Читать книгу Her Unexpected Cowboy - Debra Clopton - Страница 12

Chapter Three

The morning light was just crawling across her bedroom floor when Lucy opened her eyes. She’d been dead to the world from the moment she’d fallen into bed late last night, and she stared at the ceiling for a moment, disoriented.

The ache in her arms brought clarity quickly.

And no wonder with all the manual labor she’d been doing for the past week. The muscle soreness had finally caught up with her last night. Caught up with her back, too. She’d always had a weak lower back and sometimes after a lot of stooping and heavy lifting, it rebelled on her. That moment had happened when she’d taken her last swing at the long wall in her living room—a muscle spasm had struck her like a sledgehammer.

It had been so painful she’d been forced to stretch out on the floor and stare at the ceiling until it had eased up enough for her to make it upstairs to bed.

She’d had plenty of time to contemplate her situation and the fact that she really had no timeline to finish her remodel. She could take all the time in the world if she wanted to. Uncle Harvey, bless his soul, had made sure of that.

He was actually her grandfather’s brother, whom she’d lost as a young girl. He had been in bad health when her world had fallen apart, and hadn’t lived on the ranch for a couple of years. But he’d told her this was where she needed be. And he’d been right. She’d known it the moment she’d arrived. She was making the place her own and searching for her new footing at the same time.

And yet, things had changed when Rowdy McDermott had offered to help her. She watched him drive off, and her conscience had plucked away at her.

To prove that she’d made the right decision turning him away, she’d gone at her work with extra zeal...but the pleasure she’d felt had disappeared. Drat the man—he’d messed up her process.

He’d had no right trying to take over her work. He was only being a good neighbor. The voice of reason she’d been steadily ignoring yesterday was louder this morning. Had she judged him wrong? She didn’t like this distrust that ruled her life these days.

Sitting up, she had no control of the groan that escaped her grimacing lips. “Hot shower, really hot shower.” She eased off the bed and walked stiffly toward the bathroom.

She’d wash the cobwebs out of her mind, the dust out of her hair and the pain out of her muscles. Then maybe she could figure out what she needed to do about the problems her good-looking neighbor was causing her.

She’d told him she would think about his offer. But did she really want him here? And he’d already shown that he thought his way was the best way. Did she want to fight that? Because she wasn’t giving up control of anything.

The niggling admission that she might be in over her head and needed help on this simmered in her thoughts. The realization that she was allowing distrust of men—all men—color her need for real help bothered her.

Shower, now! She needed a clear head to sort this out.

Twenty minutes later, feeling better, she padded down to the kitchen. The shower had helped her spirits, but she knew that today her back was going to give her fits if she did anything too strenuous. It needed a break. Her mind needed a break, too. She couldn’t shut it off....

When a gal wasn’t quite five feet tall, she grew used to people assuming she was helpless because of her size. Too weak to swing a sledgehammer.

It was maddening. More so now—since her husband’s betrayal had left her feeling so pathetically blind and weak-minded.

Too weak to realize my husband was cheating on me.

The humiliating thought slipped into her head like the goad of an enemy. Not the best way to start her day. She was going to miss not knocking out a wall—and the satisfaction it gave her.

People’s lack of faith always made her all the more determined to do whatever it was they assumed she couldn’t do.

Glancing down at her wrists, she could see the puckered skin peeking out from the edge of her long-sleeved T-shirt. She knew those scars looked twisted and savage as they covered her arm and much of her body beneath her clothing. The puckered burn scars on her neck itched, reminding her how close she’d come to having her face disfigured...reminding her of her blessings amid the tragedy that had become her life two years ago.

She hadn’t felt blessed then, when she’d nearly died in the fire that had killed her husband.

And learned the truth she hadn’t seen before.

Reaching for the coffeepot, her fingers trembled. There had been days during the year she’d spent in the burn center that she’d wished she hadn’t survived. But it was the internal scars from Tim’s betrayal that were the worst.

Those scars weren’t as easy to heal. But they made knocking walls out a piece of cake. She’d just overdone it. Easy to do when there was enough anger inside her 105-pound frame to knock walls down for years.

Each swing made her feel stronger. She might have lost control of her life two years ago, but thanks to her dear uncle thinking about her in his will, she was here in Dew Drop, Texas, determined to regain control.

On her terms.

And knocking out walls was just the beginning. Just as Uncle Harvey had intended. He’d recognized that she was struggling emotionally and floundering to find meaning in it all after finally being released from the hospital.

Walking to the sink, she flipped on the cold water and looked out the window as she stuck the pot under the spray. Two young men were carrying fallen tree branches to her burn pile!

Lucy jumped at the unexpected sight and sloshed water on herself. Setting the pot down, she grabbed a dishrag and wiped her hands as she headed for the door. What is going on?

She stormed out onto her back porch and caught her breath when Rowdy stepped around the corner.

“You,” she gasped. “I should have known. What is going on here?” This was what she was talking about—control. “Just because you saved me doesn’t give you the right to just disregard my wishes—”

“Look, I knew you needed help. I just brought the fellas over to pick up a few limbs for you.”

Teens, not men, watching them from the burn pile, clearly uncertain whether to come near or not. They could probably see steam shooting out of her ears.

“They’ve cleaned up a lot. We’ve been at it since about six.”

“Six!” It was eight-thirty now. How had she not heard them?

“We tried to be quiet so we wouldn’t wake you.”

Her mouth fell open. What did he think he was doing?

“You were quiet because you didn’t want me to know you were here.”

His eyes flashed briefly. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“You just can’t take no for an answer.”

He stared at her, his jaw tensed, and a sense of guilt overcame her. Guilt. He was the one who should be guilty.

Right?

She was glaring at him when his gaze drifted to her neck and it was only then that she realized she hadn’t pulled on her work shirt yet over her long-sleeved T-shirt.

He was staring at the scar. It licked up from the back of her neck, out from the protection of her hair, and curled around, stopping jaggedly just below her jawline.

“You’ve been burned.” There was shock in his voice.

“Yes.” Turning, she went back into the house to get the work shirt draped over the kitchen chair. Her hands shook as she slipped it on. Rowdy barreled inside behind her.

“Lucy, I’m sorry we startled you like we did. You have every right to be angry.”

Angry? She could barely think, she was so embarrassed. Striding to the living room, she grabbed for her sledgehammer, and without putting on her goggles she took a swing at the wall. Her back and shoulders lashed out at her, forcing her to set the hammer down immediately. She was being ridiculous and she knew it. Why was she so afraid to let Rowdy help her?

The man was obstinate, that was why. Arrogant even, by showing up here to work anyway.

“I’m sorry about that burn. It looks like it must have been terribly painful.”

She met his gaze and gave him a quick nod. Her scars were something she didn’t talk about. Especially the ones on the inside. “It’s fine now,” she said bluntly. She hoped he’d take the hint and not continue this line of talk.

“Look—” he shifted from boot to boot and scrubbed the back of his neck in a show of frustration “—you need help and you know it. You said yesterday that you would think about it. I was just trying to let you see that the guys were good kids and hard workers. They could whip this yard into shape for you in no time. And they’ll do it for free. C’mon, give them a chance. Give me a chance.”

As aggravating as it was to admit—the man had charm. And there was no way to deny that she needed help. She couldn’t go through life shunning all men. That was unrealistic. The fact he’d seen a portion of her scars ate into her confidence, and that was maddening. It did not matter what the cowboy thought of her.

It didn’t.

“Why not?” she heard herself saying. “It looks like you’re going to be over here every day bothering me anyway. But just for a few days. And I’ll pay you.” Lucy! What are you doing?

A slow smile spread across his face. “There you go. That wasn’t so hard after all, was it?” he said, reaching for her sledgehammer. “No pay needed for me, but if you want to pay the boys, that’s fine. I was going to pay them for today myself.”

“I’ll pay them for today.”

“No, I said I would—”

“Look, Rowdy,” Lucy said, in her sternest voice. “If they are going to be over here, then I’m paying them. It’s either that or this deal is off.” They stared at each other and she got the distinct impression that he didn’t “get” her in the same way that she didn’t get him. But she was taking back control of this situation, or she wasn’t having any part of it.

“Okay, have it your way.”

“Good.”

“All righty, then, stand back,” he warned.

Lucy felt her body automatically obey, and watched him swing the heavy sledgehammer as if it was a plastic toy. The muscles in his forearms strained with the strength he put behind the swing. The hammer met the same spot her swing had barely dented and instantly the wood cracked beneath it.

She brought her hand up and touched the base of her throat where her heartbeat raced.

After three more swings along the base of the studded wall, it broke free. It would have taken her all day to do that!

“I see what attracts you to this.” He looked over his shoulder at her with a teasing light in his eyes. “I kinda like it myself.”

“Yeah, it does kill a bad mood, doesn’t it?”

He laughed at that and they stared at each other. Tension radiated between them.

“Okay,” she said at last. “Thank you for helping me. I did need it.”

“No need to thank me.” His smile widened. “You’re the one helping me. Saving me from the wrath of Nana is a good thing. If there is one thing she prides above all else, it’s that her boys are gentlemen. And I have to admit I have sometimes been her wayward child.”

“Say it ain’t so,” Lucy mocked.

“Yeah, but I’m gonna make points when she finds out about this. So I guess that means I’m still the wayward child, since I’m really doing this for myself. Does that make you feel any better about letting me swing away?”

“Much better. I’d hate for you to actually admit that you’re doing it because you’re a nice guy.” And he might be, even if he was a little nosy. But that didn’t stop her from being wary...not so much of him, but of the way she reacted to him.

“Me, a nice guy.” He looked skeptical, and that grin played across his face. “I don’t know about that.”

The man’s personality sparkled and drew her like his eyes and his smile, stunning her once again.

Had she truly thought she was going to go the rest of her life not finding a man attractive?

Of course not.

That her neighbor just happened to have qualities that, regrettably, reminded her that she was still a woman, meant nothing. Absolutely nothing.

* * *

She was still telling herself that when Ruby Ann McDermott, Rowdy’s grandmother, showed up at her house midmorning bearing welcome-to-Dew-Drop gifts: a basket loaded with homemade fig and strawberry preserves and green tomato relish, along with several small loaves of banana-nut bread to freeze and take out as needed, she informed Lucy.

Ruby Ann had long silver hair pulled back in a ponytail and strong features like Rowdy, along with those deep blue eyes the color of a twilight sky. She held her tall frame ramrod straight, with an elegance about the way she moved.

Two friends came along with her. The first of them, Ms. Jo, owned the Spotted Cow Café in town. Lucy had met her the day she’d first arrived. She’d had supper at the cute café after spending the day unpacking. Ms. Jo’s piercing hazel eyes seemed to take everything in from behind her wire-rimmed glasses. She wore her slate-gray hair in a soft cap of curls. Lucy felt a kindred spirit, not just from the fact that they were close to the same height. She liked the older lady’s spunk and hoped her own personality would be similar when she was nearing seventy.

Ms. Jo brought along a coconut pie that looked so mouthwateringly delicious Lucy could barely keep from diving in the instant Ms. Jo placed it in her hands.

Mabel Tilsbee, the other member of the welcoming committee, owned the Dew Drop Inn. The towering, large-boned woman with shoulder-length black hair spiced with just a few strands of gray handed over a tray of cookies that were clearly overdone. “There’s no need in me even pretending to be the best in the kitchen when the county’s best are both standing here beside me. I gave it a whirl, though.” She winked. “I got distracted and baked these a little too long. But, if you like coffee, they’re real good dunkers.”

Lucy laughed and felt instantly at home with these ladies. “Thank you all so much for coming by,” she said, leading them into the kitchen. They eyed where a wall had obviously just been knocked out.

Ruby Ann’s hand fluttered at the construction area. “Rowdy told me at breakfast this morning that he helped you do this. And that he and some of the boys will be helping you out for a little while.”

“Yes, ma’am, he did.” It was all Lucy could do not to smile at the thought of Rowdy’s brownie points. She decided to help him out. “He’s doing a great job. I worked almost two days knocking a wall out of the hayloft and half the morning just getting this wall to budge. He had it down within an hour. It was quite humiliating.”

That got a chuckle from everyone.

“All my boys are strong and know how to work,” Ruby Ann said.

“That’s the truth.” Ms. Jo’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Handsome, too, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, he is.” She couldn’t deny the obvious. “I was just about to have a coffee break when y’all drove up. Please join me. I suddenly have lots of great food to choose from.”

“You know, hon—” Mabel gave her a nudge with her elbow “—that’s a great idea. I’ll slice the pie.”

Lucy headed for the cups. This move was getting better by the day.

Mabel took the knife she handed her and sliced the pie and one of the loaves of banana-nut bread, instantly filling Lucy’s kitchen with mouthwatering aromas.

She filled four mugs with coffee and in a matter of minutes they were all gathered around her kitchen table laughing and talking between bites.

An hour later, with an official invitation to dinner the next evening, she waved goodbye and was smiling as she watched her new friends drive away.

Her mother called this Nowhere, U.S.A., but to Lucy, this small town felt like home.

Turning back, she surveyed the low-slung ranch house. Three days ago, overgrown shrubs had threatened to obscure it, and one of the shutters had needed to be straightened. Not so since Wes, Joseph and Rowdy had stepped in.

Ever since she’d awakened in the hospital to discover the truth about her life, she’d been adrift and searching for something. Only her faith that God was beside her had gotten her through. And her God-given stubbornness.

From his perch on the porch railing, Moose purred, and even that from the ornery tomcat felt like a welcome—after all, he’d picked her.

“Yes, big fellow,” Lucy murmured, lifting him up and hugging him, “I do believe us two strays have found our home.”

Rowdy McDermott’s image plopped right back into her contented thoughts, settling in like a sticker poking through a sock.

Pushing the irritating worry aside, she headed inside to reread her home-repair guide on plastering a wall. She might have trust issues by the wagonload, but she was not a chicken.

She would not allow her fears to send her running.

She’d taken her first step toward starting over, and this was where she was making her stand.

Dew Drop was where Lucy Calvert took control of her life again.