Jenna's Cowboy Hero (6 page)

“Yeah, busy.” He sat down next to her, the sofa cushion sinking a little with his weight. “Where do we start?”

“We'll need to order mattresses, and supplies for the kitchen.”

“See you later.” Clint paused at the door. “Jen, call me when you get home.”

She nodded and waved, not wanting to look at him, to see the worry in his eyes. He was too protective.

And Adam Mackenzie knew it. She felt him slide away, putting space between them. He didn't need to. There was already space between them. His goals. Her need to focus on her boys and living her life.

Those things equaled a chasm the size of the Grand Canyon. And she didn't have any desire or need to close the distance.

 

Adam's phone buzzed in his shirt pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at a familiar number with a local area code. He slid it back into his pocket and ignored the curious glances of the woman sitting next to him.

“So, we need mattresses. Can we get them in time? What about curtains?” He flipped through the catalog as she wrote down numbers.

“Mini blinds, not curtains. You won't have to take
them down to wash them. I've called a company about mattresses and I think it is doable if we order them today.”

“Where am I going to find enough people to work here?”

She put her hand on a page and pointed to a model of mini blind. “That one will work. I measured. It's the right size, a good price and neutral color.”

“Okay, back to workers. I need more than help getting the beds made and the lawns mowed.”

She pulled a paper out of her pocket. “I know. You need people in the kitchen, a few in the stables, we need cleaning crews before—”

“Could you slow down?” He took off his hat and brushed his hands through his hair. She was smiling at him, that cheeky grin he'd seen a few times. Someone should do something about her cheekiness. Not him.

She was the kind of woman looking for long-term, for a father for her boys. He wasn't the guy she was looking for. He didn't do relationships.

“Of course I can slow down. What's wrong?”

“What do you mean?” He scrambled, wondering if he had missed something. He ran his finger over the catalog, trying to remember what she'd just said.

“You mean, because you're looking dazed, staring at the wall and kind of mumbling?” She laughed a little.

“Have you already planned the entire camp?” He tossed his hat on the nearby chair. She was bossy. He didn't like bossy. It felt like she was taking over his life.

He'd had enough of that. His dad, agents, coaches, a few girlfriends—they'd all had plans for him. Other than Will, he kept a safe distance from people who wanted a piece of the Adam Mackenzie pie.

He knew what she wanted. She wanted this camp.

Another of her smiles, this one sheepish. Her eyes
were amber and a sprinkling of freckles on her nose caught his attention. She cleared her throat, like she knew the direction his thoughts had taken. “I wrote out a schedule, a tentative menu and how much food I think we'll need and how many workers. I'm not really taking over, just getting you on track.”

“Fine, you're hired.”

“I didn't ask for a job.” She flattened the papers on the table, covering the catalog. “I offered to help. This is volunteering and I'm not asking for anything in return.”

Right. He didn't mean to sigh, and he didn't need the look she gave him. But he had a hard time believing she was simply volunteering out of the goodness of her heart.

“You're better suited for this than I am. You take over and I'll go back to Georgia.”

“Nope.” She stared him down.

He tucked away the strong urge to look deeper into eyes the color of caramel, but flecked with gold. He wouldn't move his hand and slide that strand of hair back behind her ear.

She did it, brushing her hair back and looking away from him.

The camp. He didn't want to run a camp. He wanted to go home before his family caught on, realizing he was a short thirty-minute drive from the home he'd grown up in. He definitely didn't want to take that journey home, not even in his imagination.

A quick look out the window and he saw twin boys following a turtle, their dog barking. That was what a childhood should be.

“Hello, are you still with me? You've forgotten to keep arguing.” Her hand was on his arm.

“Sorry, just thinking back. Your boys are having a great childhood. Every kid should have that.”

“Which is why you should be excited about this camp. Think of kids coming here, finding turtles, chasing lightning bugs and being kids. Some of them will be able to laugh and play like they've never laughed and played before.”

He glanced back out the window, and let her words run through his mind, because she made it feel different. Her words made him think about what this camp meant. It meant children playing, having fun. He could give those kids something every child should have.

It made the pill of running the camp a little less bitter.

His phone buzzed again. He pulled it out and looked at it. Jenna's curious gaze caught his. She didn't ask questions.

“We need to get these orders placed.” He picked up her papers she'd taken time to write out. Schedules, workers, menus. He shook his head and folded the papers. “I'll look over these later.”

“Okay, but don't put it off. We have a little more than a week.”

“Got it.”

She held out her hand. “Phone, please. I need to place the order for the mattresses and other things we need in this catalogue.”

He handed her his phone. “Do you think I can order the food we'll need from the grocery store?”

“Yeah. But I'd talk to Vera at The Mad Cow. She can look at the menu and the ingredients and make sure you get enough of everything for the amount of kids and workers.”

“She won't mind?”

“She won't. I can go with you, if you'd like.”

He was starting to feel tied to her. He'd been independent for as long as he could remember and now he
needed this woman to keep him on track and help him get things done. That was great for his ego.

Somewhere out there was his life, the one he'd worked hard at building for himself. A house, a life, friends that probably wondered if he'd fallen off the face of the earth and a career he'd been working toward for the last few years.

There were also back issues of magazines and articles categorizing every mistake he'd ever made. Which was why he couldn't leave this mistake undone.

“Adam?”

“I'll stop by tomorrow afternoon and pick you up before I run into town.”

“And then we'll go by and speak to Pastor Todd. He has the list of people we can contact for kitchen help, music, activities.”

“This is way too much work. I shouldn't let the church bring kids here. We can't have dozens of children roaming this place with nothing to do.”

“Have a little faith.” She was dialing his phone with the catalog in front of her.

“Yeah, faith.”

And then she was talking, ordering dozens of mattresses with his money and giving his credit card number. He felt used all over again, because she wanted this and she was willing to do whatever she needed to do to make it work.

No, she wasn't using him. She was finishing what Billy had started, and what Adam didn't want to finish. He had to remind himself that it had felt good when Billy had asked him for the money to buy this land and start the camp. Billy had sold him on the idea of helping kids.

The camp was a good thing. He stood, leaning against the bar that separated the kitchen from the living
area of the trailer and watched Jenna Cameron on his phone, talking, smiling, writing down numbers. Her hair fell forward a little. She had taken it out of the ponytail holder and she pushed it back with a small hand, nails painted light pink.

She'd told him to have faith, and she said it lightly, as if it was a given. Faith was something he hadn't given a lot of thought to over the last ten or fifteen years. Faith was connected to home, to his childhood, and hadn't been included in his adult life.

Why? The question took him by surprise, because he hadn't questioned himself on too many of the choices he'd made. But church. He couldn't remember when he'd stopped going. Maybe college, when he'd realized that he'd had a faith born of his dad's job as pastor. His own connection to God had shorted out.

The trailer was suddenly hot and stuffy. He glanced out the door, to the field, wind blowing the grass that needed to be mowed.

“I'll be outside.”

As he walked out the door, he saw the boys playing with the turtle, and the dog sniffing a trail across the open field. The boys turned and ran toward him, not getting that he didn't know a thing about kids.

 

The phone beeped as Jenna was finishing the order. She switched to the incoming call and then realized she shouldn't have. It wasn't her phone, or her business.

A woman's voice said, “Hello,” and then repeated the greeting when Jenna didn't respond. “Adam, don't ignore me. I know you're in Dawson.”

“I'm sorry, this isn't Adam.” Jenna glanced out the window. “Hold on and I'll get him.”

“Who is this?”

“Jenna Cameron. I'm a neighbor.”

“No, don't get him.”

“It isn't a problem, he's right outside.” Jenna stood, revisiting the idea of calling Adam in to get the call. She glanced out the window, watching as he crossed the lawn. “He isn't busy. You can talk to him.”

“No, he obviously doesn't want to be bothered by his family, and that's fine.” A short pause. “I'm his sister, Elizabeth.”

Too much information, too personal. Jenna didn't want to be in the middle of a family problem. She was here because this camp was a good thing. End of story.

“I can give him a message,” Jenna offered.

“No, don't give him a message.”

“I can give you directions if you want to come by. I'm sure he'd love to see his family.”

The sister laughed a little. “You don't know him very well, do you?”

No, she didn't. Jenna glanced out the window again. Adam had David on his shoulders and he was trotting around the yard. She smiled at the sight and wondered about a man who gave piggyback rides to little boys but didn't want to see his own family. Then again, the twins had a way of getting what they wanted. Adam might not be a willing participant in the piggyback rides. As a matter of fact, if she looked closely, he probably looked a little trapped.

“I'll give you directions, in case you change your mind.” Jenna continued to watch out the window as she gave the directions and the call ended. And then she regretted what she'd done. A past was a difficult thing to deal with. Jenna knew that as well as anyone.

She also knew that dealing with her childhood had helped her to move forward. She had dealt with her
own anger, her resentment of God that had caused her to push away the people who wanted to help.

Maybe, just maybe, that was the reason Adam Mackenzie had crashed into her life.

She walked outside and watched as he switched boys. It was Timmy's turn for a ride on Adam's shoulders. As they went in circles, the dog chased after them, jumping and barking. Jenna leaned on the rail of the porch, watching and worrying. She didn't want for worry to be the emotion she felt.

“The orders are placed,” she called out, ending the ride, because she didn't want her boys to be hurt when he left. Adam put Timmy down and walked in her direction, his smile so natural it looked as if it should always be on his face, in his eyes, directed at her. And she knew better than to let her thoughts go there, to think about how good it felt when he smiled at her like that.

For the right woman, that smile would mean everything. It promised things he didn't even realize it promised.

“They're great kids.” He had a hand on each of the twins, rubbing their heads and mussing blond hair that needed to be cut.

“They are great. They also need baths. So, you can pick me up tomorrow?”

“I can.”

“Guys, time to go.” She motioned the boys to her side.

“Do we have to?” Timmy moved with reluctance, shooting a glance back at Adam.

“We have to.” Tomorrow she'd leave the boys with Clint and Willow. The less time they spent with Adam the better.

But what about her? How safe was it for her to spend all of this time with a man who planned to leave in six weeks?

A
dam pulled up in front of Jenna's house the next day, parking under the shade of a big oak, and watching as she came out the front door, locking it behind her. She eased herself down the steps and crossed the yard, watching the ground as she walked, but occasionally looking up, smiling at him.

This all felt like a time-out from his life, as if it wasn't even real. It wasn't a vacation, either. But there were good things about all of this. He got out of his truck and walked around to open the door for her, because that's what a gentleman did. His dad had taught him that.

“Where are the boys?” Adam waited for her to get into the truck, but she paused, watching as a car came up her drive. He shifted his gaze in that direction as she answered.

“They're with Clint. He bought a mule and they can't get over the fact that he bought that long-eared thing.”

She kept talking. He listened, but the conversation was about the mule being able to jump a fence, the dog chewed up her new rosebush and one of her horses threw a shoe.

“By that, I mean that his shoe came off.” She still wasn't getting in the car.

“I know what that means.” He stepped to the side as the old sedan pulled up and stopped next to his truck. “Who is that?”

“Jess Lockhart. I'd say we're in trouble. He has his nasty face on.”

“Good, we need trouble.” Wasn't his life trouble?

Jess Lockhart, a farmer in overalls and work boots, got out of his sedan, still wearing what Jenna had called his nasty face. And he had his angry eyes on to go with it.

“Jess, how are you?” Jenna greeted the man with a smile that was a little tight.

“Well, I'd be a lot better if I knew the rumors I'm hearing around town were wrong.”

“What does that mean, Jess?” Jenna tossed her purse into the cab of the truck, like she planned on leaving without finishing the conversation.

“Well, I heard we're going to have a camp with a bunch of juveniles roaming around.” Jess turned his censoring gaze on Adam, and Adam was pretty sure he knew what the old farmer meant, and what he was there for.

“I don't think there will be juveniles,” Adam defended, and he didn't even care about the camp. He let out a sigh. “The camp isn't a juvenile facility, just a summer camp.”

“For kids from the city. They'll be out running through my fields, running my cattle, vandalizing my property.”

“Oh, Jess, you know that won't happen.” Jenna leaned against the side of the truck, her face a little flushed.

“You can't guarantee it won't, Jenna Cameron. And I plan on stopping it. I'll go to the county commission and I bet they'll find that you don't even have a permit for this thing, or the proper zoning, Adam Mackenzie. I don't care who you think you are, around here that doesn't mean much.”

“I'm sure it doesn't.” Adam had never felt the truth
to those words quite like he did now. Who he was just didn't really matter. What he wanted mattered even less.

“Jess, take a few days and think about this.” Jenna patted the old farmer's arm. “This camp could be such a good thing for kids. It'll keep them off the roads. Remember me when I was sixteen? I bet you wish there'd been a camp to keep me in.”

Adam watched the older man change from frowning to smiling, but he didn't think that meant the older man's opinion about the camp had changed. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe this would put a stop to the camp and Adam would be able to leave without feeling guilty.

“You were a handful, Jenna. You weren't a juvenile delinquent running loose, tearing up my fields.”

“Mr. Lockhart, I'm not sure why you think that will happen.”

“I watch the news. I know what kids are like today.”

“There are good kids, too, Jess.” But her soft words weren't working. Adam touched her arm, stopping her.

“I don't want this camp in my backyard.” Jess got into his car and slammed the door.

“Well, that went over well, didn't it?” Jenna looked up at him, her smile a little wavering. Adam nodded and he didn't let go of her arm. He knew he couldn't walk away from this camp, not without finishing it. Because it meant a lot to Jenna.

That shouldn't matter to him, it really shouldn't. But it did.

“It went well,” he teased, standing behind her as she climbed into the truck. “Don't worry about it. I'll work it out with him.”

“Will you? It seems like this would be the perfect opportunity for you to say you tried, but it didn't pan out. You can leave and no one will blame you for going.”

“I know.” He leaned into the cab of the truck, resting his arms on the roof, and her face was close, close enough that he could smell the light scent of her perfume. “I know I could walk away, but I have a feeling you'd be my biggest nightmare if I did.”

He winked and backed away, escaping from whatever had pulled him close to her, whatever it was that made him want to give her this camp, and make her smile.

“Let's go to lunch.” He hadn't planned on offering the invitation, but it was close to noon.

“I don't know.”

“We can sit at separate tables if you're worried about what people will say.”

She smiled, a little sheepish and kind of shy. He shifted and pulled onto the road. Two miles to Dawson. Two miles of her sitting next to him, his mind framing a picture of a woman with a smile that he wouldn't soon forget.

“I guess you can sit with me.” She looked out the window. “But you can't talk to me.”

“Okay, that's a deal.”

“You know I'm kidding, right? And besides that, we need to start at The Mad Cow, so Vera can help us with the specifics of the menu before we go to the store. We have to get this done before kids show up.”

“I do know you're kidding, and yes, we have to get this done.” He shifted again, slowing as they turned from the paved road they lived on, onto the highway that led to Dawson.

“We could have brought the boys.” He wondered why she had decided to leave them with her brother.

“We can do this without them. It'll be easier.”

“Okay.” He accelerated and the tires hummed on the road. The wind whipped through the cab of the truck and Jenna rolled the window up.

“Adam, they're little boys and you're a hero who isn't going to be here long. I don't want…”

She looked away, brushing a hand through long hair that had gotten tangled by the wind.

“You don't want them to be upset when I leave?” He got it. He should have thought of it himself. They weren't a couple, the boys knew that, but boys got attached to people. They could even get attached to him.

He could get attached to them. That thought took him by surprise. He shifted gears and let the feelings go, because this wasn't real. This was Oklahoma in the summer, a return to his youth for a few short weeks, and soon he'd return to reality.

The woman next to him was a reminder that this was reality. She sang along to the radio and her scent, peaches and soap, filled the cab of the truck, whipping around him with the breeze from his open window.

He slowed the truck as they drove into Dawson, a true one-horse town. That horse was in the pen behind the first house inside the city limits, munching on a round bale of hay. The main street had only a few businesses. A convenience store, a farm store where they sold a few groceries, farm supplies and grain, and at the corner of Main and Dairy Road was The Mad Cow Café. The name of the restaurant had been painted on the side of the building in big, black-and-white-spotted block letters.

Getting attached. He glanced in Jenna's direction as he pulled into the parking lot of The Mad Cow. He could get attached to her.

She didn't beat around the bush, saying only what he wanted to hear. She was honest, blunt and sometimes shy. When she wanted something from him, this camp, she spelled it out and told him why.

He set the emergency brake and pulled the keys out of the ignition. Jenna was already opening her door, like nothing had happened, like getting attached wasn't an issue for her.

Maybe it wasn't.

 

Jenna noticed the crowd inside The Mad Cow, but she didn't mention it. Really, why should it matter? So what if people glanced out the window at them, or mouths moved as questions were asked behind hands.

He had more to worry about than she did. People knew him, knew his family, and knew what he'd accomplished since he'd left Oklahoma.

For years she'd kept this town fed with gossip, someone to talk about. Her antics had been reported in church prayer groups, at the quilting bee and right here at The Mad Cow on Monday mornings.

It didn't bother her at all that he was the “something to talk about” now. He had broad shoulders. He could handle it.

Broad shoulders and a hand that casually brushed hers as they walked across the parking lot. What would that feel like, to hold his hand? She shoved her hands into her pockets.

He pushed the door of the diner open and she walked in ahead of him. A few people turned to stare, to smile, to greet them.

“Jenna, how're the kids?” Opal, the hostess and waitress, hurried past with a coffeepot and a pen shoved through her thick, gray hair.

One of the regulars yelled at her to take his order.

“I'll give you an order,” Opal bit back. “How about a full order of hush-it-up, with a side of bite-your-tongue?”

Opal turned her attention back to Jenna and Adam.
“I tell you, this crowd gets more attitude in the summer. Must be the heat. Anyway, about the boys…”

“They're great. Clint has them for the day.”

“Good, sweetie. He's a doll for giving you a break. You have a seat over there by the window.” Take the booth that isn't in the sun or you'll be hotter than a flitter.”

“Flitter?” Adam whispered in her ear.

She brushed him off and she didn't let herself smile.

“How're your horses, Jenna?” Gary Walker set his coffee cup down on the table. “Do you still have that gray?”

Jenna stopped at the table to talk to the farmer. “I still have him. Are you still interested?”

“I might be, let me do some figurin' on it.”

A hand touched her arm. Adam's hand as he slid past her. He leaned, his mouth close to her ear. “What's a
flitter?
”

Laughter bounced around inside and she looked away, trying to ignore the look on his face, the ornery arch of his brows, the quirk of his mouth.

“Well?” He slid into the booth, sitting across the table from her. “Oh, it is okay if we sit together, right?”

“It's okay, and stop asking me what it is.”

“You don't know?”

“Of course I don't. No one really knows what it is. It's just hotter than one, and sometimes someone is as ornery as one. Like you. You're as ornery as a flitter.” She leaned toward him. “I think it might be a kind of pancake or something, but I've always been too embarrassed to ask. Do you want to ask someone?”

He leaned back in his seat and laughed. “No, I don't want to ask.”

Opal was back with two ice waters and the coffeepot. “What can I get the two of you?” She poured coffee.

“Pancakes for me.” Jenna handed the menu back without looking at it.

“Pancakes for lunch?” Adam, still looking at his menu, glanced up.

“They serve breakfast all day.”

“I think I'll have pancakes, too.” He smiled up at Opal. “Make mine a double.”

He was stirring sugar into his coffee when Vera walked through the door of the kitchen and saw them. Her eyes lit up, and he thought it had more to do with the fact that Jenna was with him than with her delight at having him in her restaurant.

Jenna had lived through more than he could imagine. And he'd used his childhood as a crutch for years. He could admit that. His dad had pushed him hard. Adam had been pushed in school, pushed in church and pushed into football. Or maybe he had started out as a kid wanting to play.

Too many years had passed to remember.

“How are you kids?” Vera sat down next to Jenna, her hair in a net and perspiration beaded along her brow. “My goodness, it has been busy today. But that isn't why you're here. Do you have a list for food, Jenna?”

She dug around in her purse and pulled out a piece of paper. “I have a menu that I think might work. I'm not sure how much we'll need for fifty kids and staff.”

“I'll give this a look-see and let you know what I think.” She nodded as she read what Jenna had written down. A menu he hadn't even seen. “I know from experience working for the school that we need the right combination of foods. That food pyramid, you know. We want to make sure we're close to meeting it with the menu.”

“I hadn't thought of that.” Jenna turned a little pink. “I was just trying to think of stuff they'd like.”