Bachelor Cowboy (9 page)

“Going once, going twice, sold to Gerald Barnes,” the auctioneer shouted. “Now who’s the little lady this basket belongs to?”

Gerald looked straight at her.

Feeling her face heat with embarrassment, Kate gave her aunt a pleading look. She did not want to do this.
Gerald Barnes? Why, he was Aunt Aggie’s age, or close to it. Had he somehow discovered it was her basket?

“Get on up there, girl,” Aggie said, giving her a motherly shove. “It’s Kate’s basket,” she announced, and the crowd cheered.

But when Kate had made her way to the steps of the gazebo, Gerald was nowhere to be seen, and neither was her basket. Her embarrassment reached an all-time high.

Councilman Stacy leaned close to her. “He said to meet him over by the picnic tables. I guess he’s feeling shy. But he must have wanted it pretty bad. His final bid was fifty dollars.”

Shocked, Kate could only nod. It was more likely that he had taken the basket home to have all to himself. If he had, she wouldn’t exactly be disappointed.

When she told her aunt, Aggie simply shrugged. “There’s no telling with Gerald. He’s an ornery cuss. Gives me more grief than anyone else, but he’s a good, decent man. He wouldn’t do anything to embarrass you. So you go on, and I’ll catch up with you later. My basket is up soon, and Ernie and I promised to share it with Hettie.”

The sun was setting and twilight was quickly settling on the town, making it difficult for Kate to see in the heavily shaded park. When she reached the scattering of picnic tables she looked around, but she didn’t see Gerald.

Stood up.
That’s what she was. But if she was honest with herself, she was really relieved. The last thing she wanted to do was spend the evening with—

“Miss Clayborne?”

She turned and peered into the shadows in the direction of the voice. To her surprise, she saw Dusty walking
toward her. “Where’s Gerald?” she asked when he reached her and gently took her arm.

He led her to a spot under a tree where a blanket was spread. “He said he had something he had to do. I didn’t want you to think he had just disappeared, so I offered to take his place.”

“Aren’t you afraid this might be your last supper?” she joked, but her hands trembled as she began to unpack the basket. This was much different than the picnic they’d had on his porch, and she was thankful that the setting sun and the low light would hide her nervousness.

He helped her and then leaned back against the rough trunk of the tree. “I have health insurance.”

“Good thing.” She handed him a plate.

“This sure looks good,” he said, taking the fork she offered him.

“I hope you feel the same way after you’ve eaten it and are at Doc Priller’s.”

He laughed. “I guess I deserve that for teasing you.” He was quiet for a moment. “It was nice of you to teach Trish how to cook.”

The iced tea she was pouring from a thermos into a glass sloshed onto her hand. Bantering with him was easier than taking this whole situation seriously. She looked straight at him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“No reason. From what I’ve heard, Trish has always had your help.”

“So?”

He shrugged and set his plate on his lap. “Not all sisters would do that. Sometimes there’s jealousy between siblings.”

“Not with Trish and me.”

He patted the spot beside him. “Sit here. It’s getting dark.”

Not sure it was a good idea, but not knowing how to politely refuse him, she lowered herself to the ground where he’d indicated and reached for her plate. If nothing else, she wanted to keep things on a friendly but completely platonic level. This could be her chance to talk to him about his visit to the doctor.

When they’d been silent for some time and the park had settled into darkness, except for the soft glow of small lights scattered throughout the park, she felt the need to make conversation. “Fifty dollars is a lot to pay for an unknown meal by an unknown cook.”

“Not really. It’s no more than a meal in a fancy restaurant would be.”

“But this isn’t red snapper en papillote or a Greek salad with feta cheese,” she pointed out. “It’s homemade fried chicken, potato salad, applesauce—”

“And just as good as those other things, whatever they are. Probably even better.” He set his plate aside and turned to study her. “How do you know about those fancy foods?”

“I’ve made them,” she said with a shrug, “but they really aren’t the fare for people in Desperation. Not on a daily basis, anyway.”

“Have you ever thought of starting your own restaurant?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Why would I joke about something like that?”

“When would I find the time?” she asked. “With farming in the spring and summer and fall, and tax business in the winter, there wouldn’t be much time for run
ning a restaurant and especially cooking for it. Besides, I cook because I like doing it. Making a career of it would spoil that.”

“It was just a thought.”

Clearing her throat, she attempted to keep her voice matter-of-fact. “Gerald Barnes didn’t pay for this meal, did he?”

She waited out the silence until he finally answered. “You guessed.”

“It’s pretty obvious,” she said, laughing. And then she sobered. “But nobody knew the basket was mine.”

“I did.”

“But how?”

“Trade secret. I can’t reveal my source. Besides, I wanted to do it. Trish’s basket sold for forty dollars. Yours should be worth more.”

“That depends on who’s buying it.” But she couldn’t deny that it had made her feel special, even though being in the spotlight for only a few minutes had made her uncomfortable. It also gave her courage. She was ready to do what Tanner and Jules had asked of her. “You can’t go back to bull riding, Dusty.”

He sat straight up and stared at her. “What?”

“You can’t put your life in danger.”

For a minute he just glared at her. She obviously hadn’t approached the subject in the best of ways, because if looks could kill…

“I can do anything I like with my life,” he finally said and leaned back against the tree again, still watching her.

“But—”

“Can’t we have a conversation without an argument?” His voice had risen in the dark. “Listen, Kate,” he went
on in a quieter tone, “what do you say we call a truce tonight? This food is too good to eat on an upset stomach. We might even find that we like each other.”

Like
him? She was beyond liking. Way beyond. But if that’s what he wanted…After all, he had paid fifty dollars for a basket of food. “A truce it is then,” she said, but felt like a traitor.

“Good.” Picking up another piece of chicken, he took a bite and seemed quite pleased with himself. Or the chicken, she wasn’t sure which.

“But I’m serious about the bull riding.” The words came out before she could stop them.

“So am I,” he replied without looking at her. “And that’s the end of the subject. Forever.”

Kate felt terrible. She had failed Tanner and Jules. She had failed herself. Worst of all, she had failed Dusty. And there was nothing she could do about it. The thought made her sick to her stomach.

“Would you mind dropping the basket off at the farm tomorrow?” she asked, getting to her feet.

“What? Why?” He watched her pick up her plate and put it in the basket. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” For some reason the word stuck in her throat. “I’m sorry, but I guess I just can’t go along with this truce, after all. What you’re planning to do is wrong, and as a friend I can’t let you do it. I’m sorry we couldn’t finish our dinner, but—”

She left him staring after her. She could feel his gaze on her, until she knew she’d disappeared in the darkness. But she hadn’t felt she had a choice. Dusty could be seriously and permanently injured while riding a bull. Or dead. Jules and Tanner had been wrong. Her opinion
was of no importance to him. He would do as he pleased, no matter what the danger, and continuing to argue with him wouldn’t change anything.

D
USTY WATCHED
Kate walk away from him, until he could no longer see her. She’d taken him completely off guard with her question, and somewhere, deep inside, he was pleased that she cared. But he wasn’t going to discuss his profession with her. He’d learned from his parents that it did no good. Besides, he’d be gone soon, and Kate would find something else to keep her busy. Or someone else, because a woman like her deserved someone. That thought didn’t cheer him, but he’d be leaving in a couple of weeks, and he had hoped it would be with goodwill between them. He honestly liked her—probably more than he should.

After looking for Aggie and Trish at the park, but not finding them, he guessed they had all gone home. Feeling bad that he had been so harsh with Kate, he left the park and drove to the Claybornes’ with the hope of smoothing things over with her. He parked his pickup in the drive, grabbed the picnic basket and approached the house. A star-studded night with a slim moon hanging high in the dark sky barely lit the farmyard, but he knew the way. Taking a deep breath as he mounted the porch steps, he welcomed the fresh country air. He’d check on Kate, leave the basket with her and then he’d go home.

Instead of going around to the side, he knocked at the front door. Lights burned softly inside the house where he could hear a radio playing an easy George Strait song. He waited, but when no one answered he knocked
again, louder and longer, wondering what the ladies might be doing.

Not getting a response from his second attempt, he was disappointed. He had wanted some companionship for the evening. Someone to talk to, to share things with. But Kate had tread on a subject she had no right to broach and then left him at the park, feeling as if it was his fault. But with no one home and no way to talk to her, his only option was to go back to his own place.

As he started to turn for the steps and head home, he thought he heard a creak not far away. Stopping, he held perfectly still, straining to hear the sound again. Instead, he was rewarded with the startling noise of a squeaky sneeze coming from the far end of the long porch.

“Okay, who is it?” he asked in the shadowy darkness. But he didn’t need to ask. Like ESP, he felt the presence of the woman who smelled like a fresh spring shower. “Come on out, Kate,” he called to her. “You can’t hide over there.”

“Go on home, Dusty,” she replied, her voice drifting from where he knew the porch swing hung. “Nobody’s home.”

He set the picnic basket down and walked toward the sound of her voice, his boot heels tapping on the wooden porch. He knew he should probably do exactly as she said, but her voice pulled him closer. “Why didn’t you say something when I knocked? I know you saw me drive up.”

“Did it occur to you I might not want company?”

He stopped in front of her, his eyes growing accus
tomed enough to the dark end of the porch to make out her form in the swing. “Are you feeling better?”

“I’m feeling fine, thank you, and I don’t need company. If you knew me, you’d know that.”

He detected a sad note in her voice. “I know you’re a hard worker. You know more about machines than lots of men. You’re smart—”

“Isn’t that wonderful?” Her sarcasm stabbed at him. “What an enticing picture. Spread the word. Men will be lined up for miles just to get a glimpse of me.”

She shifted in the swing, one bare foot tucked under her, the other dangling but not quite reaching the porch. Stepping closer, he nudged the swing with his leg, putting it in motion. “Feeling sorry for yourself?”

“Me?” She laughed, but it lacked humor. “Far from it. I decided long ago I’d rather spend my life like Aunt Aggie, never having to live under the domineering thumb of a know-it-all man.”

Her words stung. “Is that what you think of me?”

“You’re no different than the rest,” she said with a sniff. “I know what you want, Dusty McPherson, and I know what can happen. The really sorry part is that you don’t care.”

He knew she was talking about the bull riding. The only person he had told what the doctor had said was Tanner, so he was sure that’s where Kate had gotten her information. He’d deal with that later. But at that moment, all he wanted was Kate. The more she talked, the more he wanted to pull her into his arms and end the argument with a kiss. In the darkness, with the night cloaking them, his buried needs welled up to engulf him. Since the moment he’d met her with a shotgun in
her hands, he hadn’t been able to keep his mind off her. Or his hands. A touch here, a brush there, each one leading to wanting more.

It wasn’t love. It was lust, pure and simple, and he found fighting it exhausting. Every night he battled the image his memory held of her, keeping him awake long after decent people slept as he tried to banish it and replace it with other things.

He couldn’t conquer the nights when he was alone, and it was becoming more difficult each day in her presence. Touching her was the same as sticking his hand in a flame, and still, he ached to touch her. No, it wasn’t love. But he couldn’t deny it was the closest he’d ever come to it.

“I’ll show you what I want,” he growled, unable to fight anymore. Grabbing her hands, he pulled her to her feet. Looking into her startled eyes, her lips parted in surprise, an electric bolt shot through him. He’d have it over with, he thought—this kiss he’d been dying for since she’d caught him with her shotgun.