Her Unexpected Cowboy

How many times had he cajoled her into doing something he wanted? Too many. The fist of mistrust knotted beneath her ribs.

“I’ll think about it,” she said, having meant to tell him no. She repositioned her goggles.

He frowned. “Fine. I’ll let you get back to your work, then.”

Irritation had his shoulders stiff as she watched him leave. She almost called out to him, but didn’t. She’d given in to Tim too many times in her life. Why did men believe women were supposed to just stop thinking for themselves whenever they were in the picture?

Lucy wasn’t going down that road again. The screen door slammed in the other room, and a few seconds later she heard his truck’s engine rumble to life. Drawn to the window, she watched him back out onto the hardtop. But he didn’t leave immediately. Instead, he sat with his arm hooked over the steering wheel, staring at the house. Though he couldn’t see her, she felt as if he were looking straight at her.

She stepped back and he drove off. Her heart thumped erratically as she watched him disappear in the distance.

It’s better this way.

It certainly was.

Then why did she suddenly feel so lonely she could scream?

* * *

“Women,” Rowdy growled, driving away. “They drive me crazy.” She could just knock her whole house down for all he cared. He had things to do and places to be and being the Good Samaritan was obviously not his calling. It was his own fault—he should have minded his stinkin’ business.

After only a short drive down the blacktop road, he turned onto the ranch, spinning gravel as he drove beneath the thick log entrance with the Sunrise Ranch logo overhead.

Dust flying behind him, he sped toward the ranch house in the distance, its roof peeking up over the hill that hid the majority of the ranch compound from the road.

The compound of Sunset Ranch had been divided into sections. The first section was the main house, the ranch office and the Chow Hall, where his grandmother, Ruby Ann “Nana” McDermott, ruled the roost. For sixteen boys ranging in age from eight to eighteen the Chow Hall was the heart of the ranch. But Nana was actually the heart.

Across the gravel parking area, the hundred-year-old horse stable stretched out. Most every horse he’d ever trained had been born in the red, wooden building since the day his grandfather had bought the place years ago. Beside the horse stable stood the silver metal barn and the large corral and riding pens. Making up the last section was the three-room private school the ranch provided for the kids. It sat out from the rest of the compound, within easy walking distance, to give the kids space from school life. This was home.

Rowdy pulled the truck to a stop beside the barn. He slammed the door with the rest of the disgust he was feeling just as his brother Morgan walked out of the barn.

“What bee’s in your bonnet?” Morgan asked.

Rowdy scowled. “Funny.”

“Obviously something is wrong.”

All the McDermott brothers were dark headed, square chinned and sported the McDermott navy eyes, but Morgan was the brother who most resembled their dad—steadfast. Respectable.

Rowdy had always lived up to his more reckless looks—good-time Rowdy. That had been him. But he’d turned a corner and was trying hard to be more than a “good time.” And that misconception irritated him the most about Lucy turning down his offer to help. It was almost as if she saw his past and chose to bypass trouble. As if she’d decided in that moment she couldn’t trust him.

The thought pricked. Stung like a wasp, to be honest.

If she couldn’t trust the man who caught her swan diving off the hayloft, then who could she trust?

And why did he care?

Morgan crossed his arms and studied him. “Nana tells me you met our new neighbor yesterday. Does this have something to do with her?”

“No. Maybe. Yeah.”

“So what did you do?”

“I saved her from breaking her neck falling out of her hayloft, Morg. And I offered to help her do a little remodeling.”

“I see. So that’d mean she must be good-looking.”

“Yeah, she is,” he growled.

“Then why are you so agitated? She’s single, from what Nana said.”

“She turned me down.”

Morgan blinked in disbelief. “Turned you down. You?”

It was embarrassing in more ways than one.

“I don’t think that’s ever happened before.” Morgan started grinning. “And did you actually save her from falling out of the hayloft?”

“Stop enjoying this so much, and yes, I did, and it’s not like I asked her out.” He knew Morgan was just giving him a hard time. That was what brothers did. He’d never missed an opportunity where Morgan and Tucker were concerned. So much so that he was due a lot of payback from both brothers. He gave a quick rundown of catching Lucy the day before. Morgan’s grin spread as wide as Texas.

“So you really didn’t ask her out?”

“Are you kidding? No.”

Morgan cocked his head to the side, leveling disbelieving eyes on him. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Crazy, isn’t it? I’m not saying I’m not going to. But my days of rushing into relationships are done. I told you that.”

“Yeah you did, but it’s been over nine months.”

Rowdy wanted on a horse. Needed to expel the restless energy that suddenly filled him. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was done with women for at least a year. I’m trying to be a role model for the guys.”

It was true. Rowdy might not have known he’d gotten involved with a married woman, but then he hadn’t really asked enough questions, and he sure hadn’t been any kind of role model. After this last fiasco, God had convinced him that he needed to change his life.

“You’re doing it, too. What you need is to find a woman like Jolie, who has her priorities straight,” Morgan added.

“True, but I’m not ready right now. And besides, if Lucy won’t let me help knock out some walls, she’s most definitely not going to say yes to dinner and a movie.”

“True,” Morgan agreed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Speaking of dates, Tucker’s here helping out with practice because I’ve got a date. And Jolie is a whole lot prettier than you.”

“Tell that beautiful lady of yours I said hello,” he called, then headed into the stable. He breathed in and the scents of fresh hay and leather filled him. Horses nickered as he passed by.

He grabbed a saddle and entered the stall of the black quarter horse he was working with. He spoke gently to Maverick as he saddled him. Just the motions of preparing to ride calmed him and helped him think.

Lucy said she had anger issues. It didn’t fit, but she’d said it. He hadn’t seen anger, though. When their eyes locked, he saw fireworks. And there lay the problem.

He had a fondness for fireworks—even though the fondness had gotten him into more trouble than he needed. Thus the reason he was trying to mend his ways.

Fireworks burned—he’d learned that the hard way.

Leading Maverick out of the stable, he headed toward the corral and the sound of whoops of laughter. His behavior hadn’t been anything to be proud of and certainly nothing for these boys to look up to. Rowdy was changing that. No one had said it would be easy.

And living his lifestyle down was going to be the hardest of all, he suspected. The boys’ laughter rose on the breeze out in the arena as he approached. This was what he needed to concentrate on. These boys and the ranch.

“What’s up, Rowdy? Thought you’d skipped out on us.” Eighteen years old, Wes gave him his wolfish smile as he rode his horse over to the arena fence.

“Nope, just running late.” Rowdy hooked his arms on the top rail and surveyed the action. “Did I miss much?”

“There was a runaway wagon a few minutes ago when Caleb lost his grip on the reins and the horses took over.” Wes chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. He was one of the natural leaders of the group. Stocky and blond, he always looked as though he was ready to have a good time. Too good. He had a recklessness about him that reminded Rowdy of himself. All the more reason for Rowdy to make a good impression on the teen.

Rowdy had a suspicion Wes had been sneaking around riding bulls behind everyone’s back. Bulls were the one rodeo event that was off-limits for the ranch kids to participate in. And purely Rowdy’s fault from when he’d been a teen. Because of his many close calls with bull riding, his dad had set the rule—no bull riding at Sunrise Ranch.

“By the glint in your eyes, I’m assuming it was pretty entertaining.”

“It was awesome.” Wes hooted. “I never knew your brother could ride like that. Tucker did some pony tricks getting the horses to stop.”

The sheriff of Dew Drop, Tucker didn’t spend as much time on the ranch with the boys as Rowdy, Morgan and their dad, Randolph. But when it came to riding, Tucker could hold his own.

“I’m glad Caleb was okay.” He glanced out into the arena and saw Tucker talking to a group of the younger kids.

“He’s fine. Didn’t even shake him up.” Wes spit a sunflower seed in the dirt and continued grinning.

Rowdy suddenly had an idea. It might not be a good idea, but that was yet to be seen. “Wes, I need you and Joseph to help me with something in the morning. Can you do it?”

“Sure thing. What are we going to do?”

More than likely make Lucy madder than a hornet. “We’re going to do a little yard work and y’all can make a little pocket change.”

“Sweet. When do we start?”

“Sunup.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” A group of the boys over by the chutes called for Wes. “Showtime. I’ll tell Joseph.” Giving his horse a nudge, they raced off at a thundering gallop.

Rowdy watched him and the horse fly across the arena as one. When it came to riding, Wes was the best. He was a natural. Rowdy had a feeling the kid would ride a bull just as well. Though it was against the rules, Rowdy hesitated to say anything until he knew for certain. Wes was courting trouble...but then so was Rowdy if he went through with his plan in the morning.

What was he thinking, anyway?

The woman didn’t want his help. She needed it, though, and for reasons he didn’t quite understand he felt compelled to follow through—despite knowing he needed to steer clear of her.

He had a feeling he was about to see some major fireworks tomorrow...but he’d rather take that chance than do nothing at all.

Chapter Three

The morning light was just crawling across her bedroom floor when Lucy opened her eyes. She’d been dead to the world from the moment she’d fallen into bed late last night, and she stared at the ceiling for a moment, disoriented.

The ache in her arms brought clarity quickly.

And no wonder with all the manual labor she’d been doing for the past week. The muscle soreness had finally caught up with her last night. Caught up with her back, too. She’d always had a weak lower back and sometimes after a lot of stooping and heavy lifting, it rebelled on her. That moment had happened when she’d taken her last swing at the long wall in her living room—a muscle spasm had struck her like a sledgehammer.

It had been so painful she’d been forced to stretch out on the floor and stare at the ceiling until it had eased up enough for her to make it upstairs to bed.

She’d had plenty of time to contemplate her situation and the fact that she really had no timeline to finish her remodel. She could take all the time in the world if she wanted to. Uncle Harvey, bless his soul, had made sure of that.

He was actually her grandfather’s brother, whom she’d lost as a young girl. He had been in bad health when her world had fallen apart, and hadn’t lived on the ranch for a couple of years. But he’d told her this was where she needed be. And he’d been right. She’d known it the moment she’d arrived. She was making the place her own and searching for her new footing at the same time.

And yet, things had changed when Rowdy McDermott had offered to help her. She watched him drive off, and her conscience had plucked away at her.

To prove that she’d made the right decision turning him away, she’d gone at her work with extra zeal...but the pleasure she’d felt had disappeared. Drat the man—he’d messed up her process.

He’d had no right trying to take over her work. He was only being a good neighbor. The voice of reason she’d been steadily ignoring yesterday was louder this morning. Had she judged him wrong? She didn’t like this distrust that ruled her life these days.

Sitting up, she had no control of the groan that escaped her grimacing lips. “Hot shower, really hot shower.” She eased off the bed and walked stiffly toward the bathroom.

She’d wash the cobwebs out of her mind, the dust out of her hair and the pain out of her muscles. Then maybe she could figure out what she needed to do about the problems her good-looking neighbor was causing her.

She’d told him she would think about his offer. But did she really want him here? And he’d already shown that he thought his way was the best way. Did she want to fight that? Because she wasn’t giving up control of anything.

The niggling admission that she might be in over her head and needed help on this simmered in her thoughts. The realization that she was allowing distrust of men—all men—color her need for real help bothered her.

Shower, now! She needed a clear head to sort this out.

Twenty minutes later, feeling better, she padded down to the kitchen. The shower had helped her spirits, but she knew that today her back was going to give her fits if she did anything too strenuous. It needed a break. Her mind needed a break, too. She couldn’t shut it off....

When a gal wasn’t quite five feet tall, she grew used to people assuming she was helpless because of her size. Too weak to swing a sledgehammer.

It was maddening. More so now—since her husband’s betrayal had left her feeling so pathetically blind and weak-minded.

Too weak to realize my husband was cheating on me.

The humiliating thought slipped into her head like the goad of an enemy. Not the best way to start her day. She was going to miss not knocking out a wall—and the satisfaction it gave her.

People’s lack of faith always made her all the more determined to do whatever it was they assumed she couldn’t do.

Glancing down at her wrists, she could see the puckered skin peeking out from the edge of her long-sleeved T-shirt. She knew those scars looked twisted and savage as they covered her arm and much of her body beneath her clothing. The puckered burn scars on her neck itched, reminding her how close she’d come to having her face disfigured...reminding her of her blessings amid the tragedy that had become her life two years ago.

She hadn’t felt blessed then, when she’d nearly died in the fire that had killed her husband.

And learned the truth she hadn’t seen before.

Reaching for the coffeepot, her fingers trembled. There had been days during the year she’d spent in the burn center that she’d wished she hadn’t survived. But it was the internal scars from Tim’s betrayal that were the worst.

Those scars weren’t as easy to heal. But they made knocking walls out a piece of cake. She’d just overdone it. Easy to do when there was enough anger inside her 105-pound frame to knock walls down for years.

Each swing made her feel stronger. She might have lost control of her life two years ago, but thanks to her dear uncle thinking about her in his will, she was here in Dew Drop, Texas, determined to regain control.

On her terms.

And knocking out walls was just the beginning. Just as Uncle Harvey had intended. He’d recognized that she was struggling emotionally and floundering to find meaning in it all after finally being released from the hospital.

Walking to the sink, she flipped on the cold water and looked out the window as she stuck the pot under the spray. Two young men were carrying fallen tree branches to her burn pile!

Lucy jumped at the unexpected sight and sloshed water on herself. Setting the pot down, she grabbed a dishrag and wiped her hands as she headed for the door. What is going on?

She stormed out onto her back porch and caught her breath when Rowdy stepped around the corner.

“You,” she gasped. “I should have known. What is going on here?” This was what she was talking about—control. “Just because you saved me doesn’t give you the right to just disregard my wishes—”

“Look, I knew you needed help. I just brought the fellas over to pick up a few limbs for you.”

Teens, not men, watching them from the burn pile, clearly uncertain whether to come near or not. They could probably see steam shooting out of her ears.

“They’ve cleaned up a lot. We’ve been at it since about six.”

“Six!” It was eight-thirty now. How had she not heard them?

“We tried to be quiet so we wouldn’t wake you.”

Her mouth fell open. What did he think he was doing?

“You were quiet because you didn’t want me to know you were here.”

His eyes flashed briefly. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“You just can’t take no for an answer.”

He stared at her, his jaw tensed, and a sense of guilt overcame her. Guilt. He was the one who should be guilty.

Right?

She was glaring at him when his gaze drifted to her neck and it was only then that she realized she hadn’t pulled on her work shirt yet over her long-sleeved T-shirt.

He was staring at the scar. It licked up from the back of her neck, out from the protection of her hair, and curled around, stopping jaggedly just below her jawline.

“You’ve been burned.” There was shock in his voice.

“Yes.” Turning, she went back into the house to get the work shirt draped over the kitchen chair. Her hands shook as she slipped it on. Rowdy barreled inside behind her.

“Lucy, I’m sorry we startled you like we did. You have every right to be angry.”

Angry? She could barely think, she was so embarrassed. Striding to the living room, she grabbed for her sledgehammer, and without putting on her goggles she took a swing at the wall. Her back and shoulders lashed out at her, forcing her to set the hammer down immediately. She was being ridiculous and she knew it. Why was she so afraid to let Rowdy help her?

The man was obstinate, that was why. Arrogant even, by showing up here to work anyway.

“I’m sorry about that burn. It looks like it must have been terribly painful.”

She met his gaze and gave him a quick nod. Her scars were something she didn’t talk about. Especially the ones on the inside. “It’s fine now,” she said bluntly. She hoped he’d take the hint and not continue this line of talk.

“Look—” he shifted from boot to boot and scrubbed the back of his neck in a show of frustration “—you need help and you know it. You said yesterday that you would think about it. I was just trying to let you see that the guys were good kids and hard workers. They could whip this yard into shape for you in no time. And they’ll do it for free. C’mon, give them a chance. Give me a chance.”

As aggravating as it was to admit—the man had charm. And there was no way to deny that she needed help. She couldn’t go through life shunning all men. That was unrealistic. The fact he’d seen a portion of her scars ate into her confidence, and that was maddening. It did not matter what the cowboy thought of her.

It didn’t.

“Why not?” she heard herself saying. “It looks like you’re going to be over here every day bothering me anyway. But just for a few days. And I’ll pay you.” Lucy! What are you doing?

A slow smile spread across his face. “There you go. That wasn’t so hard after all, was it?” he said, reaching for her sledgehammer. “No pay needed for me, but if you want to pay the boys, that’s fine. I was going to pay them for today myself.”

“I’ll pay them for today.”

“No, I said I would—”

“Look, Rowdy,” Lucy said, in her sternest voice. “If they are going to be over here, then I’m paying them. It’s either that or this deal is off.” They stared at each other and she got the distinct impression that he didn’t “get” her in the same way that she didn’t get him. But she was taking back control of this situation, or she wasn’t having any part of it.

“Okay, have it your way.”

“Good.”

“All righty, then, stand back,” he warned.

Lucy felt her body automatically obey, and watched him swing the heavy sledgehammer as if it was a plastic toy. The muscles in his forearms strained with the strength he put behind the swing. The hammer met the same spot her swing had barely dented and instantly the wood cracked beneath it.

She brought her hand up and touched the base of her throat where her heartbeat raced.

After three more swings along the base of the studded wall, it broke free. It would have taken her all day to do that!

“I see what attracts you to this.” He looked over his shoulder at her with a teasing light in his eyes. “I kinda like it myself.”

“Yeah, it does kill a bad mood, doesn’t it?”

He laughed at that and they stared at each other. Tension radiated between them.

“Okay,” she said at last. “Thank you for helping me. I did need it.”

“No need to thank me.” His smile widened. “You’re the one helping me. Saving me from the wrath of Nana is a good thing. If there is one thing she prides above all else, it’s that her boys are gentlemen. And I have to admit I have sometimes been her wayward child.”

“Say it ain’t so,” Lucy mocked.

“Yeah, but I’m gonna make points when she finds out about this. So I guess that means I’m still the wayward child, since I’m really doing this for myself. Does that make you feel any better about letting me swing away?”

“Much better. I’d hate for you to actually admit that you’re doing it because you’re a nice guy.” And he might be, even if he was a little nosy. But that didn’t stop her from being wary...not so much of him, but of the way she reacted to him.

“Me, a nice guy.” He looked skeptical, and that grin played across his face. “I don’t know about that.”

The man’s personality sparkled and drew her like his eyes and his smile, stunning her once again.

Had she truly thought she was going to go the rest of her life not finding a man attractive?

Of course not.

That her neighbor just happened to have qualities that, regrettably, reminded her that she was still a woman, meant nothing. Absolutely nothing.

* * *

She was still telling herself that when Ruby Ann McDermott, Rowdy’s grandmother, showed up at her house midmorning bearing welcome-to-Dew-Drop gifts: a basket loaded with homemade fig and strawberry preserves and green tomato relish, along with several small loaves of banana-nut bread to freeze and take out as needed, she informed Lucy.

Ruby Ann had long silver hair pulled back in a ponytail and strong features like Rowdy, along with those deep blue eyes the color of a twilight sky. She held her tall frame ramrod straight, with an elegance about the way she moved.

Two friends came along with her. The first of them, Ms. Jo, owned the Spotted Cow Café in town. Lucy had met her the day she’d first arrived. She’d had supper at the cute café after spending the day unpacking. Ms. Jo’s piercing hazel eyes seemed to take everything in from behind her wire-rimmed glasses. She wore her slate-gray hair in a soft cap of curls. Lucy felt a kindred spirit, not just from the fact that they were close to the same height. She liked the older lady’s spunk and hoped her own personality would be similar when she was nearing seventy.

Ms. Jo brought along a coconut pie that looked so mouthwateringly delicious Lucy could barely keep from diving in the instant Ms. Jo placed it in her hands.

Mabel Tilsbee, the other member of the welcoming committee, owned the Dew Drop Inn. The towering, large-boned woman with shoulder-length black hair spiced with just a few strands of gray handed over a tray of cookies that were clearly overdone. “There’s no need in me even pretending to be the best in the kitchen when the county’s best are both standing here beside me. I gave it a whirl, though.” She winked. “I got distracted and baked these a little too long. But, if you like coffee, they’re real good dunkers.”