Cowboy For Hire Page 6

  “Well, I was trying to get to bed early, and Mrs. Casey started banging down my door like there was a five-alarm fire. Except there’s no fire, just you going for a ride by yourself.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Ugh. I’m so sorry. She’s a little over-the-top.”

  “A little?” He chuckled and crossed one ankle over the other, staring ahead, catching the mingling of pink and purple ribbons across the skyline. “Or maybe she’s actually protecting you from something. Have you told her you’re going on the cattle drive next week?”

  “There’s no point in worrying her in advance. I’ll tell her the night before. Apparently she’s still having nightmares from the scratch on my arm.”

  He swallowed a laugh. “How is your arm?”

  She held it out. “Fine. It was nothing. And now I’m up-to-date on all my vaccines, too.”

  “See? That’s multitasking for you. So now that everything’s good and you’ve seen enough of the sunset, let’s go back.”

  She frowned but made no move to get up. “I’m not going back yet. I want to stay up here and watch the sunset.”

  He let out a rough sigh. “Fine. It’s almost gone anyway.”

  “No, I’m staying here. Not you. I don’t need a babysitter. Also, I need to sit with the fireflies a bit.”

  “Well then, just ignore me. I like a good sunset, too,” he said, leaning back and getting comfortable.

  She let out a choked sound. “This is slightly humiliating.”

  “What?”

  “This pretend interest you have in the sunset. We both know you’re here because of Edna.”

  “Fine. But just so you know, Edna’s the scariest person on the ranch.”

  She turned to him and burst out laughing.

  He didn’t crack a smile. “I’m dead serious.”

  “I guess she is slightly scary. But she’s family.”

  “Family is good.”

  She chuckled. “I guess. So how have your first few weeks here been? Do you like Joshua Ranch so far?”

  The question caught him off guard. He mulled over his answer, listening to the rush of the river, the crickets, and the comforting sounds of the horses nearby. “I do. It’s a fine ranch. I can see why you’re so proud of it and determined to take over.”

  The smile she gave him sent a jolt to his gut. Those rich grass-green eyes sparkled, and her full lips parted to reveal a perfect smile. Hell. He forced his gaze back to the river.

  “I’m so glad,” she said. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  “Seems like those escorts would have helped with whatever you wanted,” he said, unable to resist the tease.

  She let out a strangled laugh. “Thanks for reminding me. At least you turned out to be the real deal, though I honestly thought you were there for the escort position, too, at first.”

  He stilled. “What?”

  She bobbed her head. “Yep. I was ready to slam the door on you.”

  “I’ll try not to be insulted.”

  A strange expression flashed across her eyes, and hell if a tinge of pink didn’t streak across those high cheekbones. “Well…I mean, you are obviously a good-looking man, and…”

  He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just let the sound of the water distract him. He didn’t want Sarah attracted to him, even though she technically hadn’t said that. It would make things more difficult. Hearing her say that she found him good-looking was…not what he wanted. Attraction that was mutual was a hell of a lot harder to control.

  Time to change the subject.

  He cleared his throat, looking out toward the sunset, the streaks of pink chasing away daylight. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really out here?”

  She leaned her head back, letting it hang as she stared up at the almost dark sky. “I like to come out here. Sometimes, I wish I didn’t have to go back.”

  His stomach dropped at the honesty of her confession. “Where would you go?”

  “Anywhere but where there are memories,” she said with a vulnerability that clung to her words and filled him with an ache that he didn’t know what to do with.

  His mind immediately went to her brother and her parents…and his own past. “In my experience, even if you leave the place, the memories trail behind you regardless of where you are.”

  She blinked a few times, still just giving him her profile. “They follow you around?” she asked, a slight hitch in her voice as she turned to him.

  He wanted to lie to her, because she seemed so alone. He wanted to pretend that you could outrun memories, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to be all those other people and give her a pat on the head and tell her everything would be okay. “I’ve never been able to outrun them—especially the worst ones. They are always there, simmering beneath the surface. On your worst days, they find you; on your best days, they stay hidden. But they’re always there. Maybe some people find solace in companionship, being able to share the burden. For me, hard work helps keep everything quiet.”

  “What kind of memories are you trying to outrun?”

  He sat up, uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation. “I’m not outrunning anything, remember? That’s you. What are you running from?”

  The green of her eyes was shadowed. “Nothing I’m used to talking about.”

  He swallowed. He shouldn’t have asked her that. “Fair enough.”

  She stared at him for a long moment. He knew better, but it didn’t stop the longing to know more about someone, to share in their feelings, from hitting him. Cade didn’t share.

  “Have you ever felt like you’ve wasted half your life being someone you don’t like?” she finally asked. “Or not the real you but the you others want you to be?”

  He let her question hang in the air between them, trying to decide whether or not he should answer. But as much as he hated talking about himself, he couldn’t just leave her opening up to him without giving anything back.

  He thought for a moment before answering. “I was a person I didn’t like for years when I was younger, so I get that. But as far as the person others wanted me to be? No. I had no expectations placed on me.” He knew that he was almost making it sound like his parents had encouraged him to be whoever he wanted to be, but the reality was that no one gave a shit enough to even have any expectations. Who cared what he did? Not them. Not then or now. No one knew where he was, if he was even alive. The same went for them, though, because he had no idea where his parents were.

  “That’s amazing. You’re out here living your life, free, just the way you want it,” she said wistfully.

  He stood, brushing his hands against his jeans. “You make it sound a helluva lot better than it is.”

  She stood as well, looking up at him. “Do you know that I don’t have a single friend in Wishing River? Or anywhere, actually. Not one. I’m twenty-six years old, and my only friend is a seventy-five-year-old housekeeper.”

  It was painful to look in her eyes, because the longing there was so real. “So what’s stopping you now?”

  “I don’t know. I never thought about it. Like, what, am I just supposed to walk up to people my age and ask if they want to be friends?”

  Sadness stained her eyes, and he was struck by an idea. Oh no. He shouldn’t, because it would make things complicated, and his friends would be all over it, but it was wrong for someone her age not to have any friends, or any life, even. He let out a rough sigh. “So next weekend, a friend of mine is throwing his wife a party.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You have friends who are married?”

  He frowned. “Why is that surprising?”

  Her cheeks went red. “Oh, nothing.”

  “No, I’d like to hear. Believe me.”

  “It’s just…you seem like a single man with single-man friends.”r />
  He cracked a smile. “Oh, like escort friends?”

  She waved a hand. “See? I’m totally awkward from not being around people my own age. You were saying?”

  He smiled. “My friend Tyler’s wife is coming home after being away from Wishing River for a year. He’s throwing her a big welcome-back party. Her name is Lainey, and she owns Tilly’s Diner in town. She’s around your age and really nice. Her best friend, Hope, is also going to be there. You three would probably hit it off.”

  “I…don’t want to impose. I can’t just show up,” she said, even though the excitement radiating from her was palpable.

  “Why not? We’re not going to be the only people there. Really. I think you’ll have a great time. There will be other people from town there, too. You were just saying how you don’t know anyone.”

  “I know, but…going to a welcome-home party for someone and not even knowing them is sad. I’m this lady you work for, tagging along with you.”

  He shouldn’t be affected by the awkwardness in her tone or the sad eyes, but he was. He shouldn’t be happy that he’d made her happy. He shouldn’t be wanting to see her smile one more time before it was completely dark out.

  He took a step closer to her. “I wasn’t planning on introducing you as only my employer.”

  “Well, what were you going to say? Your friend? Are we even friends?”

  He didn’t know what they were, but it felt as though a line had been crossed. She wasn’t just his boss; she was…more. He cleared his throat, coming up with the only possible explanation of what they could ever be.

  “Friends. We’re friends.”

  Chapter Six

  Friends. We’re friends.

  Sarah knew she had to stop repeating that in her head. But Cade’s deep voice, the gruffness in it as he said those words, played in her head over and over again. Even as she was getting ready to go on her first cattle drive and had way more important things to be thinking about—like how she hoped she wasn’t going to make a fool of herself in front of all the men—she was still thinking about him.

  Cade was different than any man she’d met. He was very different from her father.

  She glanced over at the brown cowboy hat on the top shelf in the closet. When her father had died, her mother had told Mrs. Casey to leave it there, that it would not be given away.

  Sarah reached into the closet and slowly pulled down his hat. Lifting it to her nose, she breathed it in. Josh would often steal their father’s hat when they were little and they’d make a tent in his room, pretending they were on a cattle drive. The worn leather didn’t smell like that past, or her father, or any of them.

  She ran her finger around the brim of the hat, remembering the man her father was before Josh died. Maybe it was wrong, but on most days, she remembered the man he was after Josh’s death, the one who could never quite get it together, the one who was quick to anger, to never think twice about a harsh word or criticism.

  That man had become an alcoholic, had become a gambler, and Sarah often wondered whether on his nights away, he’d even cheated on her mother. The arguments between them had been fierce and frequent, and Sarah would spend that time in Josh’s room. She’d play with his toys, all the ones she hadn’t been interested in before, just to be close to him.

  Sometimes she’d sit at his window seat and stare out the window, imagining him outside, remembering what their family had been like when he was still alive. There were family dinners, vacations, lazy summers, and lemonade on the front porch. Their father had infinite patience for them, even for all the mischief Josh would get into. Their mother always had a kind, soft word for them, would kiss their foreheads and tuck them in at night. Sunday mornings would be church and then brunch, followed by an afternoon of riding.

  It was far from the life they lived after Josh died. No one had tried to keep it together, even for her sake. As a child, she hadn’t realized that, but now as an adult she could feel the stab of resentment sometimes, that they hadn’t tried harder for her. Instead they’d left her with awful versions of themselves and, in the end, she was the one who’d cared for them. She would never regret that because despite her anger, she knew they were good people, but they had been broken. They hadn’t had the strength to put themselves back together. Maybe they hadn’t loved her enough to try.

  They had both cried for Josh on their last days, had both wept with the certainty of seeing him again. They called out to him in their turbulent sleep, and Sarah just sat there holding their hands, saying goodbye, praying for them to find peace soon. But she refused to pray to go with them. Instead, she asked to have the strength to continue living without them. She prayed to God that she would one day find her purpose, a man to love, a family to raise. And then she wept with the fear that none of it would ever happen and that she’d truly be alone forever.

  When her father died, her mother had turned in to herself even more. She was reclusive and despondent. Sarah tried to get her to go to church, something her mother had always looked forward to, but she refused. She wasn’t mean to Sarah, but she was a hollow version of the woman she used to be. Maybe that was what happened when you lost a child, a part of yourself, and then your other half. Maybe you could never be whole again. Maybe the tear was too deep, becoming too cavernous, too wide to ever come back together, even for the people still here.

  Sometimes, when her parents argued at night, they’d forget to say good night or that she was even there, and she’d fall asleep on top of Josh’s bed. At some point, late at night, Mrs. Casey would come in and cover her with a blanket, and even though she never said it, and even in that first month when Sarah spoke to no one, Mrs. Casey’s steady resolve, her unwavering strength, had been a beacon to Sarah.

  Not all people changed. Some people could be counted on.

  Mrs. Casey had been the only adult she could rely on, even on mornings like this, when she was frowning at Sarah as she strode toward her like a sergeant.

  “Good morning. Great day for rounding up some cattle!” Sarah said in an extra-chipper voice, blinking away the beloved image of a younger, softer Mrs. Casey who would hold her when her own parents wouldn’t. Like Cade had said, this Mrs. Casey was almost scary, and so hard to deal with, but it was those memories that kept Sarah from ever getting too mad at her.

  She also wasn’t planning on telling her about the party she’d be attending with Cade if she lived through the cattle drive. Baby steps. Go on cattle drive, kick ass, look tough, don’t get a migraine, and then go to a party with your hot new foreman and all his friends.

  To say she was nervous at the thought of being Cade’s date, be it real or just so she wouldn’t feel like an intruder, was a huge understatement. Cade was…not someone she would have dated had her parents been alive. To meet their standards, he would have had to come from an affluent ranching family, belong to one of the churches in town, and be able to provide a very comfortable life for Sarah. They would never approve of him letting her run the ranch alongside him.

  Ridiculous.

  Mrs. Casey fussed over the supplies Sarah had packed. “I still don’t agree with you risking your life today! It’s bad enough you already hurt yourself once. Imagine what can happen out there!”

  Sarah quickly picked up her brush and braided one low braid, her gaze on Mrs. Casey’s reflection in the front mirror. “Please stop treating me like there’s something wrong with me. I’m going to start believing it. In fact, I have kind of believed it for the last decade thanks to my parents. But I’m not going to keep living that way. I’ve never felt more alive than I have these last few weeks. This is the life I want to live—not the one inside this house. You should consider getting a life, too, Mrs. Casey.”

  She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “Thank you very much, but I’m just fine here.”

  “Why? You need friends, too. We all do. Things have to change.” Sh
e was almost going to suggest she come to the party at Tilly’s Diner, but she wasn’t that altruistic. Also, Cade. It wasn’t every day a woman went from having no one to having…someone like him. She couldn’t have Mrs. Casey coming along, watching their every move. Not that there would be any moves, because it wasn’t a real date. It was a pity invitation from a man who worked for her. That was all.

  She picked up the bottle of sunscreen and began generously applying it to her face. Even though it was cool and dark outside now, she knew by midday, the sun would be strong and hot. Her fleece sweater and vest overtop would do the trick for the morning.

  Mrs. Casey stood in front of her, hands on her hips. “I have friends. We write letters to one another. More than that is too much effort. Make sure you use enough of that; you don’t want to burn.”

  “It really doesn’t matter whether or not I use enough, since I’ll probably die before I come home, right?” Sarah asked, unable to resist teasing.

  Mrs. Casey gasped. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  “Because that’s basically what you’ve been saying! Also, writing letters to friends and never seeing them is sad. You need to make some new friends in Wishing River. I’m going to find you some,” she said, picking up her bag.

  “You worry about yourself, never mind me,” Edna said, uncrossing her arms only to wring her hands. “Do you have your medication with you? What’s your plan if you get a migraine out there? Those men can’t just stop and come back home!”

  Sarah had already worried about this but decided the risk was minimal. She rarely had her migraines these days, and if one did strike, she’d take her medication and sit out. She didn’t need someone to take care of her, and once her vision returned, she’d be able to make her way back home or she’d sleep it off. But that was worst-case scenario, and she had no intention of letting it get that far. “This is barely even a cattle drive. We won’t be gone for days, miles and miles away. Think of it as a mini drive, just moving cattle—”

  “You could be killed!”