Her Unforgettable Cowboy

Nana waved off the comment. “These bottomless pits always need cookies.” She planted her fists on her hips, giving Jolie and Morgan the once-over. “When I was coming out of the chow hall I saw you two heading around the back of the building.”

Nana looked at Morgan, and Jolie thought she saw worry in her eyes.

“Um, we had things to discuss,” Jolie explained. What else could she say?

“Morgan, how’s your day going?” Nana asked when it was obvious the boys were too engrossed in cookie devouring to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Exasperation flashed in Morgan’s eyes. “How do you think, Nana? Started out with a real bang in Dad’s office this morning.”

Nana blushed—surprising Jolie, since she wasn’t the blushing kind—and she leaned in close to Morgan. “If it makes you feel any better, I told Randolph he needed to warn you.”

“And what about you?” he asked.

“I— Well,” she said, patting his arm. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Jolie wasn’t sure what was going on, but it sounded as if Morgan hadn’t known she was coming. Was that possible? The thought practically made her gasp. If that was the case, then no wonder he was so hostile. His dad had not only made the decision to hire her on his own, but had also kept it a secret—until today.

“You didn’t know?” she whispered.

His lips pressed into a tight line and his left eyebrow lifted ever so slightly.

Jolie gasped, looking from Morgan to Nana. It was true—Randolph hadn’t told him!

Nana turned to where the boys were scarfing down the cookies as if there was no tomorrow. “Did you fellas know Jolie is a world-class champion kayaker? She gets paid by sponsors to travel all over the world and compete using their gear. Isn’t that right, Jolie?”

“Get outta here. For real?” Wes said, stepping away from the cookie fray.

Jolie nodded and her stomach dropped to her feet as a sick feeling washed over her in a wave. Please don’t go there. I can’t handle that right now on top of everything else.

She’d known it was ridiculous to hope no one would mention her kayaking, yet she’d hoped exactly that. She gave a weak smile. “I’ve won a few competitions.”

“Ha!” Nana hooted. “She’s top ten in the country.”

Morgan crossed his arms, his expression stormy.

“Top in the country!” Wes gushed, suddenly looking a lot younger than seventeen.

“Really?” Tony joined in, his eyes lit with expectations.

Alarms clanged inside of Jolie.

“What’s kayaking?” Caleb asked as he and the other smaller fellas looked up from their cookies.

“It’s like a plastic canoe that holds one person, and they compete on riding the rapids and stuff.” Joseph had come closer, as intent as Wes and Tony. “We have some rapids on the river at this place. Do you know that?”

She knew what was coming next. She knew it and she wasn’t even sure she could speak. But she nodded and fought for words as acid churned in her stomach.

“I—I started on those rapids when I was a kid. Morgan showed them to me.”

That was all the encouragement the boys needed. They instantly erupted in excitement.

“Cool! Can you teach us?” Joseph said over the others’ exclamations. Jolie silently prayed for God to help her.

“I’ve always wanted to learn,” Wes gushed again, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Can you teach us?” he echoed as the others chimed in.

Jolie’s vision blurred—where had all the air gone? She suddenly felt unbearably hot as every eye in the room stared at her. Her pulse pounded in her head like the roar of the white river rapids she now feared. Black spots began to spatter her vision like paint drops. She swayed, woozy, and her gaze swung to Morgan—for what? To ask for help?

I can’t teach these boys to kayak!

Breathe, she commanded herself, even as her knees turned to jelly....

“Jolie!”

Morgan’s voice rumbled down a long tunnel as Jolie sank like a rock.

One minute she was standing and the next she was swooped up into strong arms. His strong arms. Morgan McDermott’s arms.

The arms she’d longed for since she’d walked away from Sunrise Ranch...six long years ago....

Voices floated to Jolie through a dark fog.

“She fainted,” Caleb gasped.

“Passed smooth out,” Sammy said in a hushed voice.

“I ain’t never in my whole long life seen nobody pass out,” B.J. whispered.

Though lost in the fog, it registered loud and clear to Jolie that her head was resting against Morgan’s chest. His heart beat against her temple so hard it was no wonder she’d come to so quickly.

“Good thang you gone and caught her, Morgan,” B.J. continued. Jolie was surprised how easily she could already identify the boys just by the sound of their voices.

“Yeah, or she might have died,” Sammy said solemnly.

“Caleb and Sammy, how about y’all get me a glass of water and a cold rag?” Nana urged gently.

“Sure! I’ll get the rag,” Caleb volunteered.

“I’ll get the water,” Sammy said. Their voices were followed immediately by the trample of feet.

“Jolie, can you hear me?” Morgan asked gently.

Jolie lifted her eyes and forced herself to pull her head away from Morgan’s heart. Embarrassment warmed her face. “Faint of heart” was not a description of the gal who’d looked down the throat of The Gorilla—the burliest rapids in the toughest of all the extreme kayaking competitions in the world—and felt only an adrenaline rush and excitement. She was not a wimp. Fainting was not in her vocabulary...or at least it hadn’t been until she’d almost drowned.

“Give her some air, boys,” Nana said. Moving in, she fanned Jolie furiously with a booklet she must have snatched from the bookshelf. “Honey, you’re whiter than Walter Pepper’s hair!”

Jolie would have smiled at that if she could have.

“How are you doing?” Morgan asked, his voice gruff in a way that made her heart beat faster.

“I’m okay,” Jolie assured them, looking at Morgan. His eyes were full of concern—and questions. She was thankful they were surrounded by the boys—boys who were silent and looked a little scared. She needed to stand up and show them she was fine.

Even if she was fast becoming a wimp, she certainly didn’t have to broadcast it.

“Are you sure?” Morgan set her on her feet, keeping his arms around her. “Maybe you should sit down.”

Maybe I need to stay in your arms—

Maybe I need to get a grip!

“No, I can stand,” she said firmly, and forced herself to step away from Morgan.

The concern in his eyes almost undid her.

This was the man she’d fallen for when she was sixteen years old. This was a gentler man, not the hard man she’d been dealing with for the last couple of hours. Sadly, she knew she was partly to blame for some of the hard crust encasing Morgan.

Praying her witless knees wouldn’t buckle, she was pleased when she stood firm. All she had to do now was come up with an answer as to why she wasn’t going to teach the boys how to kayak.

Sammy and Caleb came bounding from the back of the building, Caleb waving a washcloth and Sammy sloshing water from the glass as he ran, the hand clamped tightly over the glass not keeping the water from escaping. His big eyes were huge with fear. She hated that she’d worried him when he already had so many things bothering him.

“Sit,” Morgan demanded, pushing her into the nearest seat. B.J. immediately came to stand beside her.

“You’re whiter than a marshmallow,” Caleb declared, pushing the washcloth into her hands.

“I’m fine,” she assured him and the others as they all began talking about how pale she was.

“You scared fifteen years off my life,” Sammy said, sounding like an adult.

Jolie had to chuckle at his tone.

“Sammy, you don’t have fifteen years to scare off,” Joseph teased. “You’re only ten.”

Sammy frowned. “She scared it off me, though.”

Caleb blinked hard. “You scared me, too.”

Jolie’s heart warmed at their worry. “I’ll be honest with you, fellas. It freaked me out a little, too. I mean, really, I blacked out and woke up in Mr. Morgan’s arms—that’s a scary thing!”

She won a round of laughter from all the boys, and keeping the momentum going, she drove the topic away from her. The last thing she wanted was for one of them to ask about kayaking again.

She caught Morgan watching her and her insides did a swan dive straight to her toes. Forcing her chin upward, she gave him a smile and kept her balance as she stood.

Joseph frowned, his lean face looking a little strange without the smile that was usually plastered across it. “You’re as wobbly as the filly we just saw born.”

“I’m okay.” She forced any shakiness from her voice. “Now, let’s talk about this calf wrestling I’ll be winning tomorrow.”

“Winning?” Joseph grinned dubiously, looking more like himself. “I don’t think so. I’m wrestling, too.”

“Me, too,” Wes spoke up, challenge in his eyes. “Which means y’all are lookin’ at the winner right here.” He pulled his thumbs toward his chest and grinned.

Jolie laughed, feeling some semblance of herself returning. “You boys need to remember to never underestimate your opponent.” She let her gaze slide to Morgan. He crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side, his eyes holding steady, assessing her.

She knew she wasn’t fooling him. She also knew it wouldn’t be long before he asked her exactly what the fainting was all about.

She wondered if he would ask purely out of concern, as any decent person would do, or if he would ask because somewhere behind that shield he wore, he still cared for her. She was just going to have to wait and see.

But in the meantime, she should probably figure out what to do about the fact that she desperately wanted it to be the latter.

Chapter Four

A little unhinged by her afternoon, Jolie headed straight for the Spotted Cow Café to see her longtime friend Ms. Jo. The café was in its mid-afternoon lull when she walked through the lemon pie–yellow door. She was immediately greeted by the moo of the four-foot toy cow just inside the entrance. The cow’s hide had bare spots on it from years of kids petting it, but it mooed like a newborn bawling after its mama.

Jolie had good memories in this diner.

The soft buttery walls were covered with all manner of spotted-cow gifts from customers: knickknacks, cattle horns and mooing cow clocks were everywhere. It was a unique place, to say the least. Even the buffed-concrete floor was painted with large, irregularly shaped brown spots. They were supposed to represent the hide of a spotted cow but had come out looking more like cow patties, which was why Chili Crump and Drewbaker Macintosh, a couple of the old-time locals, nicknamed the diner the Cow Patty Café. Needless to say, that made Ms. Jo furious.

Jolie headed for the old-fashioned soda fountain at the back and her mouth began to water the instant the glass case of frothy pies came into view. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten all day.

Pie sounded like the perfect meal after the day she’d had.

“That’ll make you fat,” Edwina, the longtime waitress, warned, hustling out of the back carrying plates of hamburgers and fries. She paused to give Jolie a lopsided grin. “But it’s worth every calorie and more. You can tell by my hips that I partake of a bite every chance I can get.”

Jolie chuckled. Edwina was a character who’d worked for Ms. Jo for years. Skin as tough as boot leather and a personality to match, Edwina loved to tell tall tales. Rough as she was, she was part of the atmosphere and as dependable as all the cow clocks put together.

“You here to see Ms. Jo?” she asked. “She’s armpit-high in pie crust—okay, so her armpits aren’t involved, but she is in the pie dough, if you want to find her.”

Jolie grinned. “Thanks, Ed. You keeping the cowboys straight today?”

Edwina huffed and headed toward the two cowboys sitting at the window. “Crazy men, I done told them they weren’t welcomed in here but they keep comin’. I know it’s not the food or my winning personality, so it’s got to be my beauty. It’s a curse.”

Chuckling, Jolie headed through the swinging doors. She’d made Ms. Jo mad when she’d first arrived in town and only taken time to get checked in at the Dew Drop Inn before heading out to see Randolph. She’d known Harvey, the front-desk clerk, would have it all over town that she was back. By the time Jolie had come in yesterday afternoon, Ms. Jo had been told and was not happy that Jolie hadn’t come by to see her. She was probably still a little peeved about it today.

Walking through the curtain into the large, spotless kitchen, Jolie waved at T-Bone, their cook, as she passed the grill and went back to the baking area. Ms. Jo, a compact little gal with short brown hair curled around her ears, worked the dough with a pie roller. Her alert hazel eyes locked onto Jolie as she entered the room.

“I know that look,” she quipped, rolling pin wagging at Jolie. “You met up with Morgan, didn’t you?”

Jolie gave a weary nod as it all settled down on her again. Keeping her energy up for the kids had been tough, and she was emotionally drained.

“By the looks of you, it didn’t go so well.” Pointing the rolling pin at the stool by the workstation, she demanded, “Sit down and talk to me.” Heading to the sink, she rinsed her hands under the faucet. “How did Morgan react to seeing you?”

Jolie made circles in a small pile of white flour that was on the counter. “He isn’t happy. At all.”

“What did you expect? Flowers? You did hand him back his ring before hitting the trail for parts unknown.”

“Gee, thanks for the support.”

“You know I love you, but I’m worryin’ you’re fixin’ to get yourself in some hot water.”

“I apologized and he didn’t take it well.” She didn’t go into the fainting episode. The last thing she wanted to talk about was the reaction she’d had to being in his arms.

Shrewd eyes held Jolie’s. “You hurt Morgan when you left. And then, on the rebound, that boy went and almost married Celia Simpson. And she left him right after the rehearsal.” Ms. Jo clucked her tongue. “I’d hate to see you lead Morgan down the wrong road again.”

“I would never do that. Besides, he can barely stand to look at me.”

“You know he’s one of my favorites, Jolie. Kind of reminds me a little of my Clovis. He’s got feelings that run real deep and it’ll take more than words to prove you’re sorry. But maybe working with those boys he loves so much will help.”

Jolie was glad Ms. Jo didn’t tell her it would be easy—they both knew it wouldn’t be. Ms. Jo pulled a pie out of the glass icebox. “How about you and me take a break and have us a piece of this lemon pie with some coffee?”

Jolie sat up at attention. “Do you even have to ask?” She wondered if pie would help erase the feel of Morgan’s arms around her. Her heart went erratic just thinking about how she’d felt snuggled against his heart....

“I think this situation is gonna need a bunch of prayers, too. For those boys’ sakes, we need you two on speaking terms. Y’all don’t have to make up and kiss or anything—goodness knows that would only lead things in the wrong direction. Just bury the hatchet and get it over with.”

“Easier said than done, I think.”

“In all honesty, this could be the best thing for Morgan.” Ms. Jo brightened. “Maybe it’ll help him move forward, find someone who’ll actually go through with marrying him. Seems such a waste for a cowboy of his caliber not to have someone to call his own.”

Jolie put a huge bite of lemon pie on her fork, breathed in the tangy scent and stuffed it in her mouth so she wouldn’t have to say anything.

Because even after all this time, the thought of Morgan and someone else made Jolie want to eat an entire case of pies.

* * *

“How you doing, Morg, my man?” Rowdy asked Sunday afternoon.

Rowdy, Morgan’s younger brother, ran the ranch’s cattle operation and they were sorting the steers for the mugging together. “My boots almost had blowouts when Dad told me what he’d done.”

“You think you had a blowout,” Morgan growled.

Rowdy, who always looked as if he was ready for a good time, with lips that turned up at the edges and eyes shot with mischief, looked as concerned as Morgan had ever seen him. “So how did it go? The boys about talked my ear off at lunch. They’re impressed, just in case you didn’t know that.”

“Thanks, I picked up on that all by myself when their jaws started dragging in the dirt. And Wes and Joseph started showing off their muscles.”

Rowdy’s lips twitched. “Should make for a good show tonight. But how are you?”

Morgan rested a boot on the bottom rung of the arena and studied the steers closely. “How do you think? I don’t have a choice but to deal with it.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.” Rowdy hiked a shoulder. “You don’t date, Morg. You act like you’re married to the school. You have unfinished business and it’s time to finish it, one way or the other.”

Morgan grunted and kept his mouth shut.

“Would you look at that?” Rowdy whistled over the bellowing of cattle. “Pest is lookin’ good.”

Morgan turned to see Jolie hopping from her Jeep.

“Yeah,” he snapped. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

Rowdy chuckled, crossed his arms and leaned back against the corral to watch Jolie. Morgan shot him a glare, not fond of that glint in his brother’s eyes.

“I thought you said you were all right,” Rowdy said.

“I’m not in the mood, Rowdy.”

“Touché. Don’t get me wrong, I’m on your side. You got a real raw deal, but maybe that was all she had to give you at the time. Like I said, this could be a good thing.”

“Maybe I don’t want to discuss this right now.”

Rowdy chuckled. “Like I said, touché. Got to go get myself a hug.” Pushing off the fence, he strode toward Jolie, who had stopped to talk to their dad. Tucker, the eldest of the McDermott boys, was the county sheriff. He’d been talking with Nana, and now they all headed Jolie’s way.

Morgan scrubbed his scratchy jaw—it had been a long night delivering a new foal, he hadn’t had much sleep and this morning he’d missed church. He was not in the mood for this.

“Hey, pest,” Rowdy drawled, using his pet name for Jolie. “You’re looking good, but a little on the thin side. You not eating out there, making all that money having your picture taken in that yellow banana of yours?”

“Rowdy!” Jolie exclaimed. Rowdy laid an arm across her shoulders and hugged her as if she was his long-lost friend.

“Jolie.” Tucker greeted her with a hug, too.

Morgan almost got lockjaw, grinding his molars watching, his dad grinning as though he’d just reunited the family.

Ten thousand acres of West Texas ranch lands suddenly didn’t feel big enough. This “reunion” was enough to make a man ride off into the sunset and never look back.

“Hey, Morgan.” Chet, one of the top hands, called from the cattle pens on the far side of the barn. “Got a sec?”

A couple of years younger than he was, Chet had grown up on the ranch as a foster kid and had stayed on. Like the other fifteen cowboys who worked for the ranch, he knew Morgan’s history with Jolie...and Celia. There had been no teasing so far, and that fact alone told him they all thought he was on shaky ground now that Jolie was back.

It was embarrassing.

“I hear you fainted yesterday,” his dad said as Morgan hit the fast track across the corral toward Chet.

He’d had Jolie’s fainting spell on his mind since it had happened. Something was up with her, and he figured the last place she needed to be was running up and down this arena trying to throw a yearling on its back with her bare hands. Of course she lived in a world where she took her life in her hands every time she got into that kayak of hers and plowed through raging white water and over ridiculous waterfalls that weren’t meant for humans to fall over, much less charge over on purpose.

And to think he’d been the one to introduce her to it. Little had he known she would fall for it and become one of the best. When he’d taken her kayaking as a kid, it had been slow, easy river runs, nothing life-threatening—

He stopped his thoughts in their tracks.

Jolie wasn’t his concern anymore—hadn’t been since the day she’d walked away, choosing kayaking over him.

“What’s up?” he growled, reaching Chet.

Nudging his Stetson off his forehead, Chet met Morgan’s look with frank brown eyes. “Thought the love and admiration was about to start piling up knee-deep to a giraffe over there,” he drawled sarcastically, then pointed at one of the steers. “This ’un here’s got a bad leg. Thought you’d want to pull it from the event.”

That was no-nonsense Chet. Said what he wanted and moved on. Morgan almost grinned. Chet wasn’t one to get in another person’s business—giving him his support by saying what he just had meant a lot to Morgan.

Morgan studied the limping steer. “Yeah, take him out.”

“Will do, boss.” Chet nodded to one of the other cowboys working the gate to open it up. He and Morgan flanked the steer to send him through the gate, and one of the other cowboys herded him toward a separate pen.

“Time to get ready for some fun.”

Chet nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

Watching him head off to gather the men, Morgan knew Chet had his back. That was more than he could say about his own family. Although maybe his brothers’ affection for Jolie could come in handy. She might not want to tell him about the fainting episode, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t tell Rowdy or Tucker. Regardless, Morgan was determined to find out what was going on, whether Jolie wanted him to or not.

Chapter Five

The familiar scent of dirt and cattle filled the air as Jolie tried hard not to watch Morgan. It was an almost-impossible feat—the man had gotten only better-looking in the past six years. His black hair curled out from under his hat, just whispering against his blue button-down. The color made his eyes look darker than ever. And he was in his element as he strode back and forth inside the arena with Rowdy and the other cowboys getting everything set up for the mugging.

“I got trampled by a cow one time. That’s why I’m afraid to go out there,” Sammy was saying to Jolie. He’d been shadowing her since she’d arrived at the arena. Something about the kid spoke to her, and she wondered why he’d gravitated toward her. She couldn’t help thinking that it was the fear eating him up that had drawn him to her. Maybe on a subconscious level he recognized a kindred spirit of sorts.

Because she had fear eating her up, too.

And it irritated the dickens out of her. So much so that despite almost no sleep, she’d dragged herself out of bed and made it to church on just one cup of coffee. Her night had been awful, to say the least—just plain terrible.

It had started with thoughts of Morgan—specifically, the feel of his arms around her and the beat of his heart in her ear. Those sensations kept her awake half the night. When she’d finally fallen asleep, the nightmares arrived. Why, oh, why had she thought coming home would help ease them?

They hadn’t eased one iota.

Instead, they’d come as hard as ever, if not more so. Always the same, she was trapped in a raging vortex, upside down and fighting to make it to the surface. Always ensnared and struggling for her life.

Somewhere in the wee hours of the morning she’d given up trying to sleep and lay covered in sweat, tangled in sheets and worn-out. In the month since the accident, this had become the norm. Usually she turned to her Bible, searching for comfort and peace. Even though peace had been elusive, she knew God and only God had brought her up out of that watery grave.

A person would think that if she knew God had yanked her out of that murky water, there would be no reason to be full of fear from her toes to her roots—but she was. And she didn’t know what to do about it.