The Trouble With Cowboys (20 page)

He frowned at her serious tone, but his Merilee was a deep thinker, always pondering something.

She tugged him to a stop. In the waning light her blue eyes looked like midnight.

“What is it, darlin’?”

She looked at the river, at the darkening sky, at everything but him.

He felt something like dread leaking into his veins, but he squeezed her hand. “You worried about your job?” She started on Monday at Parkdale Elementary, though the kids wouldn’t be in session for several weeks.

“No, Dylan. I don’t know how to—”

“Just say it, hon, whatever it is.”

“I’m pregnant.”

The word hit him hard, then sort of sank in slowly.

Okay. It wasn’t what they’d planned. He thought immediately of his parents. They’d be disappointed. Hers too. It wasn’t the start he’d hoped for. But he loved her. The idea of a baby—his child— would grow on him. It was growing on him already.

He wondered how long she’d been carrying this alone. No wonder she’d sounded distracted lately.

He pulled her into his arms. “Oh, Mer. It’s all right. We’ll get through this. I love you, you know that.”

She pulled away, and he framed her pixie face before she got too far.

“You’re not in this alone. In fact—the timing. . .” He laughed nervously, pulling the box from his suit coat pocket. “I want to marry you, darlin’.”

She looked down at the jewelry box. He wished he could see her expression, but the River Walk lights hadn’t kicked on.

“Oh, Dylan. . .” She turned away, crossed her arms.

It wasn’t the reaction he’d expected—hoped for. Was she worried about working during her pregnancy? What the folks at church would think? About their finances? He didn’t make as much money as he’d like, but with both their incomes . . .

He pocketed the box, put his hands on her shoulders. “We’ll get through this, Mer, I promise. Marry me. I want to spend the rest of my—”

“I’m four weeks pregnant.”

Four weeks? The words reverberated in his head. Numbers weren’t his strong suit, but the math wasn’t that complicated. Dread seeped into his bones.

“That can’t be right.”

“Dylan . . . ,” she whispered. “The baby isn’t yours.”

Her words hit him like the force of a two-by-four slammed right into his gut. How could she be— She’d been a virgin, just like him. How could this—

His hands dropped from her shoulders.

She turned, and he was glad now that he couldn’t see her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Dylan. I didn’t plan for this to happen.”

Anger rose, hot and heavy. His ears burned with it. “For what to happen? What happened, Mer?”

“I—I didn’t know he was back in town, didn’t expect to see him.”

“
Who?”
And then it dawned on him. Jeremy. Her high school sweetheart.

“It just happened. I tried not to let it, and I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t do it over the phone.”

“So you just—you just slept with him? After all we’ve shared? After all we mean to each other?”

“I’m so sorry.”

He heard the tears in her voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The betrayal hurt too much. She tried to say more, but he didn’t want to hear it. They headed back to his truck for a short, silent ride to her apartment.

By the next day reality had set in. Merilee had done a terrible thing. He was angry and hurt. But did he really want to lose her over it? He couldn’t bear the thought. He had to adjust to the new reality. He still loved her, and they still had the rest of their lives ahead of them.

He drove to her apartment with the ring in his jeans pocket. He would marry her and raise the child as his own. It would be hard at first, but the thought of losing Merilee was much worse.

But when he arrived at her apartment, he discovered Merilee had other plans. Jeremy already knew about the baby and wanted to marry her. She wanted to marry him. His happily-ever-after had been stolen in the space of two months, but it had taken far longer than that to get beyond the betrayal, to stop feeling sick at the thought of Merilee.

Now he ran his hand through his damp hair. He didn’t want to think about Merilee, and he didn’t want to think about Annie anymore either. There was a reason he kept that wall in place. How could one kiss have made him forget so quickly?

He put on his hat and headed toward the barn. He had salt blocks to put out, a circle to ride, and a woman to put from his mind.

Dear Regretful,

    
A kiss is just a kiss. Except when it isn’t.

22

A
nnie drove through town, turned around, and drove back through. She should go home. But she was too wired to face an empty house.

That kiss.

Annie, Annie
. . . She shook her head.

What had she been thinking? She hadn’t been, that’s all there was to it. Dylan Taylor addled her brain. One second he vexed her, the next she was in his arms kissing him—and her with a boyfriend.

She looked up and saw the brick storefront of Miss Lucy’s doll shop. She hadn’t realized she’d turned into the diagonal parking space. Through the picture window she saw Miss Lucy dusting a shelf, her ample frame making the stepladder wobble.

Annie exited her truck and went inside. The bell over the door tinkled loudly.

“Annie!” Miss Lucy stepped down and waddled forward for a hug.

Annie sank into Miss Lucy’s arms. The woman’s warmth drew her feelings to the surface and a knot formed in her throat. “Hi, Miss Lucy.”

When the woman drew back, her eyes narrowed behind her Coke-bottle glasses. “What’s wrong, child?”

She didn’t want to think about it anymore. Annie took the duster from Miss Lucy, tapped her shoulder with it, and ascended the ladder. “I saw you tottering on your rickety ladder. Call me next time. You shouldn’t be up on this thing.”

“You’re changing the subject. And you didn’t even say hello to the girls.”

Annie looked around the room at the dozens of blank smiling faces. “Hello, girls.” She lifted a prairie doll and dusted beneath her. “Hello, uh . . .”

“Rosalie.”

“That’s a very pretty calico dress you’re wearing, Rosalie. How’s business, Miss Lucy? Lots of tourists coming through this summer?”

“Let’s say we skip the nonsense and talk about why your hands are shaking instead.”

Annie slowly set Rosalie back on the shelf and lowered the duster. They were shaking. Even the ladder quaked under her.

Miss Lucy took her hand. “Heaven’s sakes, get down off there before you break an ankle.”

Reality setting in, Annie stepped down. Miss Lucy took the duster from her hand, tossed it on the counter, and led Annie to her rocking chair. “Sit.”

Annie obeyed.

Miss Lucy pulled up a chair, gathered her cotton skirt, and sank into it. “Now what’s got you so worked up on a beautiful Saturday afternoon? Your sister? Mabel told me she quit. Or that silly rumor floating around about you and the Taylor boy out at your grandpa’s cabin? I ’bout smacked Priscilla Teasley upside the head yesterday when I heard her spreading that one.”

Annie gave her a weak smile. “Thanks.”

The night at the cabin seemed like a lifetime ago. Had it only been the night before last? She’d been so angry with John yesterday for not trusting her.

Look what I’ve done now, God. I’ve gone and proven him right. How did this happen
?
When did I become such an awful person?

Annie groaned, palming her forehead.

“Child, what is it?”

“I’m so ashamed.” She dropped her hand.

Miss Lucy narrowed her eyes. “Those rumors better not have been true, young lady.”

“No. No, they weren’t. I mean, we did get stuck at the cabin, but nothing happened. It’s just . . . I just left Dylan’s place. I’m working with—”

“His horse. Yes, I know. But what’s got you so unsettled?”

Annie cringed. “He kissed me.”

Miss Lucy smiled. “You don’t say.”

Just admitting it made her relive the kiss in its full glory. The slow, deliberate way his lips moved over hers, the aching tenderness. Her cheeks warmed, no doubt displaying twin splotches of pink, just like Miss Lucy’s dolls.

“And I kissed him back.” She skipped the part about her hauling him back into her arms.

“Well, fancy that.” Miss Lucy tilted her head.

“Didn’t you hear me? I kissed him back.”

“My ears work just fine.”

“Well, what kind of awful person am I? I’m dating John. Besides, I don’t even like Dylan. He’s a—a cowboy, for pity’s sake. And he parades all over town with a different woman every week. He just lives to make the ladies swoon.”

“And now you’re one of them.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

Miss Lucy’s thin brows rose over her thick-framed glasses.

“I’m not swooning. Not even close. I’m just—” She straightened, lifted her chin. “He’s had a lot of practice, that’s all. I guess it paid off.”

“Come now, child.”

“I don’t even like him.”

“Is that so.”

“Yes, that’s so. He’s annoying and arrogant and—and entirely too . . . cowboyish.”

Miss Lucy’s lips twitched. “Well, dear, he is a cowboy.”

“And you know how I feel about
them
.”

“Yes, I do.”

“What’s really bothering me is that I betrayed John. I was so upset with him for not trusting me with Dylan, and then I went and proved him right.”

“Now, that is ironic.”

Miss Lucy wasn’t helping at all. Annie needed someone to tell her how to fix this. What to do with her feelings for Dylan. Though she hadn’t exactly admitted to feelings. And deep down she knew what she had to do with her feelings for Dylan. Stuff them deep inside. Way down deep.

“I have to tell John. I mean, that’s the honest thing to do, right?”

“And then what?”

She didn’t even want to think about what John would say.

“He’ll be upset, but I think he’ll forgive me.” It would be pretty tricky working with Dylan from here on out. John wouldn’t like it, but it couldn’t be helped. She wasn’t deserting Braveheart.

“What of your feelings for Dylan?”

Annie’s laugh sounded nervous, even to her own ears. “They’re not feelings, exactly. He has a way with women, and I got sucked in somehow, that’s all.”

“Is it?”

“Oh, Miss Lucy. You know how he is. He leaves a trail of broken hearts wherever he goes, and I sure don’t plan on being one of them.”

Miss Lucy patted her trembling hand. “Sometimes, Annie, there’s more to a person than meets the eye.”

Annie frowned. “What are you saying . . . that I should break up with John? That I should pursue a relationship with Dylan?” Annie gave a wry laugh. “He’s probably forgotten about the kiss by now. Probably having a good laugh about how easy it was to get Annie Wilkerson in his arms.”

The notion caught her right between the ribs, and her eyes stung. “I can hardly wait to hear him mocking me.”

Miss Lucy gave a sad smile. “Have you ever thought that maybe the kiss meant something to him too?”

Annie snorted. And yet, she couldn’t forget the look he gave her right before the kiss. It was lasered into her memory, those warm, melty eyes, so somber and focused on her.

She shook the image away. She had to stop this. She was only fooling herself.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Annie.”

“He looks at every woman that way.”

“No.” Miss Lucy shook her head. “No, he doesn’t.”

The older woman had never looked more serious. Despite her eccentricities, Miss Lucy was grounded in the important things. But this . . . She was so wrong.

Even so, Annie longed to hear more. “When? When did he look at me like that?”

“At Founders Day, during the wedding ceremony. On the Fourth, when you danced with him—yes, I saw you dancing. Not to mention every Sunday at church. I may be old and slightly batty, dear, but I know love when I see it.”

“Love?”
Good grief! Maybe Miss Lucy was more unstable than she realized. “Dylan does not love me, Miss Lucy.”

“No?”

“No!” Annie popped to her feet, squeezing past the woman. For pity’s sake, she was more confused now than when she walked in. Love had never entered her mind.

Nor should it!

Love. Good grief. Dylan didn’t know the first thing about love. But then, hadn’t she sought him out to help her with the lovelorn column?

She was so confused. No sooner did she think he was nothing more than a big flirt than she glimpsed a deeper side of him. And then, before she could say Casanova, he was back at it again. Was it any wonder she was confused?

She rubbed her throbbing temple.

“Keep the door of your heart open, that’s all I’m saying. You never know what God has in store.”

“God knows how I feel about cowboys.”