The Cowgirl Rides Away (Bluebonnet Texas Book 1) (5 page)

I've been thinking a lot about respect and sex. Get your mind out of the gutter :) . I mean that by saying you want a virgin, you want a woman who respects herself. Am I right?

She was! Zack smiled to himself and kept on reading.

I've dated some, but never found anyone I wanted to spend all my time with. Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me. Am I too cynical or too picky? I see other women getting married and having babies but I can't seem to figure it all out. I can't seem to buy into it, but that doesn't mean I don't want it. How do you know you've found the right person to spend your life with? What if you marry someone then find your soul mate, then what?

And do we really even have soul mates?

Sorry to be on such a downer today. I just feel like you'll understand whatever I tell you, no matter how off-the-wall it is, but I feel weird, knowing you're out there somewhere and that you seem to understand me so well when I don't even know you. For real that is. Sometimes I wish I did

I wonder what would it be like to talk to you face to face, go for a walk with you, to touch you, or if everything would just be too weird. I mean, what if it's not the same? Would we go forward or backward?

Sometimes I think I'm just being weird :) .

He liked her frankness. Zack smiled and scanned the rest of the email. She'd spent the day with her godchildren. And, from reading about how Lizzie used her to practice her nursing skills on, she wasn't above gettin' down and playing with them. But being around a happily married couple had left her with questions, a lot of them. More than once he and Hope had talked about relationships. What worked, what didn't, what was realistic. They'd danced around each other, feeling each other out, getting the lay of the land in terms of hopes and dreams, wants and desires. He really liked her frankness.

She'd been to Santa Fe. And knew about Ghost Ranch. She dreamed of raising horses and wanted a big family. Despite the fact that hers wasn't close.

He chuckled again. Large families seemed to come with their own problems. Hell, even now, his brothers razzed him about his weight, in contrast to his lack of height. And the fact he'd rather paint than work cows or horses all day. They didn't understand his need to create anything, even music. Ty came closest, but even he didn't quite get it.

Speaking of creating, he needed to get busy on a reply before Travis woke up. He typed while mentally debating the merits of doing Hope in watercolor or oils now that his pencil sketches were done.

I don't think you're cynical or picky. I think some people are happy with what life hands them, and that's not a bad thing. But some of us want more. Then maybe we risk missing opportunities because we're so busy second guessing ourselves. And believe me, Hope honey, I'm not preaching. I'm just as guilty as the next person. Sometimes I wonder why I can't just settle for a local girl. But then I wouldn't have met you.

I've thought about what it might be like to meet you—more than once. Yeah, it would probably be awkward at first, but no, I don't think we'd take any steps backward. I think meeting you could only be a good thing :) .

He sat back in his chair and debated how much to say. She'd either think he was a psychopath or a putz.

You can come and hold my hand anytime. Maybe it's the artist in me, but I find myself wondering about the weirdest things. Like how your hands would feel. What you smell like. The texture of your hair and if it looks blue in sunlight. The sound of your voice. How you laugh. How you cry.

Do you scream when you come?
He couldn't type that last part, but he'd thought it more than once over the last month. And jacked off while trying to pretend it was her hand and not his. Or that he was inside her.
Gawd!
It was difficult not to.

He blew out a long slow breath, wondering if he had time for a cold shower. He read the email again, decided it didn't sound too perverted or crazy and clicked 'send' before he could change his mind.

Zack painted all day, took Travis out to dinner that night and allowed himself a long hot shower and a hand job after his son was asleep.

And forced himself to stay off the computer a whole twenty-four hours, refusing to turn it on until after he put Travis to bed the following night. A part of him was scared to death she hadn't written back. Or worse, had written back telling him to get lost.

Dear Zack...you always make me smile. Those local girls don't know what they're missing. You're just too damned sweet and you always make me laugh. Something I sure needed after today.

I like honeysuckle and jasmine and vanilla but I don't really wear perfume. I never found one that appealed to me, but I love candles. I have no idea what I smell like and I'm not too sure on all the rest. My hands are kinda rough, doesn't seem to matter how much lotion I use. And I'm not sure I could describe my voice. I laugh really loud and I rarely cry, but when I do, I cry really quiet. Besides being stubborn, I have a temper and I'm not afraid to use it, but sometimes I should be :) . So I can yell loud, too.

I'm scared to have babies. Not because of the pain. That's the last of my worries, and pain fades, but what if I'm a sucky mom? Do you worry about stuff like that with Travis?

You know, my brother says you're not supposed to ask for a virgin, because there aren't any. He's been staying with me and he doesn't know I've been writing you but he saw your ad. It's a long story.

This may sound stupid, but I'm gonna be really honest. I think part of the reason I'm still a virgin is because I hate doing stuff I don't know how to do. Obviously, I do, or I wouldn't know how to drive. But I hate looking foolish and that really awkward, I-have-no-idea-what-I'm-doing, feeling.

That's probably why I can't dance, either.

Zack snorted but kept on reading, hoping his laughter didn't wake Travis up. At the same time, he filed away the latest scraps of information she'd given him.

I know
how
you have sex. I did grow up on a ranch, and I've fooled around some, and of course, there's TV, but it's not the same. I don't know what to expect.

And she wanted him to fill her in. He'd rather do it in person. Despite all their emails, she was a tough nut to crack
. She couldn't dance. And she cried quiet.
Which meant she didn't want anyone seeing her when she felt weak or she didn't like showing emotion. She was proud—and strong. Simple, or maybe down to earth was a better way to describe her, but just as, or more, complex than any woman he'd ever known.

Before he could even begin to mentally construct some sort of reply, footsteps on the front porch caught his attention. Whoever it was wouldn't bother knocking. He closed Hope's email and clicked on an old one from Kate, then spun around in his chair, expecting one of his brothers, but it was his dad who stepped through the door.

"You're out awful late."

"Couldn't sleep, wanted a cigar and saw your light." His dad pulled two cigars from an inside coat pocket with a smile that creased his weather-beaten face and lit up his deep blue eyes.

Momma refused to let him smoke anywhere but in his study, and sometimes the old man just didn't want to smoke alone.

"Come on in then." With a nod, Zack led the way through to the kitchen. He grabbed the ashtray and a lighter he kept stored above the dryer, got the bottle of Dewars and two highball glasses out of the cabinet.

They sipped and puffed a while in easy silence and, for a minute, Zack even considered telling his dad about Hope. Then thought better of it. He'd hate to say something, and then have things fizzle out with her. And while he didn't know how his dad would feel about him meeting a woman on the internet, he knew how his mom would react. They hadn't gotten along since he'd come home with Travis. She'd never understand about Hope. Just like Aunt Susie, she wanted him to settle down, but for different reasons. Sure she wanted him to be happy—but with a girl from a nice family.

"Thought I should check on you," his dad murmured, watching him over the rim of his glass.

So there had been a purpose to this visit. "I'm fine."

"You're keeping too much to yourself. Even your Momma noticed."

"I've just got a lot on my mind and a lot of work to do."

"Your Aunt Susie says she's been trying to fix you up with that nice Beth Anne at the bar, but you won't have any of it."

He kept his eyes on the smoky amber liquid in his glass. "She's not my type."

"She's pretty, she's got kids, she's a hard worker. What's not to like?"

"She's not my type, and I told Aunt Susie that already." He leaned back in his chair and frowned over at his father. "She's just not—I don't like blondes. I like brunettes."
With pale blue eyes and dimples.

"Then find yourself a brunette to go out with, but for crying out loud, Zachary, do
something!"

He studied his father for a long, heavy minute, wondering where this was coming from. "Why? Why do I have to do
something?
Maybe I'm fine with how things are."

"When's the last time you went out on a date, Zachary?"

"Would it make you feel any better if I said I wasn't gay?" he countered, growing angrier and more irritated by the minute.

"No! No, it damned well would not. When's the last time you had sex? When—"

Zack stood up with a scrape of his chair and grabbed his glass. "My personal life is none of your business." He took his scotch and his cigar out onto the enclosed porch and sank into a wicker rocker, knowing his father would follow. From outside the screened-in porch came night sounds: cicadas and small nocturnal animals, and the occasional stiff wind rattling branches that hadn't quite gotten their spring leaves yet. He breathed it all in, letting his temper cool in the process.

"Zack," his dad spoke up from the doorway, "I'm not trying to pry."

"But you are! Now quit trying to fix me."

His father stepped out and sank onto the wicker ottoman in front of him. "The last time you kept so much to yourself was when you came home with Trav. I'm worried about you. I'm worried about all my kids," he added, his voice thick and gruff. "I didn't mean to try and...
fix you
."

He took a long hard look at his dad, surprised at the emotion in his voice. And the heavy lines of fatigue—or worry—on his face. Momma was the emotional one—loud and dramatic and always finding fault—but that was just her way. Dad was a rock, the quiet one who never yelled. Dad was the one you went to when you had a problem. Which probably explained why he tried to fix everything.

"I know you mean well, but I've never had any luck with any of the women around here. And I'm busy. And I don't have time to go looking for a woman to date in San Antonio, or New Braunfels or wherever. And I've got Travis to think about." Travis who didn't deserve to have the whole town know the truth of his birth—before he did or otherwise. "Maybe I'm just too cynical," he confessed with a snort of laughter, hoping to ease the tension between them. He'd taken a page from Hope, who had wondered the same thing about him and Bluebonnet's women. "Dad, I promise, I'm fine. I'm sorry. Now what's going on with everyone else?"

"Tim's his usual troublemaking self." They both chuckled. "And if Rene isn't careful, she'll end up repeating the fifth grade. I already talked to him about it, told him he needed to settle his ass down, but damnit, he's grown and I hate being the heavy. I haven't heard from Zander in ages and your Momma's harpin' on me to drive up to Dallas and see how he is. Last time she called him some woman answered the phone, and that put her all in a snit." After a heavy pause he softly added, "Ty and Rhea are doing really bad, Zack. I'm not sure what's going on over there but it scares the crap out of me. I've been...kind of keeping an eye on them since you said something back in November."

Rhea had gone after Ty with a skillet but luckily hadn't caused much damage. It was one of the few times Zack had broken a promise to one of his brothers, but he'd thought his father needed to know. Everyone in the family knew that after twelve years of marriage, Ty and Rhea had an ongoing love-hate relationship. He loved her, and she hated him. And now if his dad could admit to being worried, things must be bad. "Try to talk to him?"

"Nobody can get anything out of him. I caught 'em having a row in the beer garden last week, when y'all were on a break. The way she talks to him...it makes me...
ill
! Which cancels out our last discussion about those two," he added with a nod.