The Cowgirl Rides Away (Bluebonnet Texas Book 1) (9 page)

I hated myself for lying to Zack yet again. He'd been so nice when I'd gotten upset that I'd had to scramble for an excuse. Getting fired was as close as I could come to the truth. I'd probably go to hell for all my lies, lies I'd have to straighten out—preferably sooner rather than later. I could only hope that he'd understand that I'd wanted someone who wanted me for me, not my name or my fame or my gold buckles.

I was missing my last week of therapy. I suppose that would only get me to hell that much faster. But what the hell was I supposed to do? Sit in my house and rot?

I shopped at a strip center near my hotel that included a bunch of clothing stores and a Bath and Body Works, where only the logistical nightmare of carrying a suitcase full of bubble bath and lotion halfway across the country stopped me from buying out the whole store.

And I discovered something new about myself. I love to shop. I'd just never really had the time to indulge myself before. It felt funny doing what I wanted without worrying who might see me and give me hell about it.

Habit had me wandering into A. A. Callisters—like I needed more western clothes. I left empty-handed after spotting one of my Revolution Jeans posters on the wall.
You could see my nipples, for crying out loud!
I looked as if my face would crack if I smiled—what you could see of my face under the too-large hat. I'd forgotten how much I hated those posters.

I pushed thoughts of my former career out of my mind and focused on the matter at hand. Shopping.

A trip through the Disney store cheered me up immensely. Only hunger got me out of there and away from all the Toy Story paraphernalia. "Howdy, howdy, howdy," I'd chuckled to myself as I stood at the cash register paying for my purchases. Apparently the clerks were used to adults who regressed, because no one batted an eye.

On my way back to the hotel I picked up dinner, planning for a quiet evening with the TV—or the stunner as my friend Anna called it. Halfway through dinner Jace called.

"Where are you at?" he demanded over what sounded like wind whistling through his truck.

"Salt Lake City, why? Where are you?"

"At your house! What the hell are you doing in Salt Lake? They called me 'cause you missed physical therapy and no one could reach you. Damnit, Jessalyn!"

"Don't talk to me like I've got no sense!" I threw myself against the bed pillows, scrambling to get my thoughts in order.

"Well, sometimes I wonder!"

Despite my irritation with him, I couldn't ignore the concern in his voice. "I needed a break...I found the letter," I softly added. There was no need to tell him who or what the letter said. He'd obviously read it. And it wasn't the only one I'd gotten since December.

Just the last.

The silence on the other end of the phone spoke volumes but didn't answer the question of why he'd thrown it away. "I'm sorry—"
for everything
was implied. "I'll be fine, just...go rodeo."

I nearly gagged on the "R" word.

"I'm sorry, Jessa," was followed by a heavy sigh. "You just scared me. Are you okay?" he asked, his voice quietly sympathetic.

"I will be as soon as you quit babying me."

"Fine. Just please take care of yourself. I'll crash here tonight, then head back out. If you wanna come keep me company, I'll be leaving about six tomorrow morning."

"There is no way in hell I'm meeting you at the crack of dawn's ass." I laughed.

Or going out on the circuit with him, for heaven's sake.
That
would be pathetic.

Jace laughed too. "Okay, well, it was just a thought."

"I know, and I appreciate it, but that's not where I need to be." That part of my life was over. And I had a feeling it'd be a long time before I could even
watch
a rodeo.

"So, where do you need to be?" he asked quietly.

"I'm not sure, but when I get there, I'll call."

"You do that," he said softly, "and Jessa, don't forget I'm here if you need me."

"Thanks, Bub."

After hanging up with Jace, I picked at my now-cold dinner and decided on a bath to ease the aches that all the walking had brought on—and try out my new bath goodies. My cell phone rang once, but I ignored it. I appreciated my brother's concern but someday soon he'd have to cut the damned apron string. When I got out of the bath I realized it wasn't Jace calling me, but Zack. I toweled off and quickly threw on a nightshirt before dialing my voicemail.

His voice was as great as I remembered from the previous night. Just
sexy
. Husky, but not too deep, with a slight drawl. The type of voice you could just sit and listen to all night—or at least I could. I kept seeing hazel green eyes in my mind while I listened—three times—then saved it.

He said he'd try me later, but on impulse, I dialed his number, squeaking and trying not to choke on my spit when he answered on the third ring.

I squeaked?

I blamed my shaking hands on the cold but knew better.
Who was I kidding?

"Hope? Hi!" His voice shook a little too.
That's good. At least I wasn't the only nervous one.

"I got your message." I felt my way to the bed behind me and sat, desperately trying to think of something else to say. Water dripped from my hair and slid down my back, distracting me and making me shiver. I should have dried it first.
Talk, Jessa! It was just Zack, after all.

"I just called to see if you were feeling better, and to give you directions to the hotel, if you're still coming."

"Of course I'm still coming." I set my towel aside and scrambled for a pen and paper beside the hotel phone. I wouldn't miss this trip, or him, for the world.

"Good. I'm glad…I was worried about you."

The smile in his voice was unmistakable, but hearing he'd been worried about me stopped me cold. He sounded so sincere and concerned. I got a lump in my throat and found myself struggling against a sudden attack of the sniffles. "I'm much better, thanks. For listening
and
for asking."

"No problem, and if you need to vent some more about your job, I've got a good ear."

That left me feeling even worse. "I've decided I'm gonna look on the bright side, like you said. My getting fired just gave us the opportunity to meet that much sooner, right?"

"I like your attitude. You ready for those directions?"

***

Late the next morning I landed in Texas, sure my stomach would never be the same, despite my first class accommodations.

Lucky for me the airport was relatively small so I had no problem finding the rental car desk or getting to my car, but even with directions, I still managed to get turned around on the freeway. I succeeded on my second try and once I passed the San Antonio city limits, things quickly turned rural with miles of fence and mesquite and a large cluster of very pricey homes perched up on a hill to my right.

From there it was a piece of cake. I found my exit, the dancehall with the neon Bluebonnet sign, the hotel—right across from the HEB grocery store and a Starbucks, just like he'd said.

The hotel was nothing fancy but it was fairly new and clean, which was all that really mattered to someone who had spent nearly ten years living out of a suitcase. And my room was standard hotel fair, complete with a mattress harder than the ground and lots of hot water.

I quickly unpacked and changed, pausing in the middle of putting on clean panties to study my hourglass figure out of the corner of my eye. In the early days of my career, my short, curvy figure had been the butt of many jokes.

But what would Zack, an artist, think of me?

I'd been blessed with straight teeth and Daddy's silvery-blue eyes, but cursed with a nose that had been broken more than once. One night in Tulsa some townie was harassing me. He'd wanted to dance. I hadn't wanted to confess my two left feet, so I very politely told him no.
Unfortunately, drunk men don't take rejection too well.

After we were thrown out of the bar for fighting, my friend Tee had joked that I had the body of a goddess and the temper of a demon. He was right. At least on the temper part. The body was anyone's guess.

I blew out a heavy breath and blinked a few times, clearing my head. Time was passing. I threw on a baby blue shirt picked up on my shopping expedition, capris and some brown leather sandals with a small heel. Unfortunately, no matter how many times I walked around in front of the mirror, I couldn't seem to get a feel for them. And my toes looked plum weird.

They needed major help. A pedicure, which I'd never had.

I threw my hands up in defeat and changed into a pair of hiphugger Levi's and my broke-in Ariat mules. That choice wasn't much better—I felt like my pants might fall down any second—but the clock was ticking and at least I could walk in these shoes.

Styling my hair consisted of twisting it up in a clip and pulling a few strands loose around my ears. I slapped on some makeup, then went back and tried it again, with feeling. Makeup had never been a big deal for me and normally, I kept it to a minimum.

Jittery with nerves and still a bit queasy from my flight, I tried to distract myself flipping channels, but the controller kept sticking to my sweaty hands and I kept wiping them on the polyester bedspread. It was a vicious cycle.

Nervous was a major understatement.

I gave myself a mental peptalk on the walk downstairs: I'd competed against some of the toughest cowboys in the business; I'd ridden some of the toughest horses
ever.
I was smart, I was cute, I had a big ass.
Stop that.
Okay, I was smart.

And a liar.

I was supposed to be an accountant. I even chanted "Hope" all the way down, praying I wouldn't screw up and forget to answer to it.

As I reached the bottom of stairs, I spotted Zack talking to the desk clerk who'd checked me in less than an hour before. And from the back, Zack looked good.

Real good.

I smiled, despite my weak knees, then tried to wipe the grin off my face as the clerk spotted me. She grinned back in the way women who share secrets do. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who thought he looked mighty fine.

Zack's shoulder-length hair was pulled back in his customary ponytail and he had on a dark green T-shirt that stretched across his thick chest and hugged his broad shoulders.

Wranglers.

He was wearing Wranglers. Heaven help me.
There's nothing better than a man in a pair of broken-in Wranglers.
And his were. Snug, but not tight, and ass-huggin'.

I sighed, sure that desk clerk read my mind—she must have, judging from the way her smile turned into a smirk. I continued across the lobby, praying I didn't trip and land on my face and that he didn't notice the slight limp brought out by fatigue and probably, nerves.

Zack turned around, and my face caught fire. I felt as if I'd been caught staring. Which I had, but he was a remarkable sight, and the front showed mighty nice too. I resisted the urge to fan myself.

He was a classic green-eyed redhead with the cutest set of freckles and a tan. Up close, I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes and his full lips beneath a tidy goatee a few shades darker than his hair.

"Hi." I have no idea where that breathy little voice came from. It was nearly as bad as squeaking.

I could hear the desk clerk mentally taking notes, and knowing small towns, had a pretty good feeling that the resident gossip mill would be hard at work this afternoon. Bluebonnet was, after all, a town of barely five-thousand. People talked, and when a strange women showed up out of nowhere, people noticed.

Glancing at the desk clerk and then back at me, he asked, "Are you ready to go?" His voice shook the tiniest bit and I took a deep breath and reminded myself he was just as nervous as I was.

"Yeah." I threw a smile the clerk's way and mumbled a goodbye.

As we stepped outside, she hollered out, "Ya'll have a good time, and don't do anything I wouldn't do." When I looked over my shoulder at Zack, who was holding the door, his face was as red as mine felt.

"Well, wasn't that nice," I quipped as the glass door closed behind him. I got a genuine smile for my efforts. One that reached his eyes, that drew up in little crinkles, and gave me a flash of teeth. He chuckled and held out his arm.

I took it with a smile. That one gallant gesture won him triple the brownie points than his Wranglers had.

"I know you've been traveling, but I thought we might drive up to Gruene for lunch."

Arm in arm we walked toward an old Dodge pickup. It definitely wasn't on it's last legs but it had seen better days. "Green?"

"Gruene—it's about thirty minutes away."

What in the hell was I gonna think of to talk about for thirty minutes? "Sounds great!"

Chapter Eight
Zack

Zack fought the urge to stare. He couldn't believe how pretty Hope was up close and in person. And not just pretty but sexy too, in a definitely earthy way. As good as, if not better than, her photo. And she was here, with him. He should have brought flowers or something.

He took a deep breath to try and steady his nerves, only to be greeted by the smell of vanilla. Nothing heavy or overdone. Just vanilla. The clean, simple fragrance warmed his blood. And she looked damn good too in a shirt that fit snug against her full breasts and set off her eyes. Mentally Zack shook himself, reigning in a rush of lust. They were a long way from that.

Once they reached the truck, he opened the door and helped her inside.

"Sorry it's such a mess." Actually, the truck wasn't that messy, just old, and he hadn't had time to vacuum or Armor-all the dashboard.

"Oh that's alright," she replied, settling in. "You should see mine. After years of living in it, I'm used to messy trucks."

"Living in it?"

She glanced up at him with wide eyes, then back to her lap as she hooked her seatbelt. "Yeah, you know. When you spend so much time in it, you feel like you should put a bed in the back."

With a chuckle, he shut the door. Even walking around to the driver's side, he could see her watching him and hoped she wasn't disappointed in what she saw. She didn't seem to be though. Just shy and a little flustered.