The Trouble With Cowboys (25 page)

Annie tilted her head, studying his face. “What do you mean?”

He sucked in a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. “Thing is, Annie . . . I’m not the expert you think I am. I’m about the last person who should’ve been helping you.”

“Please. You’ve probably been in love at least a dozen times.”

He ducked his head, looking like a child sitting in the principal’s office. She had to know what was behind that look. She raised her brows, waiting.

“I’m more a footloose-and-fancy-free guy, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You
have
been in love before.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Just once. Didn’t go well.”

She crossed her arms. This was getting more interesting by the moment. “Do tell.”

He leaned on her truck and hitched his boot on the runner, and she wondered if he was going to shut down.

But after a moment he began talking. “Her name was Merilee. Met her down in Texas.”

Annie was mesmerized as he told her how he’d fallen for a college student. About their long dates and how things had gotten out of hand physically. His cheeks colored at the confession.

She was surprised he was so forthcoming, but sometimes Dylan’s mouth ran away from him. And she was too intrigued to stop him.

“So after graduation, she went back to her hometown for a couple months. I decided while she was gone that I wanted to marry her. I missed her, knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. So I sold my horse and bought her a ring.”

Cowboys didn’t sell their horses for their girls, at least not the ones she’d known. At least John hadn’t done anything so sacrificial. She would’ve felt even more awful.

Dylan cleared his throat, pulling her eyes to his. Those brown eyes of his drew her right in.

“What happened?” A light breeze blew her hair off her shoulders. The daylight waned, and the light near his barn flickered on.

She was afraid for a minute that he’d stop the story right there, and she was desperate to know the rest.

He tugged on the brim of his hat and continued. “When Merilee got back, I took her out for a nice evening. Something seemed off, but I thought it was just all the time apart. I popped the question over by the river, a spot we liked to frequent.”

“She said no?” Annie wondered if he’d looked as vulnerable that night as he did right now. Or if hope had shone in his eyes at the thought of a bright future, the way John’s had.

“She said she was pregnant.”

Annie tried to keep the surprise from her face. He’d fathered a child? Just like his brother? Did Dylan have a kid out there somewhere who didn’t know his dad too?

“It wasn’t mine.” The pain was evident in his eyes, even all these years later.

“Oh.” Despite herself, she hurt for him. Wanted to reach out and hug him.

“Her old boyfriend. Apparently they reconnected when she went back home and . . .” He shrugged.

Something tugged in her stomach at the betrayal he must’ve felt. “That’s awful.”

She could hardly imagine Dylan so deeply in love, so vulnerable to a woman. To be full of hope, then have it dashed so cruelly. What kind of girl would do such a thing to a man she professed to love?

“After I recovered, I told her I’d marry her anyway, raise the baby as my own. But she married the baby’s father instead.”

She winced. It was the opposite of what his brother had done to Sierra. She wondered if Merilee had soured Dylan on love. Maybe that was why he flitted from woman to woman like a bee over a flower garden. Maybe he’d decided love was more trouble than it was worth.

He gave a wry grin. “Shoulda told you up front I wasn’t the best person to help with a lovelorn column. The one time I managed to find that something special, well . . . it didn’t turn out so well.”

Annie smiled. “You still had more experience than me.”

Their eyes locked, and she felt the smile slide from her face. Her heart kicked up into her throat. His eyes still bore the traces of vulnerability but now held something else she couldn’t define.

“I heard about Oakley.”

She’d wondered when he was going to bring that up. “Figured as much.”

“Sorry it didn’t work out.” He sounded sincere, and one look into his eyes was one look too many.

Annie dug for her keys, her face growing warm. “I should probably be leaving.”

“I could still start that coffee . . .”

The fact that she was tempted told her all she needed to know. She turned toward her truck. “I should get back.”

He followed her to the driver’s side. “I’m sorry again, about the column.”

She waved him off, ready to be gone, away from his confusing presence. “It’s fine.”

“What about Braveheart? I’ll pay you whatever you want if you’ll keep working with him.”

“No, no. I’ll see the job through. Shouldn’t take much longer; he’s doing really well.” She climbed into the driver’s seat and he shut the door behind her.

“I’ll fix your sister’s car then, for free. In return for your help.”

“It might be expensive.”

Dylan shrugged. “I have a friend who owns an auto shop in Bozeman. He gives me a good deal on parts.”

It would have to wait until Luke was far away from Moose Creek. “Well, all right then. Deal.”

After a final wave she pulled out. In her rearview mirror Dylan grew farther and farther away until he disappeared into the darkness.

Annie’s fingers ached from squeezing the steering wheel and she loosened them. What was wrong with her? Why’d he work her up in knots this way? Why’d she continually find herself drawn to him? To his strength and his vulnerability? Why’d she long to comfort him for a pain he’d suffered years ago?

He might be a cowboy, but it was clearer than ever that he was a wounded cowboy. Maybe he was a better man than she’d given him credit for.

Not that it mattered. All that mattered now was hiding Ryder and Sierra from Dylan’s brother.

Dear Poleaxed,

    
As you’re learning, sometimes things are not as they seem. Not even close.

29

A
nnie woke but kept her eyes closed, hoping to fall back to sleep. She had a full schedule tomorrow, and it started at the crack of dawn. It couldn’t be much past midnight.

Despite her need for sleep, her mind drifted over the conversation she’d had with Sierra that evening. Annie had expected her to be upset about the lost opportunity at the newspaper, not to mention the lost income. But no.

“I never wanted to work for that paper anyway,” Sierra had said. “You’d know that if you’d ever stopped to ask—which you didn’t.”

Sometimes Sierra made her want to pull out her hair. Did the girl not see Annie was trying to help her? Didn’t she know Annie only wanted the best for her? It was as if she were still a rebellious
teenager, not a twenty-year-old young woman and a mother to boot. But she tried to cut her sister some slack. She was under a lot of stress right now with Luke still in town.

Annie heard a noise and lifted her head from the pillow.

Voices. Sierra must be on the phone. She looked at the clock. It was past midnight. Pretty late for a phone call, but then, Sierra didn’t have to be up early.

Footsteps sounded. Was someone here with her, or was Sierra just up and about? Annie hoped she hadn’t brought a man over. She knew that being in hiding had been hard for Sierra, but still.

She turned down the covers and sat up in bed. Ryder didn’t need to wake up and find some man in the house.

She heard Sierra’s voice again and realized it was coming from the porch. Annie sat still, listening. A moment later she heard the low rumble of a male voice.

What was going on? Sierra had been watching TV with Ryder when Annie had turned in. She suddenly remembered the phone calls Sierra had avoided. Was her sister in some kind of trouble?

Annie swung her legs over the bed, tugging her nightgown into place, then grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand. The hardwood floor was cold against her bare feet, and the bits of grit sticking to them reminded her she needed to sweep.

The living room lights were out, and she peeked through the sheers, but the porch was dark too. Should she interrupt? She remembered Sierra’s complaints about her interference and stilled, the phone clutched to her chest.

Instead she leaned closer, listening. Maybe she could hear what was going on first. But at the first sign of threat, she was calling the sheriff. She looked around the darkened room for a weapon and grabbed the heavy clay paperweight Ryder had made for her.

“You should leave,” Sierra was saying. Her shadow moved to the door.

“Wait. Please.” He reached for Sierra. His form seemed tall and solid on the darkened porch. “I just want to talk.”

“You’ve said enough.”

“I love you, Sierra. That’s never changed.”

The doorknob clicked and the door opened.

Annie eased back against the wall.

“Go home, Luke, and don’t come back,” Sierra whispered, then closed the door.

Luke was here? What did he want with Sierra now, after all this time?

“Luke’s here?” Annie whispered harshly.

Sierra jumped at the sound of Annie’s voice.

“Why didn’t you tell me he’d seen you?” Annie whispered.

Sierra’s mouth worked wordlessly.

Annie pushed off the wall, tossing her phone on the sofa. She kept the paperweight, had visions of smashing it over Luke’s head, Dylan’s brother or no. Ryder had been without a father because that—that
cowboy
wouldn’t man up. Even now he only seemed to care about Sierra.

Annie reached for the door. “Well, now that he found the guts to face you, I have a few things to say to him.”

“No, Annie!” Sierra blocked her way.

“Move it, Sierra! He left you and Ryder high and dry, and I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.”

Annie grabbed for the doorknob. Sierra pressed against it, but Annie was stronger.

“Please, you can’t!”

“Oh yes, I can!”

She wrestled the knob from Sierra.

Her sister grabbed her arm. “He doesn’t know! He doesn’t know about Ryder.”

At the terror in Sierra’s voice, Annie stilled. The words sank in, making her knees go weak. “What?”

The only sound in the room was their heavy breathing, the ticking of the grandfather clock. Then the sound of an engine starting. A moment later it faded into silence.

“I—I never told him.”

Annie lowered her hand, staring at her sister’s dark form. “Yes, you did. You called him.” She’d been right there in the room almost five years ago, had forced Sierra to make the call. “He said he’d be in touch, and then he changed his number. You couldn’t find him . . .”

But Annie was beginning to see that all that wasn’t true.

Sierra had gone as stagnant as Whippoorwill Pond on a still August day.

Annie backed away, the truth sinking in. When her legs hit the sofa, she sank onto it. All this time? All the financial struggles? And he didn’t even know? Ryder didn’t know his dad because Sierra hadn’t bothered to tell him?

“Why? Why in heaven’s name didn’t you tell him?” She struggled to keep her voice down. Struggled to keep the anger and disappointment from letting loose the scream that rose in her throat.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me!” Annie knotted her hands in her lap. “Is he trouble? Is he abusive or cruel? Are you afraid of him?”

“No!”

“Is he married?”

“Of course not!”

“Then there’s no excuse for this, Sierra! You don’t have a man’s baby and not tell him!”

Sierra crossed her arms and sniffled.

Annie drew a deep breath, then three more. She had to calm down or they’d wake Ryder.

“We’ve done all right, haven’t we?” A tear sparkled on Sierra’s lower lashes. “I know it’s been hard, and you’ve gone to a lot of trouble for me, but we’ve managed okay.”

“The man has a child he doesn’t know about. Cowboy or not, he deserves to know.”

“I know that, okay?” she said on a choked sob. “I know. I just couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t, Annie!”

Annie sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly, then flipped on the dim reading light. They needed to talk this out. Calmly. She drew air into her lungs one more time. Two.

“Come on. Come sit. Talk to me.”

Sierra dropped into the recliner across from her. The sound of her weeping caught at Annie.

Sierra had refused to talk about the relationship when she’d turned up pregnant. Annie hadn’t forced it once they’d lost contact with the father. And then Grandpa died, and they were reeling over that loss. Annie’d had her plate full just trying to settle his estate and keep their heads above water.

“I can’t believe he found me,” Sierra said, whimpering.

Annie frowned. “Found you?”

“I—I didn’t give him my real number when we parted that summer.”