Trusting The Cowboy

At one time Lauren had worn a ring, too. At one time she had been making wedding plans.

She wasn’t ready to go there again. Between her father’s neglect and anger, and Harvey’s lies, and her past bosses’ treatment, she’d had enough.

But your father apologized.

She held that voice a moment, realizing that the apology had gone a long way to helping her settle the past.

However, he still had placed conditions on them. And as she fought a touch of resentment over that, a picture of Vic sitting across from her, holding her gaze, slipped into her mind. She knew Vic wasn’t letting go of his claim on the ranch until he knew, without a doubt, that her father hadn’t written anything up.

Which meant he would be around more than she liked. Not that she was attracted to him. She was never going down that road again.

* * *

Vic drove the tractor into the yard and pulled in front of Keith McCauley’s shop, frustrated that he hadn’t checked the amount of twine he had left in the baler before he started out this morning. He should have taken more with him, but he had been rushing all morning ever since he overslept.

Too much thinking last night, he told himself as he climbed out of the tractor. Too much on his mind. Dean. His widowed mother.

The missing deal with Keith. If he didn’t find the papers, Lauren was ready to sell the ranch. At a price he couldn’t afford.

He’d prayed about it and struggled to release it all into God’s hands, but he kept pulling back.

Stay focused. You’ll find the agreement.

He just wasn’t sure when that was supposed to happen.

He stepped into the shop, the light from the open door slanting into the dark of the cool building. He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the indoors from the bright sunlight outside.

But as he walked across the uneven concrete floor, he heard rustling and clanging coming from inside. He walked closer, listening. He reached for the door just as it opened under his hand.

Lauren stepped out carrying a shovel.

She wore blue jeans today and a dark T-shirt. Her hair hung in a loose braid over one shoulder, and as she looked up at him, the shovel fell to the floor with a clatter, her hand on her chest as she stumbled backward.

She would have fallen, but Vic caught her by one arm, pulling her upright. They stood that way a moment and he caught a whiff of her perfume.

She stared up at him, her eyes wide, a soft gray in the low light. There was a smudge of dirt on her cheek, some grass stuck in her hair.

“Oh. It’s you,” she said, breathless as she pulled away from him.

The speed with which she did it almost unbalanced her again, but this time she grabbed the door handle, looking hastily away.

“Yeah. I just needed some more twine for the baler.” He poked his thumb over his shoulder. “Sorry I bothered you.”

“No. No. That’s fine. I just was startled. That’s all.” She pushed her hair back with the palm of her hand, creating another smudge of dirt. “I thought you were Jodie. She went to town and said she would be back soon.”

With her blue jeans and casual shirt, dirty face and messy hair, she looked even more appealing than she normally did.

And he was, suddenly, not in any rush to find another roll of baler twine.

“You’ve got some dirt on your face,” he said, pointing.

Lauren hastily scrubbed at her cheeks but only managed to make it worse.

Vic pulled out a hankie from his pocket and handed it to her. “Here. Use this.”

She frowned as she looked down at the red polka-dotted square.

“I haven’t used it yet,” he assured her.

“Thanks, but that’s not what I was worried about. I don’t meet many men who actually use the hankies they carry.” She hurriedly wiped her face, as if embarrassed he had caught her looking less than her best. “Though they’re not called hankies, technically they’re pocket squares and they’re usually white, artfully folded and peeking out of a suit pocket.” Then she released a short laugh. “Sorry. Babbling.” She looked up at him, her expression questioning. “Did I get it all?”

“Still some on your left cheek,” he said, pointing with his right hand. She wiped her right cheek. “No. The other left cheek,” he said with a grin.

She wiped furiously at her left cheek but still missed the spot.

“A little more to the left,” he said. A deep frown creased her forehead as she moved to the right, scrubbing again as if it was important she remove this dirt.

He finally took the hankie from her, caught her chin in his hand and wiped off the dirt himself. It was still smudged, but the worst was off.

He was disconcerted to see her looking up at him, her face holding a curious expression. “Sorry,” he said, lowering his hands. “I thought...you...you’d...”

“No. Thanks. It’s okay. I hate being dirty. Just a thing. Thanks.”

“Well, if that’s a problem, you’ve also got some grass in your hair.” But this time, instead of explaining, he plucked it out himself.

“I guess I’m ready to face the world,” she said with a nervous laugh, pulling away as he tugged at another piece.

As she did, his hand accidentally brushed her cheek, and she jumped as if he had struck her.

“Sorry,” she said, sounding breathless as she leaned over to pick up the shovel. “Still jumpy. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“That was my fault. I didn’t think anyone was in here, either. What are you doing with the shovel?”

“I’m cleaning out the flower beds. They’re horribly overgrown. I used to take care of them every summer when we came to visit. Dad must have let them get out of hand.”

“Your dad wasn’t much for gardening,” Vic said.

Lauren smiled at him and something dangerous shifted deep in his soul. He knew those first few whispers of attraction. Had felt them many times before. The last time was with Tiffany. Dean’s ex-girlfriend.

The memory was like a slap and he knew he should leave. Yet, against his better judgment, he lingered.

“The lawn is crazy, as well,” she continued as he mentally made his retreat from her. “I’m going to have to do three passes with the lawnmower before it’s acceptable. And I’d like to go into town tomorrow to pick up some flowers. I think the greenhouse is still selling them.”

“Why are you even bothering?” he asked, curiosity keeping him from stepping away. Curiosity and a deep loneliness that had been haunting him the past few months. He hadn’t dated since Tiffany had told him she loved him. That she wanted to break up with Dean and get back together with him. They had dated previously, but she had broken up with him to date his brother. Then realized her mistake and wanted to get back together with Vic. He’d told her she had to do the right thing and tell his brother.

Her timing was atrocious. His inattention and Dean’s anger had contributed to Dean’s accident. Vic felt he was still paying for that mistake.

But now Lauren stood in front of him, attractive, appealing and, truth to tell, probably just as off-limits as Tiffany had been.

“Why bother?” she repeated with a gentle smile that didn’t help his resolve. “It’s something to do and, well, I’d like to make it nice for the future buyer.”

Her words created a clench deep and low, bringing reality into their cozy little conversation.

“Of course. Good idea.” He straightened his shoulders as if readying himself for whatever lay ahead. “I’ll be done baling this field in a couple of hours. Would it be okay if I come inside and look through your father’s papers afterward?”

“I’m meeting Keira Fortier for supper at the Grill and Chill tonight, so I don’t think so.”

“Another time, then?”

“Sure. When it works.”

Vic fought down his frustration at her nonchalant attitude. This was as important to her as it was to him.

But she had choices.

He didn’t.

Chapter Three

Vic lay on his back on the hay field, straining at the wrench. Grass slithered down his back as he wrestled with the bolt on the broken U joint connecting the PTO drive to the baler. Another day, another breakdown.

Yesterday he’d managed to get most of the one field baled. Today he wasn’t sure he would get as much done.

Sweat streamed down his forehead into his eyes. It was hot and he was only half-done baling when the power take-off connecting the tractor to the baler rammed up.

He blinked and tugged again, pushing even harder. Finally the wrench moved. But his damp hands slid along the handle of the wrench banging into the shaft of the PTO, scraping the skin off his knuckles.

He sucked in a breath, allowed himself a flash of self-pity, then picked up the wrench and got the bolt off, blood mingling with sweat on his hands.

He pulled the shaft of the PTO loose, ignoring the throbbing ache in his hands he finished the job.

He pulled out the broken U joint and got to his feet.

As he brushed dried grass off his shirt and pants, he stared at the clear blue sky that seemed to mock him. Hard to believe that rain would be pouring down tomorrow as the forecast on his phone showed. But he’d been fooled by that cloudless blue sky before, so he had to get to town as soon as possible, get the U joint welded, get back, fix it and get going until either evening dew or impending rain forced him to quit.

He shifted the U joint in his hands and trudged across the stubble of the hay field, thankful that the breakdown had happened so close to the yard. He saw his truck, parked now beside Lauren’s car.

And beyond that, he saw Lauren working on the flower beds by the house.

Her car had been gone when he got here early this morning. Last night he hadn’t had the opportunity to look for the agreement. So he had come early. But she hadn’t been in the house this morning, either. Instead he’d gone directly to the tractor, hooked up the baler and gotten to work. She had returned about an hour ago. Now she was outside, working.

He climbed over the fence and headed toward his truck, wondering if he should stop and say hi.

Trouble was, he could still feel a flush of embarrassment at that little moment they had shared in the garage yesterday. He still wasn’t sure what made him do it. He’d thought he was just being helpful, but when his hand brushed her cheek, a tiny shock had shot through him. Like electricity.

Like the feeling of a growing attraction he couldn’t allow himself to indulge in.

He dropped the U joint into his jockey box at the back of the truck and was about to get in when he heard Lauren call his name, then saw her jog toward him.

As she came closer, he was unable to stop his heart lifting at the sight of her. Sandals and blue jeans again today, white tank top, hair tied back, tiny curls framing her flushed face.

She ran the back of her hand over her damp forehead as she stopped in front of him, breathless.

“Sorry to bother you. I was hoping to go into town again this afternoon, but my car has a flat tire. Do you know whom I can call to get it fixed? Jodie is in Bozeman and not answering my calls. And Aunt Laura has been gone the past few days.”

“I can change the tire for you.”

“No. You’ve got your own work to do,” Lauren said, turning down his offer with a flutter of her hands, her bright red nail polish flashing in the sun. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“If you’ve got a decent spare, it’s no trouble.”

“I should know how to do it myself, but living in the city...” She shrugged her shoulder. “I’d just call roadside assistance.”

“Well, even if you called the tow truck, it could take a couple of hours before Dwayne got here.” Vic gave her a crooked smile. “So, that leaves me, I guess. Unless you want to wait.”

“I feel bad asking you.”

Vic didn’t even answer, just headed over to her car. The rim of the front driver’s side tire was resting on the ground, the tire a puddle of rubber underneath it.

“Doesn’t get much flatter,” he said. “Where’s your spare and jack?”

“All I know is that it’s in the back. Sorry.”

“No worries. I’ll figure it out.”

He opened the trunk and a few minutes later managed to finagle the full-size spare tire out of its compartment. When he dropped it on the ground, instead of a little bounce, it landed like a rock on its rim, as flat as the tire he was supposed to replace.

“Oh, no. I forgot that I’d already had a flat tire a couple of weeks ago,” Lauren said with a note of disgust. “Stupid of me.”

“I’m going into town now,” Vic said. “I’ll bring the tires in and get them fixed.”

Lauren nodded, but Vic saw that she looked disappointed. Then he remembered. “You said you needed to go into town yourself. I can bring you where you want to go.”

She hesitated, then gave him a sheepish smile. “That’d be great. I feel silly about that, too, because I was in town this morning and when I came home I realized I forgot some groceries.”

“Get in. I’ll drop you off and get your tire fixed.”

“I just need to change, if that’s okay.”

“No problem,” he said, though he wondered why. He thought she looked fine.

Of course he wasn’t one to judge what was suitable, he thought, glancing down at his grease-stained blue jeans and dirty shirt.

He manhandled the tires into the back of the truck, getting even more dirt on his shirt. He called the machine shop to see if he could get the part in, and thankfully they could repair it while he waited.

He brushed some hay off his shirt, beat his dusty cowboy hat against his leg and ran his fingers through his tangled hair. That was about as changed as he was getting.

A few moments later Lauren came down the walk and Vic felt even shabbier. She wore a blue-striped button-down shirt, narrow black skirt and white canvas shoes. Her hair was pulled back again into a ponytail and she had even put on some makeup.

In a mere ten minutes she had transformed from a country girl to a city slicker.

“We’ll bring your tires in first, then I’ll need to drop my part off at the machine shop, if that’s okay,” Vic said as they got into the truck.

“You’re doing me a huge favor. I can hardly dictate the terms of the arrangement,” Lauren said, setting her purse on her lap.

Vic acknowledged that with a nod, then headed down the driveway toward the gravel road and town.

“I noticed you were haying. How many acres of the ranch are in hay?” Lauren asked.

“About two hundred and fifty.” He wondered why she asked.

“Is that a lot?”

“It’s enough to keep my cows in feed. My dad and I turned our own hay fields on the ranch into pasture, because the land here is more fertile and gets me better yields.”

“But there is some pasture here?”

“Oh, yeah. I run some cows here, too. Mostly up in the high pasture behind the ranch and across the road.”

“I see.” Lauren folded her hands on her purse and gave him a quick glance. “Sounds kind of silly that I know so little about the ranch. I never paid much attention to it. Erin was the one who liked to help. She’d spend hours wandering the back fields and occasionally working with our father.”

“I remember Erin. She was a sweet girl.”

“Very sweet. Hard to believe we were twins. She always made me try to be a better person. Somehow, she was the only one of us girls who got along with our father when we came back here. She never resented leaving Knoxville like Jodie and I did.”

He kept his eyes on the road, but half of his attention was on Lauren.

“So you didn’t like it here?” he asked. “Coming every summer?”

“I missed my friends back home and I always felt bad leaving Gramma behind, but there were parts I liked.”

“I remember seeing you girls in church on Sunday.” Jodie had usually worn some goofy outfit that Vic was sure Keith had vetoed, Erin a ruffly dress and Lauren the same simple clothes she favored now.

“Part of the deal,” Lauren said, but a faint smile teased one corner of her mouth. “And I didn’t mind that part, either. I liked hearing Aunt Laura play, and the message was always good, once I started really listening. I can’t remember who the pastor was at that time, but much of what he said resonated with me.”

“Jodie and Erin would attend some of the youth events, didn’t they?”

“Erin more than any of us. Like I said, she was the good girl.”

“I remember my brother, Dean, talking about her,” Vic said, surprised to see her looking at him. “I think he had a secret crush on her.”

“He was impetuous, wasn’t he?”

“That’s being kind. He was out of control for a while. But he’s settled now.”

Vic thought of the journey Dean had made to get to where he was. Which brought up the same pressing problem that had brought him early to the ranch.

His deal with Keith.

“So, I hate to be a broken record,” he continued, “But it’s supposed to rain tomorrow. I was wondering if I could come by the house then? To go through your father’s papers?”

Lauren’s sigh was eloquent as was the way her hands clasped each other tightly.

Vic tamped down his immediate apology. He had nothing to feel bad about. He was just doing what he’d promised himself he’d do after Dean’s accident. Looking out for his brother’s interests.

“Yes. Of course. Though—” She stopped herself there. “Sorry. You probably know better what you’re looking for.”

Vic shot her a glance across the cab of the truck. “I’m not trying to be ornery or selfish or jeopardize your deal. When I first leased the ranch from your father, it was so that my brother could have his own place. And I’m hoping to protect that promise I made him. Especially now. After his accident.”

Lauren’s features relaxed enough that he assumed he was getting through to her.

“I’m sorry. I understand,” she said, her smile apologetic. “I know what it’s like to protect siblings. I did plenty of that in my life.”

“Are you the oldest?”

“Erin and I are twins, but I’m older by twenty minutes. And you?”

“The same. So yeah, I hear you on the protecting the younger ones.”

Lauren smiled back at him. And as their eyes held, he felt it again. An unexpected and surprising rush of attraction. When her eyes grew ever so slightly wider and her head lowered just a fraction, he wondered if she felt it, too.

He dragged his attention back to the road and fought down the emotions.

You’re no judge of your feelings, he reminded himself, his hands tightening on the steering wheel as if reining in his attraction to this enigmatic woman.

He’d made mistakes in the past, falling for the wrong person. He couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t afford to.

Especially not with Lauren.

* * *

“You can still plant these this year, but you won’t see them flower fully until next season.”

The young girl wearing a green apron, a huge smile and a smudge of dirt on her neck held up the pot holding the spiky-leafed lily. She turned it as if checking it from all angles. “It’s a stargazer and they tend to bloom a little later in the season than the Asiatic does.”

The warm afternoon sun filtered through the greenhouse, creating a tropical warmth. Plants in full bloom filled most of the wooden benches with swaths of pink and yellow petunias, the delicate blue, lavender and white of the lobelia, the hard red, salmon, white and pink of geraniums. People filled the aisles, talking, comparing, and laughing. A few people had greeted Lauren, some she recognized, but she couldn’t pull their names out of her memory.

The atmosphere in this place was one of quiet and peace. As she drew in a deep breath of the peaty scent, a sense of expectation thrummed through her. Though it was getting close to the end of the planting season, the shop still had a lot of stock.

“Which color is this lily?”

“This is the deep pink one. The flowers are edged with white and the spots on them are a darker shade of pink. They smell heavenly, though some people find it strong.”

The young girl, Nadine, had been a veritable font of information. Lauren found herself wandering deeper and deeper into the greenhouse and buying far more plants than she had anticipated.

She had quickly gotten her groceries, and instead of waiting, had come into the greenhouse, which was right beside the grocery store.

And then she met Nadine, and here she was, eight pots and seven twelve-packs of flowers later. Helping her aunt in her flower shop had given Lauren some knowledge. Though she knew little about bedding out plants and perennials, she was learning.

She shot a quick glance at her watch. Vic had said he would meet her in front of the store at two. It was only one forty-five.

“They come in white, as well,” Nadine said. “Just think how nice they could look together. A cluster of white in the middle of a bunch of pink. You’d have to buy more than one white, though.”

“You’re bad for my wallet, girl,” Lauren chided as she picked up the tag attached to the plant Nadine had pointed out. It showed a large white six-petaled flower with ruffled edges. She was imagining them in the rock garden that edged the deck. Neither she nor her sisters had met their father’s mother who, apparently, was an avid gardener when she lived on the ranch.

Lauren’s mother had never been interested in gardening, and when Lauren and her sisters had visited the ranch, they’d been too young to care.

“Did you get your grocery shopping done?”

The deep voice behind her made her jump and Lauren spun around to see Vic standing there, thumbs hanging above the large buckle of his belt. He had rolled up the sleeves of his stained twill shirt, the hat pulled over his head now tipped to one side.

His mouth curved in a laconic smile, but she easily saw the warmth of his eyes.

She swallowed, frustrated again at the effect this man had on her.

“Yes. I put the bags close to the entrance,” she said. “One of the cashiers said she would watch them for me.”

“They’re in the truck already,” he said, shifting his weight to his other leg. “Sonja told me you were in here and that you’d left her in charge of your food.”

She had felt strange enough leaving her groceries with the chatty woman at the front desk who assured her she wouldn’t eat her food. But then to have Vic simply load them in the truck?

“Everyone knows everyone in Saddlebank and even worse, everyone’s business,” he said, his grin deepening. “Am I right, Nadine?” he asked the greenhouse clerk, winking at her.

The girl blushed, looking down at the pot she still held, turning it over. “Yeah. Well. That’s Saddlebank.” She gave Vic another shy glance, her flush growing.

Nice to know she wasn’t the only one he had this effect on, Lauren thought, reminding herself to stay on task. To keep her focus.

You have your own plans. He’s just a hindrance and a distraction.

A good-looking distraction, she conceded, but a distraction nonetheless.

“So what do you all have here?” he asked, pointing to the plants.

“Gerberas, lilies, petunias, some marigolds. Lobelia, geraniums and million bells—”

“Gotcha,” he said, holding his hands up as if to stop her, looking somewhat overwhelmed. “Do you need help packing these up?”

Lauren glanced from the wagon holding the flowers she had chosen to the rest of the greenhouse. She could spend another hour wandering, planning and dreaming, but she had taken up enough of Vic’s time and she knew he was anxious to get back to work.

“I have to pay for them first,” she said. She turned the cart around and walked down the wooden aisles to the checkout counter.

But her feet slowed as she passed a preplanted pot of pink and purple million bells, white lobelia, trailing sweet potato vine and yellow aspermums. She pinched off a dead flower, her hand arranging the one vine.

“That’s pretty,” Vic said, his voice holding a note of approval.

“I love the colors they’ve used. It would look lovely on a deck.” Then she pulled her hand back, knowing that she had already spent more than she should, and marched on, resisting the temptation.