Kissed by a Cowboy (9 page)

#

It had taken
Haley so long to build up the courage to ask him to visit her in
the city, and then...nothing. No answer. No response
whatsoever.

She'd thought...

She'd hoped his kisses meant something. That
his arm around her shoulder, the way he'd comforted her the other
night, meant his feelings were growing. Growing to match what hers
already were.

And here they were, on a
date. A date he'd requested. Not a
let's go
as friends
thing, but a real,
honest-to-goodness date. And yet...

Had she been kidding herself?

Was he just enjoying a summer romance? Was he
being a courteous cowboy, or simply returning her kindness to
Livy?

They inched forward in the pretzel line. She
took a deep breath, steeling her courage, and looked up at him. He
met her gaze, his eyes dark beneath the brim of his hat. He didn't
smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkled.

And she knew.

He cared about her.

But something held him back.

The gal behind the counter cleared her
throat, and Maddox placed their order. He bought her a
paper-wrapped pretzel and a bottle of water and led her away from
the crowded line.

"So that's a
no
?" she asked
tentatively.

He shook his head slightly.
What did that mean? Was it
no,
that his non-response hadn't meant
no
, or just
no
to her question
in general?

He led them clear of the crowd, stopped, and
faced her. "I'm going to have to pick up some extra work," he said.
"I doubt I'll have time to come down, even if it's for a
weekend."

Oh. After what he'd said the other night,
she'd thought he might be cutting back on extra work.

"Livy needs you," she said in a small
voice.

"She also needs new school clothes and a roof
over her head," he muttered.

They meandered toward the stands, not in any
hurry, finally stopping behind them, in the small patch of shadow.
On the other side of the bleachers, the arena lights lit
everything, but here it was dark.

"Justin said you might have a lead on a job
with Livy's school. Coaching football and teaching a little."

"So y'all have been talking about me?"

"He mentioned it."

Maddox blew out a breath. She couldn't tell
if he was frustrated that she'd been in his business or frustrated
about the job. "I can't take that job," he said, the anger evident,
though she didn't understand it.

"Why not?" She was angry, too, though not for
herself. She was trying not to feel anything for herself—the last
few minutes had shattered her hopes for anything with him. But Livy
needed him. "You'd have more time for Livy, all summer off—"

"I'd still have a farm to manage, but that's
not the point. I can't take that job."

"If it's about being on the sidelines—"

"It's not," he said, and his voice rang with
hurt.

"About expectations?"

He laughed, a harsh sound.

"You want the truth?" he asked roughly.

The words hit her like a strong gust of wind.
She felt like she was on her toes, almost lifting off her feet.

She reached out and touched his arm.
"Maddox..."

He didn't turn toward her. He just stared
into the shadows beneath the bleachers.

Twilight had gone and darkness had fallen.
She could barely see him in the dim light that seeped from the
arena.

"The truth is, everyone around here thinks I
finished my degree, but I'm a year short. The only reason the
principal offered me that job is he thinks I've got a piece of
paper with my name on it. But I don't."

She knew about a man's
pride. Her own father had chased jobs across the nation, wanting
to
provide
for his
girl. She could only imagine how having to admit something like
this was hitting Maddox.

"Without a college education, jobs like
working on the harvest crew are all I've got. With Justin out of
commission and medical bills piling up...if the price of cattle
falls any more, we'll be butchering our own. Working is all I know
how to do. It's all I'm good for."

She grabbed his arm and yanked until he
rounded on her.

She looked up at him with all the love
swelling in her heart and into her throat, making it impossible to
speak. She swallowed and forced the words out.

"No, it's not," she
whispered. "No, it's
not
."

She slid her hands behind his neck and tugged
him down toward her.

He seemed to understand. His lips slanted
over hers, his hands slipped around her waist, and if he held her
just a little too tightly, well, that was okay with her.

A loudspeaker squealed, breaking the moment.
She backed away a step, touched her lips with a trembling hand. A
disembodied voice announced the start of the bull riding.

Looking down, she saw both of their hats had
fallen into the dust.

She bent to pick them up and offered his to
him. He took it, but she didn't let go. Their eyes met and
connected over the top.

"I don't know what's gonna happen," he said
in a low voice.

Neither did she. She didn't know how long
Aunt Matilda would hold on, or how Livy's ice cream business would
do.

Or if she'd walk away at the end of all of
this with her heart intact.

But she couldn't walk away from Maddox right
now.

She entwined her fingers with his and tugged
him back up into the stands.

Chapter Eight

It was over.

Aunt Matilda was gone.

Haley sat through the funeral on the first
pew in the little country church. Numb.

She and her aunt had made most of the
arrangements in advance, so there had only been a few things to
take care of, although she'd spent the last two days in a sea of
paperwork, insurance claims, and lawyers.

How could it be that Haley would never see
Aunt Matilda again? That her closest family member was lost to
her?

Tears spilled over again, and Haley bowed her
head, covered her face with her hands, and let them come.

She missed her. If only she'd made more time
to come home since she'd left for college.

She'd always thought
there's time
.

And now, there was no time left.

A warm, wide hand rested on the center of her
back. Maddox.

They were seated so close, she could feel the
heat of his thigh next to hers. He'd been a steady presence the
last couple of days. Bringing her food when she'd forgotten to eat.
Answering the door to the church ladies when Haley couldn't face
their kindness for her grief. He'd answered his phone in the wee
hours when she couldn't sleep.

Olivia and Justin had been in and out,
tiptoeing around and whispering like she was fine china. But this
wasn't going to break her.

If she'd learned anything this summer, it was
that cowgirls got back up after they got bucked off. And they
didn't let go of what was important.

She was in love with Maddox.

She hadn't figured out how she was going to
make it work between them. She had a job, back in Oklahoma City.
Her boss had granted her another few days of leave to wrap things
up, but he expected her back soon.

And Maddox was very firmly entrenched in
Redbud Trails. He wasn't letting go of the farm without a fight.
And he shouldn't. It was their family legacy, the place where Katie
had grown up and Olivia could connect with her mother.

Everything was a muddle.

But today, all Haley could do was grieve.
With Maddox beside her, holding her up, she could let Aunt Matilda
go.

She would wait for a chance to talk to Maddox
later.

#

A week
later, Haley was still waiting.

Maddox had had to leave for the harvest crew
the day after the funeral. The four-day separation had distanced
them. He'd come home quieter, more reserved. She didn't know how to
get their closeness back.

This morning, he'd come to help her load her
car. It hadn't taken long, and now as he stowed the last of her
boxes in the trunk, she stood in the empty dining room.

Out the window, a
For Sale
sign out front
was the tangible sign that nothing would ever be the
same.

She hesitated inside the front door, looking
at Maddox's broad shoulders as he waited by her car.

What if... what if she'd been wrong about his
feelings? For several days, she'd been mired in grief. All the
insurance paperwork had kept her busy, slightly on edge, and
frustrated.

And now Maddox was back, and
that insidious voice in her head—a voice that sounded remarkably
like Paul's—kept reminding her that she
wasn't enough
. She had never been
enough to keep her father from chasing the next best job. Paul had
found her wanting—criticizing her because she wasn't outgoing
enough, telling her she needed to be a perfect hostess when they
eventually got married.

What if...what if Maddox found her wanting as
well?

Steeling herself with a deep breath, she
stepped outside her aunt's door, trying not to think about how it
was the last time she would, and locked it behind her.

His hands rested casually in his front
pockets. His Stetson threw a shadow over his eyes, and she couldn't
read them. His body language was casual, friendly.

But not welcoming.

She stopped several feet away, keys jangling
in her nerveless fingers.

"Well, that's it," she said on an exhale.

If he would just give her an indication that
he felt the same way he had when he'd kissed her before, at the
rodeo...

But he only nodded, unsmiling.

"I'm not ready," she said softly. "To say
goodbye." To the house, to her aunt's memory.

But especially to him.

#

Maddox
fisted his hands in his jeans pockets, the muscles in his arms
aching from wanting to reach for her.

He kept his jaw clenched to
hold back the tide. Words like,
please
don't leave me
. Words like,
I love you
.

She deserved better than a cowboy who was
fighting for every paycheck.

His dad had given up, failed the family,
nearly lost the farm.

But Maddox refused to do the same. Even if he
was one overdue mortgage payment away from losing the place, he
couldn't give up.

And that meant a lot of hard work.

How could he commit to—how could he ask Haley
to commit to—a long-distance relationship when he knew he couldn't
commit to it himself? He couldn't. His focus had to be on keeping
his family afloat.

He'd watched his mother get beaten down by
life and a husband who'd ultimately failed the family. He couldn't
ask Haley to do the same.

Or worse, start a relationship with her and a
year down the road, have her decide to ditch the loser who was
still working his butt off for a chunk of land.

He'd die if she walked away from him. He felt
about like he was dying now. Like a big ol' bull had stepped on his
chest cavity.

The best he could hope for was in a few
months to have made some good money, put another nest egg aside,
and when he'd proved he could support his family, call her. With
any luck, she wouldn't fall in love with someone else.

All those words settled in
his heart, tucked away. "Drive safe." He didn't add,
call me when you get there
or
I'll miss you
.

He couldn't bear the uncertainty in her eyes,
so he turned away, yanking open her car door. She slipped under his
arm, silent. Watchful. Waiting.

But he couldn't give her what she needed, so
he said nothing.

And she started the car and drove away.

Chapter Nine

"Hello?"

"Is this Maddox Michaels?"

"Speaking. Who's this?"

"Dan Crane."

Hearing the junior high principal's voice on
the phone pulled Maddox up short. He was on a three-day weekend
back from the harvest crew, driving to town to make Olivia's weekly
ice cream delivery to the restaurant that acted as a consignment
agent for her, but now he stopped his truck on the side of the
state highway.

"Dan. I've been meaning to return your
calls."

He took a deep breath and decided to come
clean.

"Actually, I haven't," he said. "Been meaning
to call."

"Look, Maddox, we need you. There's no one
else around qualified to coach—"

"I'm not qualified to teach," he said. And
that shut the other man up. "I never finished my degree. I was a
year short. I let everybody around here think I was done because I
was too chicken to admit I was so much like my father."

His free hand clenched the bottom of the
steering wheel.

There was a beat of silence before Dan spoke.
"I wish I'd known this sooner."

Yeah. No kidding.

More silence and Maddox wanted to get out of
the uncomfortable conversation. "I'll let you go—"

"Hang on a minute, Michaels. I'm thinking.
You know, if we can get you enrolled..."

"What?"

While Maddox listened in shock, the other man
outlined a plan for Maddox to finish his degree and get certified
to teach—by Christmastime.

He wasn't even sure what he'd agreed to by
the time the call ended twenty minutes later, but he did know that
in one phone conversation, hope had come back to him.