Bachelor Cowboy (7 page)

K
ATE WAS BUSY
making pies and cakes for the upcoming bake sale before Desperation’s annual box social. The swelling in her hand was gone, and baking gave her time to think. But there was one problem. She was thinking things she had no business thinking about.

When she heard the sound of a vehicle in the yard and then the knock on the kitchen door, she knew immediately who it was and ignored it. When the knocking continued and no one else answered it, she left the pie crust she was rolling out on the table and went to the stairs.

“Aunt Aggie, will you get the door please? Dusty’s here, and I’m up to my armpits in pie dough.”

“You’ll have to get it, dear,” Aggie called down. “I’m indisposed.”

Kate couldn’t imagine what her aunt would consider indisposed unless she was stark naked and dripping wet. With an exasperated mutter about the poor timing of some people, she hurried to wipe the sticky dough from her hands, hoping she could find a way to keep him out of the kitchen so she wouldn’t have to spend time alone with him. She now knew what he really thought of her. Thankfully, getting no answer at the kitchen door, he was now knocking on the front door.

“You’re looking better,” he greeted her, when she opened the door. “How’s your hand?”

“Fine. Is there something you need?” With all the things that had been going through her mind while she baked, Kate wasn’t in the mood for a conversation with him.

“I was hoping to talk to Aggie,” he explained.

“She’s, uh, busy upstairs, but she should be down in a few minutes. You can wait in the living room,” she told him.

He was staring at her, the intensity of his brown gaze unraveling her already thin nerves. “Aren’t you going to keep me company?” he asked as she turned for the kitchen.

“I’m sure you can wait alone for a few minutes,” she grumbled, walking out of the room. She didn’t need his unnerving looks or time spent chitchatting about who knew what, and there was no telling how long Aunt Aggie would be “indisposed,” whatever that meant.

If only her aunt would get a move on so she wouldn’t be alone with him. Turning back to make sure he wasn’t following her, she nearly ran into him. “Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.

“I’ll be more comfortable in the kitchen,” he answered with a heart-tripping grin.

“Well, I won’t,” she said and continued on her way through the hallway.

With no way to stop him from following, she walked into the kitchen where the table was loaded with paraphernalia for pie baking.

He turned her around, brushing at her face with one finger, his touch featherlight, without even a glance at the table. “Did you know you have flour on your face?” he asked in a slow, lazy voice.

It took her a moment to start breathing again and actually form a reply. “As you can see, I’m baking pies and in case you didn’t know, flour tends to get everywhere.”

Aggie’s voice rang out in the hallway, causing them both to jump back. “Did you say Dusty was here?”

“I’m in the kitchen with Kate,” he called out, his gaze never leaving hers.

To Kate’s relief, Aggie walked into the room. “Good, I need to talk to you before you leave, Dusty.”

The look he gave Kate before turning to answer nearly melted Kate on the spot. “Ask away, Miss Aggie.”

“Well, now,” she began, a broad smile on her face as she looked from Dusty to Kate, “I meant to ask you before you ran off after harvest—”

“I didn’t run off,” he protested.

Aggie waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever. The thing is we could still use some help around here.”

After a quick glance at Kate, he nodded. “That’s one of the reasons I stopped by. I was going to ask you if you needed some help.”

“We can do it ourselves,” Kate said, jumping in to save her sanity. Weren’t things bad enough already without him around every day again? He confused her. And she didn’t like it. She didn’t like the way he had her thinking of things she had never wanted.

Aggie sat at the table, pushing aside a pie pan containing the dough for one of the light, fluffy-crusted pies. “Kate is a little on the stubborn side, I’m afraid.” She gave Dusty an apologetic smile, and Kate nearly groaned aloud. “She’s had a difficult week, with the wasps and all, and pride keeps her from admitting she can’t do it all.”

“I’ll be happy to help,” he told her. “What is it you need done? Working ground?”

Aggie glanced at Kate, who shot her a pleading look. “Just getting the machinery ready—”

“Getting the machinery ready for working ground,”
Kate finished, not wanting Dusty to know anything about Aggie’s plan to lease the land.

“I can do that,” he said. “Will Kate be helping?”

Kate turned to face him. “Do you think I’d let you touch my machines without being there to make sure you were doing things right?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he answered with a grin. “But I have a question for you.” When Kate merely stood there looking at him, he continued. “How about taking a ride into Desperation for some ice cream?”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Aggie said, before Kate could turn him down. “And take your time. I was planning to go into town to visit Hettie.”

Kate stared at her aunt, wondering how she could get out of the corner she’d just been put in. “But what about the pies? There really isn’t time for me to run off for ice cream.”

Aggie waved a dismissive hand. “Plenty of time for the baking. I’ll put what’s left of the pie crust in the fridge and cover the rest. Everything will be here when you get back.”

Kate searched for another excuse, but found none. Knowing she was beat, she shrugged her shoulders in defeat.

“Have a good time,” Aggie called to them as Kate walked through the door Dusty held for her.

In his pickup, Kate sat ramrod straight, furious at having been railroaded into going with him, when she had been determined not to spend time alone with him. Aunt Aggie was treading on thin ice, and Kate wasn’t going to let this pass without telling her so.

With a quick glance in Kate’s direction, Dusty started
the engine and pulled out of the drive and onto the road. “I’m a Rocky Road fan, myself,” he said.

“I only eat vanilla,” she replied without enthusiasm.

“Vanilla’s good,” he agreed. “All those toppings to put on it. Can’t beat an old-fashioned banana split.”

“I only like chocolate on it.”

He let out a whoosh of breath. “You sure are in a sour mood today. Scoot over here by me,” he coaxed with a smile.

She wasn’t falling for it. “We aren’t on a date, Dusty.”

“We’re not?”

“No.”

“I’ll make a deal with you,” he said. “You scoot over here by me, and I’ll agree with you.” He slid a look over her from the toes of her boots to the top of her head and waited.

She ignored her body’s response. “Let’s just get the ice cream.”

They arrived in Desperation before she was forced to carry on any more conversation. For a weekday afternoon in the summer, the Sweet & Yummy Ice Cream Parlor, located a few doors down from her office in the recently renovated old opera house, was glaringly empty. She was relieved. There’d be nobody to see her with Dusty, no one to think something was going on between them. Far from it, if she had her way. She chose a booth in the corner, though, just in case.

“You’re not very talkative today,” Dusty said, as they ate their ice cream in silence.

“I have things on my mind.”

“What things?”

She met his gaze, determined not to let down her
guard, no matter how hard he tried to get her to. With a smile she didn’t feel, she said, “Nothing that has anything to do with you.”

For a moment he said nothing and only stared at her. “Damn it, Kate, what’s up with you? Would it help if I told you I’ve missed you since we finished harvest?”

She didn’t want to hear that. He was making it more difficult to keep him at a distance. She had come to the point where she couldn’t trust herself around him. Over and over she’d relived how he’d held her when she’d gotten stung by the wasps. How tender he had been when he’d put the ice bag on her hand and wrapped it. She’d told herself to forget it, but she hadn’t been able to. And she hadn’t been able to forget his comments about her to Tanner, either.

“I’ve been worried about your hand,” he went on. When she didn’t respond, he turned to stare out the window that looked out onto Main Street. “But I guess you’re doing—Is that Vern and Esther?”

Kate looked out the window, too, to see a seventy-something woman chasing a man of similar age down the street. “You’re surprised?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, turning back to face her. “It’s been how many years? And she’s still chasing after him?”

Kate suddenly saw a correlation she could use. “Some people just don’t know when to give up.”

“Is that a challenge?” he asked, understanding clear in his bourbon-colored eyes.

She shook her head, dropped her spoon into her empty bowl and scooted to the edge of the booth. “Not at all. Just a statement about the way some things are.” Standing, she smiled at him. “I think we’re done here.”

He tossed his paper napkin on the table. “Not hardly.”

The ride back to the farm was blessedly silent. Kate was relieved when she finally stepped inside the kitchen, even though Dusty had followed her. She expected he would. He was a gentleman.

“Thank you for the ice cream, Dusty,” she told him, aware that her aunt was watching them from her place at the table.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, Kate,” he answered, politely. But the look on his face said something else. She was relieved when he turned to Aggie. “When do you want to start on the machinery?”

“Let’s wait until after the box social on Saturday,” she answered. “Will we see you there?”

“I keep hearing talk about it, but I don’t know what a box social is.”

Aggie propped her foot on the chair. “Really? I would think you’d remember or at least know about them, considering how much you like to eat.”

“So it involves food, huh?”

He listened intently while Aggie explained how it had begun in the oil rush days when the town was still in its infancy, and Kate looked on in morbid fascination. She already knew how the social would turn out. Morgan would bid on Trish’s basket, and Morgan’s uncle Ernie, who managed the retirement center and was a family friend, would be bidding on Aggie’s basket. For the first time since her high school graduation, and at Aggie’s insistence, Kate would have a basket of her own in the mix.

“How do the bidders know who the basket belongs to?” he asked.

“There are ways,” Aggie said, glancing at Kate, who hadn’t moved from the doorway leading into the hall.

Dusty looked at Kate before turning to grin at Aggie. “And the two of you aren’t telling, are you?”

Kate didn’t answer and neither did Aunt Aggie. As far as Kate was concerned, he could wonder, just like the rest of the men.

“Don’t worry, ladies,” he said, smiling at each of them, “you don’t have to tell me anything. I’ll be able to figure it out for myself.”

When he turned to leave, Kate slipped out of the kitchen to try to sort through her feelings. She knew they needed his help. Whether they would be getting the machinery ready to sell or to get the fields ready for planting, it was as important as harvest had been. But she wished she and Aunt Aggie could handle it on their own.

From her spot in the hallway, she could hear him saying goodbye to Aunt Aggie, but she stayed out of sight.

“You drive carefully on the way home,” Aunt Aggie replied. “We’ll see you Saturday at the social.”

Kate shuddered at the thought. She wasn’t looking forward to it at all, especially if Dusty was going to be there.

T
HE NEXT DAY
, Dusty drove to Oklahoma City to see his doctor. It was time to find out just how soon he could get back to rodeo. Aggie hadn’t mentioned needing him to help with the ground work, just getting the machinery ready. But even if she had, he was hoping he might be competing again by then. All he needed was the doctor’s okay to return to the life he knew and needed.

“The ribs and shoulder are fine, Dusty,” the doctor told him after looking over the X rays. “They shouldn’t cause you any trouble except maybe an occasional ache in bad weather.”

“I can deal with that,” Dusty replied, waiting for the rest of the diagnosis. “And my head?”

“The concussions,” the doctor answered, nodding as he thumbed through a stack of papers in a file folder.

“I’ve been having some headaches,” Dusty admitted.

“How bad are they?”

Dusty shrugged his shoulders, unable to look the man in the eye. Lying wouldn’t help him, so he told him the truth, hoping it wouldn’t bring bad news. “Most of them I can handle with some aspirin, but now and then, they’re worse.”

“That’s expected with someone who has had as many head injuries as you have. As far as your daily living, I doubt they’ll give you much more trouble than that. I’ll give you a prescription for something a little stronger to take when they’re bad enough that the aspirin doesn’t work.”