The Trouble With Cowboys (23 page)

Later that night the phone rang again. Annie squinted at the glowing hands on her alarm clock. After one. She automatically reached for her cell, then realized it was the landline ringing. She remembered the phone call at supper. Sierra and Ryder were safe in bed, so it wouldn’t be them. If it were a work emergency, whoever it was would’ve called her cell.

She jumped from bed anyway. She had to know what was going on. If it were some pushy guy, Annie would happily clue him in. But by the time she reached the kitchen, the ringing had stopped.

Sighing, she returned to her room, checking on Ryder on her way past. He was sleeping soundly, his legs in a tussle with the thrift-store cowboy sheets Sierra had found.

She climbed back into bed, worry tickling at the frayed edges of her mind at the thought of those phone calls. If Sierra was going to handle her own life, she wished the girl would do a better job.

Dear Uncertain,

    
Chemistry isn’t everything. But it’s something.

27

A
nnie stirred the green beans and checked the meat loaf. She’d needed someplace quiet to confess her moment of indiscretion to John, so she’d invited him for supper. She’d meant to do it sooner, but with the distraction of Luke being in town, it had taken all her energy to keep Sierra calm. Her sister had been even more upset when Annie had returned from Dylan’s the night before with bad news.

“Luke’s still in town, Sierra, and I’m afraid that’s not the worst of it . . . He’s staying three more weeks.”

“You said he was leaving any day, and that was five days ago!”

“Dylan said he changed his mind. You just have to hang in there a little while longer.”

“Three weeks!”

It was a blessing in disguise that Sierra didn’t have a job at the moment.

Her sister had fretted all night, and now she scurried around the house trying to get Ryder ready. They’d decided it would be safe for Sierra to go down the street to Bridgett’s house for the evening.

Annie gave the beans another stir. She had to put aside Sierra’s problems and focus on her own tonight.
Help me find the words, Lord. I don’t want to hurt him
.

She’d had a busy day and had to squeeze in a second run to the market, since the first had been a bust. She only hoped preparing John’s favorite meal would help wash down the bad news.

Annie checked the time. “John’ll be here any minute.”

“Ryder can’t find his hat.”

Annie fussed over the plates and settings, then chided herself. It wasn’t like the perfectly laid table would make the truth go down easier. Since seeing Dylan at the market and realizing Luke was his brother, Annie felt less confused about John. She had to stop comparing him to Dylan. Sure, Dylan made her heart patter, but Luke’s tie to Ryder made the relationship impossible—even if he was capable of commitment, which she doubted.

There was no future with a man like Dylan. He was never going to settle down, and—passionate kisses aside—there was no point in riding down that path.

John was her boyfriend. She liked him a lot, respected him, and she could learn to love him. He was everything she needed for a secure future. He’d be a good father, partner, and provider. Her children would have everything she’d lacked, and that was the important thing. So what if he was a little short on passion. Maybe that would grow with time too.

Seeing Dylan that week had only confirmed her thoughts. After
working with Braveheart, she’d rushed through her letters with Dylan, hadn’t even argued when his opinion was contrary to hers. He hadn’t mentioned the kiss, but there’d been plenty of hiked brows and smug grins.

Yes, it was time to forget her silly crush and focus on the man who was serious about her and their future. All she had to do was own up to her mistake and ask his forgiveness. If they managed to survive this conflict, it would set the tone for future problems.

“You seen my hat, Aunt Annie?” Ryder appeared in the door-way, his rope looped in his chubby hands.

“Have you checked your toy box?”

“Nope.” Ryder dashed from the room, his bare feet padding across the wood floor. No shoes and socks yet. She glanced at the stove clock.

“Sierra . . . !”

“I know, I know.”

“Found it,” Ryder called.

Thank goodness.

A knock sounded on the door.

She pushed down her irritation with Sierra and answered the door with a smile.

John looked nice in a short-sleeved dress shirt and navy tie. “Annie. You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He handed her a bouquet of colorful flowers.

They’d both been so busy the past couple of weeks, they’d barely seen each other. And maybe he felt bad about the squabble over her foot.

“They’re beautiful, thank you. Come on in.”

He gave her a quick kiss as he passed, and she found herself comparing the kiss to Dylan’s.

Stop that, Annie
.

“How’s your foot?”

“Just fine. Not even limping, see?”

“Good, good. Mmm, something smells delicious.”

“Hi, Mr. Oakley.” Ryder skidded to a halt in the foyer and plopped on the floor to put on his shoes.

“Hello there, Ryder. What have you been up to this week?”

“Practicing my ropin’! I’m a cowboy.”

“You don’t say.”

“Where’s your mom?” Annie asked.

“In the bathroom.”

She wished Sierra would hurry. This wasn’t how she’d wanted the night to begin.

The oven timer dinged. “Excuse me.”

In the kitchen she turned off the timer and pulled the meat loaf from the oven. She found a vase, filled it with water, then spread the blooms and placed the arrangement on the table.

In the other room she heard Ryder calling for Sierra to tie his shoes.

“Here,” she heard John say. “I can help with that.”

She set the meat loaf on the table and retrieved the green beans, listening to John’s quiet instruction.

“Build a teepee, come inside . . . close it tight so we can hide. Over the mountain, and around we go . . . Here’s my arrow, and here’s my bow.”

“Mommy does that too!”

“Does she? Well, it’s how I learned to tie my own shoes.”

Annie liked listening to him with Ryder. He was good with kids, a wonderful quality in a man. She had a sudden image of Dylan teaching Ryder to rope the fence, of him setting the new cowboy hat on the boy’s head. She pushed the images from her mind.

Sierra peeked into the kitchen. “Sorry! We’re leaving now. Have fun.”

Not likely. Annie said good-bye, suddenly nervous when their departure left the house too quiet.

“Well, supper’s ready,” she told John.

As he entered the kitchen, she set the basket of bread on the table. John pulled out her chair.

“Thank you. And thanks again for the flowers.” They looked cheery in the center of the table.

“Shall I?” John asked, taking her hand.

Annie acquiesced with a smile.

“Heavenly Father, we thank You for this food and for the lovely hands that prepared it. We ask Your blessing on our evening, on our lives. Amen.” He squeezed her hand.

“Amen.”

John caught her up on his mom’s move while they ate. He’d gotten her settled into her apartment, and she was already making friends with her new neighbors and planning to start a book club. His love for his mother was apparent in his tone. Another good quality.

Annie told him about the stubborn stallion she’d worked with that day, quieting when she sensed his worry. He complimented her on the meal and ate two portions of everything, then he helped her tidy the kitchen.

“Would you like to sit on the porch?” Annie asked after the last dish was washed and put away.

“Sounds perfect.”

The sun had disappeared behind the mountains, ushering in that golden hour of light. She sat in the swing, and John put his arm around her, then pushed off. The sweet smell of her favorite lilac bush competed with his cologne.

For a few minutes there was only the rhythmic creaking and the hard thumping of her heart. She had to tell him now. The guilt was eating her alive.

“John, I—”

“Annie, I—”

They smiled at their timing.

“You first,” she said, suddenly eager for a reprieve, no matter how brief.

He turned toward her, an intent look on his face. The waning daylight reflected in his glasses, blocking his eyes.

He took her hand. “I just wanted to say I’m really sorry about my . . . behavior a couple of weeks ago. I shouldn’t have pressed you so hard about that night at the cabin. I should’ve trusted you.”

Guilt weighted her shoulders. “That’s not necessary, John, I—”

“Wait, Annie. Please. Just let me get this out.”

Hers could wait. She smiled and nodded for him to proceed.

He pushed his glasses up with his index finger, and she could see his eyes again. They were olive green in the golden light and sparkled with purpose.

“I was jealous, pure and simple.”

Her heart twisted painfully. He wasn’t going to make this easy.

“The fact is, I can’t stand the thought of you with another man. I’ve come to care deeply for you—I’ve come to love you, Annie.”

Her lips parted in surprise.

He laid two fingers against her mouth. “No, don’t say anything yet.” He lowered his hand to hers. “I know we haven’t been together all that long, but that unfortunate incident opened my eyes. I’ve spent these last couple of weeks thinking hard about us, and I realized. . .”

In one fluid motion he was down on his knee, staring up at her with earnest eyes.

Everything in Annie froze, except her thoughts, which raced ahead like a runaway mustang. She hadn’t seen this coming. How had she not seen this coming?

“Annie Wilkerson, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to love you, protect you, partner with you. I want to share morning coffee with you at sunrise, and I want your lovely face to be the last thing I see before I go to sleep at night. I want to raise children together, solve problems together, and grow old together.” He squeezed her numb hands. “Will you marry me?”

She opened her mouth and wished he’d put his fingers over it again because nothing came out.

“This might seem sudden, but I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. We can have a long engagement if you like. Or not. It’s up to you. I just know I love you, and I want you to be mine forever.”

His warm words loosened her tongue. “I didn’t expect this. . .”

“If you need time, you have it. I won’t be offended. But I hope you’ll say yes, Annie.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. The stunning emerald-cut diamond glimmered back at her.

“I admire you so much. You’ve taken care of your sister and your nephew, and now I want to take care of you. You deserve it.”

She wanted to say she could take care of herself, but there were so many other thoughts spinning through her head. Sierra wouldn’t be here much longer. She’d graduate this winter, find a job, and she and Ryder would be on their own. She did need to move on with her own life. She wasn’t getting any younger, and she wanted a family of her own someday soon.

But you don’t love him, Annie
.

“It’s time for you to have your life,” he said, echoing her
thoughts. “I know you want children, and I want them too. I can provide whatever you need—whatever they need.”

She didn’t doubt that. She looked at the substantial stone shimmering in the waning light. He was the kind of husband her mom had needed and never had. The kind of father she and Sierra had needed. John was security personified. He was everything she’d been looking for in a mate.

Not everything, Annie
.

Dylan’s kiss flooded through her mind, his electrifying touch, his tenderness. She forced out the memory, replacing it with the image of him pulling Marla into his arms the day after their kiss. Replacing it with the image of his brother, who had abandoned Sierra and Ryder both.

She had put that stupid kiss behind her. Dylan was an impossibility. Besides, she couldn’t imagine a man less suited for her. He wasn’t husband or father material.

John seemed to be exactly what she needed. So why didn’t she love him? Why couldn’t there be passion between them?

Life isn’t a Jane Austen novel, Annie, all romance and flights of fancy
.
It’s hard, and you need a partner you can count on to be there when the going gets tough—because it will
.

But she wanted those other things. She wanted security
and
love. Commitment
and
chemistry. Was that too much to ask? It wasn’t Dylan, but maybe God would send her someone else. Someday . . .

“Annie . . . ?” Uncertainty dimmed John’s eyes.

Maybe she didn’t love him, but she did care for him. Didn’t he deserve a partner who loved him? Who longed for his kisses and anticipated their time together?