Falling for the Cowboy

Chapter Three

“I’m really tired,” Kitty announced as she dumped dry black beans into a pot to soak overnight, no doubt for some tasty new cake recipe she’d discovered in her latest vegan cookbook.

“Then you should go to bed,” Maggie told her. “I can take care of cleaning up.”

“But it’s only seven o’clock, and I wanted to finish knitting those booties for my babies.”

“You can knit tomorrow. Your babies aren’t due for at least another five weeks. You have plenty of time.”

Kitty yawned, then said, “You’re right.” And she waddled off in the direction of her bedroom with Maggie following close behind.

Once Kitty was comfortably tucked into bed, with pillows scrunched under her legs, arms and head, Maggie kissed her forehead and turned out the lights. Then, she walked to her room down the hall, changed into tight-fitting jeans, combed her hair out so it hung loose on her shoulders, reapplied her makeup a little darker than she had worn it during the day and sprayed on her favorite perfume.

Tonight, Maggie was going out. She finally had a reason to celebrate, and she refused to do it with a glass of organic sparkling cider. She hadn’t been able to justify a night out for quite a while, but now that she had a job, a glass of red wine seemed in order, along with the fattest steak her money could buy.

Normally, only her platform stilettos would do with her skinny jeans, but she needed to start fitting in if she was going to live in this tumbleweed of a town for the next few months, so cowboy boots seemed to be the ticket.

After quietly trying on several pairs of her sister’s boots, she settled on a slightly worn burnt-orange pair with a respectable heel, and a subtle pointed toe. She borrowed a deep blue sweater, and wrapped a white wool scarf around her neck. She went back to her own room and slid two crisp twenty-dollar bills into her back pocket and headed out for Belly Up, the bar she’d seen a few blocks away.

As soon as she opened Belly Up’s heavy glass door, country music bounced from every hard surface causing the floor to vibrate with its steady beat. She knew she was stepping into a real honky-tonk complete with bare wooden planks on the floor, and a mirrored mahogany bar that extended along the entire west wall.

A rather large painting of a nude, round woman with a thin draping of white fabric across her privates, lounging on a bright-pink velvet chaise, hung on the far wall behind a group of tables occupied by patrons eating dinner. The smell of beer dominated the air and caused Maggie to wonder if the place even served anything but a cold one.

She hesitated in the open doorway, not quite sure if she was up to a hardcore-Country night out in Briggs, Idaho. Thinking how different all this was from her favorite martini bar in Pacific Heights in San Francisco, for a moment she considered leaving. Sparkling cider wasn’t all that bad, especially if she pretended it was sweet champagne.

“Nice boots,” a man’s voice said behind her.

Maggie spun around to see Doc Blake grinning at her from under the same Stetson he’d worn that afternoon. She smiled up at him. “Nice hat.”

There was an awkward pause when neither of them spoke, almost as if each of them was waiting for the other to make the next move, each staring into the other’s eyes. Maggie wondered what it would be like to kiss his lips.

Mr. Kissable broke the spell. “I’m starving for some real food. How about you?”

“You read my mind,” she lied. No way did she want him to know what she’d really been thinking.

“Steak?”

“Bloodred.”

He chuckled and Maggie wanted to hear more. “There’s a table in back with our names on it.” He bent his arm out for her to take it. She hesitated for a heartbeat, thinking this might be a mistake, while his smile assured her that she had little choice in the matter. Maggie grabbed hold and walked inside as if she had done it a thousand times before.

When they were seated under the painting of the nude, a smiling twentysomething waitress, dressed in a gray Western shirt, black jeans and the prerequisite boots walked over to take their order.

“Strange to see you here, Doc, on a Sunday night. Dodge burn the roast?”

He tossed her a sly little grin, as if they had a past. Maggie figured this woman was probably another notch on his already frayed belt. “Not exactly. Let’s just say dinner wasn’t what I’d expected and leave it at that.”

“Gotcha,” she said, her face lighting up for what had to be some kind of inside joke.

He turned to Maggie. “What’s your poison?”

Maggie smiled and looked up at the red-haired woman, wondering if there were any single women in the entire town who didn’t salivate every time Doc Blake was around. “Do you stock any decent wine?”

The waitress ignored her. “Where’d you pick up this one, Doc? Don’t think I’m going to like her much.”

“Go easy, Helen. She’s Kitty’s sister.”

The waitress turned back to Maggie, looking all apologetic. “Honey, your sister is an absolute treasure. She’s been there for me more than once. Because of her friendship, I’m going to give you a pass on your snobby question. How about you give me an order and I go fetch it?”

“A glass of pinot noir.” It came out in a whisper.

“I’ve got a great bottle of Williams Selyem pinot from the Russian River Valley. You’ll love it—medium bodied and silky smooth, with a blend of red cherries and raspberries along with a hint of spice. It’s dry but the tannins linger on the tongue. It’s on the house, honey, as a sort of a ‘welcome to the town’ kind of thing.” She turned to Doc Blake. “That good for you, too?”

“Perfect. Thanks. And two rare steaks with all the trimmings.”

“You got it, Doc.” She wandered off toward the bar, disappearing into the colorful, raucous mix of patrons. A cowboy, large both in stature and in girth, stared at Helen, then back at Maggie as he leaned on the bar. Maggie had the feeling he knew Helen well and was protective of her. Mess with Helen and you messed with probably the biggest guy in town.

Maggie threw him a sheepish grin.

He tipped his hat then turned back to his pint.

Maggie wanted to crawl under the table. She was going to have to accept that just because everyone dressed like movie-set ranch hands didn’t mean they weren’t part of the twenty-first century. She felt completely out of place again, with that familiar knot forming in her stomach.

Doc Blake leaned in closer. “When my patients are as uptight as you seem to be, I tell them to take a deep breath, close their eyes and think of their favorite Disney movie.”

Maggie smiled. “Their favorite Disney movie?”

“Yeah, works every time. Trust me on this. Lean back, close your eyes and think of your all-time favorite scene. I know you have one. I can see it brewing on your face.”

“What you see is confusion.”

“Maybe about which scene is your favorite, but it’s there. I know it is.”

“From a Disney movie? Not from movies in general?”

“Yup, and don’t tell me you weren’t a fan of The Little Mermaid or Aladdin. You’re needing a dose of the little girl with the big imagination. I know she’s hiding in there, scared to come out. I get a glimpse of her every time you smile. Give it a whirl, Maggie. Just lean on back and close your eyes.”

Maggie hesitated, but he persisted, gesturing for her to get going. She figured she might as well go along with him. After all, the man was her new boss. She slid down in the chair then leaned her head back until she found the backrest and instantly felt uneasy, vulnerable, as if everyone in the bar was staring at her.

“This is silly,” she said, quickly sliding back up and looking around. Everyone seemed busy with their own lives. No one was the slightest bit interested in what she was doing.

“Silly’s the whole idea.”

“But—”

“Humor me,” he urged, and gestured for her to lean back. She thought she’d better go with it or he might think she was some kind of city snob, which she most definitely was, but she didn’t want him to know it. “Take a deep breath. Let your body go all weak and easylike. Breathe in through your nose and let the breath out slowly through your mouth.”

Maggie did as she was told. Some country singer was belting out how they loved this bar while Maggie tried to get into the rhythm. Within moments her all-time favorite Disney scene flashed in her head—Beauty and her beast floating across a dance floor. She could visualize them as clearly as if she were watching the movie in a theater. Only difference was, they were dancing to I Love This Bar.

She couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle.

“I knew you could do it,” Doc Blake said as he touched her hand. As soon as he did, she felt warm and safe, as if she had been spinning on the dance floor wrapped in his arms.

She opened her eyes.

Helen had returned and busied herself pouring wine into their glasses. When she left, Maggie said, “I’m sorry, Doctor Granger, I think I fell asleep for a moment.”

“Call me Blake. It’s easier. Do you feel better?”

“Much. Thanks. Do you work this kind of magic on everyone?”

“Not everyone. Some of my patients are stubborn.”

“More stubborn than me?”

“You’re easy.”

She felt the heat of a blush. “Not necessarily. It depends on the man.”

“So we’re back to that, are we?”

“Not if you don’t want to be.”

He grinned, and his whole face lit up, the tiny lines around his eyes adding to his rugged charm.

“In all honesty, I was on my way to talk to you.”

As Maggie looked into those smoky eyes of his she had a feeling she could easily fall hard and fast into the same trap all the other women in this town had willingly fallen into. She refused to let it happen. She would not lose her heart to another unattainable man, especially not her boss. She’d been down that road before and it wasn’t pretty.

“Talk to me about what?” she asked after she picked up her glass of wine and took a sip.

She reminded herself that she had not come to this bar or this town to fall in love. Not that she was even close to falling in love, but just in case her heart wanted to go there, she needed to confirm it to herself that love or lust or affection of any kind was not part of this potato adventure. Hard work and a paycheck were all she needed at the moment…and maybe another glass of wine and the occasional steak.

But that was it.

Nothing and no one else.

“Mrs. Abernathy,” he said.

She drank several big gulps of the deep red elixir before she noticed its full rich flavors of oak and black cherries dancing on her tongue. The mixture of the wine, the devilishly striking man sitting across from her and the unfamiliar ambiance of country music and laughter felt intoxicating.

“What about Mrs. Abernathy?”

Their food arrived and suddenly Maggie remembered how much she loved a good, rare steak.

“She’s Tim’s great-aunt,” he said. “And she’s tone deaf.”

The meal smelled and looked delicious, but the man sitting across from her was looking even more delicious, especially under that old hat. Who knew a cowboy hat could make a man be so enticing.

“Kitty’s mentioned her. That’s too bad,” Maggie told him, not understanding the relevance.

Blake took note of her plate of food. “You’re gonna love this.”

“I’m sure I will.”

And as simple as that, Maggie knew what all the other women in the town had known all along. Doc Blake was sinfully irresistible.

* * *

HE HAD DRIVEN into town precisely to fire Maggie Daniels. Had gone over what he was going to say a dozen times, and if he hadn’t stopped at Belly Up for a steak first, he would have been able to carry out his plan to tell Kitty of his decision. He had wanted to avoid meeting up with Maggie altogether.

The whole idea of firing anyone, much less Kitty’s sister, gnawed at him terribly. But Kitty already knew about his confrontational misfortune, and would have broken it to her without too much coaxing. Then he would have driven over to Mrs. Abernathy’s house—calling her wasn’t an option—and given her the good news.

Unfortunately, Maggie had been standing in the doorway of the Belly Up, smelling like a wild rose garden after a rainstorm, and messed up everything.

Sharing a meal with Maggie Daniels somehow felt just about perfect to Blake. One look at her and he knew his hunch had been right. He’d hoped that once she’d lost that corporate suit and heels Maggie would be as down-home as her sister, minus the organic-vegan thing.

Maggie was a good ol’ girl at heart, who could probably knock back a cold one with the best of them, if it ever came to that. But right then, sitting across from her, he knew getting her to drink a beer was out of the question. She was still carrying around the city in her back pocket, and as long as she did, Briggs was simply a town where her baby sister lived.

There was nothing he could do about that, and besides, who was he to point out that life in a small town beat city life any day of the week. He’d already been down that path with his ex. He’d met her in college, at UCLA. She’d grown up in L.A. and had told him she wanted a simpler life. He believed her. She lasted in Briggs for only a short time and soon after Scout was born, she wanted to move back to California. Blake obliged, but he never took to the place, and Bethany eventually lost interest in being a mother—at least, not the kind of mother Scout needed. That lesson was enough of a burn in one man’s life. He wasn’t about to go close to the fire again.

Now, he had to let Maggie go before she’d even set foot in his office. It was for the best, all around. He had to tell her, but telling her face-to-face seemed almost impossible.

He’d have to man up for his daughter’s sake. Maggie was danger personified. Scout needed a mother, someone more like Helen and not a woman like Maggie. Helen was stable, kind, and sure as rain she wasn’t going anywhere. Helen could love Scout—heck, she probably already did—and could easily be a good mother to his sweet little girl.

Maggie was an unknown—albeit an attractive unknown that sent his pulse racing and weakened his resolve with every heartbeat. But even though she was temptation in borrowed boots, he wouldn’t allow himself to put his daughter through another disappointment, so he buttoned up his emotions and moved on with dinner.

He watched Maggie pack it away as if she’d been without food for weeks. “How’s the steak?”

She gazed up at him with a look on her face that told him it was the first time she’d noticed he was still there since the plate of food had been placed in front of her.

Maggie paused for a moment, chewed and swallowed. “Amazing. I mean San Francisco has some great steaks, but, wow…”

He watched as she took another bite. “So this is your first real meal since you’ve been here, right?”

Maggie nodded, her mouth once again so full of food she looked like a cartoon chipmunk. She chewed and swallowed while Blake waited, enjoying watching her try to appear like she had everything under control…which she didn’t. “How did you know?”

“I know your sister, remember?”

Maggie nodded and swallowed, then took a long draw of wine.

He said, “I love a woman with a hearty appetite. You want me to order another steak in case that’s not enough?”

She put her fork down and sat back with a sigh. “Sorry. I love my sister, so don’t get me wrong, but if I have to eat one more piece of soy chicken or a beeflike product I might have to disown her.”

“What do you think brought me in here tonight?”

“Tell me she didn’t—”

“She did. A tofurkey.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not a problem. It was better than her flourless cake for my birthday last year.”

“Crazy as it seems, I now know how to make one. You don’t treat me right and I’ll bring one into the office.”

Blake emptied his glass of wine and poured another then topped hers off. “Funny you should mention the office. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“About Mrs. Abernathy?”

“Who? No. This is something entirely different.”

“Another rule you and Kitty left out?”

“Not exactly.” He hated this kind of stuff.

“If it’s about the cake, I promise not to bring one in, or anything else that’s even remotely good for you. But you realize my sister will probably outlive us both.”

“I know. She’s a regular food doctor.”

“Yeah.” Maggie sliced off another piece of steak. “But we’ll have so much more fun.”

That brought on an actual giggle and Blake couldn’t help but notice how deep that dimple was in her left cheek, and how downright pretty her eyes were, and how her forehead wrinkled, and how he was thinking about what it might be like to kiss those full lips.

He had it bad and he barely knew the woman.

Blake forced himself to look at the line dancers in front of him. The place was jumping tonight, and for a Sunday that was a rare occasion. Briggs was gearing up for Spud Week and the harvest. Two things that put happy in everyone’s heart.

The thought made him smile, and as he watched the couples kickin’ it up, he decided that as soon as Maggie gobbled down the last bite, he’d ask her to dance. One dance couldn’t hurt.

Then he’d fire her.

And just as he considered how he would accomplish these tasks, her cell phone chirped.

“Excuse me,” she told him and took the call. In seconds her entire demeanor changed. “I’ll be right there.” She stood. Her napkin fell to the floor. She looked at Blake and her eyes went moist.

He felt his stomach tighten. “What’s wrong?”

“That was a nurse at Valley Hospital. Kitty’s been admitted. I have to go.”

“I’ll drive you.”

And before Blake could think of what this might mean, he and Maggie were in his pickup racing toward the hospital.

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