The Cowboy Next Door (12 page)

The horse shied a little, brushing against him. Jay tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. “None of that, buddy.”

From the drive he could hear Pete woofing, loud and a little frightening. Especially if a person was afraid of dogs.

“Afraid of dogs. Oh, man.” He untied the gelding and led him to an empty stall. “Stay there. Not that you have a choice.”

Jay hurried out of the barn. Lacey was where he knew she'd be, sitting in her car, windows up. She didn't look happy. Pete looked like he'd just discovered a new favorite game.

“Pete, down,” Jay yelled. Pete sat down and waited, but he didn't take his attention off the car. “Pete, to the house.”

Pete turned and hurried to the front porch. Lacey opened the
car door and got out, not too quickly. She glanced at the dog, and then at him.

“Are you okay?” Jay stopped in front of her, realizing he still had the file. “Need your nails done?”

She sort of smiled. “I don't. But your dog took five years off my life.”

“You're going to have to get to know him better.”

“Does he dislike all women, or just me?”

“He doesn't dislike anyone.” He took her by the hand, a gesture he hadn't intended. But he didn't let go, because her fingers wrapped around his, and it didn't hurt. “Come on, let me introduce the two of you.”

“That can wait. Really, I don't want to know him.”

He felt her pulling back. He stopped and she stopped.

“You collect dogs.” He didn't get it.

“They don't have teeth. They're not real. You understand that, right? Stuffed, porcelain, resin, not real. But Pete, he is real and he has real teeth.”

“Once again, I have to remind you that you collect dogs. People typically collect things they like, not things that scare them.” He laughed. “They scare you, so you collect them?”

“I got bit when I was five. A neighbor's dog.” She lifted the heavy veil of bangs that parted on the left and covered her brow. “I still have the scar.”

A jagged line above her brow. He nodded, understanding. “Okay, I get it. But not all dogs bite.”

“I know that. I always wanted one and we couldn't have pets in our building. Fear was easier than…”

“Wanting?”

She glanced away from him, and he wanted to turn her, to look into her dark eyes and read the other secrets. But he knew the deepest of her secrets, the guarded past that she tried to hide behind her cheerful waitress persona.

He knew about wanting.

“Pete.” He whistled and Pete lumbered off the porch. “Come on, boy, meet our new friend.”

Her hand had dropped back to her side, but it slid back into his, seeking, and he tightened his fingers around hers. Pete ambled in their direction, a lumbering red beast with slobber hanging from his mouth, but eyes so kind Jay couldn't imagine anyone being afraid of him.

“He's big.”

“He's afraid of the kittens in the barn.”

“Kittens? Now that's more like it.” She smiled up at him. “Soft, fuzzy kittens?”

“Have you never had a pet?” Jay led her a few steps and when he raised his hand, Pete sat in front of them.

“No, I haven't ever had a pet. Bailey's dog runs in fear of me, because I scared him one time, screaming because he got close to me. Seems silly, doesn't it?”

“Everyone has a fear. Some are big fears, some are small.”

“And how do we overcome our fears?” She said it in a soft voice and he didn't have an answer. He feared losing someone again.

He feared forgetting.

It had once been a larger-than-life fear. Now it was subtle, but still clinging to the dark corners of his mind. He shook it off to watch as Lacey conquered her own fear, reaching to touch his dog.

Pete's long, slobbery tongue came out and he slurped her hand and then her arm.

“Disgusting,” she said with feeling.

“Yeah, it is.” He got the words out, and then he smiled.

“Hey, you two,” his mom called from the front porch. “I have the baby asleep in here. Why don't you take Lacey for a ride down by the creek? It wouldn't hurt her to have a break.”

Jay waved at his mom, and when he looked at Lacey, her eyes were bright, her smile huge. She wanted to ride a horse. He wanted to sigh.

“You want to go for a ride?”

“Can the dog stay here?”

“Still don't like him?” He nodded at Pete and Pete sat. If only the dog could be trained not to chew up shoes.

“I kind of have a friendship with Bailey's dog now, it's called ignoring one another. So I might start to like him, but let's not push it.” She smiled at the dog, his tongue hanging out and his soulful gaze on her. “But he is cute.”

“Another nice feature is he's softer than a stuffed animal or a porcelain dog, and he can even keep a person safe at night, or find a lost child.”

“He does have positive traits.” She reached, her fingers close to the dog's nose, and then she stroked his face. “But he still can't go with us.”

“Pete, stay here.” This time he did sigh. “Lacey, come with me.”

L
acey settled into the saddle of the gray mare. Bailey had taught her to ride, and Lacey never tired of the experience. A horse, a slow canter across a field. She glanced to the side and watched the cowboy who owned the horse as he tightened the girth strap on his big buckskin.

He wore jeans, boots and a plaid shirt. His hat was pulled low over his brow, putting his face in shadow. He turned, smiling at her, but the smile wasn't the real thing. There were shadows in his eyes, too.

He didn't want to take her for this ride.

“Jay, we don't have to do this. Or I could go alone.”

He pushed back the brim of his hat and cocked his head to the side. He leaned against the horse, his smile a little soft. “I don't mind, Lacey.”

“You look like you mind.”

Jay put his foot in the stirrup and swung his right leg over the saddle, settling with ease that came from a lifetime of riding. “It isn't that I mind…”

“Then what?” She loosened the reins and her horse moved next to his, through the open gate and into the empty hay
field where red clover bloomed and scented the air with a soft fragrance.

“I'd rather not talk. Let's ride down by the creek. I'll show you the old swimming hole.” And he looked away, like there was more to say but he couldn't.

Lacey felt uneasy, like she had invaded private places in his heart, or his life. He didn't want her next door, or riding his horse. He didn't want her in the private places of his life.

“Stop worrying.” He rode close to her, close enough she could have reached out to touch him. And she wanted to. She wanted to reach for his hand, to tell him she understood.

Shadows lengthened as they rode. The sun was setting and the creek was in a valley where it was cool and dark, shaded by hills and trees. The temperature dropped and cicadas started their evening song, wings brushing, the sound loud and to some people annoying.

“The cicadas are like crickets on steroids down here.” Jay shook his head.

“I love them.”

He laughed.

“You would.” He had moved a little ahead of her on the trail and he glanced back over his shoulder. “They're not bad.”

They rode to the edge of the creek. It widened at a bend and a rope hung from a tree branch that extended over the rippling waters. Jay's horse stopped. Lacey's stopped next to him, no command needed. She watched the cowboy dismount, and then he reached for her horse.

“Come on, we'll walk for a while.” He smiled up at her, those shadows still in his eyes.

Lacey slid off the horse, her legs a little wobbly. She reached for the reins that he held and he handed them over, his hand brushing hers, his gaze not wavering, not looking away.

Lacey looked away, because she couldn't catch her breath
and the moment wasn't real, it was created by the creek, the music of cicadas and a cowboy.

Think of something to say, something safe and neutral.
She looked at the water, the grassy banks. “I bet you spent a lot of time down here when you were a kid.”

“I did. We loved this place.”

“We? You and your family?”

“Yes, me and my family.” He dropped the reins of his horse and the buckskin lowered his head and seemed to doze. Lacey looked from him to the horse she had been riding.

“You can drop the reins. She'll stay.” He took the reins from her hand.

“I'm sure she will, but it scares me to let her go. What if she runs off?”

“We'll walk back to the house and she'll be there waiting for us. But she won't run.”

Lacey glanced back; the horse was still standing in the same spot. Jay's hand reached, his fingers taking hers. Lacey's breath caught in her lungs, a combination of fear and expectation.

This felt like falling in love, and she wasn't, couldn't, be falling in love with Jay. It was a moment, just a moment created by a setting sun and soft shadows.

It still felt like falling in love. A lingering ache in her heart reminded her of rejection and what it felt like to not be the woman that a man wanted forever.

“It's a great picnic spot.” Jay spoke, his words soft. “I'll bring you down here sometimes. We can bring Rachel.”

“That would be nice.” Lacey stopped at the edge of the creek, Jay at her side. She looked up and he looked down. And then his head lowered, and she couldn't breathe. Cicadas were singing and a bird dipped over their heads, and she couldn't think, couldn't find a way to tell him no.

His mouth touched hers, their lips connecting. His hands
held her shoulders and then moved to her back. His lips moved to her neck, lingering for a few seconds and she felt his warm breath and a heavy sigh like he felt too much. His lips returned to hers. Lacey closed her eyes and melted into the softness of the moment.

A moment, she reminded herself, so it wouldn't hurt later.

It was just a moment.

Jay sighed as he pulled away. “I'm not sure what to think about you, Lacey.”

She shrugged and closed her eyes, because she was a
moment
, not a
forever
.

 

Jay wanted to pull Lacey back into his arms. He wanted to ask why she looked as if her world had come to an end with their kiss. But he wouldn't. If he knew her secrets, she would want to know his.

Memories of Jamie were fading, being replaced by this woman, her smile, her quick wit and her shadows.

He had promised Jamie that he would love her forever, and he would never forget her. At twenty the promise had meant everything. At almost thirty, he realized that it was the promise of a kid to a dying girl who had wanted to feel something that resembled forever.

Jay leaned in again, this time kissing Lacey's cheek, and cupping the back of her head to hold her close, to comfort her. His fingers weaved through soft strands of hair. He saw the tears in her eyes and wanted to bring back her smile. He didn't want to hurt her.

“We should go.” She turned away from him and walked back to her horse. Foot in stirrup, she swung into the saddle.

They rode to the house in silence. Jay knew that they were both lost in thoughts they didn't want to share. He stopped his horse next to the barn and dismounted. Lacey stood next to her
horse. He took the reins she held. She smiled and she didn't move away. He had kind of expected her to make a run for it.

“Thank you for taking me riding.” She reached for the reins of the horse. “Shouldn't we unsaddle them?”

“I'll do it. You go ahead and get Rachel. Tell Mom I'll start the burgers when I come in.” He held her gaze, wondering if she had felt the things he'd felt in that kiss. “You're staying for dinner, aren't you?”

“No, I should go home. It's been a really long day.”

“I'm cooking,” he teased.

She smiled a little. “I know, but I'm about wiped out.”

“Lacey, I'm sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“The kiss. The ride wasn't supposed to be about that.”

That didn't come out the way he had planned. He shook his head, amazed that he could be so dense. From the look on her face, she had to be thinking the same thing.

“Don't worry about it.” She let him off the hook too easily and then she walked away.

He led the horses to the barn, his thoughts scrambled inside him. Past and present were colliding. He didn't know how to let go of the one to find the other.

“Why did Lacey look like she was going home to cry?”

His mom's voice. Almost thirty and living at home was not a good plan, he realized. He felt as if he was eighteen again. Jay pulled the saddle off his buckskin and carried it into the tack room. His mom was waiting, her hand on the horse's neck, her other hand holding carrots. Buck took a bite and chewed, his ears pricked forward.

“Do we have to talk about this?” He remembered conversations as a teenager, when he'd poured out his confusion and she had listened, always silent, letting him talk.

Back then he'd thought how great it was, to have that rela
tionship with his parents, when his friends were struggling just to understand growing up.

Today he didn't want to talk about it.

He heard a car. His dad, home from work. That was close, but now he had a way out of this conversation. He smiled a little and his mom shook her head. “I'm not giving up that easily. You were supposed to take her for a ride so she could relax a little, not send her back to me in tears.”

“Now you're exaggerating.”

She shrugged. “A little.”

“Bad matchmaking job, Mom.” Did the entire town get together on certain days and plot the futures of single victims? Didn't God have a say in all of this?

“I wouldn't dream of matchmaking.” She wiped her hands on her jeans. “Jay, she's a wonderful girl. She isn't Jamie and never will be. And maybe that's a good thing?”

“Maybe.” He remembered a kiss that had changed everything. He hadn't thought of Jamie when he kissed Lacey.

“She's been hurt a lot in her life.”

“I don't plan on hurting her.”

What did he plan? It had seemed easy, to be her friend, to help her in the situation with Corry. That had felt safer than this.

“Jay, you know her past.” His mom clicked a lead rope onto the halter of the mare that Lacey had ridden. “I'm not sure if you know how often she's been hurt or how strong she is. Not everyone can come from where she's been and survive it, and still smile.”

“I am aware.”

“Not everyone can handle where she's been.”

“I know that, too.” He took the mare and led her to the end of the stable and released her into the field. As he walked back to his mom he glanced in at the gelding he'd planned to work with, whose hooves were half-trimmed. The horse's ears twitched and he chewed on a mouthful of hay.

“I want to make sure.” His mom returned to the conversation, not letting it go. “She doesn't have family to look out for her.”

“She has you.” He smiled at his mom and leaned to kiss her cheek. “I love that you want to take care of everyone.”

“And I love you. I love you first, and I want you to be happy.” She reached into the stall with the gelding and patted the horse's neck. “You look happier than I've seen you look in a long time.”

“I've always been happy.”

“No, for a long time you were pretending. You were too young for what you went through with Jamie. If I had known then what I know now, I might not have…”

“Brought her here?” They walked outside and Pete lumbered across the yard to walk with them back to the house. Jay could smell the grill and knew that his dad had started the coals.

“I guess if I could take it back, maybe I wouldn't have brought her, because I would have spared you losing her.”

“I don't think we can second-guess. I think we have to accept that God has a plan for all things. And now, I think it's time to find out the next path, the next direction for my life.”

“I'm glad you didn't marry Cindy.”

“That wouldn't have been God's plan.” He could admit that now, and a month ago, he couldn't have. A month ago he had felt rejected. Not brokenhearted.

“No, it would have been wrong. What about Lacey?”

“I've seen her a few times in the last six years and known her for two months. I can't really tell you what I think about Lacey. But she makes me smile.”

“That's a start.”

It wasn't enough. He knew that. His mother knew it, too. You couldn't build forever on a smile.

 

The message had been on the answering machine when Lacey got home from Jay's. She was still thinking of the kiss—
trying to decide what it meant—when she learned that her sister wanted to meet with her the next day.

Bailey went with her so she wouldn't be alone. Lacey walked down the hall of the jail facility, Rachel in her arms and Bailey at her side. She kept remembering the voice on the answering machine, young and unsure. Apologizing.

“Do you think she meant it, that she's sorry?”

“Of course she's sorry, Lacey.” Bailey hitched her purse over her shoulder, bumping it against her seven-month belly. “She's either truly sorry, repentant, or she's just sorry that it didn't work out. Either way, she's sorry.”

“It makes me sick to my stomach.”

“Me, too. I want this to all work out for you, and for Rachel. At the same time, I want Corry to find a way to make her own life better.”

Without hurting Rachel.
Lacey wanted to add those words, but it felt selfish, not compassionate. She had started over in Gibson, running from pain, heartache and guilt. It should work for everyone.