A Cowboy to Marry

Chapter Two

“You’re sure this is going to be okay?” Rosa asked Libby nervously on Friday morning.

Libby nodded and waved the library employee toward the dealership showroom. “You can set up a return desk over there in the corner. The books on hold—and the checkout and information counter—can go next to that.”

Miss Mim came to join them. She’d brought with her a small army of library volunteers carrying armloads of supplies, boxes of books, even a computer. “Hopefully, we won’t need to be here more than a couple of days.”

Libby smiled at both librarians. “I’m sure we’ll get this straightened out by then. In the meantime, library patrons will have a place to go for the essentials and information.”

The dealership business was carrying on as usual. Two ranchers were in the offices, signing papers on new tractors and equipment. Another three were lined up to arrange service on their machines. And Lucia Gordon, the receptionist, was headed straight for Libby, a handsome thirtysomething man in a tweed sport coat and jeans by her side.

The tall stranger smiled as he reached her and held out his hand. “Libby Lowell, I presume?”

She grinned back. “The one and only.”

He shook her hand. “Jeff Johnston.”

Libby’s jaw dropped in surprise. “I thought we weren’t meeting until this evening.”

“I wanted to let you know I had arrived and checked in at the Laramie Inn.” Jeff looked around. “Plus I thought it would be good to see the place through the eyes of a regular customer.” His brow furrowed as he noticed the temporary library being set up. “What’s going on over there?”

Libby noted he didn’t look pleased. Briefly, she explained the problem, as well as her solution, adding, “That’s the way things work in a small town. We all go the extra mile to help each other out.”

Jeff rubbed a hand across his jaw, considering that. “None of the customers seem to mind.”

But, Libby noted, the next man coming into the dealership seemed wary. Not of what was going on in the corner, but of the man she was standing with.

Holden reached her and nodded at Jeff. “Johnston.”

“McCabe.”

Libby fought off a second wave of surprise. She squared her slender shoulders. “You two know each other?”

An inscrutable glint appeared in Holden’s eyes as he informed her casually, “We met a little while ago at the Daybreak Café.”

Which wasn’t surprising, Libby guessed, since the restaurant owned by Holden’s sister, Emily, was the place in town to have breakfast.

“I was chatting up the locals, asking around, to see how people felt about the dealership,” Jeff explained.

Libby tensed, not sure how she felt about that. Shouldn’t any questions have been directed at her first?

“Anyway, we’re still on for dinner this evening, right?” Jeff asked.

She nodded.

“Great. I’ve got a lot of questions and things I’d like to discuss.” He inclined his head and strolled off.

Holden gave Libby a steady look that sent heat spiraling through her. “Tell me you’re taking someone with you. Like a lawyer.”

Clearly, Holden didn’t trust Jeff Johnston. For reasons that had more to do with his loyalty to her late husband—and to her—than to Johnston’s overarching ambition, she suspected.

Libby folded her arms and moved closer to him. “I’m not paying a lawyer to sit through polite get-to-know-each-other chitchat.”

Holden looked at her soberly. “Obviously, Johnston wants it to be more than that. He appears anxious to get you to sign on the dotted line, here and now.”

She stepped back. “Then Mr. Johnston will be disappointed,” she said firmly, uncomfortably aware that she’d had the same impression of the businessman. “But if it will make you feel better … you can tag along,” she offered reluctantly.

Holden grinned as happily as if she had invited him into her bedroom. “Seriously?”

Doing her best to quell her conflicting emotions, Libby nodded. She did not want to depend on Holden, emotionally or otherwise. She had allowed herself to do that once, right after her husband’s passing, and the result had been disastrous for both of them. To the point that guilt and discomfort from that time were still with both of them.

But she was smart enough to know that the easiest way to keep one man from becoming too aggressive with her was to put another equally driven and protective man into the mix. So for now, for tonight, she would allow her late husband’s best friend to appease his conscience by employing his innate gallantry on her behalf, once more.

Having decided that, she sighed.

Glancing up at Holden, she couldn’t help but note how good he looked in that green corduroy shirt and jeans. His short dark hair was thick and rumpled, and his face had the shadow of beard that came from going twenty-four hours without a razor. But it was the cobalt-blue of his eyes, the compassionate set of his sensual lips, that really drew her in.

“Thanks for inviting me,” he said.

Libby gave him a glance that warned him not to get too carried away. “It makes more sense to have you at the table with us than to have you hovering somewhere in the background, trying to watch over me from a distance.” Which, she knew, he was likely to do, given the depth of his concern about the potential pitfalls of the situation she was in.

And if she was completely honest, Libby admitted, she wouldn’t mind having Holden at the first official meeting.

The handsome rancher was bound to be a lot less emotional about the proposed transaction than she, and would give her perspective on everything said.

In certain situations, two were better than one.

This, Libby figured, was one of those times.

“I DIDN’T REALIZE THE TWO of you were dating,” Jeff Johnston said to Holden and Libby after they had ordered their meals.

Taking comfort in the laid-back ease of the Wagon Wheel Restaurant, she sipped her iced tea. “Holden is here as a friend.”

Jeff quirked a brow. “Do you always take friends to business meetings?”

Aware that her throat still felt parched, and that she was far too conscious of Holden and his sexy masculine presence, Libby took another drink. “No.”

Jeff glanced at her curiously. “Then …?”

She searched for an explanation for herself, as well. Ignoring Holden’s equally probing look, she told Jeff, “You wanted to know how the ranchers in the area feel about the dealership. Holden can tell you that.”

The other man turned to him. “How is the level of service?”

“Excellent,” Holden stated promptly. “First and foremost, prices are fair.”

“Almost too much so,” Jeff countered. “Since the profit the company is taking on sales is slightly below the industry standard.”

“It’s a competitive market,” Libby interjected. “We aim to please.”

“And they do,” Holden said candidly. “From the time you walk in the door, Lowell Ranch Equipment employees are there to help you decide what heavy machinery you need, and how to obtain financing. And they are just as dedicated when it comes to providing any service or parts required. Because of that, they have a very loyal customer base.”

“You’re not just saying that because Libby is your ‘friend’?” Jeff chided.

“Libby doesn’t need me to exaggerate on her behalf,” Holden said, beginning to sound a little irked at the remark. “Lowell Ranch Equipment has been in business for three generations, and has served a hundred-mile rural area for the last seventy years. The commitment of the sales and service staff has never wavered.”

Jeff nodded, as if his research had garnered the same data. “I notice a lot of the employees are older, though. Fifty plus …”

For the thirtysomething Jeff, that was a problem, Libby noted unhappily. “Ten of our employees are in that age demographic—they have worked at the business their whole adult lives. Three others are in their twenties, but equally as committed to careers with us.”

He frowned. “Meaning you would be opposed to me letting at least some members of your staff go, and bringing in my own people?”

She stiffened her spine, the tough businesswoman inside her coming to the fore. “I won’t sell to you unless there is a guarantee you’ll continue to employ every person currently working there for as long as they want to stay, at their current salary and benefits.”

“You realize that could sour the deal,” Jeff warned.

Libby turned her hands palm up. “Then it does.”

He sat back in his chair as their dinners were put in front of them, and considered her position. “Well, that explains why everyone is so loyal.”

Libby picked up her knife and fork. “We’ve had virtually no turnover, because it is such a good place to work. The fact the customers know who they are going to be dealing with is a comfort to them. Everyone feels like family.”

Jeff cut into his steak. “In my experience, business and personal affairs don’t mix.”

She took a bite of her grilled redfish. “That may be true in Houston. It’s not the case in Laramie.” She paused long enough to meet Holden’s encouraging glance, then asked Jeff, “Why do you want LRE so badly?” He had been calling her every few months since Percy died, asking if she wanted to sell.

He added butter to his baked potato. “I specialize in acquiring businesses with no internet presence and taking them online. LRE would be my biggest acquisition yet. I see great potential for growth. In fact, you could stay on if you want, Libby, because I’m not going to be there more than once a week—if that—and I’ll need someone to manage it.”

“Thank you for the offer, but—no. I’m selling because I want out.”

“You’re planning to leave the area, then?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Libby saw Holden tense. “Yes.”

Jeff leaned toward her. “What about the house? Are you interested in including it in the sale? ‘Cause I’m going to need someplace nice to stay when I’m in town.”

Libby hesitated. How did she feel about that? “We could negotiate,” she said cautiously. “If the price is right, of course.”

“Can I see it tonight?” Jeff asked eagerly, while Holden tensed even more.

Ignoring his obvious disapproval, Libby shrugged. “I suppose a brief tour would be okay.”

Victorious, Jeff smiled. “Then let’s do it!”

They talked more as they ate. No one wanted dessert, so as soon as the check was paid, they went out to their vehicles. Libby took the lead in her Range Rover, with Jeff following in his Maserati and Holden trailing behind in his pickup truck.

Her self-appointed protector looked even grimmer when they arrived at the house.

The first thing that caught Jeff’s eye was the Lowell photo gallery that lined much of the foyer and both walls of the grand front staircase. “Wow.” He stopped at the framed pictures of three generations of Lowells, then he studied Percy and Libby’s wedding photo.

“You were awfully young when you got married.”

She had been. “Twenty-two. Right out of college.”

“And you were married how long?”

Libby noticed Holden studying the photos, too, with the familiar mixture of grief, guilt and sadness. “Almost eight years.”

Jeff turned back to her. “I can see why you want to sell,” he told her empathetically. “Residing here must feel like living in a mausoleum.”

Aptly put, Libby thought.

“The tour?” Holden said, looking irritated again.

Libby inhaled and braced herself for another slew of questions from the ambitious businessman. “Let’s get started,” she said. So I can put this evening—and the onslaught of confusing emotions—behind me.

HOLDEN KNEW LIBBY WAS ticked off at him. And maybe he was overstepping his bounds. But when Jeff Johnston asked to see the second floor …

“Not a good idea.” Holden moved to block the way to the stairs.

Jeff turned to Libby with a goading smile. “I thought the two of you weren’t involved.”

“We’re not,” she said, a hint of color coming into her cheeks.

Maybe not in the traditional way, Holden thought. But they were linked through Percy’s memory. And he had made a promise not to let anyone take advantage of his best friend’s widow. A promise he would continue to carry out until his dying day.

“Actually, we are,” he stated flatly.

Libby’s jaw dropped in shock. “I can’t believe you just alluded to that,” she said, glaring at Holden.

It didn’t matter, he thought, because Jeff clearly believed him, not Libby. And Johnston’s obvious respect for another man’s territory would keep him from making an untoward pass at Libby, at least for now.

“I’m going to head out,” Jeff said, his demeanor slightly less personal as he backed off. “But I’ll be in touch.”

“I look forward to it.” Libby’s tone was crisp and businesslike. Spine stiff, she walked him to the door.

As soon as he’d left, she whirled back to Holden and inhaled, the action lifting the soft curves of her breasts. A pulse worked in her throat as she kept her eyes meshed with his. “You had no right to tell Jeff Johnston he couldn’t go up to the second floor.”

Holden found himself tracking the fall of honey-colored hair swinging against her shoulders and caressing the feminine lines of her face. Wondering if it was as silky to the touch as he recalled, he asked, “You were really going to let Jeff Johnston see the bedrooms?”

“No, of course not.” Libby propped her hands on her hips and sent him a chastising look. “Not without having a chance to tidy up and get the property ready to show!” She inched closer, inundating him with a drift of cinnamon perfume. “But that’s not the point, Holden.”

Desire sprang up within him, as surely as irritation had. Reminding himself she was off-limits for a whole host of reasons, he returned carefully, “Then what is the point?”

Their eyes locked, providing another wave of unbidden heat between them. “You intimated to him that you and I are having a fling.”

“No.” Holden savored her nearness, and the pleasure that came from being alone with her, in a way they hadn’t been for months now.

He turned and wandered toward the cozy family room in the back of the house. “I said we are involved,” he corrected, as he passed another row of photos, of Percy and Libby together, involved in all the outdoor activities Percy loved.

Reminded that Libby was once his best friend’s wife, Holden shoved his hands in the pockets of his wool trousers and drawled, “I just didn’t say how we are involved.”

She stepped out of her heels and stood holding the sexy shoes, as if she wanted to lob them at his head. “Same difference,” she snapped.

Holden let his glance drift down her spectacular pantyhose-clad legs to her toes. “Really?” His gaze returned slowly and deliberately to her face, pausing on her lips, before moving to her long-lashed green eyes. Ignoring the threat of the stilettos, he leaned closer still and dropped his tone to a husky whisper. “‘Cause I don’t remember anything sexual or romantic happening between us.”

Libby sniffed and sent him a quelling look. “Only because you came to your senses and put a stop to it.”

Wanting something wasn’t the same as taking it. Particularly when they both had been lost and hurting, searching for any way to end the pain.

As it turned out, Holden recalled soberly, neither of them could have lived with that.

Curtailing his rising emotions, he shrugged. “You said it was for the best.”

Libby kept her distance, eventually drifting over toward the fireplace, where she pivoted, her back to the mantel. Raking her teeth across her lower lip, she admitted quietly, “And that was true. I wasn’t myself that night.”

For a long time, Holden had let himself believe that.

Now, cognizant of the tension that charged the air between them, he studied the mixture of regret and longing in her eyes. Found himself theorizing before he could stop himself, “And maybe you were yourself, Libby. Maybe your instincts were right.”

Another shadow crossed her eyes. “What are you saying?”

Holden looked at the gold broken-heart pendant shimmering against the delicate ivory of her skin. Lower still, he could see the hint of cleavage in the V neckline of her black cashmere sweater dress. “That if I hadn’t been such a gentleman … If I had allowed us to follow through on our urges …”

Maybe she wouldn’t have held him at arm’s length all this time. Maybe they could have shrugged off that flare of desire and gone back to being friends. Kissed and found out there was no chemistry between them, after all. Or argued and cleared the tension that way.

Instead, they had been adult about it. Distant. Careful. Unerringly polite. And tense as could be.

Libby studied him with a brooding look. “I know you’re trying to be gallant here, Holden. But we have to face facts. I was the one who wanted to kiss you that night. Not the other way around.”

Noting the raw vulnerability in her expression, Holden felt his heart go out to her all over again.

He realized it was his turn to be honest. No matter how much it complicated their lives. “You’re wrong about that, Libby,” he told her hoarsely.

His gaze lingered on her, as he paused to let his words sink in. “I would have given everything I had that night to see where that burst of physical attraction would lead.”

She shook her head. “But we couldn’t because I was a wreck. In some ways I still am a wreck.”

Not sure what she meant, Holden stared at her.

Libby lifted her hands. “It’s this house, Holden. The dealership. I can’t be either place without feeling like Percy’s wife.” Her voice caught and her lower lip trembled. “That’s the real reason I can’t stay here in Laramie. If I do, I’ll never be able to move on.”

As Holden looked around, he saw what she meant.

The home was brimming with signs of Percy and his folks, and the generations who had lived here before that.

It was clearly a Lowell domain.

Holden recalled that Libby had suggested a few small changes after they had taken over the residence, when Percy was still alive. All had been gently but firmly refused. Libby, in her usual genial way, had stopped bringing up the subject. And although she could have redecorated since Percy died, she hadn’t. Probably because it would have felt disloyal, an insult to his memory, or disrespectful to his wishes.

No wonder she felt trapped, Holden mused sympathetically. He edged closer. “You want to get married again?”

Determination stiffened her slender frame. “Of course. I want to fall in love. I want to have kids. I want to feel like everything good is still ahead of me.”

Everything she would have had, Holden thought, on a fresh wave of guilt, had her husband still been alive.

“Then you’re going to have to do a lot more than just sell the dealership and the house,” he told her sternly. “You’re going to have to start dating again.”

Libby eyed him mockingly. “Thank you, Dr. Phil.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” Her hips swaying provocatively, she strode past him toward the kitchen.

Like every other room in the house, it had been decorated long before Libby arrived on the scene. And although the color scheme was okay—if you liked bleached oak cabinets and beige walls—the once top-of-the-line appliances were definitely showing their age. As were some of the wall hangings and wooden blinds.

“The only problem is, no one will ask me out.”

She hit the switch, flooding the room with light, then headed for the fridge.

Holden followed her lazily. Glad she had decided to do something to distract them from the new tension between them, he watched her rummage through the contents until she emerged with a chocolate-and-peppermint Yule log from the local bakery.

His mouth watering for more than the sweet, he settled against the counter.

“That’s because you’re still putting out the I’m-a-widow-and-therefore-off-limits-to-anyone-with-any-sensitivity vibe.”

Libby stood on tiptoe to reach the dessert plates. “I am not.”

He came forward to help her, steadying her with a hand to her waist. “Yeah … you are.” He finished getting the dishes down for her. “But we can fix that.”

Her lips pursed stubbornly. “How?” she asked, cutting two slices and handing him one, complete with a fork.

Holden settled opposite her at the table. Their knees touched momentarily. Regretting the contact—and the sizzle of warmth it engendered—he pulled back and continued to focus on solving her problem. “By finding you a rebound guy.”

Libby frowned. “I get that you’re trying to help me, but why would you want any other guy to sign up for that—after what you went through with your ex?” She scowled protectively, like the close friend she had once been before their ill-fated kiss-that-never-quite-happened. “Heidi broke your heart! To the point that you’ve never dated seriously since.”

“I haven’t dated seriously because I haven’t found the right woman,” Holden corrected bluntly. “But I should put myself out there if I want to move on, too. And I do.”

Libby went very still. “What are you suggesting?”

Holden’s spirits rose as the idea took on momentum. “That we both shake off the rust. Get back in the game.”

Libby licked the frosting off the back of her fork. “By that you mean …?”

“Go out to dinner. Attend holiday parties. Really celebrate the season. Who knows? If you and I get back in the habit of dating again, it might give us both a whole new outlook on life.”

Libby’s soft lips took on an enticing curve. “Meaning what?” she murmured cynically. “I might be so content I won’t want to sell the dealership and move out of town?”

He grinned at her sarcasm and lifted a palm. “I’m just saying …”

Silence fell as the notion stuck. They studied each other.

Libby took the last bite of her dark chocolate cake, savoring the sweet decadence. “So, cowboy with all the answers, how do you propose I find my rebound man?”

Chapter Three

“You’re looking at him.”

Libby stared at Holden, sure she hadn’t heard right. “Why in the world would you do that, after the way you were hurt the last time?”

“Unwittingly being someone else’s rebound person is what makes me right for the task. I know you still love Percy and always will. It’s not going to be easy for you to move on.”

Guilt threatened to overwhelm Libby. She and Percy hadn’t been in love at the end. But no one knew that…. “Don’t put me up for sainthood,” she said quietly. She had enough of that from the community every single day. “Because I’m not the perfect woman and I was never the perfect wife.”

“Percy sure thought otherwise.”

More guilt flooded her heart.

“He’d never met a woman who was more accommodating.”

Libby pushed back her chair and carried her plate to the dishwasher. “Which is one reason I’m so unhappy,” she remarked lightly. “I’ve spent too much of my life trying to please everyone else.”

Holden put his dish and fork in the machine, too. Then he leaned against the counter, watching her. “Your aunt Ida?”

Libby could feel him sizing her up, trying to figure out how to convince her to stay where he could keep an eye on her, and hence, continue to fulfill his deathbed promise to her late husband.

Wishing she weren’t so aware of Holden’s presence, Libby retreated into scrupulous politeness. “I was only seven when my parents died. Even though my aunt was in her fifties at the time, she took on the responsibility of raising me.” She sighed. “I loved her dearly and will always be grateful to her for taking me in. But … because I was her only remaining family and she mine … she was paranoid about potential dangers and kept me on a very tight leash.”