Читать книгу The Cowboy Next Door & Jenna's Cowboy Hero: The Cowboy Next Door / Jenna's Cowboy Hero - Brenda Minton - Страница 14

Lacey hurried away, ignoring the desire to glance over her shoulder, to see if he was watching. He wouldn’t watch. He would get on his horse, shaking his head because she had climbed into his life that way.

She had no business messing in his life; she was a dirty sock, mistakenly tossed in the basket with the clean socks. She couldn’t hide from reality.

Jay was the round peg in the round hole. He fit. He was a part of Gibson and someday, he’d marry a girl from Gibson. And Lacey didn’t know why that suddenly bothered her, or why it bothered her that when he looked at her, it was with that look, the one that said she was the community stray, taken in and fed, given a safe place to stay.

The way she fed stray cats behind the diner.

“Hey, Lacey, up here.”

She looked up, searching the crowd. When she saw Bailey, she waved. Bailey had a seat midway up the bleachers, with a clear view of the chutes. Lacey climbed the steps and squeezed past a couple of people to take a seat next to her friend.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” Bailey held her hands out and took the baby, her own belly growing rounder every day.

“Long story.” Lacey searched the crowd of men behind the pens. She sought a tall cowboy wearing a white hat, his shirt plaid. She found him, standing next to the buckskin and talking to one of the other guys.

“Make it a short story and fill me in.” Bailey leaned a shoulder against Lacey’s. “You okay?”

“Hmmm?” Lacey nodded. She didn’t want to talk, not here, with hundreds of people surrounding them, eating popcorn or cotton candy and drinking soda from paper cups.

“Are you okay?” Louder voice now, a little impatient.

“I’m great.” Lacey leaned back on the bleacher seat. “My sister wrecked my house and she’s passed out in my bed. The cowboy that lives down the lane treats me like an interloper. I’m living in his grandparents’ house, and he doesn’t want me there.”

“He brought you tonight.”

“He did. I’m a charity case. He felt bad because Corry broke my dogs.”

Bailey nodded. “He’s about to ride a bull. But since you’ve sworn off men, I guess that doesn’t matter to you?”

“I have a reason for swearing off men. I’m never going to be the type of woman a man takes home to meet his family.”

“Lance has problems, Lacey. That isn’t about you, it’s about him.”

“It is about me. It takes a lot for anyone to understand where I’ve been and what I’ve done. I’m ashamed of the life I lived, so why should I expect a man to blindly accept my past?”

“You’re forgetting what God has done in your life. You’re forgetting what He can still do. You’re not a finished product. None of us are. Our stories are still being written.”

“No, I’m not forgetting.” Lacey looked away, because she couldn’t admit that sometimes she wondered how God could forgive. How could He take someone as dirty as she felt and turn them into someone people respected?

She worked really hard trying to be that person that others respected.

The bulls ran through the chutes. Lacey leaned back, watching as cowboy after cowboy got tossed. Each time one of them hit the dirt, she cringed. She didn’t really want to ride a bull.

“Jay’s up.” Bailey pointed. Taller than the other bull riders, he stood on the outside of the chute. The bull moved in the chute, a truck-sized animal, pawing the ground.

“I really don’t want to watch.”

“It isn’t easy.” Bailey shifted Rachel, now sleeping, on her shoulder. “It doesn’t get easier. Every time I watch Cody ride, I pray, close my eyes, peek, pray some more.”

“Yes, but you love Cody.”

“True. The cowboy in question is just your neighbor.”

“Exactly.” Lacey laughed and glanced at Bailey, willing to give her friend what she wanted to hear. “He’s cute, Bailey, I’m not denying that. But I’m not looking for cute.”

“Of course not.”

“I’m not looking—period.”

“But it is okay to look.” Bailey smiled a happy smile and elbowed Lacey. “There he goes.”

The gate opened and the bull spun out of the opening, coming up off the ground like a ballet dancer. Amazing that an animal so huge could move like that. The thud when the beast came down jarred the man on his back and Jay fell back, moving his free arm forward.

The buzzer sounded and Jay jumped, landing clear of the animal, but hitting the ground hard. The bull didn’t want to let it go. The animal turned on Jay, charging the cowboy, who was slow getting up.

A bullfighter jumped between the beast and the man, giving Jay just enough time to escape, to jump on the fence and wait for the distracted animal to make up his mind that he’d rather not take a piece out of a cowboy.

Jay looked up, his hat gone. His dark gaze met Lacey’s and stayed there, connected, for just a few seconds. Warm brown eyes in a face that was lean and handsome. And then he hopped down from the fence and limped away.

“Breathe,” Bailey whispered.

Lacey breathed. It wasn’t easy. She inhaled a gulp of air and her heart raced.

* * *

The rodeo ended with steer wrestling. Jay watched from behind the pens at the back of the arena, still smarting from the bull, and still thinking about Lacey Gould’s dark brown eyes. He shook his head and walked away, back to his trailer and his horse.

“That was quite a ride.” Cody slapped Jay on the back as he untied his horse.

“Thanks. I’m glad it made you happy.”

“Oh, come on, you enjoyed it.” Cody leaned against the side of the trailer, his hat pushed back on his head. “You’ll do it again next week.”

“I’m thinking no.” Jay tightened his grip on Buck’s reins because the horse was tossing his head, whinnying to a nearby mare. “I think I’ll stick to roping.”

“Yeah, I think I’m done with bull riding, too. I’ve got a baby on the way.”

“Right, that does sound like a good reason to stop.”

“Yeah, it does.” Cody smiled like a guy who had it all. And he did. He had the wife, a child, the farm and a baby on the way. Jay had a diamond ring in a drawer and a room in his parents’ house. He had a box of memories that he kept hidden in a closet.

“Speaking of wives and babies, I’m going to find my wife.” Cody slapped him on the back again and walked away.

Jay pulled the saddle off the horse and limped to the back of his truck, his knee stiff and his back even stiffer. He tossed the saddle in the back of the truck and then leaned for a minute, wishing again that he hadn’t ridden that bull. Bull riding wasn’t a sport a guy jumped into.

He tried not to think about Lacey’s face in the crowd, pale and wide-eyed as she watched him scramble to the fence, escaping big hooves and an animal that wanted to hurt him.

The horse whinnied, reminding him of work that still needed to be done. He walked back to the animal, rubbing Buck’s sleek neck and then pulling off the bridle, leaving just the halter and lead rope. The horse nodded his head as if he approved.

“I’m getting too old for crazy stunts, Buck.”

“You stayed on.” The feminine voice from behind him was a little soft, a little teasing.

“Yep.”

He turned and smiled at Lacey. She wasn’t a friend, just someone his mom had picked up and brought home. He had friends, people he’d grown up with, gone to church with, known all his life. He didn’t know where to put her, because she didn’t fit those categories. Someone that he knew? A person that needed help? Someone passing through?

He would have preferred she stayed in Jolynn’s apartment, not the house his grandparents had built. Jamie’s house. But she was there now, and he’d deal with it. He moved away from his horse and straightened, raising his hands over his head to stretch the kinks out of his back.

She was here tonight, in his life, because he’d brought her. He had been trying not to think about that, or why he’d extended the offer. Maybe because of the pain in her eyes when she’d looked at those silly dogs her sister had broken.

Who got upset over something like that?

Lacey took cautious steps forward. She held the sleeping baby in one arm and had the diaper bag over her shoulder. She didn’t carry a purse.

“You actually did pretty well,” she encouraged, a shy smile on a face that shouldn’t have been shy. He had never seen her as shy. She was the waitress who never backed down when the guys at the diner gave her a hard time.

“I did stay on, but it wasn’t fun and it isn’t something I want to do again. I think I’ll stick to roping.”

“You won the roping event.” She moved forward, her hand sliding up the rump of his horse. “Want me to do something?”

“No, I’ve got it.”

She stood next to him, her hand on his horse’s neck. She didn’t look at him, and he wondered why. Did she think that by not looking at him, she could hide her secrets?

“I’m going to put the baby in the truck.” She moved away and he let her go. Buck pushed at him with his big, tan head, rubbing his jaw against Jay’s shoulder.

“In the trailer, Buck.” Jay opened the trailer and moved to the side. Buck went in, his hooves pounding on the floor of the trailer, rattling the metal sides as his weight shifted and settled.

“He’s an amazing animal.” Lacey had returned, without the baby. He was tying the horse to the front of the trailer. “When you rope on him, it’s like he knows what you want him to do before you make a move.”

“He’s a smart animal.” Jay latched the trailer.

“Thank you for letting me come with you tonight.”

Jay shrugged, another movement that didn’t feel too great. He stepped back against his trailer and brought her with him, because the truck next to them was pulling forward.

“I didn’t mind.” His hand was still on her arm.

She looked from his hand on her arm to his face. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip and she shivered, maybe from the cold night air.

It was dark and the band was playing. Jay could see people two-stepping on a temporary dance floor. Couples scooted in time to the music, and children ran in the open field, catching fireflies.

Lacey smelled like lavender and her arm was soft. She looked up, her eyes dark in a face that was soft, but tough. He moved his hand from her arm and touched her cheek.

She shook her head a little and took a step back, disengaging from his touch. But that small step didn’t undo the moment. She was street-smart and vulnerable and he wanted to see how she felt in his arms.

He wanted to brush away the hurt look in her eyes, and the shame that caused her to look away too often. Instead, he came to his senses and pulled back, letting the moment slip away.

“We should go.” Lacey stepped over the tongue of the trailer and put distance between them. Her arms were crossed and she had lost the vulnerable look. “Jay, whatever that was, it wasn’t real.”

“What?”

“It was moonlight. It was summertime and soft music. It was you being lonely and losing someone you thought you’d spend your life with.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I am right. But I’m nobody’s moment. Someday I want forever, but I’ll never be a moment again.”

He exhaled a deep breath and whistled low. “Okay, then I guess we should go.”

He felt like the world’s biggest loser.

* * *

Lacey woke up on Sunday morning, glad that she had a day off. If only she’d gotten some sleep, but she hadn’t. Jay had dropped her off at midnight, and wound up from the night, she’d stayed up for two hours, cleaning.

She rolled over in bed, listening to the sound of country life drifting through the open window. Cows mooed from the field and somewhere a rooster crowed. He was a little late, but still trying to tell everyone that it was time to get up.

The baby cried and she heard Corry telling her to shush, as if the baby would listen and not expect to be fed. Lacey sat up and stretched. She had an hour to get ready before church.

When she walked through the door of the dining room, Corry was at the table with a bowl of cereal. Rachel was in the bassinet, arms flailing the air.

“Have you fed her?” Lacey picked up the tiny infant and held her close. The baby fussed too much. “Has she been to a doctor?”

“Give me a break. Like I have the money for that. She’s fine.”

“She’s hungry and she feels warm.”

“So, feed her, mother of the year.”

“I’m not her mother, Corry.”

Corry drank the milk from her bowl and took it to the sink. At least she did that much. Lacey took a deep breath and exhaled the brewing impatience. The baby curled against her shoulder, fist working in her tiny mouth.

“I’ll feed her, you get ready for church.” Lacey held the baby with one arm and reached in the drainer at the edge of the sink for a clean bottle.

“I’m not going to church.”

“If you’re staying with me, you’re going to church.”

“Make me go and you’ll regret it.”

“I probably will, but you’re going.” Lacey shook the bottle to mix the formula with the water. “I’ve already taken a shower. You can have yours now.”

She turned away from Corry, but shuddered when the bathroom door slammed. “Well, little baby, this is probably something I’ll pay for.”

Rachel sucked at the bottle, draining it in no time and then burping loudly against Lacey’s shoulder. She put the sleeping baby into the infant car seat and was strapping her in as Corry walked out of the bathroom. She wore a black miniskirt and a white tank top.

“You can’t wear that.”

“It’s all I have.” Gum smacked and Corry busied herself, far too happily, shoving diapers and wipes along with an extra bottle into the bag.

Rachel cried, a little restless and fussy.

“I think she’s sick.” Corry looked at the baby and then at Lacey. “What do you think?”

“She feels warm and her cheeks are a little pink. I don’t know.”

Corry unbuckled the straps and pulled Rachel out of the seat. “I think she has a fever.”

“Do you have medicine for her?”

Corry nodded. “I have those drops. I’ll give her some of those.”

“And stay home with her. She shouldn’t be out. You can stay here and let her sleep.”

Corry’s eyes widened. “Really? You’re not going to make me go to church.”

“I’m not going to make you.” Lacey sighed. “Corry, no one can make you go to church. I only want you to try to get your life together and stay clean.”

“And church is going to make it all better?”

“Church doesn’t, but God does. He really does make things better when you trust Him.” The act of going to church hadn’t changed anything for Lacey. She had tried that routine as a teenager, because she’d known, really known that God could help, but each time she went into a church, thinking it would be a magic cure, it hadn’t changed anything. Because she had thought it was about going to church.

In Gibson she had learned that it was about faith, about trusting God, not about going to church wishing people would love her. She had learned, too, about loving herself.

She needed to remember that, she realized. Since Lance, she’d had a tough time remembering her own clean slate and that she was worth loving.

Corry pushed through the diapers and wipes in the diaper bag and pulled out infant drops. She held them out to Lacey. “How much do I give her?”

Lacey took the bottle and looked at the back, reading the directions. “One dropper. And don’t give her more until I get home. I’ll be late, though. You’ll have to fix your own lunch.”

“Where are you going?”

“After church there are a few of us that go to the nursing home to sing and have church with the people there.”

“Ah, isn’t that sweet.”

Lacey let it go. “I’ll see you later.”

Today Jay would be joining them at the nursing home. She wondered how the return of one man to his home-town could change everything. For years Gibson had been her safe place. Jay’s presence undid that feeling.