Steal Me, Cowboy (3 page)
“Something like that.”
“How long has he been out here?”
“Three months.”
“That must be hard. Does he commute?” She looked puzzled. “You know, fly out to see you?”
She gave him a look and seemed to be getting a little of her sass back. “I know what commute means.” The word asshole was implied. Beck raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. “No. He’s played minor league ball for four years, this is his first coaching gig. I’ve missed him, and I—.” Then she stopped.
She didn’t want to tell him anything else and after the way he’d treated her, Beck couldn’t blame her. Just looking at her, her could see the steam rising off her, cute nose turned out slightly, head tilted back, jaw clinched like she could be dangerous if she wanted. He couldn’t undo what he did to her, but he could at least try to make it up to her. She’d said she was hungry. He’d make her the best damn meal she’d ever had, and then he’d send her on her way to man she loved.
From the look on her face when he pulled into his driveway, she was expecting a dive. “This is beautiful,” she whispered.
“This my house. To your left are the gardens. Our food’s all about fresh, local, we grow everything we can. On the other side of those willows is the backside of the restaurant. “
“Those look different from the willows back home.”
“They’re a hybrid, they grow into a screen. Great for privacy.” God he sounded like he was trying to sell her the place. She started toward the willows. “This way, Carolina, the restaurant’s closed on Mondays, but I can make you anything you want in my kitchen.”
CHAPTER THREE
I hated that he was hot and he was trying to be nice to me to make up for being such an ass. He pulled into his driveway like it wasn’t palatial and overlooking a gorgeous lake, it was just home to him. The courtyard between the willows and his home was overflowing with flowers I didn’t recognize, and a bench was in the center looking out over the mountains and the lake.
His house was made out of stone and stained logs, a cross between French country and rustic. He pushed the front door open and I followed. Dark wooden beams crisscrossed the vaulted ceilings, a beautiful contrast to the cream-colored walls. The view from floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the lake was breathtaking, and when I turned around to tell him so, he was watching me. He looked like I’d caught him peeking at me in the shower and hung his hat on a wooden peg by the door.
“You look surprised.” He really had to stop with the killer smile.
“I thought you were kidding about the restaurant. I thought you were a cowboy.”
His smile faded. Was that a bad thing? In Montana?
“Must be the hat,” he said, trying to lighten things up again.
I followed him into the kitchen. He punched something into a laptop on the counter and flipped the screen around for me to see the menu for Beck’s Place. “I can make you anything you want
, on or off the menu.”
I closed the laptop. “I don’t want to be any trouble. Something easy. Eggs, grilled cheese.”
“You didn’t even look at the menu.” He was still smiling but looked a little wounded. “You’re really going to make me grovel to cook you something decent, aren’t you?”
“Of course not. I’m easy.”
“Something tells me there nothing easy about you, Carolina Brown.” He pulled back his silky dark hair in a ponytail, rolled up the sleeves of his well-worn denim shirt and opened the refrigerator. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Water’s fine.”
He filled a pretty thick glass goblet with water and put it in front of me. “So, I’ve met a bunch Carolines and a few Carolyns, don’t think I’ve ever met a Carolina. That a common name where you come from?”
“Yeah, both states, North and South, are just filled with Carolinas. It’s like Jessica or Heather and not uncommon at all. Now Beck, that’s an unusual name.
“Beckett was my mother’s maiden name. She’s the only person who calls me that, to everyone else, I’m just Beck.” He slung a kitchen towel over his shoulder. “You a picky girl?”
“Depends on what we’re talking about,” I shot back.
“You said you were hungry, no, starved. So?”
“No, I’m not picky.”
“Vegetarian?”
“No.” Hell no, I was so hungry I’d eat his boot leather sautéed if he put it in front of me.
He nodded and went to work, laying out an uncut loaf of bread that had been sitting on a cooling rack.
My God, he bakes?
He took some bacon and a small block of cheddar-looking cheese out of the fridge and cut a half dozen slices, and then set about slicing some cherry red peppers paper-thin. He threw six pieces of thick bacon outlined in black pepper on the hot griddle. “Be back in a sec.”
A couple of minutes later, he came back from the garden with some basil and chives. He was definitely going above and beyond, but then he had bought and paid for that privilege when he decided to be an ass. Yes, this was going to be some grilled cheese sandwich.
He took a container out of the fridge, opened it so I could see the pasta salad.
Yes, please.
I nodded.
“You
must
be starving. Since you walked through the door, you haven’t checked that phone of yours once or called the tow truck,” he said, “Or your boyfriend.”
“I told you, I’m surprising him, and if you give me the number of your friend with the tow truck, I’ll call now.”
“Relax, Carolina, your car’s not going anywhere. Eat your lunch. You can call Dillon later.”
I tried really hard to disguise how amazing the sandwich was, but the smirk on his face said he knew. “Thank you, Beck, this is really good.”
“Really good?” he looked like I’d tried to slap the smirk off of his face. But I wasn’t about to tell him how amazing it was, how the bacon and the cheese and the herbs came together. How every bite was like grilled cheese sex, making me want to sigh and beg for more. “Yes, and the salad’s good too.”
“Must be. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl eat so fast. Slow down, you’re on Montana time.” My heart raced when he put another dollop of salad on my plate and started putting together another sandwich. “When’s the last time you ate?”
“Yesterday, lunch.”
He looked disgusted for a split second and then put my second sandwich on the griddle. The sound of the butter sizzling made my mouth water. “Why so long?”
“The kitchen was closed in the little place I stayed at in South Dakota, so I snacked on some Nabs.”
“Never heard of those. That some kind of South Carolina delicacy?”
“They’re those little packs of cheese crackers you get at the convenience store. My grandma called them Nabs, I think it’s short for Nabisco.”
“Must be a South Carolina thing.” He put the sandwich on a plate and then proceeded to eat it himself, pulling the stretchy cheese that was hanging over the side of the bread and letting it slide into his open mouth. Chewing slowly, savoring.
He looked at me, laughed, and cut his sandwich into two triangles and put the uneaten half on my plate.
“You were looking at me like I shot your dog.
Eat.
” And I did.
Sometimes when you eat something new and then you order it again, it’s disappointing because part of what made it so good in the first place was the newness. But that wasn’t the way it was with Beck’s cooking. Honestly, he could have taken over the culinary world with his grilled sex sandwiches, and yet he lived out here, away from town. Not in the middle of nowhere, but according to
him ten miles from Marietta. I couldn’t tell much about the restaurant from the backside, but if was anything like his home, it was pretty fancy.
“I was thinking,” he wiped his mouth, “maybe you should call your boyfriend, let him know where you are. That you’re okay.”
“Why are you so concerned about my boyfriend?”
“I’m not. I just saying if I were him, I wouldn’t want you driving across the country by yourself. And if you were, I’d want to know you were okay. It’s not safe.
No shit. “I’m fine, besides that would spoil the surprise.”
“What if the wrong person had come along?” He leveled me with a Derrick Morgan look.
“I can take care of myself.”
He shrugged, jotted down a phone number
, and pushed it across the table. “The number for the tow truck. His name is Dillon.”
I took my pink phone out of my bag, went into a room at the end of the hallway that looked like an office and dialed the number. “Dillon’s,” the guy on the other end barked.
“Hey, this is Rainey Brown, Beck Hartnett gave me your name. My car broke down about an hour east from you on Highway 290. I need it towed and repaired, please.”
“Yes ma’am. Year, make and model?”
“It’s a blue 1998 Civic. It has South Carolina plates, you can’t miss it.”
“I’m pretty backed up right now and won’t be able to get out that way to tow it until after five. Won’t be able to look at it until tomorrow until around lunchtime. Are you staying in town?”
“Well, I guess I am now.”
I gave him my number and ended the call. Maybe I should call Adam. I hadn’t talked to him in a couple of days, which made me anxious. Normally, we talked every day, several times. Sometimes it was just couples stuff—
I love you, I miss you.
Most nights I’d put the phone up to Buster’s ear and Adam would talk to him too. Then I’d give Buster one of those giant rawhide bones to keep him occupied while mommy and daddy had hot phone sex.
The call went straight through to voicemail again. “Hey, babe. It’s me again. Haven’t heard from you in a couple of days. Kind of weird, but I know you must be busy. Love you. Miss you. Hope to see you soon.” It’s baseball season, I reminded myself, and Adam had just started his new job.
I walked back into the kitchen and helped clear the table. Beck’s smile was thin… he was quiet. “Thank you for everything, for stopping and helping me. For not being a serial killer.” He didn’t laugh. Something had changed. He didn’t seem as warm and certainly not as flirty. “I really am grateful to you for giving me a lift, for hooking me up with a good mechanic. And lunch was great.”
“You’re welcome.” He wiped down the granite counter tops and then tossed the rag in the sink. I didn’t know him well enough to know if he was pissed off or hurt, but it seemed like he was both.
“Dillon said he’d pick up the car and would look at it tomorrow. If I could just trouble you for a ride into town, I’ll find a hotel and then I’ll be out of your hair.” That long gorgeous, dark, glossy brown hair.
“I have plenty of room, you could stay here.” If flirty, fun Beck had asked me a half hour ago, I might have said yes or at least seriously considered staying in his guest bedroom.
“Thanks, but I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“All right then, let’s go” God this man had some giant mood swings. He left without the hat, most likely so he could torture me with the full effect of his hair one last time. “What’s your budget? For the hotel.”
“Cheap would be nice.” Really cheap.
“Everything in town is within walking distance. There are a lot of bed and breakfast places, but the ones I know of aren’t cheap. Dillon might know of some that are.”
“Thanks. I’ll ask him.” The truck pulled into the parking lot. Beck jumped out like he was in a hurry, took my bags out along with the box and put them in the waiting area.
A friendly-looking thirtyish guy in a jumpsuit came out of the garage. He shook hands with Beck and then smiled at me.
“You two met on the phone, so there’s no need for introductions. She’s all yours now, Dillon.”
His words hit both of us funny, I blushed, embarrassed he was so hell bent and glad to get rid of me. And Dillon looked like a cross between shy and Christmas morning happy.
“Thanks, Beck I’ll be sure and get her settled in. Don’t you worry.”
Beck started up the truck without looking back. His big hand kneading the steering wheel hard as he backed out of the space.
Now, I’ll be honest, single, engaged, married, it doesn’t matter, southern women like me are accustomed to making a memorable entrance. And, between rattlesnakes and grilled cheese sandwiches, I had made one in a big way with Beck Hartnett. We are also conscious of leaving a good impression, of making a memorable exit, and Beck was stealing mine. Before he could put the truck in drive, I stepped beside his door, gave him my best
hey y’all
smile, and if he wasn’t in the truck, I would have hugged his neck.
“Thanks again, Beck. For being such a cowboy. You saved me.”
He lowered his shades and nodded. “Anytime, Rainey Brown.”
Rainey’s assumption that Beck was a cowboy stung hard. Of course if you looked at his lineage and the ranch where he was raised, she was correct. But when he’d gone away to college, he’d been naïve enough to think he could just take off and forget Montana and the land that had been in his family for a dozen generations. Something his father never forgave him for.
As much as he tried to deny the Big Sky hold on him, it was always there, pulling him back by invisible threads and the absolute truth that once a cowboy, always a cowboy.
His father had never had any patience with anybody, especially Beck. After he graduated from college, his father started hounding
him about coming back to the ranch. Not because he needed the help. He thought Beck’s wanting to work in a restaurant instead of working the ranch was foolish.
Beck kept telling his father he wasn’t ready to come back to Marietta, although that was exactly what he had planned on doing when the time was right. He’d wanted to see a little of the world before he came home to build his dream, to have his restaurant and maybe even raise another generation of Hartnett cowboys. That was when Beck began to believe it was possible to have the best of both worlds.
Then, just before he came home for good, his father sold the place without even telling his mother, without telling Beck, and his parents moved into town. Always the go-between, Beck’s mother tried to smooth things over, said it was a natural progression of the times, their small place gobbled up by a mega ranch. She swore it had nothing to do with spite, but Beck wasn’t buying that. His father carried his grudge all the way to the grave, and thankfully, that was where the similarity between father and son ended.
He opened a beer and propped his feet up on the porch railing. He did a lot of forgiving on this deck and a fair share of forgetting too. From where he sat, he couldn’t see his home place. But this was where he came to appreciate what he had and still feel connected to his family’s land that was now a part of the McLaughlin spread just on the other side of the lake. Sitting here, he found peace, even with all the bad shit that had happened. It was the closest thing he knew to the best of both worlds.
Beck was a lucky bastard, he knew that, but today, the sky didn’t seem so blue. The mountains were unimpressive, even the beer seemed flat. At first he blamed it on the history Rainey hadn’t meant to stir up, but the truth was it was Rainey Brown herself.
Beck didn’t know why he’d gotten so angry with her for lying to him, but he had. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop when she was on the phone, well, maybe he had a little. But the office wasn’t as far away from the kitchen as she thought it was. And when she turns on that drawl, she does talk louder, and she was definitely turning it on for Dillon. Then he heard her say her name, Rainey Brown.
At first he thought it was funny that she’d played out that whole Carolina bit to the hilt. Then he’d heard her call her boyfriend. No drawl, it was like she was begging the asshole to call her. Beck probably should have felt sorry for her, should have been a little nicer, but it pissed him off that she accepted that from someone who was supposed to love her. Pissed him off even more than she hadn’t trusted Beck enough to tell him her name, her real name. And he wanted her to trust him.
Beck’s cell phone buzzed. “Hey, Dillon. You get the little lady all squared away?”
“Dude, she’s hot. And lucky you came along when you did. I wouldn’t want my woman or my sister out there alone.”
“You don’t have a sister or a woman.”
“All right, my mother.”
“I’m not even sure you have a mother.”
“Fuck you,” Dillon laughed. “Hey, seriously, I got her car. Pretty sure it’s going to cost more to fix that it’s worth.”
“I’m not surprised. Where is she?”
“She fell asleep in the waiting room on the couch, curled up in a little ball. Still looks hot.”
“Easy cowboy.” Beck thought about her curled up in his bed, and turned up the rest of his beer. “She was looking for a cheap place to stay, you help her out with that?
“There’s the motel, but I didn’t feel good about taking her way out there. I called a couple of the B&B’s, thought they might have decent rates but they’re either booked or their summer rates are sky high.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I thought I’d take her home with me.” Beck took his feet off the railing and sat up.
“To the cave?”
“Hey, it’s a basement apartment, and it’s not that bad.”
“Why do you think we call it the cave? And when was the last time you took a woman there anyway?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Okay. That would be never. Listen up, she’s not a pet. You can’t
keep
her. Take her to the motel and let her get a good night’s sleep. She’ll need it when you tell her about the car.”
“I don’t know man, all I’ve ever seen there is mostly bikers, truckers. You really think she’ll be okay there?”
“She’ll be okay. She’s a tough girl.”
Beck ended the call and watched the sun slip over the mountain.
“Rainey? Wake up.”
I opened my eyes to see Dillon standing there. He’d changed out of his jumpsuit and had even combed his hair. “I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep.”
“You’ve been out for three hours, almost four.” He ran his hands through his thinning hair. “I got your car.”
“Thanks. How bad is it?
He looked away and I knew it wasn’t good. “I didn’t get a chance to look at it.” He was a bad liar. “I’ll have a better idea tomorrow.”
“Okay, well thank you for towing it. While you were gone, I found a motel. My phone says it’s about eight miles from here. Does that sound about right?”
“Yeah.” He seemed nervous. “Not the greatest place in the world.”
“But it is the cheapest. Can you give me a lift?”
“Sure.”
Dillon was right, the motel was awful. There were a dozen little cinderblock huts, one of which was the office. I pretended it was fine and marched up to the front desk, well really the only desk. I held my breath while my Visa card with the tiny credit limit actually went through. The clerk reminded me there was no restaurant, which was probably a good thing since I wasn’t very hungry. Besides
, nothing that came out of the motel could have come close to the food I had at Beck’s.
Dillon put my suitcases on the bed and my box in the bathroom and then stood there with his Yankees’ hat in his hand. “I don’t feel good about leaving you here, Rainey. I’m not sure this place is safe.”
“It’s okay, Dillon. I’m a tough girl.”
“Funny, that’s what Beck said.”
“He did?”
Dillon said good night and left. I checked my phone, still nothing from Adam, but the signal was pretty weak. Maybe he couldn’t get through. But I was so tired, even the ratty bed looked good. I slipped into one of Adam’s T-shirts and crawled under the covers, staring at my cell phone, willing him to call. Instead, the phone on the bedside table rang loud enough to wake the dead. I picked it up and turned the volume down to a humane level and then answered it.
“Rainey? It’s me, Beck. Dillon told me he got you settled in.”
“Hey. Yes, he just left.” He didn’t sound like flirty Beck, but he sounded more mellow than before. “What are you doing?”
“Sitting here feeling shitty about the way the way I treated you.”
“Don’t, Beck. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”
“Maybe you should have, Rainey. You don’t know me from Adam.” I didn’t know what to say to that. But oddly enough, I felt like I did know Beck. “So how’s the motel?”
“Great.” I screwed my eyes shut, lying to him again. “A little cramped, but it’s my own fault, I always over-pack.”
“Yeah, I got that,” He laughed. “Did you have dinner yet?”
“No, I’m still full from lunch.”
And then there was silence. He didn’t say anything for a long time and I didn’t either. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. No, it felt good to know someone was on the other end of the call, and I was glad it was Beck.
“Do me a favor?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“I don’t like the idea of you being alone. Will you put my number in your phone? Just in case.”
“Okay.” I punched his number and name into my contact list.
“Call me now from your cell to make sure it works.”
The call rang through to his voice mail. Flirty Beck said he was sorry he missed my call and to leave a message. Flirty Beck said he’d call back
later
, as in maybe tomorrow or very soon. “It works, Beck.”
“I’ll let you get some sleep. Night, Rainey.”
“Good night,” I said, knowing full well I’d just given Beck Hartnett my phone number. But I pretended it didn’t mean anything.
I called Antwan next and tried to forget Flirty Beck and Contrite Beck, who I didn’t know from Adam, but I wasn’t about to call Adam again.
“I’m just saying right now, you’re not getting Buster back.” I could hear music in the background… Antwan and my dog were partying hard.
“You’ll have a hard time with that, he’s definitely a mama’s boy.”
“And he’s way better than the other men in our lives, Rainey. SO much better”
“Really?”
“For me, he’s perfect because he’s the ultimate Cher fan, and he even loves the really old stuff. But for you, he’s so much better than Adam. He misses you when you’re gone. He actually feels guilt when he’s done something wrong. And, most importantly, you can train him.” I heard a slurpy sound and Antwan was laughing, I could almost see Buster bathing his face.“ He knows it’s you. Wanna talk to him?”
“Yeah.” The slurpy sound got louder, so I knew Antwan had the phone near Buster’s ear. “Hey, baby. Mama misses you so much. Be good for Antwan, but not so good he won’t give you back. I haven’t seen daddy yet, baby, but when I do, I’ll give him a big kiss for you.”
“You haven’t seen Adam yet? What the fuck, Rainey? You’d better not be chickening out. Are you even in Missoula?”
“No, I got as far as Marietta, Montana
, and my car died. I don’t know what I’m going to do, Antwan. I know the repair bill is going to be huge.”
“So what’s wrong with the car? Can it be fixed?”
“I’ll know tomorrow. I can’t imagine how much the tab was just to tow the damn thing sixty miles.” I paused, trying to choke back the truth, but Antwan was
my
hairstylist. “There’s something else. Adam’s not returning my calls—I’m stuck here, Antwan, and I’m afraid.”
“Honey, if I had a pot to pee in, you know I’d send you money for a ticket home. Can you call your parents?”
“I’m not calling my parents for money, and I know you would help if you could, but I don’t want anybody’s sympathy or charity. I got myself into this mess and I’ll get myself out. I just wanted you to know—.” He’d turned the music down, but I could still hear Cher crooning in the background. Antwan was a lot of amazing things, but the thing he did best was listen. “That’s all. I just wanted you to know.”
“I love you, Rainey. Be safe out there and don’t worry about Buster. Just get home to us soon.”