Once Upon a Cowboy Read online

  “Stop.”

  “I’m just saying. We totally should have started a pot earlier.”

  “About that pot.” Jess raised her eyebrows. “I think I should get that hundred bucks. It would serve you all right for taking bets in the first place.”

  “Sorry. I’m not the keeper of the pot.”

  “Who is?”

  “Kyla.”

  “Seriously? Both of you are part of this?” Jess shook her head, but couldn’t keep from smiling. “I thought you were my friends.”

  “We are. Best ones you have, which is why we’re invested in making sure you’re happy.”

  “I’m happy.”

  “Really happy. Happy-with-a-man happy.”

  Jess swallowed. A man had never really been part of the plan. Not since—a long, long time ago. Not since Billy. She’d dated over the years, but always backed out when any man called the third time. It was safer that way. No one got hurt—most especially her.

  “Hayley, a year ago, you’d have been the first person to shoot any woman who said a man was required for happiness.”

  “I know. And I was right. But really, it’s all about the right man. You just haven’t found the right man yet. I mean, you have, but you hadn’t before now.” She shook her head. “I mean, you did two years ago, but now maybe you’re finally ready to admit it.”

  “Hayley?”

  “I know. Shut up. But seriously, if you’d told me two years ago I’d be sitting here today looking forward to marrying a widower with two kids, I’d have told you you were insane.”

  “You actually might have said that.”

  Hayley wrinkled her nose. “I know. It took kind of a lot to get me here, but wow. Tomorrow, I’ll be Mrs. Daniel McKee.”

  Jess laughed. “Right.”

  “Okay, you’re right. That was a stretch. But I’ll be Ms. Hayley McKee. That’s good, right?”

  “You’re taking his name, then? You decided?”

  “Yeah.” Her voice was soft again. “It’s the right thing to do, for Gracie and Bryn.”

  Jess shook her head. “You’re a changed woman, Hayley Scampini.”

  “I am! Isn’t it great?” Hayley set down her cup and tipped her head toward the door. “Ooh. Mail’s here. If we get any more last-minute RSVPs, I’m going to scream. We have no more chairs.”

  “Why is your mail coming here to the ranch?”

  “Because Kyla’s my de facto wedding planner, so we put the Whisper Creek address on everything. Just makes it all easier.”

  She popped up from the table and headed out to the porch to grab a pile of mail from the mail carrier, then banged back through the screen door and plopped the pile on the table. “Bill, bill, bill, advertisement, RSVP, grr—huh.”

  She picked up a manila envelope and turned it around. “This one’s for you.”

  “What?” Fear snaked through Jess’s gut as she reached for the envelope, which was suspiciously identical to the one tucked into her suitcase right now.

  Jess checked the return address and swallowed hard. Oh, no. Same attorney’s office as before, but this time the label was hand addressed rather than typed. Gianna must have thought it looked important enough to forward to her out here.

  “What is it?” Hayley’s eyebrows drew together in concern.

  “Just something for the studio.” Jess shrugged, putting the envelope down, trying to act nonchalant while her stomach churned.

  “What kind of something? Your hands are shaking, girl.”

  “It’s nothing. Really.” Jess stood up and brought her mug to the sink. She rinsed it and put it in the dishwasher, taking long breaths as she did so. It was probably nothing. Probably just follow-up to the package from last week. Maybe some paperwork she needed to sign.

  But something in her gut told her it wasn’t.

  “Okay.” She made her voice bright as she grabbed the envelope. “I’m going to head back to my cabin, but we’re heading into town later, right?”

  “Jess? Don’t play possum on me.”

  “I’m not. Promise.” She waved the envelope carelessly. “It’s nothing. Seriously. The lease, probably. It’s time for me to renew. This is just the paperwork.”

  Before Hayley could argue, Jess fled through the screen door and out onto the wide porch, stopping for a moment to gulp a breath of the cool air, then forcing her feet down the steps and toward her cabin.

  Once inside, she locked the door and headed for the couch, placing the envelope on the coffee table. With shaky fingers, she opened the clasp and tore open the end. Out slid a piece of paper with the same letterhead as before, addressed to Ms. Jessalyn Alcott, as before. She took a deep breath, but just like last week, the words shook and blurred as she read.

  …regret to inform you…will being officially challenged…identity in question…could be compelled to appear…please get in touch as soon as possible…

  “Oh God.” Jess pressed her fingers to her lips. They were challenging Grampy’s will? She should have predicted it, but still. What did it mean? Tears crowded her eyes. All Grampy had done was try to take care of her—try to give her one last gift, and now she was going to be forced to defend her right to that gift.

  Would she have to go to court? Could she show up with her legal name-change paperwork, get rubber-stamped, and leave? Or was it possible a judge would want more information? What kind of questions did said judge even ask in this sort of situation?

  Could they really make her relive her early years—in a courtroom?

  She shook her head. She wished it surprised her that Roxie and Luanne had taken this step. Wished for a moment that they had the power to step outside of their puny ten-by-thirty trailer and think about someone besides themselves. Wished they had the capacity to take responsibility for their actions and leave her alone.

  But it wasn’t going to happen. For Jess’s her entire childhood, the two of them had let nothing come between them and what they thought they deserved. Roxie’s own child was no exception.

  —

  “You little bitch.” Roxie hauled back and slapped Star’s face. Hard. “How could you let this happen?”

  “How could I let this happen? This wasn’t my fault.”

  “You know I need this job, Star. You know I can’t piss off Mel, or he’ll have my chair rented in ten minutes flat to some bleach-blond tramp fresh out of beauty school.”

  Star bit her lip, casting her eyes over her mother’s own peroxide-fried locks.

  “What am I going to do?” Roxie paced, cigarette loose in her hand. Mesmerized, Star watched the ash tip grow, grow, grow.

  “You could always quit. There are plenty of other salons.”

  “Quit? Quit! Are you out of your effing little head? Where’m I gonna find work at my age? Mel’s good to work for. I got a good spot by the door, and the other girls mind their own business. I can’t quit.”

  Star breathed in, breathed out, trying to count the breaths as she filled her lungs. One-two-three, she chanted inside her head. Four-five-six.

  Roxie whirled on Star, slapped her again, this time on the other cheek. “What were you thinking, biting him like that?”

  Star winced, but planted her feet. If Roxie tasted her pain, she’d just keep slapping. “I was thinking, Roxie, that maybe I’d be safe in my own home. Thinking that your boss wouldn’t try to—to—you know what he tried to do!”

  “Luanne warned me this was going to happen. She knew you were going to come on to him one of these days. Dammit. She was right.”

  As she watched the cigarette tip glow, a cool calmness swept over Star. Or maybe it was just hopelessness. Maybe they felt the same. She didn’t know anymore.

  She licked her lips, tasted blood from where Roxie’s ring had cut her. “It’s not my fault.”

  Roxie shook her head in disgust. “He said he was just kidding around with you. You take everything so damn seriously.”

  “You saw what he was trying to do. You saw.”

  Roxie�
�s hand shook a little bit as she tapped the ash into the sink. “I don’t know what I saw.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Don’t talk like that, young lady. You know better. What man’s gonna want a trashy mouth like that?”

  “Apparently your slimy boss, Roxie.”

  Another slap, another wince.

  “Get out of here. I don’t want to see your face. You’ve probably just cost me my job.” Roxie pulled open the creaky fridge, grabbed a beer, cracked it open. “Luanne’s coming over. Get the hell out of here, Star. Go see that punk boyfriend of yours. Maybe you can get busy with him instead of trying to seduce my damn boss.”

  Hours later, curled up in Billy’s backseat, his tattooed arms wrapped tightly around her, Star finally let her tears fall. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll take care of you. It’s just you and me, baby. You and me. You don’t need nobody else. I’ll be good to you, baby.”

  —

  “Jess? Hey, Jess? You still in there?” Fifteen minutes after Jess had fled Ma’s kitchen, Hayley knocked on her cabin door, calling through the screen window beside it. Jess jumped, startled by the light rapping. She blew out a couple of breaths, trying to shake the memories crowding her mind, then pushed herself off the couch, knowing Hayley wouldn’t go away if she didn’t answer.

  She walked through the tiny kitchen, manufacturing her brightest smile as she opened the door. “What’s up? It’s not time to go into town yet, is it?” She cleared her throat, trying to get the shake out of her voice.

  “Just playing delivery girl. There was another envelope in the mail. I didn’t see it the first time around.”

  Jess’s stomach lurched at the sight of the normal-sized, perfectly benign-looking envelope in Hayley’s hand.

  “You look like you think it’s going to bite.” Hayley let herself in, not waiting for an invitation. She walked straight through the tiny kitchen and into the living room, sitting down on the recliner.

  “Please. Come right in.” Jess followed her, scooping the attorney’s papers off the coffee table before Hayley could get a glimpse.

  “Before I give you this envelope, I have a confession. I opened it.”

  “You what?” Jess felt her eyes go wide.

  “I opened it. It was in the pile with all of the wedding cards, and I just opened it without realizing it was addressed to you. And then I found this inside.”

  She pulled out another envelope and flipped it over, and Jess heard herself gasp as she caught sight of a familiar scrawl on the front.

  “Jess? Who—who in the world is Star Smith?”

  Chapter 18

  “Heard my wife gave you an assignment.” Decker winked as he came through the spa door later that afternoon. “Convince her to stay yet?”

  Cole shrugged noncommittally, even though he knew he probably couldn’t fool Decker anyway. “She’s a big girl. She’ll make her own decisions.”

  “Right. So you just happened to head to the stable two minutes after she did this morning?”

  “Absolutely. What can I say? I’m good.”

  “Oh, you’re something, all right.” Decker gazed around the room. “So why are we here? Kyla and Jess have ideas you need me to take a look at?”

  “No. We’re going upstairs, actually.”

  “We’ve already got two thousand feet downstairs. Don’t tell me Kyla wants a two-story spa?”

  “Nope.” Cole started up the stairs. “Better.”

  When they had both reached the second story, Cole walked out into the middle of the huge space. Just like on the bottom floor, windows occupied almost every square inch of wall space, bringing in light from every possible angle. In the original design for the building, they’d had fewer windows on the second story, but Kyla had insisted they mirror the downstairs, and now that he stood in the middle of the space, Cole was glad they’d gone to the extra expense.

  Future expansion, Kyla had said. Daycare. Executive meeting space. Wedding suite. You never know!

  She’d been right, as usual, but he wasn’t viewing this space as any of those things right now. No, he had a much better vision in mind, and he had a feeling Kyla would wholeheartedly approve.

  “Okay, enlighten me. Why are we here?” Decker turned around slowly. “Damn, this is a nice space.”

  Cole took a deep breath and unrolled a long piece of paper he’d been sketching on for half the night. Yeah, Decker was the architect of the family. Everyone knew that. But he’d had to take a stab at this, had to see if he could make an attempt at creating something out of all this empty space.

  With four quick taps of his hammer, he pinned it up on the wall. “Take a look.”

  Decker drew his eyebrows together, stepping toward the sketch. “What’s this?”

  “A vision. Just a stab at it—a crude sketch. But I’d be curious to know what you think.”

  Decker put his hands on his hips, leaning in a bit to scan the drawing. Cole hated that he felt like biting his own damn fingernails while he waited to see what Decker would say.

  Which was nothing.

  For what felt like ten minutes he stared, and cocked his head, then cocked it the other way, then took a step back, then forward again, but still didn’t utter a word.

  “Well?” Cole finally asked, unable to take it any longer. If Decker was going to say the sketch was complete crap, he’d rather he just came right out with it, rather than take all this time to sugarcoat his feedback.

  “Holy shit.”

  He waited another minute while Decker pointed at something with his index finger, tracing it along the drawing and finally nodding slowly. “Just a quick question for you: Did you sketch this out before you decided to try to get Jess to stay, or after?”

  Cole shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  “Might. Am I looking at this as an apartment? A home? Or an executive rental?”

  “Either. Both. All of the above. Not sure.”

  Right.

  Decker nodded thoughtfully. “I like it. Like it a lot.” He pointed at the western-facing wall on the drawing. “Like how you kept this view intact from the whole place, love the open concept, and any woman would kill for that bathroom.”

  “But from an architectural design perspective, does it have legs?”

  “Yeah. Definitely has legs.”

  “What would you do differently?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Seriously?”

  Decker nodded, shrugging his shoulders as he turned back toward Cole. “It’s good. Really good. I’d live here.” He turned to look at the drawing again. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

  Cole shrugged. “Not sure. Just sat down and started sketching what I saw in my head.” Because my damn head won’t stop churning with ideas for how to convince Jess to move out here for good. Even though a week ago I wasn’t sure even I wanted to stay out here for good.

  “Well, Jess is gonna love it.”

  “It’s not for—”

  “Sure.” Decker put on his hat and headed for the stairs. “And yet another woman arrives at Whisper Creek and causes me more work.”

  He clomped back down to the lower level, but Cole didn’t miss the smile he was trying to hide under his grumbling. He stood for another moment in the middle of the room, gazing out the windows toward the Rockies, then sighed as he pictured Jess in this space. Pictured her sitting on a low, wide window seat with a cup of tea and a soft blanket. Pictured her standing behind a granite countertop, looking out at the sunset as she made breakfast wearing just his shirt and nothing else. Pictured her waking up in a big, soft bed, mesmerized by that same view.

  Pictured her turning to smile at him in that big, soft bed.

  He shook his head. Jesus. A week ago he’d been trying to figure out how to tell Decker and Ma he might want out, but having Jess here—seeing Whisper Creek through her eyes—was wreaking havoc with that plan.

  And now, after one kiss, he had her waking up and cooking breakfast with his shirt on. But ho
w could he help it? Getting a taste of her lips after waiting so, so long to do so was like giving a starving man his first bite of food in ten days.

  He smiled at the memory of this morning, then frowned a little. Ever since he’d left the stable, something had been niggling at him. As much as the kiss had been its own sort of long-awaited magic, something else brewed under the surface.

  Because although the sweet tang of honey from her morning mug of tea was the taste that stayed with him hours later, he’d also sensed something else, and it had him all off-kilter. Had him scared and angry at the same time.

  He’d tasted fear. Just a glimmer, and it had faded, but it was still there.

  Whatever had hurt her—whoever had hurt her—was still taking up space in her head.

  He looked around the room, pictured it filled with muted colors and Native American artwork and pottery. Pictured music playing in one corner—the mystical kind he could picture her dancing to. Pictured mounds of soft pillows and blankets.

  Pictured peace.

  He wanted to give her that. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t know what he was even trying to help her recover from, but he knew he wanted her to walk into this space, close the door, and feel—safe.

  He picked up a hammer and glanced one more time at the plans Decker’d just stamped his approval on. No time like the present to get started.

  —

  “Jess?” Hayley snapped her fingers. “Jess?” She came over to sit next to her on the couch. “Jeez, Jess. You’re as white as a sheet.”

  Jess clamped her lips together. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t tell Hayley the truth.

  “Jess. Hey.” Hayley turned to face her. She pointed to the envelope Jess hadn’t quite managed to hide, and then set the other one next to it. “I have a feeling that this is none of my business, but minding my own business isn’t one of my best skills. What the hell is going on here?”

  Jess took a breath, let it out. Took another, let it out. She clamped her hands together so Hayley couldn’t see the shaking.

  She stood up, paced toward the kitchen, paced back to the fireplace, back to the kitchen, where she looked out at the stables. If she told Hayley the truth, what would happen next? She and Kyla would realize Jess had been lying to them for the entire time they’d known her. She’d stacked lies on top of lies for so many years that she hardly remembered the truth anymore.