For Love of a Cowboy (6 page)

Booth cast a look to the front of the store where Willow was color-matching fabric for a customer over in the quilting section. “Meet her dad, did you say? Who is he?”

“She hasn’t said, but he must be local if she’s here, right?”

“If you say so,” he growled. “But I’ll be keeping my eye on her anyway.”

“Just don’t scare her away,” Ness said softly. “I need the help and I wasn’t exactly overrun with applicants when I put the help wanted sign in the window.”

Booth inclined his head slightly. It was as far as he was prepared to go to acknowledge his sister’s request. He realized he was still holding the bag of old clothes.

“You want me to drop these by the thrift store?” he offered.

“Sure, if it’s on your way.”

“No problem. And, Ness, I know you have a heart bigger than the Montana sky, but please, be careful, huh?”

“I am, always. What is it about her that makes you dislike her so much anyway?”

“I dunno, I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I will,” he promised before bending to kiss his sister on the cheek and head out of the store.

As he passed through, he gave Willow a stern stare. For some reason the idea of “putting his finger on it,” so to speak, had a great deal more to do with a totally unreasonable desire to put a finger on
her
. More than a finger. With a frustrated growl he strode past and headed out to his truck and back to work where he should have been all morning. It wasn’t until he pulled in through the arch that led to the KD Ranch that he realized he still had Ness’s bag of clothes on the seat beside him.

Damn Willow Phillips and those cornflower blue eyes of hers. She’d totally addled his wits, and if that wasn’t another reason not to trust her then he didn’t know what was.

“’B
ye, and thanks
for coming today. I’ll see you again on Tuesday night! And remember, don’t stick your yarn with your needles!”

Willow waved off the last of the new Sock Knitting Circle attendees and locked the front door of Superstitch’n’s behind her. She heaved a sigh of exhaustion. Surely looking after a group of toddlers would have been easier than riding herd on the women who’d each attempted to outdo one another with gossip and achievements.

Today had been her first day opening the store by herself and she’d taken the trust Ness had placed in her very seriously. She’d dressed down for the occasion in just her jeans and a flowing top with V-shaped lace inserts down the front. And she’d tied her hair back in a ponytail, rather than her usual braids. If she hadn’t been mistaken, even Carol Bingley had given her an approving nod as she’d arrived just after lunchtime and settled in to rule the gossip nest.

Willow thought longingly of the cozy little apartment upstairs. She wanted nothing more than to make her way up the narrow staircase and flop down on the iron bed in the room that overlooked the street. But there was cleaning up to do and the store to ready for Monday’s business.

As she collected plates and mugs and washed and dried them, she thought about how much her life had changed in this past week. The rustic wide plank floors and the white and dove gray interior of the apartment had quickly become a peaceful haven at the end of surprisingly busy days—and it was surprisingly spacious. She couldn’t ever remember living in a permanent home before. Her mother’s house-bus, a converted coach that had been aging even when she bought it, had been an eccentric combination of transportation and cramped living. It had limped along New Zealand’s highways with a tenacity that had outlasted its owner.

A sharp pang of loss hit her fair and square in the chest as she remembered selling the bus to one of her mother’s longtime friends. A part of her had felt as if she should keep it—the last tenuous link to the woman who’d raised her with a liberal hand and a heart full of love. But Willow had needed the money for this journey.

She leaned wearily against the kitchen countertop after putting away the last of the dishes and wiping down the counter. She could hardly believe she’d already been here in Marietta a whole week and she still hadn’t done anything about finding her father. It was why she’d come all this way, and yet she’d allowed her purpose to be derailed by a need to suddenly conform and fit in to this world her father belonged to. People here were friendly, there was no doubt about it, and the sense of community was strong. But would that mean they’d close ranks at the idea of a stranger asking questions about one of their own?

She thought again of the group of women who’d been here today. Despite their barely veiled rivalry, they had respect for one another—each having their own place in Marietta, one way or another. But no matter how politely they treated her, Willow understood she was very definitely an outsider. Even so, they’d buoyed her along on their wave of activity and the group had been noisy and gossipy and everything Willow had never really been a part of with the transient lifestyle she’d led with her mom.

What would it be like to really belong here? she wondered, as she went to the workroom to straighten the furniture and pick up the last of the bits of yarn that had been left behind. And what would it take? She loved the sense of closeness in the community, despite the fact that everyone seemed to know everyone else’s business. She and her mother had belonged to their own community, of sorts, but there was an unspoken protocol that you never pried, regardless of where you were or who you were with.

A sound at the back door make her jump, her heart racing in her chest as she wheeled around—a fistful of double-pointed knitting needles from the table in one fist and a challenge rising in her throat.

“Whoever you are, I’m armed, so you can just let yourself right back out again,” she yelled in the direction of the door.

Another sound assaulted her ears. Something between a cough and a laugh. Seconds later, the doorway filled with tall, broad cowboy, and her heart accelerated just that little bit more.

“What do you suggest,” Booth drawled, leaning against the doorjamb with his strong arms crossed in front of him. “Needles at twenty paces?”

Willow sagged into a chair. “It’s you,” she said, her voice flat.

“Were you expecting someone else?”

“No, I wasn’t expecting anyone. That’s why…,” she gestured with her hand, still clutched around the six-inch needles as if her life depended on them.

“Think you could put them down now, seeing as it’s me?”

She looked up and gave him an assessing glance. “Since it’s you, I should probably hold onto them.”

He laughed, the sound shocking her to the soles of her feet. Surly, Booth Lange was one hell of an attractive guy. Laughing? Well, that was a whole other kettle of desire and her reaction, a long slow sizzle from the top of her head to deep inside her body, left her breathless. Willow averted her gaze before he could get a hint of how he unsettled her, of how he left her turned on and aching, no matter how stern or off-putting he tried to be.

“What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly, getting up from the chair and crossing to the furthest side of the room to put the needles in their sleeves.

“Ness sent me ’round to pick you up.”

“Pick me up? Why?”

Beats me, his expression said, but his lips moved with a different response. “She wants you to join us for dinner.”

Whether the intonation on the word “she” was deliberate or not, it was quite clear that Ness wanted her to join them, and not him. Willow summoned the bravado she’d learned she needed when dealing with Booth. “No, thank you. I’m tired and I’m having an early night.”

Booth shook his head slowly. “I was told to accept no excuses. You’re coming with me.”

“And what? You’re going to make me?”

“I don’t make it a habit to let my sister down. Go get ready. I’ll be waiting in the truck.”

Willow was left staring at thin air where he’d been only seconds before. Muttering to herself about overbearing, obnoxious males, she stomped up the stairs to her apartment. “Get ready, he says,” she mimicked as she stripped off her clothes and stood, dressed only in her panties, deciding what to wear. “I’ll be waiting, he says,” she continued as she slipped into her patchwork skirt and pulled on the crocheted midriff top to go with it.

“Yes, sir. No, sir. Three bags full, sir,” she chanted, working up a fine temper, as she tugged the scrunchie from her hair and brushed it out with hard swift strokes.

She folded a bandana and tied it around her forehead to hold her hair back and slipped her feet back into her boots. The dusty worn leather of the desert boots had earned her more than one odd look from a town that made cowboy boots normal street wear no matter what the weather. They would have to do, she thought as she headed back down the stairs again.

“Took your time,” Booth said as she locked the back door of the store behind her.

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath before she turned around. She would not let him have the satisfaction of getting under her skin. She flashed him a smile in response and felt an inner sense of triumph as his eyes narrowed. Booth opened the door to his truck for her and waited until she’d ensured her skirt was free of the door before closing it, none too gently. Willow took in another deep breath before he climbed up beside her.

It made no difference. The second he was in the cab she was assaulted with the very maleness of him. His size, his scent—even the heat that seemed to pour off his body. She plucked at the front of her top and used the fabric to fan herself lightly.

“Hot?” Booth asked.

She had to swallow to moisten her mouth before she responded. “A little.”

He grunted and one broad hand reached out to flick the air conditioning on. She found herself mesmerized by his long fingers, her mind playing tricks on her imagining what they’d feel like playing across her skin. Her body responded immediately—her breasts feeling full and heavy, her nipples beading against the crocheted cotton of her top. It was just the cool air suddenly pouring from the vents, she tried to fool herself. It had nothing to do with the bossy male beside her.

Liar
, a little voice whispered to her.
You want him, be honest.

And she did. But wanting was one thing. Having was another entirely, and she had no wish to throw herself in the way of that particular mess. She was no novice. She knew attraction and desire and exactly what pushed her buttons. She also knew that tangling with a guy like Booth Lange, while exhilarating, would be destructive at the same time. She’d been there before and she knew it was a major test of one of her life policies to never regret anything, but to take every experience as a lesson well learned and to move on.

“Better?” Booth interrupted her thoughts.

She lied again. “Much more comfortable, thank you. Is Ness’s place far from here?”

“Nope.”

Well, wasn’t he the conversationalist. Willow fought the urge to prod him with another question and instead settled back in her seat to enjoy the ride. They’d been driving less than ten minutes when he pulled into the driveway of a cute house in a newish development southwest of town. The gardens were a riot of summer color and the lawn looked well kept. Willow was a little surprised. She knew Ness had been recently widowed when her husband died during a military training exercise and she knew the hours Ness put in at the store.

“Wow, this looks lovely,” she commented. “When on earth does Ness have time to keep this place up?”

“She doesn’t. I help where I can.”

“She’s lucky to have you,” Willow said, meaning every word.

It hadn’t taken long to become fast friends with her new employer. Ness was an incredibly warm-hearted woman, and didn’t have a bad word to say about anyone. It was so unfair that she was now facing parenthood on her own. Still, she soldiered on, refusing to accept anyone’s sympathy, taking every day as it came to her and trying to make it just that little bit better for the next person who came along.

Booth didn’t respond immediately. Eventually he sighed and said, “We’re tight. Always have been.”

The front door opened and Ness came outside with a welcoming smile. Not for the first time in her life Willow wished she’d had siblings. Someone to share her every thought with. Someone who’d give her a much-needed kick when necessary. Her relationship with her mother had never been one that was strictly mother-daughter. Most of the time, certainly in her adult life, they’d been more like friends—at least up until the latter stages of her mother’s illness. Seeing Ness give Booth a big hug and kiss “hello” made Willow feel just a bit empty inside.

She resolutely pushed the sensation away. She knew you didn’t choose to get hurt or sad in this world, but you could most definitely choose who or what hurt you or made you sad. She would not let the obvious close relationship between brother and sister make her feel less in any way. She had a smile pasted on her face when Ness released her brother and turned to face her.

“I’m glad Booth could persuade you to join us,” Ness said as she pulled Willow in for quick hug.

Willow almost snorted. Like he’d left her a choice? Still, she was glad she’d come. She was no different from all the other people who found Ness’s presence a soothing one to be sought out at every opportunity.

“Thank you for asking me. I wish I’d had time to bring something for you,” Willow apologized.

“Oh, don’t be silly. I don’t expect anything. Besides, you gave me a much-needed day off by looking after the store today. How did the circle go?”

Ness linked arms with Willow and pulled her toward the house, listening with interest as Willow described the activity of the afternoon.

“I guess you’ll be needing a drink after that, hmmm?” Ness said with an arched brow. “You’ve earned it. White wine, red, or a beer?”

“A glass of red would be great, thank you.”

“So what was today’s lesson?” Ness asked, leading Willow into her kitchen.

“To never stick your yarn with your needles.”

“Why wouldn’t you do that?” Booth asked. “Seems like sense to me. Keeping all your stuff together.”