The Trouble With Cowboys (21 page)

“Yes, He does.”

Annie’s mind whirled as she paced. She needed a nice long
bath and her favorite book, not crazy conjectures about Dylan’s feelings or ridiculous suppositions about God’s plan for her life.

The bell tinkled over the door as a customer entered.

Relieved, Annie gave Miss Lucy a hug and promised to come back to dust the high shelves next week. She went home and drew a bath, but by the time she was finished, her head still throbbed. When Sierra and Ryder returned, loud and wired from a day at the fair, Annie knew she was on her way to a fullblown migraine. She retreated to her room with a pain med and a tall glass of water.

Dear In Denial,

    
You can pretend it didn’t happen, you can refuse to give it a thought, and you can avoid the man at every turn. But here’s the thing: it did, in fact, happen.

23

A
nnie overslept the next morning, missing church. The medicine had knocked her out, but at least her migraine was gone.

She missed the weekly fellowship but was relieved to put off seeing Dylan. She had her own quiet devotions, meditating on Psalm 1 and then spending time in prayer. She had a lot to talk to God about today, but even after she closed her Bible she felt confused and unsettled.

After her shower she took Pepper for a long ride. She savored the wind in her hair, the creak of the saddle, the way they moved in tandem as they galloped across the pasture. She’d hoped to clear her head of Dylan and the kiss, but the memory lingered long after Pepper was unsaddled and brushed down.

Unwilling to dither away the day, she headed to the market to stock up on healthy food. Ryder had come home the day before on a sugar buzz, and Sierra only ate vegetables if they were set down in front of her.

Annie strolled her empty cart straight to the produce department, checking her list, then scanned the bin for some fresh leaf lettuce. She’d fix a nice salad for supper.

In the front of the store she heard Marla Jenkins chatting with Brenda Peterson as she rang up the waitress’s groceries. Annie put the lettuce in the cart, strolled forward, and picked up a nice, juicy-looking tomato.

When a male voice floated her way, she recognized Dylan’s low, familiar drawl.

Oh no
. He was the last person she wanted to see. Thank goodness she wasn’t at the front of the store, checking out.

She hadn’t put on a stitch of makeup. Had she even combed her hair before she’d scooped it into a ponytail? Her heart pounded as she listened to him greeting Brenda and Marla. She hoped he’d only stopped in to chat and not stock up on groceries.

Please, God. I’m not ready to see him yet. I haven’t had a chance to digest that kiss or decide what to do. What would I even say?

She closed her eyes. Maybe this was her penance for missing church. How come Sierra got away with it week after week, and the one time she overslept. . .

Dylan’s low chuckle mingled with Marla’s and Brenda’s. She recognized another male voice and heard Dylan introduce his brother, Luke. They were just having a good old time. Dylan’s tone was flirtatious, and the women were giggling in response.

Of course he was flirting; that’s what Dylan did. He’d no doubt kept his date last night, possibly with Marla, and probably ended it
with a long good-night kiss. The thought opened a gaping hole in her gut. While she’d been stewing over her confused feelings, he’d no doubt moved on.

So much for Miss Lucy’s crazy conjecture. Love. Hah! Dylan’s feelings ran about as deep as a mud puddle.

She tightened her fingers around the tomato. She didn’t care about the groceries anymore. She just wanted out of there without being spotted.

They were still talking, rambling about a concert coming to Billings.
Leave, Dylan
. Why did he have to be so social? She leaned forward ever so slightly, peeking around a giant cardboard banana.

Dylan perched on the low counter across from Marla, his back to Annie. He wore his white shirt and black vest with a pair of worn jeans. She wondered if he’d noticed her absence from church. She hoped he didn’t think it had anything to do with him and that kiss.

Brenda picked up her two sacks. “All right, I gotta run. See you around, guys.”

“I’ll carry those,” Dylan said.

Yes!

“No, I got it.” Brenda gave a final wave and slipped out the door.

After she left, Dylan said something, and Marla smacked him on the chest, producing another chuckle from him. Dylan’s brother was checking out the community bulletin board.

A minute later Dylan lifted his hand and leaned over the counter. Annie couldn’t see what he was doing. He said something. She said something.

He leaned closer.

Annie jerked back before Marla saw her. Was he kissing her? She felt her lunch turn sour in her stomach, and a burn started behind her eyes. She supposed Marla wasn’t likely to see her, what
with her eyes closed and all, but she couldn’t bring herself to look again. It got quiet. Very quiet. Annie swallowed against the lump in her throat.

Moved on
wasn’t even the word.

She was such a ninny. Pondering the meaning of his kiss, imagining there might be something between them, like he was Mr. Darcy and she Elizabeth Bennet. He was no Mr. Darcy. He was Dylan Taylor, stomping on hearts all over Big Sky Country without a second thought.

Laughter sounded. At least the kiss, if that’s what it was, was over now—and much shorter than hers had been. She chided herself for the comparison.

“Yes, we do,” Marla was saying. “They’re right by the brussels sprouts.”

At the mention of produce Annie’s head snapped their way.

“No, they aren’t.”

“Men. You might have to actually open your eyes. Come on, I’ll show you.”

No, no, no! Annie looked for cover. The cardboard banana was tall enough, but once they were on this side, she’d be in plain sight. The produce bins were only waist high.

Where?

“What do you want with asparagus anyway?” Luke asked. So close.

“Hey, I cook.”

Quick, Annie!

“Sure you do,” Marla said.

She ducked down by the tomato bin, her heart pounding. The tomato in her hand flattened against the glossy concrete floor.

“See, I told you. Right by the brussels sprouts.”

“Well, it’s practically hidden behind that leafy stuff.”

“It’s called kale, Dylan,” Marla said.

Their footsteps passed, stopping at the long display along the wall. She could see their feet beneath the potato stand, two sets of brown boots and Marla’s white Sketchers.

Someone ripped a produce bag off the roll. “Think I’ll take some kale while I’m at it.”

“Like you’d know what to do with it,” Luke said.

Annie’s heart pounded so hard it shook her whole body. She remembered her cart behind her, her purse in the seat, and prayed they wouldn’t notice.

She realized it had gotten quiet over by the brussels sprouts. Then she watched a pair of boots move around the potato bin toward her.

No. Please, God, no. Don’t let him see me
.

She ducked her head, her hair swinging forward like a curtain. She closed her eyes for good measure.

“Annie?”

She opened her eyes, lifted her head.

Dylan’s brows pulled together.

She straightened slowly, her face no doubt going the color of the tomato in her hand.

“Annie, you okay?” Marla asked.

“I’m fine—I—” She held up the tomato, hoping they’d draw their own conclusion. Preferably something that explained why she’d been huddled on the floor for the last twenty seconds.

She shrugged and tried for a smile as she set the tomato in her cart.

Marla stepped forward. “Oh, honey, you don’t want that, it’s been on the floor.” She snatched the tomato, then wrinkled her
nose. “And it’s gushy.” She walked away, presumably to throw out the ruined tomato.

Annie dared a look at Dylan.

One brow was cocked now. His lips tilted in a wry grin. “Annie, meet my brother, Luke. Luke, Annie.”

“Nice to meet you.” Luke shook her hand. Wearing a cowboy hat, he was a younger, curly-haired version of Dylan, minus the dimple.

“Uh, I’ll wait in the truck,” he said.

Annie watched him flee the scene, wishing she could go with him.

If Dylan realized she’d witnessed him kissing Marla, he didn’t seem to care. “Hiding, Annie?”

She wanted to deny it, to say she’d dropped the tomato or that it had fallen, but she wasn’t going to stoop to his level.

She lifted her chin. Her dignity was gone, but she could fake it. She stared him down and he stared right back. When his eyes dropped to her lips, her pulse kicked into overdrive.

Say something, Annie
.

“How was church? I overslept.” She clamped her lips shut. She owed him no explanation.

A glimmer of amusement touched his eyes. “We just pretending that kiss didn’t happen, then?”

Annie’s stomach dropped to the floor. Leave it to Dylan, she thought, feeling her face go five degrees hotter. She knew he wouldn’t let her live it down.

Annie tilted her head. “What kiss?”

She strolled to her cart, trying for casual—no easy feat on her quaking legs. “I have to be going.”

As she wheeled the lone head of lettuce past him, she felt his eyes on her, felt the back of her neck prickle with heat.

“Oh, Annie . . . ,” he called, just when she thought she’d gotten away.

She stopped, turning, as something came flying through the air.

She reached out just in time, catching it against her chest.

“Don’t forget your tomato.” His eyes twinkled, and the other side of his lips rose, bringing out his dimple.

Annie proceeded to the counter where Pappy rang up her two items, then she scurried out the door.

Dear Worried in Whitefish,

    
The winds of change are blowing. You don’t have to like it, but maybe you should buy a windbreaker.

24

D
ylan entered his house and closed the door. His brother waited in Dylan’s favorite recliner, a copy of
Montana Living
spread open in his lap.

“Sorry I’m late. Had to help Wade with a mechanical problem and it took longer than I thought.”

“No problem,” Luke said. “I kept myself busy.”

“Ready? Thought we’d hit the diner for supper.”

“Sounds good.” Luke set the paper on the table and followed Dylan out the door. “You have a columnist here in town. Annie Wilkerson?”

Dylan scowled. “You must be bored silly if you’re reading a lovelorn column.” Dylan felt a surge of pride in Annie that belied
his words. Wasn’t about to admit helping her on the column though. He’d never hear the end of it.

“So she does live here?” Luke said after they were in the truck.

“Annie? You met her yesterday at the market.”

Luke frowned, then his eyes widened. “The tomato lady?”

Dylan smiled at the memory. “Exactly. She’s helping me with Braveheart. She’s a horse trainer, actually. Goes to my church.”

“I got the feeling there was something going on between you two.”

Dylan recalled the kiss, her response, and all humor fled. He clenched his jaw. “She has a boyfriend.”

Luke smiled teasingly, something gleaming in his eyes. “She got a younger sister?”

Dylan pulled down the drive. “Actually, she does.”

Something flickered in his brother’s eyes, but he looked out the window before Dylan could figure it out.

“But you stay away from Sierra,” he continued, remembering the last time he’d introduced her to someone. “You’ll only be here long enough to cause trouble, and things are complicated enough between Annie and me.”

“Complicated?”

“Huh.” That wasn’t even the word. Last thing he needed was his brother making moves on Sierra. Annie’d have his throat.

Dylan turned onto the main road and toward town. His stomach let out a loud rumble. He’d worked right through lunch. He could almost smell Mabel’s roast beef and mashed potatoes.

Several minutes later they pulled up to the diner.

“You know,” Luke said as they got out of the truck, “I wouldn’t mind staying longer than I’d planned—if you wouldn’t mind, of course.”

Dylan shrugged. “Stay as long as you like. I could use your help. Can you miss that much work?” His brother was a hand at one of the biggest ranches in Dallas.

“Pretty sure I can get it cleared. Haven’t had a vacation since I took the job over three years ago.”

Dylan nodded as they entered the Tin Roof. “It’d be great to have you around awhile.”

“Awesome.” Luke grinned. “I forgot how much I like it here.”

Dear Cautious in Clancy,

    
Secrets are like poison to a relationship. If you don’t want yours to die a slow death, you need to confess everything.