The Cowboy and the Calendar Girl (12 page)

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Authors: Nancy Martin

BOOK: The Cowboy and the Calendar Girl
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At last Carly shuddered powerfully. She gasped his name and opened her eyes wide. Hank drank in their expression. He saw the ecstasy that boiled over inside her. And the emotion. She cried out and quivered beneath him, and Hank felt his soul implode at the same instant. Together they were suddenly suspended in the universe.
Then the world burst into a thousand stars.
Hank had Carly wrapped in his arms. She was wound around him like a delicate wraith. For a long time, that was all he knew. They seemed to float back to reality with the same drifting speed as a windblown leaf returning to earth.
He rolled onto his side, drawing Carly with him so that they lay for a long time with noses touching. Carly’s smile was warm and sleepy. Hank knew he probably looked just the same way—exhausted and satisfied.
No words were needed.
But he murmured, “Where have you been all my life?”
Warmed by his words, Carly closed her eyes and listened to Hank’s breathing steady and gradually get long and relaxed. He fell asleep a little while later, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
What had attracted her to this man in the first place? The way he looked—tall, lean and handsome with his Marlboro Man mustache and heavenly shoulders? Or his easy laugh, the calm drawl in his voice? The sometimes wicked gleam in his sky blue eyes?
No, perhaps it had been something even less obvious that appealed to Carly at first.
A cowboy came with fewer complications than a man from the real world in L.A., Carly thought. He ought to be easy to get along with. He didn’t come with a lot of excess baggage. He rode his horse, drove a rattletrap pickup truck while listening to country-western music, looked after his cattle and didn’t worry about issues that plagued the rest of the world. The fantasy man had spun around in Carly’s s imagination for weeks. She had his personality created before she knew him.
But is that Hank?
Carly frowned to herself.
Is he the fantasy cowboy I dreamed up?
Maybe not, she reasoned. He wasn’t a cardboard cutout of a man. He wasn’t shallow and emptyheaded.
He was real. With a sometimes short temper, an intolerance of discomfort, an easy way of finding out about Carly’s life and family. He was smart and capable, not to mention definitely an accomplished lover. It was hard to believe he’d lived all his life isolated on a South Dakota ranch, especially given some of the references he’d made on their camping trip.
But suddenly Carly’s brain was too fogged to puzzle through that thought. She dozed off, smiling.
Seven
L
ust
isn’t love, Carly told herself the following day.
But it certainly feels
t
he same sometimes.
Her entire being felt consumed by Hank Fowler. She even forgot to wish for cigarettes. One addiction had been traded for another, and this one was wonderfully tempting.
The day had dawned sunny and cool, perfect weather for working in the corral, Becky had declared at breakfast, giving her brother a stern eye.
Carly spent some time with Chet Roswell learning how to care for Baby, but her mind wasn’t really able to concentrate. Not with Hank floating in and out of her imagination as frequently as he did She found herself looking over her shoulder every few minutes to see what Hank was doing on the other side of the corral.
“That’s it, ma’am,” Chet coaxed. “You hold that bottle with your right hand and the little sweetheart in your left arm. Here, let me—yeah, that’s right as rain. Later on, we’ll give her some solid food, too.”
“Thanks, Chet I appreciate your help.”
“Oh, sugar pie, I’d do anything to help out a cute little lady like you.”
Normally Carly would have thrown a temper tantrum at any man who called her a cute little anything. But Carly hardly listened to a word Chet said to her.
Across the corral, however, Hank was in a very different mood.
“Who does that slime bucket think he is, touching her like that?”
Becky looked up from the calf she was trying to examine for signs of blindness. “Will you hold that rope steady, please, Henry? And hug his neck tighter. I don’t want to get my toes broken because you’re too busy keeping an eagle eye on your girlfriend.”
Hank gripped the small calf as snugly as he could. “She’s not my girlfriend. And she’s certainly not his, either!”
“What have you got against Chet?”
Hank tried to hold the struggling calf as Becky had instructed, but he couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder at Carly, who seemed engrossed in every nuance that Chet was preaching about. She didn’t shrug off Chet’s hand when ‘he held her arm. “I haven’t got anything against Roswell.”
“You’ve hated his guts since elementary school,” Becky returned.
“He used to bully everybody in Miss Hardwick’s third-grade class,” Hank mumbled.
“Wait a minute. I thought you were the one who got kicked out of that third-grade class.”
“For punching Chet Roswell,” Hank snapped. “I couldn’t take it anymore. He was picking on Julie Goodman.”
“Oh-ho, Julie Goodman!” Becky laughed. “The tough girl with the stubby pigtails. Who could forget her? You always had a soft spot where she was concerned, and I never understood that Julie was
mean.”
“Not mean, just a girl who knew her own mind.”
“She owns a car dealership now.”
“Good for her.”
“And now you’ve got a soft spot for Carly. Why? She doesn’t need protecting, either.”
“I guess I like strong women.”
“So you can have a worthy opponent when it comes to stubbornness. Okay, turn him loose. I’ll have the vet check him on Friday.” Beclry dusted off her gloves and watched the freed calf go bounding back to his mama. “Don’t you like Chet Roswell at all, Henry?”
“No.”
Becky squinted up at him in the sunshine. “Why not?”
“Because he’s everything I was supposed to be,” Hank said, unable to stop a laugh. “He’s a big dumb cowboy who never read a book, but slept with his horse at least once a week. Pop always liked having Chet around—so did you, for that matter, if I remember correctly.”
“I still like having him around,” Becky said, sounding strange.
Hank took her elbow and spun his sister around so that he could gauge her expression. She looked away quickly. He raised one eyebrow, releasing her arm. “What’s that supposed to mean, exactly?”
“Nothing. Well, maybe something.” Becky took the rope from him and strolled to the fence. “He’s been coming around these past few months. He lost his own ranch a couple of years ago, you know.”
“He’s a lousy businessman?”
“No, just bad luck, I think. Now he’s—well—he’s changed, Henry.”
“What do you mean? He’s not tormenting little girls anymore?”
“I’m not saying Chet doesn’t have faults. He has a lot. He’s immature and competitive—but we’re working on those things.”
“We?”
“Chet and I.”
Hank saw the truth at last and exploded. “Oh, hell, Becky, you’re not going to marry him, are you?”
Becky’s swift upward gaze was flinty. “What’s it to you if I did?”
Hank caught the words that nearly escaped his mouth. He didn’t want to hurt Becky—certainly not because of a childhood relationship that hadn’t mattered much to him. One look at Becky’s face told him that she had come to know Chet Roswell better in the years since Hank had left the ranch. Surely Chet had grown up. If so, there had to be a way for Hank to put the past behind them.
He mustered a wry grin. “Oh, great You’re going to force me to spend every holiday with the guy who got me kicked out of the third grade—the class with the prettiest teacher in the whole school?”
Becky laughed. “So, that was it! You were showing off for Miss Hardwick all along!”
Hank draped his arm across Becky’s shoulders. “Listen, Beck, if you really want to marry Chester Roswell, go ahead. I’ll even come to the wedding and give you matching saddles for a wedding present. He’s not so bad.”
Becky stretched up and kissed Hank’s cheek. “If he leaves your girlfriend alone, you mean?”
“She’s not my—”
“Yeah, sure. Don’t lie to me, Henry.” Becky climbed the fence easily, tossing her taunts down at her brother. “You two were making goo-goo eyes at each other all last evening and this morning, too. And if you want to keep your sleeping arrangements a secret, you’ll have to work a little harder. Your bed hasn’t been slept in.”
“Oh, jeez.”
Sitting astride the fence, Becky said, “You could have done worse, you know. I like her a lot And not just because she’s going to give us a bushel of money. She’s fun.”
“Yeah,” Hank admitted. “I know.”
“And thoughtful. I liked the story she told us last night about her father’s travel agency.”
“Yeah, she’s funny.”
“And she had you going on politics, too. I never heard you argue like that before. She had you on the ropes, Mr. Columnist.”
Hank remembered Carly’s heated argument with a grin. If she could hold her own in a political debate with Henry Fowler, she was made of sterner stuff than most women.
“And she’s good-looking,” Becky continued. “What are you waiting for, Henry?”
“Maybe it’s just a fling.”
Becky gave an unladylike snort.
“Okay,” Hank said more seriously, “I’ve got a life somewhere else, that’s why. So does she. It’s complicated.”
“What about that phone call you had yesterday. It was your editor, right? What did he want?”
Hank shot an amused glance up at his sister. “You must have pressed him for a few details when he first called.”
“A few,” Becky admitted. “He says your column has been sold to a few more papers and there’s interest in a big syndication deal. You’re expanding into a whole new region. That sounds big.”
“It is,” Hank said. “It also means travel, lots of changes. I can’t just cover Seattle and the Northwest anymore. They want me to start doing resorts and country inns in California and ski resorts in Utah and Idaho. Who knows what else.”
“Henry, that’s wonderful!”
Hank shook his head. “I’m not so sure. I’m not really a mainstream kind of writer, sis. I’m the grouchy guy who complains about politics and whatever occurs to me, and I—well, gallivanting around posh wine country and spiffy resorts isn’t exactly my cup of tea.”
“I’ll bet you can put your own stamp on the idea, though.”
“They want somebody to check out bike trails, white-water rafting, golf courses—”
“Mountains, too?”
“I could probably squeeze in some climbing.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “It’s the kind of outdoor stuff I enjoy.”
“I think you could do it all with the Henry Fowler flavor.”
“Maybe,” he said pensively. “I’m thinking about it.”
“And Carly might fit into your plans somehow.”
“We’ve got a few things to straighten out first.”
“Such as?”
There were a great many things Hank wanted to discuss with Carty, but there would be plenty of time for that. First, however, he needed to tell her the truth about his own life and why he’d been keeping it a secret from her.
The longer he waited, the worse it all felt to him.
But he put on a cheerful front for Becky.
“Such as nothing you need to worry about,” Hank replied, giving her bandanna an affectionate tug.
“Have it your way.” Becky tousled Hank’s hair and gazed across the corral. “What do you suppose Chet is telling Carly right now?”
Hank looked in the same direction and saw Chet talking faster than a steer could bolt out of a rodeo chute. Something on Carly’s face gave Hank a moment’s discomfort. She looked decidedly startled. And it wasn’t because Chet had his hand on her arm again.
Hank said, “What the hell is he telling her?”
“I can’t imagine.” Becky swung down from the fence and started to follow Hank across the corral. “Just don’t punch him, okay?”
 
Talking with Chet, Carly learned a few things she didn’t comprehend at first.
“It’s a great day for riding, Miss Carly.”
Feeding time was over, so she put Baby back into the makeshift pen Chet had constructed out of chicken wire. She hardly heard most of what Chet talked about and answered him automatically. “It certainly is.”
“How about if I go catch us a couple of horses and saddle up?” He leaned on one of the posts of the pen. “We could mosey out to a little place I know. Maybe you’d like to take a look at the mountains.
“Well, actually, Hank and I are going for a ride later.”
“Why, shoot,” Chet drawled delightedly. “You might as well go riding with me this afternoon, Miss Carly. Henry’s certainly not going to take you out if he can help it. Why, he hates horses more than most men hate shopping.”
“What?”
Her expression must have been amusing because Chet began to chuckle. “You didn’t notice? Hell, he’s practically allergic to ’em. I’ve never known a man who gets himself thrown off as much as Henry does.”
“I thought he was terrific on a horse.”
“A carnival pony, maybe!” Chet laughed out loud.
Hank and Becky arrived at that moment, and Carly looked up at Hank with curiosity. He glared at Chet with steel in his eyes.
“What’s going on?” Becky asked, looking down into the pen. “Is that pup ready to go back to the wild?”
“Of course not,” Carly said at once, forgetting Hank’s look and coming to Baby’s defense. “She’s too young.”
“We can’t keep her here. She doesn’t belong on a ranch.”
Carly said, “I’ll think of something.”
“We’ll have the vet look at her when he comes. We have to be careful. She’s a wild animal, no matter how cute she looks to you.”
Chet laughed. “Miss Carly’s just about ready to take this little pup to obedience school.”
Becky gave him a quelling glance. “Chet, how about if you give me a hand moving those calves to another field?”
“Sure, honey. Carly says she’s goin’ ridin’ with Henry. Isn’t that a laugh?” Chet chortled and put his arm around Becky. Together, they headed back to the corral.
As they departed, Becky could be heard lecturing him in a low, firm voice. Chet defended himself in a whine.
Frowning after them, Carly asked, “What did he mean? I don’t think he likes you, Hank.”
“Chet and I have a feud going,” Hank replied easily, fingering a lock of her hair. “Nothing serious, just a couple of male egos that couldn’t stand each other from the moment we looked over the tops of our cribs at each other. How about a walk?”
Carly switched her frown from Chet to Hank and felt a niggle of suspicion start in her mind. But she smiled. “I thought we were going riding.”
“I’ve got something to show you instead. Come on.”
They left the main buildings of the ranch and strolled along a fence that ran toward the mountains from the barns. The long grass swished as they walked, and a slight cool breeze ruffled Hank’s hair. In the pasture several horses lifted their heads from grazing as they passed.
Carly inhaled the fresh air with newfound pleasure. Then she laughed.

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