The Cowboy Read online

  Jack pursed his lips. Shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”

  “It’s a secret?”

  “No. She just likes her privacy. And asked me not to tell anyone.”

  “Really?” That seemed extreme, but then, maybe not. A woman who put on a show like that had to take some precautions.

  “Is she giving you trouble out there?” Jack asked.

  “Nope. I’ve barely even seen her.”

  6

  BEA

  He wasn’t there on Saturday. The dogs did their business in the ravine. Sabrina didn’t show and the backyard was quiet. Empty.

  “Hello?” I called out. But only the wind answered. “You out here?”

  Nothing.

  And the disappointment was stupid. It was, in fact, so stupid that I pretended to be glad he wasn’t there. Forced myself to be glad. Because he was a stranger and it was just a dumb lark and I had shit to do. Real shit.

  Besides my clit was sore.

  I cleaned my apartment top to bottom, emptying the vacuum canister of dog hair twice. And then I sat down with another cup of coffee and looked up fall courses at the community college about an hour away. I figured if I was going to go back to school I’d have to start small. No sense jumping into the deep end when I hadn’t been to school in a whole bunch of years and had never been very good at it anyway.

  The problem with the course book was that the only things that sounded interesting were the hospitality courses. Bar and Restaurant Management. Accounting for Small Businesses. And I’d already failed at that—why step up only to get knocked back down again?

  At ten-thirty I kissed the dogs goodbye and headed downstairs to start the Saturday lunch shift, hoping something, anything, interesting might happen.

  But it was unlikely.

  CODY

  I stood outside the front door of Jack’s bar, staring at the dark wood door with the old Budweiser ad of that dog and wondered if I was in danger of breaking more rules.

  Or was the fact that I was living the life of a hermit making me break those rules?

  Fuck it. I was tired of second-guessing everything.

  I put my hand to Spud’s nose and pushed open the door.

  There are a few places in my life that have smelled like home. A stable. Gran’s. And a Texas dive bar. Fried food and beer. Decades-old cigarette smoke.

  I filled my lungs with the smell and couldn’t help the smile on my face.

  My eyes adjusted to the relative darkness and I saw Jack and a woman at the corner of the bar, heads bent over paperwork. I stepped wide of them, leaving one stool between myself and them so I didn’t interrupt them.

  “Cody!” Jack greeted me like he couldn’t believe I’d made it. Like I’d weathered some kind of storm to show up in his bar. “You’re here.”

  “You invited me.”

  A tiny woman with short hair spun around from the corner of the bar where she’d been chatting with the waitress. She was a stunner, big eyes and bright red lips. Attitude that gave her a glow. Dark hair that was kind of curly and kind of spiky. She had a real pinup girl vibe going on. Sexy and tough all at once. A red handkerchief was tied in her hair that matched the ruby-red swipe of her lips. The black T-shirt with the collar torn out had silver glittery lettering across the front that I couldn’t read.

  God. I used to love bars. And sexy bartenders with bright red lips.

  She watched me with her mouth open like I was a surprise, and for a moment I was all caught up in those eyes and lips. The pretty dip of skin beneath her collarbone that peeked through that torn collar.

  And the sense that somehow we knew each other.

  “Glad you’re here,” Jack said to me, pulling my attention from the pinup girl at the end of the bar. “Cody, this is Denise. She’s my engineer for the project next door.”

  “Hi, Denise,” I said and leaned over to shake the black woman’s hand. Her hair and nails were cut short and her hand, when we shook, was covered in calluses. This was a woman who got her hands dirty. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” she said. “I understand you’ve been doing the demo.”

  “He’ll be sticking around as my eyes on the job,” Jack said.

  “I’ve been wondering when you were going to hire a general contractor.”

  “I’m not a general—”

  Jack wouldn’t even let me finish that sentence. “Cody’s my guy.”

  “Well, the crew you’ll be working with are good guys,” she said. “I’d usually stay on as contractor but we’re spread a little thin this season.”

  “I’m happy to help out,” I said.

  Jack winked at me.

  “We’re going to do a walk-through after this meeting,” Denise said, like she was going to check my work. She was the kind of person that made me hope I hadn’t missed anything.

  “I thought you weren’t starting yet.” I said, trying to sound anything but upset about that.

  Because once they started, that was it for my mornings. There’d be a crew of guys over there. I wished I’d had a chance to say goodbye to my Morning Girl. But maybe this was better. Clean break and all that. And probably just in the nick of time.

  I wasn’t going to be able to resist her if she invited me up again. That was just a fact.

  “My crew can’t get in for another week,” she said.

  “A week?” Jack cried.

  “Jack,” she said calmly. “We talked about this.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?” the bartender asked while Jack and Denise argued timelines.

  The bartender’s voice was husky and all kinds of Texas. Now that she was standing right in front of me I saw that her shirt said Cut a Bitch.

  “Coke is good,” I said.

  “Get him a burger, too, would you, Bea?” Jack asked. Ah, this was the bartender who would make me smile. I smiled at her. The cloth she was running through her hands fell onto the floor and she ducked down behind the bar to grab it.

  “Sorry,” Jack said when she popped back up. “Bea, this is Cody. He’s been the guy doing the work next door. Cody, this is Bea she’s—”

  “His underappreciated bartender,” she interrupted.

  “I appreciate you plenty,” Jack said.

  “Nice to meet you, Bea,” I held out my hand to shake hers but she turned to punch my order into the computer system behind her.

  “Is the burger better than the wings?” I asked, quickly putting my hand back in my lap.

  “No,” Bea said over her shoulder.

  “Bea!” Jack said, like she’d broken his heart.

  “You want better food you need a better kitchen.”

  “We’re building a better kitchen. You’d see that if you’d just look at the plans.”

  “To have a better kitchen you need a chef.”

  “I have one.”

  “You have an eighteen-year-old kid who has watched a couple Guy Fieri shows.”

  Jack was silent, pointing at the blueprints in front of him, begging his bartender—with puppy-dog eyes—to look at the plans.

  Bea shook her head, turned, grabbed a glass, and used a scoop to fill it with ice.

  She was wearing a pair of jeans that slipped down when she bent, revealing the top lace edge of her pink underwear.

  I glanced away, feeling like a creeper for noticing.

  “You’re a smart man, Jack. I’m sure you figured out the kitchen just fine,” Bea said and set the Coke down in front of me.

  “What’s with your voice?” Jack asked her. “You’re suddenly Ms. Texas?”

  “Nothing. What’s wrong with your face?”

  Laughter barked out of my throat and everyone turned to stare at me. Too big a laugh for too small a dig but I wasn’t used to being out with people. “What is wrong with your face?” I pulled the straw out of my Coke and took a drink.

  “This isn’t why I invited you for lunch,” Jack grumbled. I caught Bea’s eye and winked. She went so pink I felt like an ass f
or even that lame attempt at flirting.

  “So, what are the full plans for next door?” I asked. “I’ve never seen them.”

  Jack scootched them over to me.

  “A big deck back here,” he said, pointing to that little patch of earth where I watched my Morning Girl.

  “You gonna get rid of the tree?” I touched the little icon Denise had drawn for the tree I stood under while she rocked my world.

  “No. The city will never let me clear that tree. It’s practically a historical monument.”

  No shit, I thought. It needed a plaque commemorating my Morning Girl.

  “But it will be trimmed back. A bigger kitchen here.”

  Bea super-casually leaned over to get a look. I leaned back so she could see better, glanced up, and caught her small smile.

  She really was cute.

  “Double fryer. Grill. Dishwasher,” Jack said, pointing to blank spaces on the drawings. “A second bar,” he said indicating another space.

  Bea glanced behind herself. Turned herself around the other way to face the mirror and bottles of liquor. “Right there?” she asked. Pointing at the wall behind the bar.

  “Close enough,” Denise said.

  “Can you open the wall?” Bea asked.

  “It’s not load-bearing,” Denise said.

  “That would be cool,” I said, because I could see what Bea was getting at.

  “Right?” she asked, looking at me with her eyes wide.

  “Right what?” Jack asked.

  “Open the bar. Two sided. Keep the bottles in the back, but everyone can look through,” she said.

  “Or you could set up one of those circular shelves that spin,” I said, remembering one of those in Alberta.

  “So both bars share the bottles?” she asked me, as if Jack and Denise weren’t there. “That’s kinda fun.”

  “Well, I don’t know if it’s fun. But it stands out.”

  Jack blinked at Bea. And then blinked at me. I shrugged. Bea turned away and pulled two Bud Light drafts for the waitress waiting for them down at the service end of the bar.

  “I told you you’d like her,” Jack whispered.

  “Stop,” I whispered back.

  “It’s a great idea,” Denise said and made a note in pencil on the drawings. “But you’ll have to close down this bar for a while,” she said in a tone of voice that implied she’d been saying this for a while.

  “You’re right,” Jack said. “Two weeks?”

  “I told you,” Bea said.

  Denise bent sideways and looked at me. “How long will it take you to take down that wall?”

  I shrugged. “One day for demo. Another one to frame the space.”

  “Then two weeks should do it,” Denise said and looked at me.

  “Yep.”

  “Bea,” Jack said, “Tuesday the bar is closed anyway. If we close down Monday can you come in and clean it up so Cody can tear it down?”

  “Me?” she asked. “Monday’s my day off.”

  “You. And I’ll pay you.”

  “Double?”

  “I’ll pay you what I’d pay a manager.”

  She pursed her lips at him in a way I found really distracting.

  “I’ll help,” I volunteered and tried not to regret it. This was a lot of socializing. She laughed like I didn’t fool her, and I probably didn’t. She looked like a woman who didn’t fool easily.

  I sat up straighter under her gaze. Felt a little bit like her eyes were searching me, picking through my pockets. Ruffling through my hair. Again, it was like I knew her.

  And she knew me.

  I coughed and turned my face away, the intimacy of her attention too much.

  She sucked in a deep breath like she was committing to something more than emptying out a bar.

  “All right,” she said. “It’s a date.”

  I held out my hand to shake on it but she’d already turned away.

  7

  BEA

  After Cody left I braced my hands out wide on the bar and hung my head. My legs were literally weak. The effort of not blurting out, It’s me. The girl on the deck. Yesterday I got off twice to you getting off on me. Remember?

  The effort of not putting my hands into that thick blond hair. Not pressing my body against the hard, straight angles of his. Not touching that surprisingly beautiful, thick-lipped mouth.

  God…that mouth of his.

  His smile had about broken my heart.

  I felt as if I’d run a mile as fast as I could. Sweat trickled down my back and I was sick with adrenaline.

  I thought I knew that kind of pure chemistry. What I’d felt for Travis in the first few minutes after meeting him had felt big. Different. But this attraction with Cody made Travis seem lukewarm. Barely noticeable.

  Trouble. He was one hundred percent pure trouble.

  Cody.

  His flirting was rusty but that cowboy charm was still there, behind some kind of damage. He wasn’t used to being hesitant. That was obvious. He’d flashed that wink at me real fast, but then clearly wanted to take it back.

  No. He used to be confident. He used to be sure.

  Now he wasn’t.

  Part of not being Bea King meant not caring about what had happened to that cowboy. What put his charm behind ice. Not wanting to tease out that reluctant smile of his.

  I put a hand against my chest and felt my beating heart.

  Cody.

  My cowboy carpenter, my backyard voyeur, was so beautiful. More beautiful even than I’d dreamed. And when he’d held out his hand to shake mine—twice—I’d ignored it. Because I couldn’t know how he felt. I couldn’t know the warmth of his skin and the touch of his fingers.

  I just couldn’t.

  “You okay?” Kimmy asked.

  “No.”

  “Can I do anything?”

  “No.”

  “Then I need two margaritas. Rocks.”

  I got out the rocks glasses and poured tequila, lime juice, Cointreau, and ice into my shaker and shook the fuck out of those margaritas.

  There was a pit growing in my stomach. I should have told him who I was. Because surely Jack would let him know I was the girl living in that apartment. He almost had five minutes ago and would have if I hadn’t interrupted. The truth was bound to come out. And it felt like a trick that I knew and he didn’t.

  And that accent I put on? Oh God, it was awful.

  But I didn’t know how to stand there in front of my boss and Denise and have that moment with him. That moment when he realized he’d seen my clit and I’d watched him come and now we had to make small talk.

  I’d already been so vulnerable in front of him I couldn’t imagine being more vulnerable.

  What if he said something? Or laughed. Or…

  He wouldn’t. He wasn’t that kind of guy. I knew that in my gut. But I wasn’t going to beat myself up for wanting to control the moment.

  Monday. I would tell him on Monday. In private. We’d have an awkward laugh and he’d ask me out and I’d have to tell him that I wasn’t dating broken-down cowboys anymore. As a life rule.

  Our mornings were over. Or would be the second we both knew.

  “Who was that guy with Jack? The blond?” Kimmy asked.

  “Guy working next door.”

  “Really?” Kimmy leaned against the bar, her hand on her hip, her high ponytail falling over her shoulder just right. “I wonder if he’s seeing anyone.”

  Me, I wanted to say. Every morning. All day Monday.

  Me. Me. Me.

  Oh, God. I was in so much trouble.

  CODY

  Monday morning my Morning Girl was late. She hadn’t even let the dogs out yet. The sun was bright and thick, and the humidity was intense. Sweat ran down my back and down the backs of my legs.

  Even the oak tree seemed a little limp in the heat.

  I wiped my face off with the hem of my shirt and left it soaked. I glanced at my watch, thinking I was wrong, but nope.
It was now ten after seven and I could sense the town on the other side of the building waking up.

  The air smelled like fresh coffee and not just baking from the bakery across the street, which meant the doors were open.

  This wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t. She just wasn’t…there.

  Was she sick? Was she okay?

  Did something happen to the dogs?

  I took a step toward the building, planning, without really thinking, to walk around and knock on her door. I stopped myself. If she walked out onto her porch, she walked out on the porch. And if she didn’t…well, it wasn’t my business, was it?

  Except for the fact that I’d spent the weekend thinking about her.

  I grocery shopped, and with the money left over from paying for Bonnie I was able to buy some milk and ten packages of ramen.

  I did the crappy PT exercises, sweating through my shirt just bending my knee back and forth, sliding my foot across the floor. I did those exercises until I shook.

  And I thought about her.

  So. Much.

  The sun was shining. There was a breeze moving through the leaves of the big oak tree.

  It was 7:15 and then 7:30, and then I realized I’d been standing out there for a half hour waiting for a woman who wasn’t going to show.

  Get the fucking hint, cowboy.

  I walked back inside, trying to shake off the worry that something had happened to her. And beneath that, the sense that I had been rejected. Ridiculous. Totally ridiculous.

  But there it was. This woman I didn’t know. This woman who’d been in my life in this limited way for only, what…three mornings? She didn’t show up and I missed her.

  I missed my Morning Girl.

  I put the tools in the beat-up lockbox in the corner of the first floor and snapped the lock closed.

  In three hours I was supposed to meet Bea to empty out the bar. I smiled thinking about that woman, as I imagined most the men who met her did when they thought about her.

  She wasn’t my Morning Girl…but then, no one really was.

  BEA

  I wore my old overalls and a red tank top. A clip held my hair off my forehead, and even though the work I was going to do was sweaty and dirty I couldn’t resist my ruby-red lipstick and a swipe of mascara.