Born to Be a Cowboy Read online

  Change of plans. I’ll still need that room but not until later this evening.

  Or maybe, if they both threw logic out the window, not at all.

  Carter showered quickly and threw on a clean T-shirt and jeans. He’d gotten so used to communal living the past couple of weeks that the quiet of Ivy’s house made him feel odd and out of place. After college he’d moved straight into a one-bedroom apartment with another probie at the station. It was a tight fit, one of them living in the bedroom and the other in the living room, but it had been a necessary inconvenience. After his father decided he was a colossal disappointment, he couldn’t live at home anymore. So he worked to pay the rent, picked up any overtime that was offered him, and moved up the ranks as fast as he could.

  And then he left.

  It had been a long time since he’d been under a roof with quiet, space, and permanence.

  He padded barefoot into the kitchen, where she was waiting on a stool at the kitchen island. One frosty longneck sat on the blue-tiled counter while she sipped another.

  “Evening, Lieutenant,” she said, raising her bottle. Her ball cap hung on the corner of her high-top chair.

  “Evening, Ms. Serrano,” he said, striding toward the counter to stand opposite her. “But I’m off the clock.”

  She nodded. “I know. But the title suits you. You’ve got this air of authority that doesn’t seem to go away even when you’re off duty.”

  He blew out a breath and took a healthy swig from his beer. “I guess it’s kind of hard to turn it off sometimes.” He set his beer down and pressed both palms against the counter, shaking his head. “I lost my cool with one of my rookies this afternoon.”

  She winced. “Shane?”

  “How’d you know?” he asked.

  She sighed. “Shane’s always had a bit of a chip on his shoulder. Wyatt was—and I guess still is—the big brother whose shoes have been hard to fill. He was the starting quarterback our sophomore year. Took the team to state twice. He was as good a student as he was an athlete, and now he’s a uniformed town hero in the making. Shane got in with the wrong crowd in high school and sorta disappeared for a few years. Rumor has it that when he turned up in the county jail, his father gave him an ultimatum—clean up his act and get a job or he wouldn’t post bail.”

  “Damn,” Carter said. “How long ago was that?”

  She raised her brows. “About a year ago.”

  He whistled. “That explains a lot. Shoot, I’m guessing I fanned the flames pretty good, then.”

  “Uh-oh.” She took another sip of her beer. “What did you do?”

  He shrugged. “Caught him sleeping on top of the truck when he was supposed to be scrubbing it down, so I dumped half the bucket of soapy water on him and told him he wasn’t leaving until he cleaned up the mess.” He scratched the back of his neck. “This sounds kind of crazy, but I think he might have been the internal applicant for lieutenant. It doesn’t make any damned sense from an experience standpoint, but now that I know more about his history? I’m nothing more than a reminder to him of not measuring up.”

  “Oh, Carter,” she said, resting a hand over his as she stifled a laugh. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, don’t you?”

  “The thing is,” he said, “he and I aren’t that different. I’m the youngest of three. I always looked up to my brothers. My father. But when I decided to go down a different path, it was like I lost any chance of filling the shoes I was expected to fill.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I think maybe you and Shane will be good for each other. You know what it’s like to be in his place. Now you get to sort of be the big brother, to show him that the right path can still be his own path.”

  He flipped his hand over and laced his fingers with hers. “Does this mean you’ve changed your mind about getting involved with a firefighter?”

  She shook her head, nodded, and then groaned.

  “What kind of answer is that?” he asked with a laugh.

  She slid off her stool and rounded the corner of the island so she was standing right in front of him.

  “It’s the kind where my heart and my head can’t come to an agreement. I felt something with you that first night, Carter, and again up on the hill. I tried to ignore it. Tried to keep my heart safe by staying away, but here we are.”

  He nodded. “Here we are.”

  “Something died in me the day we lost Charlie. Loving and losing isn’t just about romantic love, you know. No matter which way you slice it, the losing is hard. Too hard. I couldn’t take that kind of hurt again.”

  “I know,” he said. “All I can do is promise that if this thing with us turns to something real, I’ll do my best not to hurt you.”

  She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Maybe while we’re seeing where this goes, we pretend you have a really boring office job where you sit in a cubicle and crunch numbers at a computer.”

  He laughed. “Fine. But if I don’t get to talk about my passion, you don’t get to talk about yours.” He wasn’t changing who he was, just buying them time for her to be okay with it. Besides, after today, he needed a friendly face. He needed to be with the woman he hadn’t stopped thinking about all week.

  She scoffed at him imposing this rule on their game, but fair was fair. “But I just opened the shop. This is my fresh start, my future, my—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “If I have to work in a cubicle, so do you.”

  She pouted, but there was a smile in her big brown eyes. “Okay. No shoptalk. For now.”

  She held out her free hand to shake, but instead he slipped both his hands around her wrists and draped her arms around his neck.

  “I can think of a better way to seal that deal.”

  He dipped his head and kissed her, and it was everything he needed after the day he’d had. Her soft lips parted, and he felt her smile against him as he tasted what was far better than a cold beer at the end of a hard day.

  “Evening, Lieutenant,” she whispered.

  “Evening, Ms. Serrano.”

  He slid his hands behind her thighs and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him harder.

  “Can we postpone that haircut?” she asked, her voice breathy and full of a need that matched his own.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and carried her back down the hall. There were three open doors, and one he could tell just from glancing in was clearly her office or design space. So he strode through the only other door that wasn’t the bathroom and carried her toward the bed.

  He set her down on her feet. “Wait,” he said.

  She shook her head and slid her overalls off her shoulders, lifted her fitted tank top over her head, and undid her bra in seconds flat.

  “Wow,” he said, staring at her breasts. “While this is already way better than a haircut, why are we rushing, Ivy?” Even though he wasn’t sure how much time he had with her—how long this would last before she decided she couldn’t and wouldn’t be with him—he wanted to take things slow.

  She laughed and lifted his T-shirt up and over his shoulders, then wrapped her arms around his torso and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him again. “Why wait?” she asked. “We’re two consenting adults who obviously both want the same thing.” She paused and took a step back. “You do want me, don’t you?” she asked, the sincerity in her voice too much for him to bear.

  “God, Ivy, yes. So much it hurts.” And likely would hurt for a spell until his body caught up with his brain, but he’d survive. “But I don’t want to feel like we’re rushing only to get each other out of our systems.”

  He reached for where she’d tossed his T-shirt on the bed and pulled it back on. For a brief second he wondered if she saw the scarred skin on his left side and simply ignored it or if she was too caught up in the moment to notice. There was also the scar on his right shoulder that had nothing to do with the accident, but she seemed to have missed that one, too. Or maybe it was all a part of their game�
��of pretending he wasn’t fully who he was. That was why he was pumping the brakes. Playing make-believe was fine while they figured out what this was, but he wanted their feelings to catch up with their actions. When and if he and Ivy slept together, he wanted the game to be over.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, and he hated that he’d made her feel self-conscious or guilty. “You’re right. I just got caught up, and I—”

  He wrapped his hands around her wrists and gently pulled her arms back to her sides.

  “You play softball, right?” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up.

  She nodded, and he dipped his head down to kiss one breast and then the other. She hummed softly, and he breathed in the scent of lavender and silently swore to himself. Ivy Serrano would eventually be his undoing, but tonight maybe they could simply be.

  He straightened and grinned when he saw the smile spread across her face. “Well maybe no home run tonight, but I could hit a single or double.”

  She burst out laughing, then grabbed his right hand and placed it on her left breast, his thumb swiping her raised peak. She sucked in a breath before regaining her composure.

  “I think you’ve already made it to second,” she teased. “So what’s next?”

  He sat down on the bed and patted his knee. She climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  He kissed her and lowered her onto her back, his lips traveling to the line of her jaw, her neck, and the soft skin below. He savored each nibble and taste and watching her react to his touch.

  “Who knows?” he asked. “If a good pitch comes along, I might hit a triple.”

  She pressed her palm over the bulge in his jeans and gave him a soft squeeze.

  “Only if my team can, too.”

  He groaned as she squeezed again, then kissed her once more. “Fair is fair.”

  “But no home runs,” she reaffirmed. “At least, not tonight.”

  “I predict it’ll still be a good game.”

  “Evening, Lieutenant,” she said, echoing her earlier greeting as he slipped a hand beneath the overalls that still hung at her hips. “Thanks for coming over tonight.”

  He nipped her bottom lip. “Evening, Ms. Serrano. Best night I’ve had in a long time.”

  And hopefully the first of many more to come.

  Chapter Seven

  Ivy pulled her cap over her eyes and stared at the batter, then glanced at Casey, who was pitching. Her friend gave her a subtle nod, which meant she was sending the ball right over the plate, which in turn would mean a line drive to Ivy, who was covering first base. If she caught the ball, it would be the third out and a win for the Midtown Sluggers. If she didn’t, the bases would be loaded, and a grand slam would sink them.

  No pressure.

  Not like this was the big leagues or anything, but the Main Street Loungers from Quincy—aptly named after the pub who sponsored them—were their biggest rival. The Loungers had creamed them the last time they played each other, and tonight the Sluggers were on their home turf.

  Ivy breathed in the fresh scent of the ponderosa pines that rose in the distance. Even in the small residential park, you could see the tree-lined hills that gave Meadow Valley its name. It was more than her grief that had swallowed her up in Boston. It was the city itself. Beautiful as it was and steeped in history, Ivy had longed for the comfort of home—for the place where she and Charlie grew up, where she could feel closer to the brother she still missed.

  She wasn’t expecting a new reason to solidify Meadow Valley as the place she was meant to be. But there was Carter Bowen, climbing into the bleachers. He said he would come as soon as his shift ended—his boring cubicle office job shift—and there he was. They’d been seeing if this thing between them was real for three full weeks now. She counted the week they avoided each other in there because she’d spent each day thinking about him and wishing they weren’t avoiding each other.

  These days they were very much not avoiding each other. Whether it was at her house, his room at the inn, or the afternoon she found him waiting in her office after she closed the shop—he’d snuck back there while she was helping one last customer—they’d pretty much not avoided each other all over town.

  She smiled at the thought. No one had hit any home runs yet, but they’d been enjoying the game nonetheless.

  And now he was here, watching her play softball of all things, and all she could think about was how much brighter Meadow Valley seemed with him around. Others would say it had to do with the incessant sun and lack of rain, but not Ivy. She’d smiled more in the last three weeks than she had in the past two years, and the summer sun had nothing to do with it.

  Oof! A burst of pain in her shoulder woke her from her stupor.

  “Foul!” she heard the referee call.

  She saw Carter bolt up from his seat and then sit back down, like his instinct was to go to her, and despite how much the impact had hurt, her stomach flip-flopped.

  “Time out!” Casey called, and she jogged over to first base. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  Ivy rolled her shoulder. It would need some ice, but she’d live. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  Casey threw her hands in the air, which looked ridiculous, because one was covered by her glove and the other palmed a softball. “Then what the hell was that?” she whisper-shouted. “You could have caught that ball instead of acting as a shield for—I don’t know—any stray lightning bugs who might have been in its path.”

  Ivy groaned. “I know. I’m sorry. I got distracted.”

  Casey glanced toward the small set of bleachers and then back at Ivy.

  “Dreamboat’s got you all bent out of shape, doesn’t he?” she asked.

  “No,” Ivy said defensively. “I mean yes. I don’t know.”

  Casey placed her glove on Ivy’s shoulder, the one that, thankfully, wasn’t throbbing.

  “Look, you know there’s nothing I want more than to see you smile like you used to. But you know what he does for a living, right? You know where he disappears to every forty-eight hours.” Casey cut herself off before saying Charlie’s name. Everyone in town pretty much did the same. Unless Ivy got tipsy on apple pie liqueur and toasted her dead brother, everyone played the avoidance game, including herself.

  She had lived in the thick of her grief for over a year in Boston with her parents, Charlie’s wife, and her niece, Alice. She wanted to leave that grief behind now that she was home and had a soon-to-be-thriving business.

  Ivy cleared her throat. “You know how we pretend? Like you just did by not saying—by not saying his name. That’s what Carter and I do. As far as I’m concerned, he has a really boring job where he sits in a cubicle and crunches numbers.”

  Casey’s blue eyes softened. “Oh, Ives. Be careful, okay? I like Carter a lot, but I don’t want you setting yourself up for heartbreak if you can’t handle what he really does.”

  The ref alerted them that their time was up, and Ivy nodded.

  “Let’s win this damn game, okay?” Casey asked. “Drinks are on me if we do.”

  Ivy laughed. “I’ve never paid for a drink at Midtown in my entire life.”

  Casey shrugged. “Fine. If we lose, I’m starting your first tab.”

  Ivy narrowed her eyes at her best friend. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me,” Casey said. “Or catch the damn ball next time, and you’ll won’t have to see whether or not I’m bluffing.” She adjusted her baseball cap and pivoted away, her assured strides carrying her back to the pitcher’s mound.

  “Make me pay for drinks,” Ivy mumbled. “Yeah, right.” But when the batter readied himself for the next pitch, Ivy squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment and pushed everything out of her thoughts except one thing—the game.

  When she opened her eyes, Casey was already winding up, so Ivy bent her knees, leaned toward the foul line, and held her mitt open and at the ready.

  Again, Casey pitched the ball right o
ver the plate, but this time the batter didn’t foul. This time it was a line drive inside first. She barely had time to think before she dove over the plate, arm outstretched. The ball hit her hand hard, and she rolled to the ground, tucking it close to her chest. Nervous as hell to look, she sprang to her knees and glanced down. There it was, the softball that was now the game-ending catch.

  She jumped to her feet and held the ball high in the air amid cheers from her team.

  “Free drinks for life!” she exclaimed, and Casey barreled toward her, embracing her in a victory hug.

  Over her friend’s shoulders she saw the small gaggle of Midtown Sluggers supporters cheering in the stands, and among them a gorgeous firefighter cowboy who was striding onto the field with fierce determination.

  She pulled out of her friend’s embrace, and the two of them stared Carter down.

  “I think you’re about to get kissed,” Casey said with a grin.

  “Hell yes, I am.”

  Ivy jogged toward him, giddy, and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist.

  “Hell of a catch, Serrano,” he said, his deep voice only loud enough for her to hear. And then he kissed her.

  “I know,” she said when they broke apart. “All I needed was to get the distractions out of my head.”

  He tilted his head back, and she saw his brows draw together.

  “Distractions?” he asked.

  She felt heat rush to her cheeks. “I know you said you were coming as soon as your shift ended, but it was the bottom of the seventh, and I figured your shift ran late, and—I don’t know. I was really excited to see you. Guess I lost my train of thought.”

  He lowered her to the ground, then planted a kiss on her left shoulder.

  She winced. “There’s gonna be one hell of a bruise there by the end of the night.”

  He nodded. “Come home with me tonight, and I can help you ice it.”

  She grinned and slid her arms around his waist. “I think that can be arranged. Though I want to know when you’re going to stop calling Pearl’s inn home and find a more permanent residence.”