The Cowgirl Rides Away (Bluebonnet Texas Book 1) (10 page)

"Are you hungry?" he asked once they were on I-10.

"Starved, I don't fly well at all so I skipped breakfast. So tell me about Gruene?"

He exited the highway and got them on 46, heading toward Gruene before he replied. "The town's pretty geared toward tourists, but Gruene Hall is...well you just need to see it." He flashed her a quick grin before focusing back on the twisty, hilly road.

"Should I be worried?"

"They don't call it the oldest dancehall in Texas for nothing." He glanced over at her giggle, resisting the urge to reach for her hand. Maybe on the way back. "You know that movie,
Michael
with John Travolta?"

"It's been a while but yeah."

"You know the scene when he's dancing in the bar and all the women join in?" Her exaggerated uh-uhh made him chuckle. "Yuh-huh! Right in little bitty Gruene, Texas."

"I think you're yankin' my chain, Zachary Boudreaux."

He'd like to do more than yank her chain. "I'll show you the photos when we get there."

"So are we eating at the dancehall?"

"No, huh-uh. There's a restaurant right next door."

So far so good.

Watching her fingers nervously smoothing down her jean-clad thighs, he realized she was just as nervous as he. Her short tidy nails were free of polish and she didn't wear a lot of makeup. Definitely not a priss.
Talk, Zack.
"So what do you think of Texas? Is this your first time down here?"

"It's... no. My best friend has a place down in Rockport, so we try to get down there a couple times a year." Nerves apparently had her stuttering and rambling worse than him, but he found it endearing. He talked about Travis a while—the one topic he could always find plenty to say on—and she countered with stories about her godchildren until they reached the town proper and parked near the dancehall.

By the time he climbed out and reached her side of the truck, she was nearly out. She blinked up at him in surprise and smiled before stepping out of the way. He took her hand and shut the door for her.

She wasn't used to having doors held for her.
And she couldn't dance. And she froze her candy bars before she ate them.

She pulled him up short on the brick path leading toward The Gristmill Restaurant and stood silently studying the dancehall with its peeling white paint.

"Dancehall first?" he murmured.

"I wanna see that picture," she replied with a nod.

They walked around front and he held the old screen door for her. He stepped inside behind her in time to hear, "My God a wooden floor. I've seen some old bars in my day, but honey, I think this one takes the cake."

Chuckling, Zack nodded to the lone bartender manning the place, trying to see it through her eyes. The old screen door, the long wooden bench that ran along one wall, the old potbelly stove, and unvarnished wood floors and walls. Originally built in 1878, the hall had reopened in 1979 and played host to music legends like George Strait, Jerry Jeff Walker and Delbert McClinton.

A feminine, "Oh my God," followed by a soft laugh caught his attention. Hope stood under the autographed photo of John Travolta dancing, dressed as Michael from the movie.

He walked up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders, giving a gentle squeeze. Little pieces of dark, silky hair brushed the back of his hand as she turned her head and looked up at him. "Guess I owe you an apology, huh, cowboy?"

Something about the way she said 'cowboy' left him weak-kneed and yeah, turned on. Or maybe it was her dimples, or her eyes or her very round backside less than a foot from him. He wasn't normally one for public displays of affection but gave in to the urge and pressed his lips to the little crease made by her dimple. He caught her little sigh of pleasure as she leaned against him. He looked up, surprised to see her eyes closed and lips parted. But even with just the old bartender watching, he couldn't bring himself to kiss her. Not yet.

***

"So." Hope picked up her menu and studied it. "What's good?"

"Everything." He smiled across the table at her, unable to focus on his own menu.

After their quick trip through the dancehall, they'd made the short walk to the restaurant. The cool spring weather and a desire for privacy had moved him to suggest they eat out on the deck overlooking the Brazos River and being a Wednesday, they practically had the place to themselves.

"You're a big help." Hope grinned then blushed, but he just laughed in reply.

He liked like the sassiness he caught a glimpse of. She reminded him a bit of Aunt Susie but better.
Much much better.
He found her nervousness endearing and was flattered at the thought that he was the cause of it. It had been a long time since a woman had looked at him like that, stealing glances over the top of her menu. Still, he reminded himself this was Hope. He knew her; she knew him. Everything was going to be fine.

"So, Hope."

"So, Zack," she interrupted with a grin.

He chuckled, but before he could continue their waitress returned with their drinks—tea for Hope and Coke for Zack—and took their orders before disappearing again.

After the waitress was out of sight he tried again. "So Hope, I'm curious. Why'd you answer my ad?"

Instead of the laughter-filled response he'd expected, her cheeks turned pink and her head drooped. "I-I got hurt."

"Hurt?" The first thought that crossed his mind was she got dumped by another guy.

"I was...in the hospital when I wrote you. The first time. When I answered your ad." She watched him over the top of her glass, a frown creasing her forehead.

He couldn't quite connect the dots from A to B—how she'd gone from being hurt in the hospital to answering his ad. Or why she suddenly seemed so upset. "How?"

"A-a-a skiing accident." She nervously tucked some stray hairs behind her ear and then rested her chin in her hand. "I was in the hospital and it was the holidays and—" her voice dropped as she added, "I was lonely.

"My family went home and left just my brother to look after me."

"So it was a family ski trip?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. My stepmother was afraid they wouldn't be able to get home for Christmas, so it was just me and Jace and Kane. My best friend."

So they'd left her behind in a hospital on the holidays.
Wow.
No wonder she didn't want to talk about them.

"Have you ever had something happen, Zack, that made you stop and think? Really think. It made you—" she stammered, still not quite able to look at him. "Reevaluate I guess."

"How badly were you hurt?"

The bottom fell out of his stomach at the list of injuries she matter-of-factly rattled off. Injuries that could have killed her.

"You sure you weren't snowboarding?"

"No," she laughed, "that's Colby."

"So I guess that would qualify as a near-death experience, huh?" He struggled to keep his tone as light as hers had been, but deep down inside he was disturbed by her injuries and even her casual attitude. "You could have died," he finally said.

"Yeah," she replied with a shrug and a little grimace.

"And then you got fired. That just doesn't seem right somehow." Maybe Tim had been right about her wanting money. He disliked the thought as soon as it crossed his mind but maybe she wasn't as independent as she'd made herself out to be. Sure she'd survived and she could walk just fine but…he'd be less than human if he didn't have a few doubts.

"This has been the most horrible year," she warbled.

So much for casual. Now he'd gone and done it. She was gonna bawl. Now he felt bad. She hadn't asked him for anything except to visit.

"There's nothing I can do about getting fired, and...and my brother left. I got mad at him and ran him off and it's all my fault and my dad's mad at me be-because my sister's pregnant and the father is a friend of..." She stared across the table at him in horror, as if she knew she'd said way, way too much.

"Relax." He silently stood and circled around to sit beside her. She felt fragile tucked in his arms. Like a stiff wind would blow her away or the right words would shatter her. "It's alright."

Chapter Nine
Jessa

"No. No, it's not all right." I stared into the kindest, prettiest green eyes I'd ever seen, a ball of dread making it impossible for me to even think about eating.

"Everyone's allowed to blow off steam."

If anything, his kindnesses compounded my sins. I was a liar. I'd been a liar for months. Yes, the only things I'd lied about were my name and my job, but the simple fact remained that
I was a liar
. There were no two ways around it.

There was only going through it and that meant coming clean.

Finally, I just blurted it out, "I lied."

Zack's brows puckered in obvious confusion as he leaned back in his chair and softly said, "About?"

"It wasn't a skiing accident." At his silence, I nervously continued, my entire body tense with dread, "And my name isn't Hope. It is, but it isn't…my…my
middle
name is Hope. My first name is Jessalyn. I'm…I used to ride roughstock. In the rodeo. A lot." I could literally feel myself sputtering out and dying right there and poor Zack just looked so confused, and yeah, a little angry while all these crazy half-sentences kept falling out of my mouth. "I competed professionally."

"And your injuries?" he muttered. The arm that had earlier rested on my shoulders was gone. His hands were in his lap and he'd turned to face me.

"Real. I wiped out. Back in December." Tears burned for release but I sucked in a deep breath and pushed on, "I was unconscious and when I woke up, my family really was gone. Except for my brother and Kane. The getting fired thing was really about my last sponsor officially cutting ties. I've spent the last four months rehabbing my leg so I could walk…I'm sorry," I finally sputtered out. "I really like you."

"I don't even know what to say right now." Zack slowly stood and reclaimed the seat across from me as the waitress delivered our food. We both picked at our plates for a few minutes. "I don't even know what to say."

"I didn't lie about how I felt."

His head snapped up and his eyes narrowed slightly. "How am I supposed to know that?"

Touche!
I decided to go for complete and brutal honesty because I had nothing to lose at this point, except maybe the cost of a wasted trip. "Saddle Bronc riding is normally a man's sport. So when my dad told me to keep my legs closed if I was going to compete, I did. That's why I'm a virgin. At first, I worried about my dad finding out, you know, that I was messing around. I was young," I ended with a shrug. "Then, later on, after I'd made a good name for myself, it was hard. I mean, I dated.
Men
. But I've never even had a boyfriend. 'Cause my dad was right." As badly as it seemed I was flubbing this, I kept talking. It was all I could do, keep talking till he walked away and left me sitting there. "Sometimes I could just tell—"

"Tell what?" he finally asked.

"That they weren't really interested in me. They were only interested in being seen with the only female saddle bronc champion in the history of the PRA. Or interested in notching their belt with me. Guess I took Daddy's lessons to heart because I never..." Grimacing slightly, I focused on my plate and my breathing. With my appetite gone, the food I'd once been so hungry for was now just something to push and stir around. "I'm sorry," I said again. "I'm so sorry—" I shook my head. "I shouldn't have lied. You're so kind, and handsome and—" I stopped speaking at his arched eyebrow. "I wouldn't blame you if you just left me here." His almost eerie calm was hard to figure out. Why wasn't he yelling or something? Anything? Why was he just sitting there scowling at me?

"Momma raised me better. Is there anything else? Anything at all?"

"No. I realize you asked for a virgin because you wanted woman who has integrity…and self-respect. I have both of those. And I know it might not seem like it right now but I'm everything I said I was."

"Just not an accountant," he said, then forked up a bite of his lunch and chewed thoughtfully.

"No," I said with a depreciating smile, "not an accountant, but I do have an associate's degree."

He smiled and a part of me relaxed. "Okay."

"Okay?" I sipped my tea and waited to see what was next.

"Everybody lies.
Everybody
," he added, forking up another bite.

"Even you?"

He stared across the table at me, his demeanor solemn. "Even me."

"What did you lie about?" I asked, curious.

"I didn't lie to you. I lied to my family, but you have to earn the right to hear about it, and your lunch is getting cold."

***

Afterward we made a slow circle around Gruene, taking in more of the sights, our pre-lunch camaraderie not quite restored. Despite my confusion over his reaction, at his simple acceptance of my lie, my mood improved considerably.

"Can I ask you something?" I asked as we exited a dry goods store.

"Anything."

"Are you sure you're okay with what happened earlier?'

"I get why you did it, but honestly, no. You lied about your name, you lied about your profession, you didn't lie about being married."

I shook my head.

"Sounds like you…had a real rough time. And like I said, everyone lies. To each other, even to ourselves."

"You mean the lie you told your family?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. Maybe I didn't deserve to know but…

"I'm not ready to share that."

"I know." I suppose waiting was my punishment. This wasn't anything like our emails. I couldn't read him, couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Fair enough. Then tell me something else."

"Like what?"

"Anything."

"If I tell you something, you have to tell me something. Deal?"

"Deal."

"My brother, Ty, asked how I knew you weren't married and ditching a family. I told him you weren't a liar."

Ouch.

"Tim said maybe you needed money."