The Cowgirl Rides Away (Bluebonnet Texas Book 1) (2 page)

Scowling, Jace snapped his fingers and then held out his hand. "Gimme." 

I handed the mirror over and he tossed it on the far bed. He stood, gingerly scooted me over as much as he could, and climbed into bed beside me, pulling the hospital tray and chair with him. One leg propped on the chair, one arm around me and one finger on the mouse pad as we scrolled through ads together. 

"What the hell are you looking for?" I asked after we'd finished laughing over the third one.

"A sugar mama."

I snorted with laughter again and elbowed him in the gut. "Find me a sugar daddy while you're at it. I need one to take care of my crippled, old ass." 

A few clicks later and Jace pulled up a slew of men looking for their next ex. We scrolled through ads from all over the country. A few sounded sincere, while others made us laugh—there were some very talented people out there with too much time on their hands. But most of them made me shudder. After so many years on the rodeo circuit I wasn't naïve, but at the same time I never would have figured there were quite so many sleezeballs in the world. I'd decided breaking horses was probably easier...and safer. 

"Oh my. Damn—" Jace's statement ended with a hoot of laughter.

"What's so funny?" I nudged in for a better look.

"A virgin. He wants a virgin. No...no damn way."

"What?" I read the caption with a frown: 
Wanted: One Good-Hearted Woman.
"Where does it say he wants a virgin?"

"
Must love the country life and want children," 
Jace drawled in his best hick accent. 

"Read it right!" I gave him another nudge with my elbow for emphasis.

"Alright, alright." Jace laughed. "
I live and work on my family's ranch in South Central Texas so relocation is not an option, but I am seeking something long-term.
Why doesn't he just say marriage?
I'm an old-fashioned kind of guy. I believe in love and loyalty, and I think it's important to care for a woman before you begin a physical relationship. If saying I'd like a virgin didn't make me sound like a complete chauvinist, I'd tell you that's what I want. But as it stands, what I really want is someone who understands the meaning of love and commitment.

"I'm 27 and live with my four-year-old son. I'm of average height and have red hair and hazel-green eyes. I'm a light drinker, don't smoke and would prefer you don't either. Pic available... 
What a lame-ass."

"What's the big deal?" I asked.

But what did I know? Bill in Tupelo, Mississippi wanted a closet whore to do kinky things to. And Jim in Phoenix wanted 'something on the side' and 'his wife didn't mind'. "I don't see anything there indicating he's interested in S&M, and he doesn't sound like a lovesick Romeo on the rebound, just someone who knows what he wants."

"Jessa! He's a fucking Neanderthal. You don't go around 
asking
 for a virgin!"

"He didn't ask," I replied with a tired chuckle. "What's so wrong with a virgin anyway?" I sleepily watched him scroll through more, but waited for him to answer. 

Jace sighed. "You're not a guy, so you wouldn't get it."

"Try me." So I wasn't a guy, but I knew a hell of a lot about them. Had spent more time with 'em than I ever wanted. Listened to 'em rag about "bad lays" and "teases" but never once had I ever heard the "V" word.

"It's like that 'don't ask, don't tell' thing they used to have. For the military."

"Mh-hmm."

"You don't expect to find one—at least not over the age of twelve—so other than, you know, making sure your partner's...healthy, you don't discuss 
specifics
. I cannot
believe
I'm talking about virgins with my sister."

"Maybe it's not a virgin he wants so much as what one represents."

I let it go before he started looking too closely my way. I finally dozed off, thinking the man from South Texas sounded kind of interesting.

***

The next morning I endured another very painful round of physical therapy. And another sponge bath, complete with a waterless shampoo.
Yuck!

Jace had disappeared but been kind enough to leave my laptop behind. "Hey, Nurse Ratchet?"

"I do have a name, Jessa." Nurse Theresa Fachette stopped in the doorway and turned to face me. I have to admit she'd been good to me despite my best attempts to ignore her tendency to mother hen. I'm sure I wasn't the first patient to give her hell, but she seemed to understand how much being unable to do for myself bothered me. It was all I could do to face the physical therapy sessions that left me shaking and sweaty. 

"I just don't want you gettin' all attached."

Theresa crossed to the empty bed, grabbed a pillow and tucked it behind my head. "You're far too ornery to get attached to, Miss Stratton."

"Could you...slide the table tray up here, please ma'am?"

"I thought you'd be ready for a nap after that workout."

"Not quite." I hurt like hell but was too wired to sleep. That would come soon enough.

She silently rolled the table tray within my reach and handed me the laptop from the nightstand. "You need your rest."

"Uh-huh." I deliberately tuned her out, knowing she'd take the hint to go away. I flipped the computer open, suddenly reminded of last night's personal ad. An old-fashioned man who wanted a virgin and believed in love and loyalty. As an athlete, I'd never smoked, but had a definite weakness for single malt scotch. I'd never been in love but I had the loyalty thing down pat. And I was a virgin. I guess I sort of qualified.

I frowned at the laptop, thinking that must have been one hell of a concussion.
What in Heaven's name was I thinking?
 

I was thinking I wanted to write him.

I sighed and went in search of the website we'd been on last night. Many clicks and scrolls later I sat rereading the ad. Did these things even work? What made such a normal-sounding man place a personal ad?
Pic available upon request.
 

All I could do was ask, right?

I couldn't believe I'd even consider it—answering a personal ad? Looking was one thing but replying to an ad was another. And if Jace found out...I shuddered. He'd never,
ever
let me live it down. I might not know a ton about relationships, but I knew I was a good judge of character, even over the internet, and there was something earnest and sincere about the ad that got to me.

I signed up for a free trial, then clicked on the appropriate buttons and typed a note as fast as my bad shoulder would let me, fully aware of time passing. Aware that any minute now Kane would show up with my lunch.

Dear ArtZee,

I've never answered a personal ad before, but yours caught my eye. It sounds like we both want the same thing, love and commitment. I'm short and athletic with black hair and blue eyes. I was born and raised in Montana, and grew up on a ranch. 

And I'm a washed-up rodeo cowgirl. A cripple with a crooked nose. Maybe you saw my bone-crunching, replay-worthy wipeout on ESPN? This was stupider than letting Daddy train me to ride broncs, but he sounded sweet. After another fifteen minutes of teeth gnashing, I decided to fall back on my accounting degree—that I'd barely gotten and
never
used.

I'm 26, and currently live and work as an accountant in Vernal, Utah. I know that's a long way from Texas, but I'm willing to relocate if the circumstances are right. I look forward to hearing from you… Jessa

I scanned it again. Did people really meet this way? My email sounded kind of weak but it would have to do. He probably wouldn't write back anyway. Right? But just in case, I backspaced and replaced "Jessa" with "Hope"—my middle name—and added one last thing:

P. S. I'm also a virgin

The sound of boots in the hall caught my attention. With a trembling finger, I clicked 'send' and watched it hurl into cyberspace. There. A few more taps and I opened up an online game website. 

Kane stepped in the doorway and shook the bag in his hand. "Hungry?"

I smiled up at him, praying he didn't notice how skittish I was. "I could eat a little something."

"I expect you to eat a lot of something."

I ate my rotisserie chicken, mashed potatoes and a double order of broccoli like a good girl. John Kane was one of the few people who could get away with ordering me around or calling me by my full first name—Jessalyn—and live to tell about it. 

From all accounts, he'd always been a loner on the circuit, and that weather-beaten face hid a heart of gold that few people took the time to see. Despite all the rumors about us, we'd never had 
that
 kind of relationship, but the ladies couldn't seem to get past his dark, wavy hair and intense green eyes. I'd realized long ago that John Kane wasn't interested in sharing—at least not his past.

He used to laughingly tell me he'd crawled out of a Louisiana swamp and onto the back of a horse. I'd quickly set aside my curiosity and been happy to have another friend. He fell someplace between a big brother and an uncle and we'd spent many a Thanksgiving and Christmas together at his place on the Texas coast, digging our feet in the sand, or in Vernal, sipping spiked eggnog and trimming the only scraggly tree we were able to find. He wasn't just my best friend but one of the few men on the circuit who treated me as an equal, and that had won him my undying loyalty.

"How was your therapy?"

"Fine. How was your New Year?"

He looked tired, too. Too much New Year's Eve revelry, I supposed. "Just another night to get drunk and stupid."

I snorted, thankful I hadn't put that forkful of broccoli in my mouth. "You're just saying that so I don't feel bad for being stuck here." 

"Speaking of stuck, what do you have planned?"

My future again. "I don't know." I dropped my fork and swallowed the lump in my throat, my eyes suddenly hot. I didn't even know where to begin. 

"Heard from your dad?"

"No." 

Kane was the only one who knew just how badly Daddy had hurt me over the years.

"Want me to talk—"

"No! Don't you dare—promise me, Kane!" Daddy was a lost cause. He'd obviously washed his hands of me, so I'd do likewise.

"Jessalyn, it's not right, him leaving you here like this, and I don't like it—" he held up both hands in surrender, "—but I promise."

Chapter Two
Zack

Bluebonnet, Texas: Just after New Year's

With shaky hands, Zack Boudreaux clicked his browser shut and sat back with a low, fretful groan at the sound of boots on his front porch.

Today was the first time since he'd placed that damned personal ad that he'd had a chance to check in, and the sight of all those responses filling his inbox had initially put him in a panic. He'd barely worked through a quarter of them before his eldest brother breezed in on a late-afternoon gust, slamming the front door behind him.

Tim always did have lousy timing.

"Where's Rene?" He pulled off his gloves and stuffed them in the pocket of his Carhartt work coat.

"In with Travis." Zack pointed a thumb toward the living room where his niece and son had spent the afternoon watching movies. This time of year, it was too cold and wet to do much else.

"I need to get her fed. I got a date tonight." He smiled and waggled his eyebrows.

"When don't you?"

Tim wheeled around, surprise clear on his face. "Well, ain't we feeling sassy today. Jealous?"

"Whoever she is, I doubt she's worth being jealous over," Zack shot back.

"Whatever, man." He rounded up his daughter and then headed home. Zack sighed as he turned back to the task at hand—his email. Tim might have been the poster child for tall, dark and handsome, but his taste in female companions left a lot to be desired. This round definitely went to Zack. Rare, but not unheard of.

His chuckle faded as he tried to make sense of the replies he'd received.

He blamed his bad mood on Marina's Christmas card. Travis's mother had included a photo of his new baby sister—bringing the total to two siblings—and enclosed a letter asking if he was dating and how Travis was. He'd hesitated to write her back because it seemed pointless and cruel. She loved their son but could never be a part of his life. Even so, Zack knew he'd eventually give in and write her back like he always did.

But it was her letter that had given him the idea of placing a personal ad. As if getting married and having more children hadn't crossed his mind, too. Searching close to home for a wife was out of the question. Boudreauxs in Bluebonnet were like Kennedys in Massachusetts, without all the money and scandal. The last local girl he'd dated, at his mother's less-than-subtle suggestion, had started hinting at moving in on date three. He didn't do bars because he worked in one part time and he didn't get to San Antonio that often.

Fifty-eight replies in four days from married women, tramps who promised to act like virgins, non-virgins who were indignant for a wide variety of reasons, and men. Zack chuckled thinking of the angry notes he'd gotten for even mentioning the "V" word. Feminists had demanded his head and more than one man had demanded his Man Card. He hadn't literally meant a virgin. Even he knew how crazy the idea sounded. And God help him if his mother ever found out he'd placed a personal ad—or anyone else for that matter. Maybe trying to find a nice girl on the internet had been a bad idea.

Or, at least, he'd thought it sounded crazy, he thought as he stared at yet another email. From a virgin no less.

A twenty-six-year-old virgin who lived in Utah.
Utah?