Born to Be a Cowboy Page 26

  She poured another beer, then took a sip before setting it down. She glanced down each side of the bar, pursing her lips at the occupied stools.

  Carter cleared his throat. “There’s an empty stool right here.” He nodded to the vacant seat on his left. They could sit next to each other and have an innocent beer, right?

  She blew out a breath. “Yeah, I know, but—”

  “But there’s an empty stool. You obviously need a place to sit. You don’t even have to talk to me.” He took another pull of his beer. “I’m perfectly happy to drink alone.”

  Ivy groaned, set her beer down next to his, then disappeared the same way Casey had gone. A few seconds later she appeared next to him, hopped on the stool, and took a good long swig from her own mug as she stared straight ahead, not sparing him a glance.

  “This is good,” she said more to herself than anyone else. “Drinking alone, just me and my thoughts.” She sighed. “Me and myself.”

  Carter stifled a laugh. “You don’t do alone, do you?” he asked.

  She finally shifted her gaze to him. “I do alone just fine. Quiet, though. Quiet isn’t my thing.”

  He laughed out loud this time. “You’re in a noisy tavern.”

  She threw up her hands. “I’m a talker, okay? An extrovert. I get energized by being around others, by interacting with them. If I were sitting over there?” She pointed to the side of the bar on Carter’s right. “Lonny and his fishing buddies would be telling me all about what they caught today, and I’d tell them how the highlight of my day was not, in fact, the fire but the grand opening of my very own store.” She directed him to the row of patrons on the side to their left, a group of women who looked to be about the same age as his mom. “If I were hanging with the knitting guild, we could talk design and what kind of pieces I’m thinking of making for the store when the colder months roll in.”

  “But instead you’re stuck next to me,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Exactly.” She gasped, her hand covering her mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  But she did, didn’t she? And he should be relieved she wanted nothing to do with him, but instead he was—disappointed.

  “So you think I’m cute in my uniform?” he asked, brow raised. What was he doing? He wasn’t sure, but the urge to flirt with her just sort of took over.

  “Of course not,” she insisted.

  “Like, kitten-hanging-from-a-branch-in-Mrs. Davis’s-tree cute?” he added.

  “No one is that cute.” She snorted and took another sip of her beer. “By the way, I’m simply enjoying a drink after a long day. I know you weren’t asking me out earlier. This doesn’t mean anything. You just happen to be sitting next to the only free seat. So let’s just forget whatever this is.” She motioned between them.

  So they were in agreement. There was something between them. Something neither of them wanted, but something nonetheless.

  He laughed. “Wow. And here I thought your sunny disposition meant you were a people person.” He threw back the rest of his drink.

  “I am sunny…with the right company.”

  She buried her face in her mug, catching up with him.

  “Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “About as sunny as a box of kittens.”

  “You really have a thing for kittens, don’t you?” she asked.

  “Actually, I’m allergic. You were saying?”

  “I wasn’t saying anything, just that this isn’t anything more than two locals drinking a beer at a pub. My opinion of you in your uniform is irrelevant, as is what you think of me. Not that I’m assuming you think anything of me at all or that you’re any more or less attracted to me than I am to you. I’m not—by the way—attracted to you.” She rolled her eyes, but it seemed more at herself than at him.

  “Oh, I’m attracted to you, Ivy Serrano,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to date you.”

  Her mouth fell open, but she didn’t get a chance to respond. A second later, Casey appeared from around the corner carrying a liquor bottle and three shot glasses.

  “You know if I comply with your request, I’m enabling you, right?” Casey said.

  Ivy nodded. “But a fire on grand opening day. Of all things. It destroyed more than my fridge. Got my latest sketches too.”

  “The ones with the—”

  Ivy interrupted Casey’s question with another nod. The two women had a language all their own—an immediate understanding between two people who knew each other better than anyone else. He’d had a friend like that once. He also knew loss not unlike Ivy’s. How similar they were. If they’d met under any other circumstances… But they hadn’t. There was also the issue of her not exactly supporting his career. That was an automatic deal breaker no matter how attractive she was.

  Casey blew out a breath, lined up the three shot glasses, and filled them all with a light brown liquid.

  Carter lifted his glass and sniffed. “That is not whiskey.”

  Casey shook her head. “No, Lieutenant, it is not. It’s Ivy’s favorite, apple pie liqueur.” She groaned, then stared at her friend. “You know it actually pains me to say liqueur instead of liquor, right?”

  Ivy smiled. “I know. But it’s also how I know you love me.” She lifted her glass, her big brown eyes softening as they fixed on Carter’s. “You know who my family is, which means you also know I have nothing but respect and admiration for what you and everyone else in that firehouse does. You save kittens and you save lives, and that’s a really big thing. But you also risk your own lives, and I’ve already lost enough for this lifetime.”

  Casey grimaced at her shot glass. “She, Charlie, and I used to sneak this crap from her parents’ liquor cabinet when we were teens. My tastes matured. Hers have not.”

  “To Charlie,” Ivy said, and Carter guessed her brother was exactly the reason why she still drank the stuff he couldn’t believe he was about to drink. Despite bad timing and the surety that nothing could happen between him and Ivy Serrano, he couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread through him at being included in such an intimate act—toasting a loved one who’d been lost in the line of duty.

  “To Charlie,” he and Casey said together. Then all three of them drank.

  The gravity of the moment was quickly lost once his taste buds caught on to what was happening.

  “That was terrible,” Carter said.

  “I know,” Casey replied.

  “One more!” Ivy exclaimed.

  Casey shook her head but poured her friend another. Ivy quickly threw back the shot, narrowed her eyes at the almost-empty bottle, then snatched it from her friend.

  “Serrano…,” Casey said with brows raised.

  Ivy looked at her imploringly, her brown eyes wide and her lips pressed together in an exaggerated frown.

  Casey relented, and Ivy poured and drank the remaining shot.

  “Something stronger for you?” Casey asked him. “She doesn’t usually drink like this,” she whisper-shouted with one hand covering her mouth.

  “I don’t usually drink like this,” Ivy parroted, her eyes narrowed at her friend. “But today kinda caught me off guard.” She turned her attention to Carter. “Anyway, three is good luck, right?”

  He held his hand over the top of his shot glass and shook his head in response to Casey’s question. “It’s my first full day on the ranch tomorrow. How about a burger,” he said. “Hear they’re pretty good around here.”

  Casey shrugged. “Probably because it’s the only place to get one around here. You want something a little more gourmet—and I stress the little—head on over to Pearl’s inn. Otherwise, I got you covered.”

  He laughed and guessed there was some friendly competition between the two main eateries in town. Because if there was one thing he knew for sure, his great-aunt’s recipes were a force to be reckoned with. But he was steering clear of Pearl’s during the busy hours, and a burger sure did sound good.

  “Then I’ll have a burger with everything and fr
ies.” He nodded toward Ivy. “She should probably eat something, too.” He knew a thing or two about some days catching you off guard. Life was funny that way. It never waited for you to prepare for the worst before the worst got handed to you on a silver platter.

  “This isn’t a date, by the way,” she told her friend as she pointed at Carter and then herself. “He finds me attractive but doesn’t want to date me, and I don’t date firefighters, so we have an accord.” She hiccupped.

  Casey raised her eyebrows. “An accord? Did you two write a treaty or something when I wasn’t looking?”

  “I’ll have my usual, please,” Ivy said, ignoring her friend’s ribbing.

  Casey winked. “A burger and fries for the gentleman and fried pickles for the lady who are on an accord and not a date.”

  She reached behind the bar and grabbed a tumbler glass, then used the soda gun to fill it with water. “In the meantime, drink this.” She set the water down in front of Ivy, who pouted but did as she was told. Then Casey headed out from behind the bar and back toward the kitchen.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She nodded, then swayed in her seat.

  “Whoa,” he said, catching her before she toppled off the side of the stool. “Maybe we should switch to a booth so we don’t have another emergency today.”

  She nodded again, then let him help her down. She wasn’t quite steady on her feet either, so he wrapped an arm around her torso and carried her water in his free hand as they made their way to an empty booth. She didn’t object but instead responded by wrapping her arm around him.

  His palm rested on her hip, and he had the distinct urge to rub his thumb along the curve of her waist. He didn’t act on it. But holy hell he wanted to.

  Once she was situated in the booth, he slid into the seat across from her. Then he nodded at her half-empty glass.

  “Drink more of that.” He ran a hand through his hair. He really needed a cut. “You eat anything at all today?”

  She drank, both hands wrapped around the glass, and shook her head. When she’d drained the contents, she set the glass down and swiped her forearm across her water mustache.

  Damn she was cute. There was nothing wrong with thinking that or wanting to sober her up so he could keep her sitting across from him for as long as this night went on, was there? It was nothing more than two strangers getting to know each other, and where was the harm in that?

  “The day just sort of got away from me,” she said. “The fridge fire, the first day of the store being open—I kind of forgot to schedule myself a lunch break. I might need to hire on an assistant or something, but the store has to make some money first.”

  Carter caught Casey looking for them at the bar and waved her over to their booth.

  “Pickles were up first,” she said. “Figured you wouldn’t want me to wait.”

  Ivy’s brown eyes lit up. “Did I ever tell you you’re my bestest friend in the whole wide world?”

  Casey nodded. “Once or twice.”

  Ivy pointed at her friend but looked at Carter. “Isn’t she beautiful? She broke all the hearts in high school, especially Boone Murphy’s. Do you know they almost got married?”

  For a second Casey looked stricken, but then she laughed. “And now he’s getting married, so everything worked out for the best. Speaking of work, I’m closing, which means I need some backup in the friend department.” She glanced at Carter. “Can you make sure she gets home okay? It’s a short walk from here, ten minutes tops.”

  Carter nodded. “I’m on it.”

  Ivy dipped a fried pickle slice into a small bowl of ranch, took a bite, and sighed.

  “See?” she said, chewing. “Now I have my best friend and my new friend. Today wasn’t so bad after all.”

  “Atta girl,” Casey said, patting her friend on the top of her head. “Also, nothing other than water for you for the rest of the night. You’re supposed to open at noon tomorrow, and you don’t want to miss the Sunday out-of-towners who want to go home with an Ivy original.”

  Ivy gave Casey a salute then went back to her pickles.

  “Be back with your burger in a minute,” she told Carter. “Want another beer?”

  He leaned back in his booth and shook his head. “Just a soda,” he said. “Coke or Pepsi. Whatever you got.”

  A second later it was only the two of them again.

  “I don’t have much of a tolerance,” Ivy said.

  Carter laughed. “Yeah. I sort of figured that out.”

  “Thanks for walking me to the table,” she added.

  “Mind if I try one of those?” he asked, eyeing her food. “If you’re looking for a way to repay me, food always works.”

  Ivy shook her head. “I guess I can spare one. You did keep me from butt-planting or face-planting at the bar. Not sure which it would have been.”

  He snagged a pickle disk, dipped it in the ranch, and popped it in his mouth.

  “Mmm,” he said. “Those aren’t half bad. And it would have been a butt-plant, judging from the angle of your sway.”

  Ivy blew out a breath, and a rogue lock of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail blew with it. “I’m not usually half in the bag before seven o’clock,” she said. “Today was just—”

  “One of those days,” he said, finishing her sentence. “I get it. No need to explain. And the pickles and water seem to be helping you crawl back out of that bag, so no worries.”

  She smiled, and he was sure in that instant that Casey wasn’t the only one breaking hearts when they were teens. He’d bet the last fried pickle that her smile alone had devastated a heart or two along the way.

  “Food and water,” she said with a shrug. “Who knew they were so much better for you than three shots and a beer?”

  Casey took a break for dinner and ate with them. When they finished their food and Casey headed back behind the bar, Ivy insisted they head back as well.

  “I don’t want to hold up a four-top when there’s only two of us,” she said.

  But he knew the truth. She didn’t want to be alone with him because that would have been like a date, even if it wasn’t. And though he knew that was the right thing to do—to keep Casey as their buffer—he’d have stayed at that table alone with her if she’d wanted. He’d have stayed until the tavern closed, if only to avoid the inevitable for as long as possible—saying good night to Ivy Serrano and good morning to a reality that didn’t include terrible liquor or fried pickles or the woman he hadn’t stopped thinking about since walking through her shop door that morning. She was beautiful, yes. But she was also strong-willed and funny. What it boiled down to, though, was that simply being in her presence made him forget the stress of the job, of being a new person in an unfamiliar place he hoped to call his permanent home.

  He was in big trouble.

  Carter had played with fire plenty in his line of work, but never had he felt more in danger of getting burned.

  Chapter Three

  The sun had finally dipped below the horizon when they left the tavern two hours later. While country music blared inside the bar, as soon as the door closed behind them, all Ivy could hear was the buzz of the cicadas and the occasional chirp of a cricket.

  “Wow,” Carter said, looking up and down the street. “This place really does shut down at night, doesn’t it?”

  “Did you live in Houston proper?” she asked. “I imagine this is a far cry from city life. Spent some time in Boston when Charlie and Allison first had the baby and then again after he…” She cut herself off and shook her head.

  Charlie had thought their parents would flip when he told them he was moving to the East Coast to be near Allison’s family. Instead they’d seen it as an adventure—a reason to travel more—especially with their father nearing retirement. Ivy hadn’t expected them to move there permanently, but then no one expected Charlie to die. After that, her parents couldn’t leave the place where their son was buried, and Ivy couldn’t blame them. “It’s like
it’s happening for the first time every time I think of it. I wonder if it will ever get any easier.”

  They walked slowly, Carter seemingly careful to keep his hands in his pockets, which she appreciated. If his pinky accidentally brushed hers, she might do something stupid, like hook her finger around his.

  Why had it been so easy to mention Charlie’s name with a man who was a stranger before this morning? To share a sacred shot of apple pie liqueur and even her fried pickles? Opening day was a success, but she couldn’t get past how it had started, with a fire and the reminder of what she’d lost. And here was this man who was the embodiment of that loss, and he’d somehow made it better.

  “Couldn’t you have been a jerk instead of a perfect gentleman?” she mumbled.

  “Did you say something?” he asked.

  She turned her head toward him, her eyes wide. “What? No. Cicadas,” she said, protesting a bit too much.

  “Cicadas,” he mused. “Sure thing, Serrano.”

  She shifted her gaze back to the sidewalk and tried to ignore the charming lilt of his accent. They ambled along the sidewalk to where it looked like the street hit a dead end at the trees, but she kept on to the right and led him to a small residential area where most of the Meadow Valley locals lived if they weren’t farmers or ranchers.

  “It’ll always hurt,” he said as they slowed around the curve. “But after a while the hurt has a harder time clawing its way to the surface. It gets covered up by the good memories of the person you lost and eventually by new joy you let into your life—when you’re ready, of course.”

  She stopped, shoved her hands in the back pockets of her own jeans, and turned to face him.

  She stared at him for several long seconds. They were the only two people outside at the moment, but the way he looked at her made it feel like the quiet street was their own little world. If he were anyone else—if he did anything else for a living other than risking his life—she would… What would she do? The only relationship Ivy’d had for the past two years was with her own grief. She still wrapped it around herself like a blanket—a reminder to protect her heart from ever having to go through that again.