s Crazy Curl. It’s about five miles down the road on Main Street. Sandy just moved back to town and is trying to establish her clientele. But she’s the best hairstylist around.”

“Is she a friend of yours?”

Kerri-Leigh paused for a moment. “Yes, she’s a good friend.”

“Thanks for the advice. Sandy at Carla’s Crazy Curl. I’ll find it.”

As Kerri-Leigh held open the door, Lauren, or rather Laurie, slipped into the darkened interior of the Long Shot. Wiping her hands on the long white shirt she wore, she took a deep breath, then bellied up to the jukebox, dropped some coins into the slot, and randomly picked number B-16. As the sounds of a somebody-done-somebody-wrong song filled the room, Laurie was faced with a disconcerting, heart-pounding awareness. The first choice she’d made by listening to the whispers of her own heart might have been a big mistake.

The idea to switch places with a stranger had been utter foolishness.

Laurie crossed her fingers and glanced at the front door. She hoped Kerri-Leigh’s brother arrived soon.

And that he was as noble as the woman had implied.

Chapter Two

Cole McAdams slammed his hand on the dashboard of the vintage truck. If Brady Cooper so much as laid a finger on his sister, he’d beat him senseless.

It was a good thing Cole had given Ben and Evie down at the Long Shot his cell phone number. It’s the only way they would have been able to track him down. He hadn’t been home since he took his daughter to the Petersons’ house to spend the day and night.

Thank God. He would have been in a real quandary if Beth had been home. A five-year-old child had no business at a bar fight.

Cole barreled down the long driveway and turned onto the county road that would take him to the Long Shot. He wasn’t about to let Brady Cooper continue to push his sister around.

What made a woman stay with a man who mistreated her? Or leave one who treated her well, for that matter?

Cole’s ex-wife had bailed out on him, and he’d been damn good to her. He would have done anything to make her and their daughter happy. But she’d hightailed it out of town and left little Beth teary-eyed and him feeling betrayed.

And drowning in debt.

Cole gripped the steering wheel tightly, as he thought about the bills that began coming in after she’d gone. Apparently, she’d applied for credit cards he hadn’t known about then run each one to the hilt before taking off. And because Cole had taken a large mortgage on the ranch several years ago to pay off a couple of foolhardy investments his father had made prior to passing away, things looked bleak.

His accountant, a conservative family friend, had suggested bankruptcy as a solution, but Cole wasn’t a quitter. He refused the well-intentioned advice. Instead, he worked out a plan using some creative financial juggling, then sold off most of the stock and some of the finest cutting horses in the state. It nearly killed him to see it all go to auction, but he’d managed to hold the creditors at bay and decrease the mortgage by half.

He had just enough cash left to keep him and Beth afloat until the next yearling auction in the spring. Cutting horses held only a certain value in Texas, where they were considered a useful commodity. But in California, wealthy professionals would pay a dear price to own a high-quality horse, and Cole had quickly cashed in on that trend.

He’d lost nearly everything except ten of his finest brood-mares he’d kept to slowly replenish his stock, including what he believed was his ace in the hole—Sugar Foot, the best little mare ever to run cattle. She was due to foal any day, and his hopes of a comeback rested upon that colt or filly.

It had been a long, hard road back from financial ruin. But Cole was determined to make it, and he wasn’t about to lose anything else. Not his ranch, and not his daughter. He had gathered most of his spare cash to pay a high-priced city lawyer a small fortune to ensure Beth remained with him.

He’d never forgive his ex-wife for leaving. Or for coming back to Tannen, thinking she deserved a relationship with the child she’d abandoned. Kerri-Leigh said the woman had changed, but Cole didn’t believe it. And even if she had, he’d never be able to trust her again. Honesty, like family loyalty, was sacred to him.

The custody fight could get ugly, the attorney had warned him. And more costly. But Cole didn’t care. His ex-wife wasn’t going to slip back into their lives as if she’d only gone to the market. Sure, she’d called him six months before to say she was sorry, but Cole wouldn’t accept her apology. Or let her speak to Beth.

He sighed. For a man who had always tried hard to do the right thing, his life was almost as messed up as Kerri-Leigh’s.

Cole spotted the entrance to the Long Shot and tensed his jaw. He turned into the dusty parking lot just as the white Expedition pulled onto the highway. Apparently, the classy blonde had decided to stop there to eat. He wondered if she had left after seeing the inside of the place, or whether Brady and his big mouth had scared her off. Well, it was for the best. A woman like her didn’t need to see the sordid side of life.

Cole parked behind Brady’s beat-up Plymouth, jumped out of the truck, and marched through the entrance. The front door slammed behind him, nearly jarring the small replica of a cowbell from its overhead perch.

Every head in the diner turned to look at Cole. Every head but Kerri-Leigh’s.

Brady slid from the booth where he’d been hunched over a beer and stood. “What’s your problem? Ain’t you got any manners?”

Cole clenched his fists at his side and narrowed his eyes. “Where is she?”

Brady snorted and nodded toward the rear of the bar, where a blonde stood by the jukebox, her back to the room.

The woman fidgeted, then slowly turned around.

When Brady saw her face, his eyes widened, and his mouth dropped. “You’re not Kerri-Leigh. What in the hell are you doing in her clothes? And where is she?” Brady threw a half-empty bottle of beer against the wall. “Damn it all to hell. She just left wearin’ your clothes!”

Cole was nearly as gape-eyed as Brady when he recognized the lady from the filling station. She’d let down her hair, removed the dark glasses, and changed her clothes, but it was her, all right. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he figured the blond stranger had helped his sister escape. And from the look of fury in Brady’s bloodshot eyes, the woman had set herself up to receive a beating meant for Kerri-Leigh.

As Brady staggered toward her, she swallowed hard.

Cole shook his head, then intercepted Brady in one fluid movement.

Not intimidated, Brady stood tall and doubled up a fist. “Get out of my way, McAdams. I’m gonna find out what’s goin’ on.”

Cole grabbed a handful of Brady’s shirt and jerked him forward. “Don’t even think about touching her.”

“Or what?” Brady bellowed.

Cole smelled the stench of stale alcohol and grimaced. “Don’t push me, Brady.”

The drunk laughed, then swung a meaty fist at Cole. Drunk or sober, Brady wasn’t a match for a man who’d gotten damn tired of seeing his sister bullied. One swift left hook, and the big man staggered, then dropped to the ground. Blood pooled around his mouth, and bloodshot eyes rolled back in his head.

Cole glanced up to see the blonde hand Ben a twenty. “Would you call me a cab?”

“A cab? Out here?” Ben looked out the front window, then shook his head slowly. “Could take the rest of the afternoon, but I’ll give it a try.”

A flash of lightning cracked across the sky, and Cole ambled toward the woman who had helped his sister. “Don’t bother with a cab. I’ll give you a ride.”

When the thunder rolled, she worried her lip.

“I’m Cole McAdams, Kerri-Leigh’s brother. She’d want me to look after you.”

She glanced up at him with expressive green eyes. Worry and relief seemed to battle inside the emerald depths, then she sighed softly. “Kerri-Leigh said you were a nice guy.”

Ben cleared his throat and handed her money back. “Ain’t no one more honorable than Cole McAdams, ma’am. You can trust him.”

She nodded slowly, then tucked a long strand of golden hair behind her ear.

“Where are you headed?” Cole asked, not giving her a chance to change her mind. The sky had been darkening since noon. He could smell the rain coming and sensed an especially fierce torrent.

“To town, I guess. I need a room for the night.”

Another lightning bolt lit the room, followed by the roar of thunder. And as if the sky had opened up, the rain began to pour.

“Storm’s here,” Ben said. “And it’s flash-flood season.”

Cole figured he could get the woman to town before the road washed out, but he doubted he could make it back to the ranch. “I’ve got a spare room. You can stay at my place.”

She seemed reluctant, then looked over her shoulder at the lighted television screen over the bar. She shot a wounded glance his way. “All right. But just for tonight.”

Cole nodded. “I introduced myself, but you haven’t.”

Green eyes, large, luminous and doelike pierced his. “Laurie,” she said softly. “Laurie Smith.”

He sensed a courageous vulnerability about her and wanted to ease her mind. “I appreciate you helping my sister, Laurie.”

She offered a warm but weary smile. “She tried to climb out the ladies’ room window. I couldn’t help her squeeze through, so I came up with another plan.”

“You loaned her your car, too, didn’t you?”

She nodded. “When Brady bellowed at me, I must admit the whole idea seemed more than a little foolish. He’s a pretty scary guy.” She glanced at the prostrate form. “Although he doesn’t look so menacing now.”

“Barroom brawls aren’t anything new to Brady Wilson. He’s been in one scrap or another since he outgrew diapers.” Cole smiled, then nodded toward the door. “Come on. We’ve got to get out of here. The rain’s already starting to come down pretty hard.”

“I need to get my bags from the ladies’ room,” she said.

When she returned, a black canvas bag slung over her shoulder, Ben’s wife, Evie, called from the kitchen. “Just a minute. I’ve got your sandwich ready.”

“Thank you.” Laurie collected a brown bag from Evie, and handed the woman a ten-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

She followed Cole outside, and they paused under the porch roof, watching the rain stream down.

“Wait here,” Cole said. “I’ll get the door.”

He hurried through the parking lot, climbed into his red Chevy, then leaned across the seat and opened the passenger door for her.

“Nice truck,” she said, climbing inside.

“Thanks.”

As Cole backed out of the parking lot and pulled onto the highway, he turned the radio on low. He slid a glance at Laurie. She sat quietly on her side of the truck, nearly hugging the door as though they’d drawn a chalk line down the center. Awkward and cautious. He figured they both felt the same way.

He stole another glance as she peeked into the brown bag Ben had given her, then folded it shut and leaned against the window. She blinked before slowly closing her eyes.

Too tired to eat, he surmised. There was a lot she hadn’t told him. And probably never would. Of course, her worries and her past weren’t any of his business. But she had stepped in to help Kerri-Leigh in a move that might have saved his sister’s life. When drunk, Brady had leveled men twice Kerri-Leigh’s size. And the last time he’d lost his temper with Kerri-Leigh, she’d ended up in the hospital and he in jail.

No telling what Brady would have done to her this time. Thank God—and the stranded woman sitting beside him— Kerri-Leigh had got away before Brady had the chance to lay a hand on her.

Again Cole studied the pretty woman on the other side of the seat. Thick dark lashes rested upon her cheeks. She didn’t look a thing like his sister—not up close. Kerri-Leigh had freckles across the bridge of an upturned nose and distinct dark brows. Laurie, her complexion soft and flawless, boasted an aristocratic nose and delicate, light brows that arched perfectly.

And where Kerri-Leigh was round and soft, Laurie was long and lean. Too thin, if you asked Cole. Fashionable, maybe, but he’d always liked the soft feel of a real woman, not a willowy, reed-thin model.

The soft feel of a woman? What in tarnation was wrong with him? He had no business even thinking of this woman in a physical sense. Laurie Smith was a stranger, in his life for a day or so, then on her way.

The faint, musky scent of an exotic floral perfume began to fill the cab, drawing his attention to the blond head resting against the passenger window. She had fallen asleep, her breath fogging the glass.

Laurie Smith, she’d called herself, but Cole didn’t buy it. Not for a minute. He tried to remind his skeptical side that this stranger had helped his sister. And if she held on to her own secrets, that was her business. He had his own problems to worry about. He’d won the first round of the custody battle, but according to his lawyer, there were more battles to come.

Rain beat down upon the roof, then streamed along the windows. Cole hoped they could make it through the dry river bottom before the road washed out.

The windshield wipers squeaked and swished back and forth across the rain-sloshed glass. Cole turned up the volume of the radio, and the mournful sounds of a fiddle filled the cab.

Then a slow Southern voice began to sing the praises of a honky-tonk hero.

Laurie felt a tapping on her shoulder and awoke with a jump. She blinked twice before realizing she sat inside Cole McAdams’s truck.

Outside, the rain pelted the exterior, but in the warmth of the cab, he watched her with eyes as clear and blue as a Texas summer. A worn Stetson rode easy on his head, while dark curls peeked out from under the brim. He had a strong, angular face, tanned by the elements. She found his expression hard to read and hoped she hadn’t made a big mistake leaving with him.

“Let’s go inside,” he said, his voice a deep Southern drawl. “We’re home.”

Wherever home was. Laurie tried to peer out the windows of the truck, but even if she could have seen through the fogged glass, the rain blurred her view. “Where are we?” she asked, reaching for her bags.

“My ranch just outside of town. Near the river bottom and close to the foothills.”

Laurie nodded, still unsure of the location. Since yesterday afternoon, she’d passed through so many small towns and cities, she couldn’t remember the name of the last place she’d stopped.

As she fumbled for the door handle, he spoke again. “Just slide out this side. It’s closer, and you won’t get as wet.” His voice was easy on her ears, comforting actually. In fact, his entire being held her attention.

She studied Kerri-Leigh’s brother as he climbed from the truck. Tall, ruggedly handsome, dressed in denim jeans and a chambray shirt, he embodied the image of an American hero. A cowboy, she decided, even though it had been ages since she’d seen one in the flesh.

Oblivious to the rain pelting his hat and spotting his shirt, he flashed her a grin. “I can carry you in, but you’re going to get wet either way.”

Yes, Cole McAdams was a cowboy, through and through.

“Thanks for the offer,” Laurie said. “But I’ll walk.”

As she slid across the seat, he reached for her hand and helped her out. His grip was callused, but gentle. Warm to the touch.

They ran to the porch, but by the time the cowboy opened the door and Laurie stepped inside, they were drenched.

Water dripped upon concrete flooring that looked more like a tawny, earth-toned Spanish tile. Laurie glanced at the puddle at her feet, then caught his eye. “I’m sorry about the mess.”

“It’ll mop up easy enough.”

She scanned the wood-paneled walls of the living room until her eyes lit upon a rock fireplace with an intricate, carved-oak mantle.

Amazing, she thought, as she continued to study the layout of a home that held the charm of a log cabin, the windows of a mountain chateau and the artistry of an architectural showcase. Rough, yet stylish. Spacious, yet intimate. Cole McAdams’s home bore a simple, raw elegance Laurie found appealing.

He must have noticed her fascination. “What’s the matter?”

“Your house is so…interesting.”

He shrugged. “I like it.”

“I do, too,” she said, hoping he hadn’t misunderstood her reaction. “Who was your decorator?” The question seemed natural to Laurie. Where she’d come from, people paid professionals a small fortune to create a home that reflected the personality and style of the occupants.

“I designed it myself.”

She must have dropped her jaw, because he laughed while hanging his wet hat on a rough-hewn coatrack in the entry.

“Well, shucks, ma’am.” His voice took on a sharp, expressive twang. “Y’all didn’t think we was so backwards in Texas that we thought indoor plumbin’ was as good as it gets, did ya?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to appear surprised that you could have created this. It’s just that I’ve never really cared for Southwestern style, but this is great.”

“This isn’t Southwestern style. It’s just my home.” He took her elbow. “Come on, I’ll show you to the bathroom. You can take a shower, if you’d like. And get out of those wet clothes.”

Laurie allowed him to guide her steps, as she continued her perusal of his home. Even the plain white walls appeared to be a work of art.

He paused at a linen closet and pulled out a towel and washcloth, then ushered her into a spacious bathroom. Clean and neat. Cole may have designed his own home, but Laurie doubted he kept things tidy all by himself. “How will your wife feel about me staying here?” she asked.

His jaw tensed. “I don’t have a wife.” Then, as if realizing she’d caught sight of something he hadn’t meant her to see, he quickly changed the subject. “Do you need anything?”

Laurie glanced down at her purse and the gym bag she’d lugged into the bathroom and placed on the floor. A stripe of yellow inside the tote reminded her of the envelope she’d tucked inside, but she chose to ignore that for now. She didn’t want to be reminded of Daniel or the problems awaiting her in California, if only for a day.

Her immediate concern was to get out of the wet clothes and shower. But all she had to change into was a pair of black leotards and a crop top, which certainly didn’t seem to be appropriate apparel on a stormy evening in a strange house with a man she didn’t know. “Do you have a robe or something I can use until my clothes dry?”

He nodded, set the towel and washcloth on the counter, then reached to turn on the faucets. “It takes a while for the water to heat up. I’ll get you a robe.” His gaze swept the length of her, pausing at her torso. You’ll have to cinch it up some.”

Had she imagined his eyes lingering on her breasts? Surely not, but she suddenly felt self-conscious, lacking something but not sure what. Before she could give it much thought, he handed her a thick, Turkish robe, then eased out of the room and shut the door.

Alone. Laurie sighed and looked through a large picture window that offered a view of a small outdoor garden of jungle-green ferns and red hibiscus. Resting her hands upon the cool tile counter, she stared blankly into the mirror. Who was the woman she saw before her?

Within minutes, hot water sprayed from the shower head while Laurie continued to stand before a fog-enshrouded image. A long-haired, ghostlike figure stared back at her. Fingering the fluffy white towel lying upon the beige countertop, Laurie hid a wry smile. She might look a fright, but there was definitely an upside.

Laurie Smith didn’t look at all like the sophisticated Lauren Taylor.

As Cole stepped onto the bath mat and reached for a towel, he realized that just down the hall, Laurie Smith was in a similar state of undress. He imagined her body, tall and lean, moving sensuously through the fog and steam, water and soap sluicing over bare skin. The erotic image aroused him, reminded him he was not only a single dad, but a man who hadn’t had a woman in a while.

He grumbled. Even though Beth wasn’t home and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning, he was a dad first and a man second. Besides, having a houseguest was no big deal. He’d only provided temporary accommodations for Kerri-Leigh’s friend—a woman who had helped his sister when he hadn’t been able to do so himself.

Lightning flashed, and as the thunder began to roll, the light in the bathroom went out.