Читать книгу The Cowboy Next Door & Jenna's Cowboy Hero - Brenda Minton - Страница 12

Jay finished his last report, on the accident he’d worked after leaving Lacey’s sister at the diner. He signed his name and walked into his boss’s office. Chief Johnson looked it over and slid it into the tray on his desk.

“Do you think the sister is going to cause problems?” Chief Johnson pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Of course she will.”

“Why? Because she has a record? She could be like Lacey, really looking for a place to start over.”

“I don’t know that much about Lacey. But I’m pretty sure about her sister.”

“Okay, then. Make sure you patrol past Lacey’s place a few times every shift. I’ll let the other guys know.” The Chief put his glasses back on. “I guess you’ve got more work to do when you get home?”

“It’s Wednesday and Dad schedules his surgeries for today. I’ve got to get home and feed.”

“Tomorrow’s your day off. I’ll see you Friday.”

“Friday.” Jay nodded and walked out, fishing his keys out of his pocket as he walked.

He had to stop by the feed store on his way home, for the fly spray they’d ordered for him. At least he didn’t have to worry about dinner.

His mom always cooked dinner for him on Wednesdays. She liked having him home again, especially with his brother and sister so far away. His sister lived in Georgia with her husband and new baby. His brother was in the navy.

It should have been an easy day to walk off the job, but it wasn’t. As he climbed into his truck he was still remembering the look on Lacey’s face when she watched her sister get out of the back of his car.

He knew what it was like to have everything change in just a moment. Life happened that way. A person could feel like they have it all under control, everything planned, and then suddenly, a complete change of plans.

A year ago he really had thought that by now he’d be married and living in his new home with a wife and maybe a baby of his own on the way.

Instead he was back in Gibson and Cindy was on her way to California. She’d been smarter than him; she’d realized three years of dating didn’t equal love. And he was still living in the past, in love with a memory.

As he passed the store, he saw his mom’s car parked at an angle, between the lines and a little too far back into the street. He smiled, because that was his mom. She lived her life inside the lines, but couldn’t drive or park between them.

Other than the parking problem, they were a lot alike.

He drove to the end of the block, then decided to go back. She typically wasn’t in town this time of day. Something must have gone wrong with dinner. He smiled because something usually did go wrong.

He parked in front of the store and reached for the truck-door handle. He could see his mom inside; she was talking to Lacey Gould. He let go of the door handle and sat back to wait.

He sat in the truck for five minutes. His mom finally approached the cash register at the single counter in the store. She paid, talked to the cashier for a minute and then walked out the door. Lacey was right behind her.

Talk about a day going south in a hurry.

“Jay, you remember Lacey.” Wilma Blackhorse turned a little pink. “Of course you do, you saw her this afternoon.”

“Mom, we’ve met before.” He had lived in Springfield, not Canada. He’d just never really had a reason to talk to Lacey.

Until today.

“Of course you have.” His mom handed him her groceries and then leaned into the truck, resting her arms on the open window. “Well, I just rented her your grandparents’ old house. And since you have tomorrow off, I told her you would help them move.”

“That really isn’t necessary.” Lacey, dark hair framing her face and brown eyes seeking his, moved a little closer to his truck. “I can move myself.”

“Of course you can’t. What are you going to do, put everything in the back of your car?” Wilma shook her head and then looked at Jay again.

Lacey started to protest, and Jay had a few protests of his own. He didn’t need trouble living just down the road from them. His mom had no idea what kind of person Corry Gould was.

Not that it would have stopped her.

He reached for another protest, one that didn’t cast stones.

“Mom, we’re fixing that house up for Chad.” Jay’s brother. And one summer, a long time ago, it had been Jamie’s dream home. For one summer.

It had been a lifetime ago, and yet he still held on to dreams of forever and promises whispered on a summer night. His mom had brought Jamie and her family to Gibson, and changed all of their lives forever.

“Oh, Jay, Chad won’t be out of the navy for three years. If he even gets out of the navy. You know he wants to make it a career.” She patted his arm. “And you’re building a house, so you don’t need it.”

He opened his mouth with more objections, but his mom’s eyes narrowed and she gave a short shake of her head. Jay smiled past her.

Lacey, street-smart and somehow shy. And he didn’t want to like her. He didn’t want to see vulnerability in her eyes.

“I’ll be over at about nine in the morning.” He didn’t sigh. “I’ll bring a stock trailer.”

“I don’t want you to have to spend your day moving me.”

He started his truck. “It won’t be a problem. See you in the morning.”

“Don’t forget dinner tonight,” his mom reminded.

“You don’t have to cook for me. I could pick something up at the diner.”

“I have a roast in the Crock-Pot.”

That was about the worst news he’d heard all day. He shot a look past her and Lacey smiled, her dark eyes twinkling a little.

“A roast.” He nodded. “That sounds good. Lacey, maybe you all could join us for dinner.”

“Oh, I can’t. I have to get home and pack.”

He tipped his hat at her and gave her props for a quick escape. She’d obviously had his mother’s roast before.

“Thanks, Jay.” Lacey Gould backed away, still watching him, as if she wanted something more from him. He didn’t have more to give.

“See you at home, honey.” His mom patted his arm.

“Mom…”

His mom hurried away, leaving him with the groceries and words of caution he had wanted to offer her. She must have known what he had to say. And she would have called him cynical and told him to give Lacey Gould and her sister a chance.

* * *

Lacey woke up early the next morning to soft gray light through the open window and the song of a meadowlark greeting the day. She rolled over on the air mattress she’d slept on and listened to unfamiliar sounds that blended with the familiar.

A rustle and then a soft cry. She sat up, brushing a hand through her hair and then rubbing sleep from her eyes. She waited a minute, blinking away the fuzzy feeling. The baby cried again.

“Corry, wake up.” Lacey pushed herself up off the mattress and walked to the hide-a-bed. Corry’s face was covered with the blanket and she slept curled fetus-style on her side.

“Come on, moving day.”

Corry mumbled and pulled the pillow over her head.

Lacey stepped away from the bed and reached into the bassinet for the pacifier to quiet the baby. Rachel’s eyes opened and she sucked hard on the binky. Lacey kissed the baby’s soft little cheek and smiled.

“I’ll get your bottle.”

And then she’d finish packing. She side-stepped boxes as she walked to the kitchen. Nearly everything was packed. It hadn’t taken long. Six years and she’d accumulated very little. She had books, a few pictures and some dust bunnies. She wouldn’t take those with her.

Memories. She had plenty of memories. She’d found a picture of herself and Bailey at Bailey’s wedding, and a note from Bailey’s father’s funeral last year.

She’d lived a real life in this apartment. In this apartment she had learned to pray. She had cooked dinner for friends. She had let go of love. She had learned to trust herself. Dating Lance had taught her lessons in trusting someone else. And when not to trust.

The baby was crying for real. Lacey filled the bottle and set it in a cup to run hot water over it. The bed squeaked. She turned and Corry was sitting up, looking sleepy and younger than her twenty-two years.

Life hadn’t really been fair. Lacey reminded herself that her sister deserved a chance. Corry deserved for someone to believe in her.

Lacey remembered life in that bug-infested apartment that had been her last home in St. Louis. She closed her eyes and let the bad memories of her mother and nights cowering in a closet with Corry slide off, like they didn’t matter.

She picked up the bottle and turned off the water. The dribble of formula she squeezed onto her wrist was warm. She took the bottle back to Corry and then lifted the baby out of the bassinet.

“Can you feed her while I finish packing?” Lacey kissed her niece and then lowered her into Corry’s waiting arms.

Corry stared down at the infant, and then back at Lacey. “You make it look so easy.”

“It isn’t easy, Corry.”

“I thought it would be. I thought I’d just feed her and she’d sleep, and stuff. I didn’t want to give her away to someone I didn’t know.”

Lacey looked away from the baby and from more memories.

“I need to pack.”

“I’m sorry, Lacey.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Lacey grabbed clothes out of her dresser. “I’m going to take a shower while you feed her. You need to make sure you’re up and around before Jay gets here.”

When Lacey walked out of the bathroom, he was standing by the door, a cowboy in jeans, a T-shirt and a ball cap covering his dark hair. He nodded and moved away from the door. In the small confines of her apartment she realized how tall he was, towering over her, making her feel smaller than her five-feet-five height.

“Oh, you’re earlier than I expected.”

“I thought it would be best if we got most of it done before it gets hot.”

“I don’t have a lot. It won’t take long.” She looked around and so did Jay. This was her life, all twenty-eight years packed into a studio apartment.

“We should be able to get it all in the stock trailer and the back of my truck.”

“Do you want a cup of coffee first? I still have a few things to pack.”

“No coffee for me. I’ll start carrying boxes out.”

Lacey pointed to the boxes that she’d packed the night before. And she let him go, because he was Jay Blackhorse and he wasn’t going to sit and have a cup of coffee with her. And she was okay with that.

Her six-month relationship with Lance Carmichael had taught her a lot. He had taught her not to open her heart up, not to share. She would never forget that last night, their last date.

I can’t handle this. It’s too much reality. His words echoed in her mind, taunting her, making a joke of her dreams.

“Are there any breakables in the boxes?” Jay had crossed the room.

Lacey turned from pouring herself a cup of coffee. He stood in front of the boxes, tall and suntanned, graceful for his size. He was all country, right down to the worn boots and cracked leather belt.

He turned and she smiled, because he wore a tan-and-brown beaded necklace that didn’t fit what she knew about Jay Blackhorse. Not that she knew much. Or would ever know much.

Funny, she wanted to know more. Maybe because he was city and country, Aeropostale and Wrangler. Maybe it was the wounded look in his eyes, brief flashes that she caught from time to time, before he shut it down and turned on that country-boy smile.

“I’ve marked the ones that are fragile,” she answered, and then grabbed an empty box to pack the stuff in the kitchen that she hadn’t gotten to the night before.

Jay picked up a box and walked out the front door, pushing it closed behind him. And Corry whistled. Lacey shot her sister a warning look and then turned to the cabinet of canned goods and boxes of cereal. She agreed with the whistle.

Two hours later Lacey followed behind Jay’s truck and the stock trailer that contained her life. Corry had stayed behind. And that had been fine with Lacey. She didn’t need her sister underfoot, and the baby would be better in an empty apartment than out in the sun while they unloaded furniture and boxes.

From visits with Jay’s mom, Lacey had seen the farmhouse where Jay’s grandparents had lived. But as she pulled up, it changed and it became her home. She swallowed a real lump in her throat as she parked next to the house and got out of her car.

The lawn was a little overgrown and the flower gardens were out of control, but roses climbed the posts at the corner of the porch and wisteria wound around a trellis at one side of the covered porch.

Her house.

Jay got out of his truck and joined her. “It isn’t much.”

“It’s a house,” she whispered, knowing he wouldn’t understand. She could look down the road and see the large brick house he’d grown up in. It had five bedrooms and the living room walls were covered with pictures of the children and the new grandchild that Wilma Blackhorse didn’t get to see enough of.

“Yes, it’s a house.” He kind of shrugged. He didn’t get it.

“I’ve never lived in a house.” She bit down on her bottom lip, because that was more than she’d wanted to share, more than she wanted him to know about her.

“I see.” He looked down at her, his smile softer than before. “You grew up in St. Louis, right?”

“Yes.”

“I guess moving to Gibson was a big change?”

“It was.” She walked to the back of his truck. “I want to thank you for this place, Jay. I know that you don’t want me here…”

He raised a hand and shook his head. “This isn’t my decision. But I don’t have anything against you being here.”

She let it go, but she could have argued. Of course he minded her being there. She could see it in his eyes, the way he watched her. He didn’t want her anywhere near his family farm.

* * *

Jay followed Lacey up the back steps of the house and into the big kitchen that his grandmother had spent so much time in. The room was pale green and the cabinets were white. His mom had painted it a few years ago to brighten it up.

But it still smelled like his grandmother, like cantaloupe and vine-ripened tomatoes. He almost expected her to be standing at the stove, taking out a fresh batch of cookies.

The memory brought a smile he hadn’t expected. It had been a long time since his grandmother’s image had been the one that he envisioned in this house. It took him by surprise, that it wasn’t Jamie he thought of in this house, the way he’d thought of her for nine years. He put the box down and realized that Lacey was watching him.

“Good memories?” she asked, curiosity in brown eyes that narrowed to study his face.

“Yes, good memories. My grandmother was a great cook.”

He didn’t say, “unlike Mom.”

“Oh, I see.”

“I guess you probably do. My mom tries too hard to be creative. She always ends up adding the wrong seasoning, the wrong spices. You know she puts cinnamon and curry on her roast, right?”

Lacey nodded. She was opening cabinets and peeking in the pantry. She turned, her smile lighting her face and settling in her eyes. Over a house.

“I love your mom.” Lacey opened the box she’d carried in. “I want to be like her someday.”

She turned a little pink and he didn’t say anything.

“I want to have a garden and can tomatoes in the fall,” she explained, still pink, and it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

He didn’t want to hear her dreams, or what she thought about life. He didn’t want to get pulled into her world. He wanted to live his life here, in Gibson, and he didn’t want it to be complicated.

Past to present, Lacey Gould was complicated.

And she thought he was perfect. He could see it in her eyes, the way she looked at him, at his home and his family. She had some crazy idea that if a person was a Blackhorse, they skipped through life without problems, or without making mistakes.

“It’s a little late for a garden this year.” He started to turn away, but the contents of the box she was unpacking pulled him back. “Dogs?”

“What?”

“You like dogs.”

“I like to collect them.” She took a porcelain shepherd out of the box and dusted it with her shirt.

“How many more do you have?” He glanced into the box.

“Dozens.”

“Okay, I have to ask, why dogs?”

She looked up at him, her head cocked a little to the side and a veil of dark brown hair falling forward to cover one cheek.

“Dogs are cute.” She smiled, and he knew that was all he’d get from her.

He didn’t really want more.

* * *

Dogs are cute. As Jay walked through the front door of his house the next morning, he had a hard time believing that Lacey could be right about dogs. He looked down at his bloodhound and shook his head. Dogs weren’t cute. Dogs chewed up a guy’s favorite shoes. Dogs slobbered and chewed on the leg of a chair.

“You’re a pain in my neck.” He ignored the sad look on the dog’s face. “You have no idea how much I liked those shoes. And Mom is going to kill you for what you did to that chair.”

Pete whined and rested his head on his paws. Jay picked up the leather tennis shoe and pointed it at the dog. Pete buried his slobbery face between his paws and Jay couldn’t help but smile.

“Crazy mutt.” Jay dropped the shoe. “So I guess I keep you and buy new shoes. Someday, buddy, someday it’ll be one shoe too many. You’re too old for this kind of behavior.”

The dog’s ears perked. Jay walked to the window and looked out. A truck was pulling away from the house at the end of the dirt lane. Two days after the fact and he remembered what the Chief had told him: keep an eye on things at Lacey’s. Well, now it would be easy, because Lacey was next door.

He turned and pointed toward the back door. Pete stood up, like standing took a lot of effort, and lumbered to the door. “Outside today, my friend. Enjoy the wading pool, and don’t chew up the lawn furniture.”

One last look back and Pete went out the door, his sad eyes pleading with Jay for a reprieve. “Not today, Pete.”

Jay walked across his yard, his attention on the house not far from his. A five-acre section of pasture separated them. He could see Lacey standing in the yard, pulling on the cord of a push mower.

He glanced at his watch. He had time before he had to head to work. Pushing aside his better sense, he headed down the road to see if she needed help.

“Good morning, neighbor.” She stopped pulling and smiled when he walked up. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“No, thanks.” He moved a little closer. “Do you want me to start it for you?”

“If you can. I’ve been pulling on that thing for five minutes.”

“Does it have gas in it?”

She bit down on her bottom lip and her hands slid into her pockets. “I didn’t check.”

He would have laughed, but she already looked devastated. Mowing the lawn was probably a big part of the having-a-house adventure. He wouldn’t tease her. He also wouldn’t burst her bubble by telling her it wouldn’t stay fun for long.

“Do you have a gas can?”

“By the porch. Cody brought it. I just figured the mower was full.” She went to get the can of gas. Cody was a good guy to bring it. Jay liked the husband of one of his childhood friends, Bailey Cross.

Jay opened the gas cap, pushed the machine and shook his head. “No gas. He probably filled the gas can on the way over, so you’d have it.”

“Of course.” She had the gas can and he took it from her to fill the tank.

“I can mow it for you.”

“No, I want to do it. Remember, I’ve never had a lawn.”

The front door opened. Lacey’s sister stepped out with the baby in her arms. The child was crying, her arms flailing the air. Corry shot a look in his direction. He tried not to notice the eyes that were rimmed with dark circles, or the way perspiration beaded across her pale face. He looked away.

“She won’t stop crying.” Corry pushed the baby into Lacey’s arms.

“Did you burp her?” Lacey lifted the infant to her shoulder. “Corry, you have to take care of her. She’s your daughter. You’re all she has.”

“I don’t want to be all she has. How can I take care of her?”

“The same way thousands of moms take care of their children. You have to use a little common sense.” Lacey made it look easy, leaning to kiss the baby’s cheek, talking in quiet whispers that soothed the little girl.

He could have disagreed with Lacey. Not all moms knew how to take care of children. He’d been a police officer for five years. He’d seen a lot.

“I should go. I have to work today, but I wanted to make sure you have everything you need.” He told himself he wasn’t running from something uncomfortable.

“We’re good.” Lacey looked down at the baby. “Jay, thanks for this place.”

“It needed to be rented.” He shrugged it off. “But you’re welcome.”

“Hey, wait a minute.” Corry moved forward, her thin arms crossed in front of her, hugging herself tight. “Aren’t you going to tell him about the stove?”

Lacey smiled. “It isn’t a big deal. I can fix it.”

“Fix what?”

“One of the knobs is broken. I have to go to Springfield tonight. I can pick one up.”

“What are you going to Springfield for?” Corry pushed herself into the conversation.

“None of your business.” Lacey snuggled the baby and avoided looking at either of them. And Jay couldn’t help but be curious. It was a hazard of his job. What was she up to?

“I can fix the stove, Lacey,” he offered.

“Jay, I don’t want you to think you have to run over here and fix every little thing that goes wrong. I’m pretty self-sufficient. I can even change my own lightbulbs.”

“I’m sure you can.” He looked at his watch. “Tell you what. You pick up the knob. I’ll have my dad come over and fix it tomorrow.”

That simplified everything. It meant he stayed out of her business. And she didn’t feel like he was taking care of her.

“Good.” She smiled her typical Lacey smile, full of optimism.

He had to take that thought back. Her sister showing up in town had emptied her of that glass-half-full attitude. Maybe her cheerful attitude did have limits.

“Do you want to see if the mower will start now?” He recapped the gas can and set it on the ground next to the mower. Lacey still held the baby.

“No, I have to get ready for work now.”

“See you at the diner.” He tipped his hat and escaped.

When he glanced back over his shoulder, they were walking back into the house and he wondered if Lacey would survive her sister being in her life.

And if he would survive the two of them in his.