The Cowbear's Curvy Valentine (Curvy Bear Ranch 5) (4 page)

“Clothes.”

“Franklin’s and the general store are next to each other. I’ll wander around in there while you find something to wear. Take your time. They have some new tack I want to check out for the horses,” he said.

“Sounds good.” She jumped out of the truck and walked toward him. “Hey, thanks for not making things weird today.”

“I’m sorry about last night. I had no idea they were coming.”

“I hope they don’t think I’m a wild party girl or something,” she said.

“I highly doubt it,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, my family is very laid back. They won’t hold it against you.”

“That’s a relief.”

A smile spread across her face, illuminating her cheeks with a healthy glow. A bolt of desire zigzagged down his spine. God, she was stunning. A classic beauty, like the women in centuries-old paintings. If he’d had a lick of artistic skill in his body, he’d want to commit her to canvas. He had to force himself to look away.

“I’ll see you in a bit,” he said.

“I won’t take too long. I don’t want to take up too much of your day,” she said.

He stood rooted in place until she’d disappeared into Franklin’s. As much as he wanted to deny the effect she was having on him, he couldn’t. If he wasn’t careful, she’d leave a wake of heartbreak behind her large enough to drown him.

Chapter 4

After purchasing four pairs of jeans, three sweaters, a fluffy down jacket, and a pair of proper winter boots, she hauled the packages through the door and into the general store. She had to find Cody before her arms fell off. She’d spent far too much time pushing a pencil around and didn’t have an ounce of muscular strength—unlike Cody.

God, those arms.

She could still feel them wrapped around her body. And when she closed her eyes, the sensation of his tongue gliding over hers sent tingles into places she didn’t want to think about. She needed to stay focused. Today was supposed to be about doing something for herself.

“Can I help you with those?” Cody stepped out from behind a rack of backpacks.

“Yes. I guess winter clothes are heavier than I’d anticipated.”

“At least you’ll be warm now,” he said.

If only he knew how warm she got when she was around him. She mashed her lips together to keep from grinning.

“I’ll run these out to the truck. I went looking for paint sets and canvases. They have pretty much everything here, but I can’t seem to find any art supplies,” he said.

“Did you happen to ask any of the sales people?” she asked.

“Nope.”

Typical man. Of course he didn’t want to stop and ask for directions.

“I’ll see what I can find,” she said.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute.”

After he’d left, she searched up and down the aisles. One row was stuffed with every manner of camping gear known to man. They had everything from gas stoves to rappelling rope. Office supplies filled the second aisle. It seemed promising, but after searching all of the shelves, she came up empty. An employee in a green vest walked by.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said.

He stopped and let his gaze rake her body from top to bottom without making any effort to hide his perusal. What the heck was he staring at? Had she put her shirt on backwards or something? She glanced over his shoulder and checked her reflection in the mirror. Nothing appeared to be out of place.

“How can I help you, ma’am?” he asked.

“I’m looking for painting supplies.”

“You’re better off going up to Jack’s Hardware.”

“Oh, no. I’m not looking for house paint, I’m looking for art paint,” she said.

“Like for little kids?” he asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Yes.”

“Try Aisle 14 on the left side, bottom shelf.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“Are you new around here?” he asked.

“She’s just passing through,” came Cody’s gruff voice.

She whipped around to find him walking down the aisle. When he reached her, he hooked a protective arm around her waist. Warmth from his hand seeped into her skin through the long-sleeved flannel shirt she’d just purchased. Surprised by his territorial stance, she looked up at him.

“Let’s go, hon.” He steered her into the main aisle and toward the other side of the store.

“Hon?” she asked when he finally released his grip on her.

“I had to say something to steal you away from him. He looked like he wanted to devour you.”

“He was just being friendly,” she said.

“I’ve seen that look before and it wasn’t friendly. He was practically undressing you with his eyes.”

“As if you don’t do the same thing?” she asked with a smirk.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I don’t have to. I’ve seen you naked.”

“I still had a bra and panties on,” she countered.

“I got a good idea of what might be hiding under them.”

“Oh, boy.”

“And,” he murmured against her earlobe. “I liked what I saw.”

Now she knew he was teasing her. What a jerk. Yeah, she had a few extra pounds on her… okay, more than a few, but he didn’t have to taunt her about it. She pushed past him.

“What?” he asked.

“Don’t make fun of me,” she said.

“I wasn’t.”

“Right.”

“Hey,” he grabbed her upper arm gently and turned her around to face him. “I meant it. You’ve got curves in all the right places.”

“Most men don’t like big girls,” she said.

“You’re not big, and you’re not a girl. You’re one hell of a sexy woman. Too dammed sexy if you ask me.” He released her and ran a hand through his wavy brown hair. “And now I’m talking too much.”

She stared at him in disbelief.

“Let’s find a paint set and get going,” he said.

Words wouldn’t form on her lips, so she followed him without comment. Halfway down the aisle, she spotted a kids’ watercolor set which included a large, white sheet of thick paper. She picked it up to inspect it. Her childhood watercolor set had looked almost exactly like this one. For a moment, she forgot about everything but the feeling of joy she’d had when she’d first set brush to paper. She couldn’t wait to get back to the ranch so that she could start painting.

“This is perfect,” she said.

“That’s for kids,” he said. “We need to find an adult’s paint set.”

“I don’t think they have any. The man said this was it. Besides, I’m not a real painter. I just want to mess around with it,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.” She clutched the paint set in her hands. “I can’t wait to paint the view from the back porch of the B & B. I love the way the mountains catch the light. I doubt I’ll be able to translate that to paper, but whatever. I can’t remember the last time I was this excited about anything.”

“You should be excited about something every day,” Cody said with a frown. “If you’re not living the kind of life that makes you want to jump out of bed in the morning, then maybe it’s time to change it.”

During the entire ride back to the ranch, she couldn’t get his comment out of her head. She hated getting up in the morning. It took three different alarms before she’d give up and roll out of bed. Even brushing her teeth had turned into a relentless chore. Had her life really become so terrible that she dreaded every sunrise?

She stared out of the truck’s window at the passing snowy landscape. What would it feel like to get up every day and be excited instead of depressed? Had her life become so dull, so routine, that it had completely lost its magic?

As a child, she’d risen with the sun and hadn’t fallen back into bed until late at night. Every day had been filled with discovery and adventure. She’d spent hours studying the angle of a flower’s petals, or the flight paths of bees through the meadow behind her parents’ house.

Now, she hardly ever saw the sun. She spent countless hours buried behind paperwork in a windowless office.

Her heart clenched. Ironically, losing the trial had finally given her time to stop and really assess her life. And after thinking about it non-stop for three days, she’d come to a single, terrifying conclusion—she hated her life.

***

An hour later, Abby sat at a redwood picnic table near the back paddock. Cody had showed her the spot. He’d told her that it was the best vantage point on the ranch. He’d been right. It gave her a perfect view of the majestic mountainside. The frozen lake spread out along the bottom of the scene, giving it a deeper perspective.

After spreading the watercolor paper out, she set rocks on the corners to keep it from flying away. Bundled up in her new jacket, hat, and scarf, she didn’t feel the cold, but the occasional breeze was enough to rustle the page.

As she laid down the first layer of color, she struggled to recall the last time she’d been so enthusiastic about anything. One incident kept popping into her head. She’d been twelve years old when her aunt had given her a paint set for her birthday. Even her father’s disapproving look hadn’t dampened her excitement. She’d never owned any kind of art set before and couldn’t wait to play with it, but she’d been stuck sitting with the adults all day in the parlor while they talked about politics. After finally being excused, she’d raced up to her room to begin her first painting.

Even then, she’d sensed that she was committing a transgressive act. But she hadn’t cared. The soft stroke of brush against paper had soothed her in a way nothing else could. For the first time in her life, peace infused her soul and she’d been utterly content—at least until her father had shown up to tuck her into bed. The conversation played through her mind as if it had happened yesterday.

“Daddy, look! I painted a horse,” she said.

“It’s a horse,” he corrected. “Always be precise with your language. That will help you in more ways than you can imagine when you get older. Did you do your homework?”

“Yes.”

She still held the painting in her hand. Why hadn’t he looked at it yet? Didn’t he like the picture? Was the horse’s head too big? Did she fail to capture the fine strands of hair on its mane?

“Go brush your teeth,” he said. “Remember to count to thirty, and keep brushing the whole time.”

“Okay.”

Her chest deflated as she set the painting on the desk in her room. As she dutifully went about her nightly routine, she fought back tears. Why hadn’t her daddy liked the picture? She’d painted it for him, hoping that he might like it enough to put it up on the fridge. All of her other friends had paintings they’d drawn posted on their fridges.

When she returned to the room, her heart sank. Her first art piece lay wadded up in the trashcan. As she turned to face her father, her bottom lip trembled. She fought to keep her emotions under control. Her daddy hated seeing anyone cry, especially her.

“Come on, pumpkin,” her dad said.

“You threw it away,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“The picture. You threw it away.”

He sighed. “Art is a frivolous waste of time. You could have used that time you spent painting to improve your intellect. Don’t you want to have a fulfilling life?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Then forget that paint set and keep your focus on what really matters,” he said.

The squawk of a bird brought Abby back to the present. She sighed and set the paintbrush on a paper towel. Apparently she’d continued to paint while reliving the memory. It hurt to think how much that single conversation with her dad had changed her life. If she hadn’t shoved the paint set into a shoebox and placed it on the top shelf in her closet, how different might her life have been?

The sound of boots crunching in the snow drew her attention. As Cody strolled closer, she spotted a picnic basket in his hand. Her stomach rumbled. She glanced at the low-hanging sun, surprised that she’d been so lost in thought that she’d completely missed lunch.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Cody said. “I brought you some food. When I didn’t see you earlier, I asked Madison if you’d been back and she told me you were still out here. How’s the painting coming along?”

“I’m almost done. I just need to add a few final touches to the lake.” She leaned to the side to give him a better view of the painting.

“Wow, you made that?” he asked.

“Yeah. I know it’s not really any good, but I had fun doing it.”

“What do you mean? This is incredible.” He set the basket down on the table and leaned across to study the picture. “Look at the way you captured the sunlight off the snow. How did you do that?”

“I don’t know. I just look at things and see how I would paint them. I guess I’ve been doing it my whole life.”

“You haven’t had any training?” he asked.

“Nope.”

“Then you’re a natural. You have a gift. I’m surprised you don’t paint more often.”

He started pulling out containers of food. As he set them down, he removed their lids. A veritable smorgasbord of meats, cheeses, olives, and fruit filled the table.

“I would have been okay with a bologna sandwich,” she said. “Madison shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble for me.”

“She didn’t.”

Abby cocked her head to one side. “Did you do this?”

“Guilty as charged,” he joked.

“Thank you. I must have lost track of time. I didn’t realize it was getting so late.”

“It happens, especially when you’re doing something you love to do.”

“I never get that feeling,” she admitted.

“I do. Whenever I’m out working with the horses, hours can pass before I realize how late it’s getting. Good thing the sun goes down or I’d be out all night too.”

“I’m pretty sure lawyers don’t have that feeling—ever. I think we have the opposite experience. Sometimes time grinds to a halt. In the second before a jury renders their verdict, you can review and question everything you said during a trial.”

“Did that happen in your last case?” he asked gently.

“Yeah. Before. During. After. Five minutes seemed to last five hours. It’s amazing how much you can register in a moment. I have these images burned into my mind… I’ll never forget them.”

She shivered and wrapped her arms across her chest. Until now, she hadn’t noticed the drop in temperature. The wind kicked up, tossing her hair behind her like a frayed cape.