Cowboy Up Page 2

  “Go easy on yourself and get to know her,” Jace continued. “For now, all you’ve got to do is make her feel safe and cared for. The rest will come naturally with time.”

  “And a shower would be good,” Sawyer said. “And, dude, deodorant.”

  Jace laughed—apparently, Cash’s hygiene was comical—and got to his feet. “I’ve got to get going.” He bobbed his head at Aubrey’s cabin. “Try not to disturb your neighbor again. She’s the only one around here paying rent.”

  Sawyer waited until Jace’s truck pulled away and said, “What happened?”

  “I was making too much noise shooting bottles.” It was a good way of working off steam and getting his head right. These days he had so much swimming around in there that sometimes he wanted to tune it all out.

  “You give any more thought to hiring that lawyer I told you about and getting your job back?”

  “I don’t want my job back.” There was a time when Cash had been a true believer in the Bureau, and a stellar agent. Not anymore.

  Sawyer got off the barrel and took Jace’s chair. “You did all you could do, Cash. They’re the ones who screwed it up.”

  Cash held his hands up. “This isn’t up for discussion.”

  “Fine.” Sawyer let out a long breath and motioned his head in the direction of Aubrey’s cabin. “What’s up with her?”

  Cash followed Sawyer’s gaze. “According to Jace, she needed a place to live after dumping the fiancé. Two weeks ago, she showed up here with a trailer and a houseful of furniture.”

  There was now a swing on her porch and flowers in the window boxes. Unlike his cabin, hers didn’t have a porch fan dangling from a loose wire or a shredded screen door hanging lopsided from its hinges, or weeds that came up to Cash’s knees. He’d heard somewhere that she was an interior decorator or some kind of designer.

  “Her and Jace, huh?” Sawyer had obviously heard the rumors too.

  “Nope, not according to Jace or Aubrey.” Cash chastised himself for not having more faith in Jace. He should’ve known from the get-go that his cousin wasn’t the type to poach another man’s woman—not even one as hot as Aubrey McAllister—especially his best friend’s fiancée. “I don’t know Mitchell well, but he seems like a good guy.”

  Sawyer lifted his shoulders. “Just know him from when we were kids.”

  “You remember Aubrey?” Like Jace, she’d grown up here, while Cash and Sawyer had only visited in the summers and holidays.

  “Nope, can’t say I do. And if she looked anything then like she does now, I would’ve remembered.”

  Cash had a vague recollection of a skinny girl with dark hair and sparkly pink cowboy boots following Jace around but couldn’t remember if her name was Aubrey. Only that she was a pain in the ass, and Grandpa said they had to let her tag along. The woman across the creek didn’t hold any resemblance to that girl. Then again, Cash didn’t look anything like his pre-pubescent self, gangly and awkward. Sometime around his junior year in high school, the rest of his body caught up with his six-two frame, and he lost the self-consciousness that had marked him as a nerd during his freshman and sophomore years.

  “Looks like she’s fixing the cabin up,” Cash said, and stole another glance at her window boxes, then at his own porch. He had less than two days to make this place presentable to a twelve-year-old. He had no idea what kind of place she lived in in Boston or what kind of creature comforts she was used to. Hell, he didn’t know anything about her, except they shared the same DNA. “You want to help me get the BarcaLounger down?”

  “Let’s do it.” Sawyer waited for Cash to lock up his gun, then they threw the tattered chair onto the dump pile. “Where you planning to sleep Ellie?”

  “I’ll give her my room and sleep on the couch until I can get the spare room ready.” Currently, it held boxes of his case files. Lord knew why he’d bothered to copy all that stuff. Law enforcement was behind him.

  “You want me to go with you to Boston? I’m between assignments and have some time on my hands.”

  It was a generous offer, especially because Sawyer had spent the last year embedded with troops in Afghanistan for a book he was writing and was probably enjoying his downtime. “Thanks,” Cash said. “But I’ve got it.” He didn’t want to overwhelm the kid with a lot of new faces.

  “Let me know if you change your mind. You don’t have to take this on all by yourself, you know?”

  Cash had never been good at leaning, but when he did, it was on Sawyer and Jace, who were more like brothers than cousins. “Appreciate it.”

  Sawyer gave him a hard look. “Stop being a fucking island. And, dude, bathe.” He got to his feet. “I’ve gotta go, but if you need help cleaning this place…or with anything…text me and I’ll come over later.”

  Cash nodded, though these days he preferred to keep his own company.

  After Sawyer left, Cash collected his spent casings and tossed the rest of the bottles he’d used for target practice on the garbage pile. At some point he needed to stock the refrigerator and cupboards with food, stuff a kid would eat that was more nutritious than his current diet, which consisted mostly of packaged meals he could heat in the microwave. His mother, a health nut, would have a heart attack if she knew.

  Furniture was on the list too. He’d been making do with a few pieces he’d brought from San Francisco. Nothing fancy, just things he’d acquired over the years, or hand-me-downs from his parents, much of which was still in storage. But Ellie would probably need a desk, a chest of drawers…ah, hell, he didn’t know.

  For the next hour he cleaned up around the cabin, then hiked the quarter mile up to the main house to borrow Jace’s riding mower. The sprawling rancher was the only building on the property that had been maintained. When Jace’s wife left him, he and the boys moved in with Grandpa Dalton and he took over the upkeep of the five-bedroom home. Cash and Sawyer had agreed that Jace and his sons should remain in the house for as long as they kept the ranch. Set on top of a knoll, it had sweeping views of the land, the creek, and the Sierra foothills.

  Cash got the mower from the shed and drove it home, cutting wide swaths of weeds and grass in neat rows. The sun beat down on him. Only eleven o’clock and it was already a scorcher. He thought about going inside and changing into something cooler but feared he’d wind up taking a siesta and wouldn’t finish the job. So, instead, he stripped off his shirt and used it to wipe away his sweat.

  Despite the heat, it was good to be outside, good to be doing something other than staring at the bottom of a bottle. He rode the mower until it ran out of gas and pushed it under a big shade tree. Whew, if Sawyer thought he was ripe before, he would’ve keeled over now.

  He kicked off his boots, shucked his jeans, and cut across the newly mowed lawn to the creek. Then he waded into the middle, where his feet barely touched bottom, and let the water sluice over him, shivering from the cold. Despite its name, the creek had run hard and heavy for as long as Cash could remember. Even in the drought, there’d been enough runoff from the mountains to syphon the water for Grandpa Dalton’s garden. This year, with the record snow they’d gotten in the Sierra, the creek was full to bursting. Cash sucked in a breath and dunked his head, then surfaced with a shudder. Damn, the water was cold. He gave his head a quick shake to wring out the water in his hair.

  That’s when he felt eyes on him.

  “It looks chilly.”

  Cash turned slowly, following the voice to the footbridge that connected both sides of the creek shore. Aubrey leaned over the rail, holding the corner of her skirt to keep it from dragging in the water. The brim of a straw cowboy hat hid most of her face, but Cash thought he spied a crooked smile. She’d caught him naked.

  “Yep.” He shielded his eyes from the sun. “Nothing like an ice bath to sober you up.”

  She didn’t take the bait, just continued to watch him, then l
ifted her chin to stare out over the land. The land of his ancestors.

  He wanted to get out of the water but was afraid strutting bare ass in front of his female neighbor was disrespectful. He pointed to the sandy bank. “I’m getting out now.” But she made no move to leave.

  Screw it. If he stayed in much longer, he’d freeze his balls off. He waded to the shore and didn’t bother to see if she was looking. Cash had given her fair warning. He headed for the tree, gathered up his clothes, and started for the cabin.

  “I only told Jace because I was worried that you…uh…might hurt yourself.”

  Hurt himself? He’d been an FBI agent for almost thirteen years. Cash knew his way around firearms. “I’m grateful for your concern.” He didn’t bother keeping the sarcasm from his voice.

  She shrugged. “It’s really not my business.”

  No, it really wasn’t. “Like I said, I’m sorry I disturbed you this morning. I’ve got to get inside now.”

  “Okay. Um…uh…nice seeing you again.”

  He wasn’t sure if she meant seeing him again since their confrontation this morning or from when they were kids. Regardless, it seemed like an odd thing to say when he was standing there, stark naked.

  “Likewise.” Cash bobbed his head and went inside.

  In the shower, he wondered about her. She was beautiful. He’d noticed that the first day she’d moved in. Light brown hair, green eyes, great body. She was also a nuisance, which in Cash’s mind erased any of her physical attributes. Still, they were neighbors; best if they got along. He vowed to be more considerate in the future and shut off the water.

  While reaching for the towel, he examined the bathroom. It needed a good scrubbing and a few shelves where Ellie could put her toiletries. He rubbed his hand down his face and for the hundredth time pondered what he was going to do with a twelve-year-old.

  His cell phone rang, and in five long strides he made it to the bedroom before the call went to voicemail. “Dalton,” he answered.

  “This is Linda Wilson.” She waited for Cash to acknowledge that he recognized her name, but he didn’t. At least not at first. “I’m…was…Marie’s best friend.”

  “Oh yeah, of course. How’s Ellie?”

  “Not good, I’m afraid. She’s refusing to come home with you.” He was a complete stranger to her. It stood to reason she was leery. “She’s threatening to go on a hunger strike if we make her. Ellie can be dramatic, but I’m thinking with Marie’s funeral on Wednesday, maybe we should wait and give her time to grieve her mother.”

  “How much time?”

  There was a long pause. “However much time she needs,” Linda finally said. “She’s comfortable here. We’ve known Ellie since she was a baby…we love her like she was our own.”

  Yet after all this time, Marie had chosen him.

  “I’ll be there Wednesday for the funeral. Why don’t we see how it goes?”

  “All right. But Ellie’s headstrong; she’ll dig her heels in.”

  At least Cash had something in common with the daughter he’d never known.

  Chapter 2

  Despite the little voice that told her it was a terrible idea, Aubrey went to town. A person could only lay low for so long. Now she knew why they called it cabin fever. For the last two weeks, she’d stayed inside, cleaning and decorating the small log house on Dry Creek Ranch, making it home.

  Strangely enough, she liked it better than the three-story mini mansion Mitch had built for her, though the huge house was certainly beautiful. Just big and ostentatious, like a pretty Sunday dress that showed too much cleavage. The cabin didn’t have all the modern conveniences the house did. It needed a lot of work, but she loved the hand-hewn logs and the open rafters and the fact that it had been there for a hundred years. But there was her irritating neighbor, though she’d be lying if she didn’t admit she was intrigued by him from an anthropological perspective. Since moving in she’d rarely seen him leave the cabin. Most of the time he napped on his front porch with a cowboy hat covering his face or shot beer cans or Jim Beam bottles off the fence post. She supposed that was part of the reason she’d assumed he was a drunk.

  Today, though, he’d appeared quite sober.

  First, in the morning, with the target practice incident. She hadn’t smelled a lick of alcohol on his breath. Then later, Aubrey had watched through the window as he’d ridden the tractor mower in perfect straight lines, making yet another racket. At least the job was too methodical for him to have been drunk. And he had finally cleaned up that mess of a yard.

  Later, when he’d stripped down to his birthday suit and jumped in the creek…well, Aubrey had had to stand under the ceiling fan. For a man who spent his days sulking on the front porch, he was in extraordinary shape. Tall, dark, and brooding wasn’t her jam—and the guy was a major pain in the butt—but Cash Dalton was quite a specimen of a man. Broad shoulders that wouldn’t quit and a six-pack that made her want to join a gym.

  She pulled into a parking space in front of the coffee shop and cut the engine. After lunch she planned to go to Reynolds Construction and collect the rest of her stuff. She knew Mitch wouldn’t be there, which would make it easier on both of them, though they had plenty to talk about. Plenty.

  Aubrey was just about to get out of the car when Brett Tucker rolled his wheelchair down the sidewalk ramp and opened her door. “Hey, good-looking. Haven’t seen you in town for a while.”

  She bit down on her bottom lip and let out a sigh. “I’m sure you’ve heard the news about Mitch and me.” She prayed Brett didn’t ask too many questions. She’d never been a good liar.

  He nodded. “Like my dad used to say, ‘Don’t believe everything you hear and only half of what you see.’”

  “Part of it’s true. Mitchell and I are through.” She grabbed her purse and slung the strap over her arm.

  He backed up his chair so she could get out of the car. “I’m sorry, Ree. I’m sorry for both of you.”

  She nodded. “Thanks.” Brett was and had always been a wonderful friend. Not just to her but to everyone in Dry Creek. That’s why she couldn’t bear to tell him the truth.

  “I’m not gonna ask about the rest of it because Jace and Mitch are my best friends,” he said. “Don’t want it to tarnish the brotherhood.”

  Good, they could change the topic.

  “Enough about me.” She leaned against the hood of her car, which desperately needed a wash. Dry Creek Ranch was dusty in summer. “How are you?”

  “Fair to middling.” He grinned that megawatt smile that had made him the most popular boy in Dry Creek. And the sweetest.

  Aubrey knew Brett was only putting on a good face. He’d gone from captain of the high school football team and a war hero to sitting in that chair, a paraplegic. A mere month ago, Jace had to talk him off a ledge. Brett had gone from depressed to…Aubrey didn’t want to say suicidal, but somewhere really dark.

  She suspected he hadn’t rebounded, despite his pretense that he had, and supposed they were both keeping secrets.

  “Glad you’re doing well, Brett.” She pushed herself off the car. “Where are you off to?”

  “VFW Hall to meet the boys.” He did a quick spin in his wheelchair and popped a wheelie. Show-off.

  “Be sure to enjoy this fine day.” She tipped her chin up to the sunshine.

  “Roger that. You take care of yourself, you hear?”

  “Roger that.” She winked at him and went inside the coffee shop, where she was greeted by a refreshing rush of air-conditioning.

  Perhaps it was her own insecurity, but it seemed as if a hush fell over the restaurant as soon as she entered. She knew she hadn’t imagined it when Laney James, Jimmy Ray’s wife, threw her shade.

  Small towns.

  She’d lived here her entire life, except for the years she’d left to go to college, and nothing had
changed. Everyone was still up in everyone else’s business, including her. Only a few hours earlier she’d gotten in Cash Dalton’s face about his drinking when she didn’t even know the man.

  Jace sat at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee, and gave her a smile of encouragement.

  She turned to Laney, who hadn’t made a move to seat her. “I guess I’ll just take my usual table.”

  “It’s Mitch’s table,” Laney shot back and scowled.

  “Then I’ll take this one.” Aubrey scooted into the small booth at the front of the shop, noting that it hadn’t taken long for people to take sides. Then again, Mitch was prettier than her, and whenever the coffee shop needed a repair Jimmy Ray couldn’t manage on his own, it was Mitch to the rescue. He never charged, taking his pay in Jimmy Ray’s legendary chicken and waffles.

  It took ten minutes for one of the waitresses to get around to taking her order, even though the coffee shop wasn’t that busy. Jace slid off his stool and snagged the bench across from her.

  “Bad idea, don’t you think?” she said with a slight scowl.

  “Let’s give ’em something to talk about.” He flashed that signature cocky grin of his, and Aubrey could see why half the women in Mill County wanted in the sheriff’s pants.

  She shook her head. “It’s your election next year, not mine. How was your meeting?”

  “Same old crap, different day.” He signaled the waitress for a refill on his coffee. Funny how she rushed to do his bidding when she’d made Aubrey wait. “I talked to Cash about cooling it with the target practice.”

  “I know; he apologized. Again. And now he thinks I’m high-maintenance. And crazy for accusing him of being a drunk.”

  Jace laughed. “He’s not a drunk. He’s actually one of the most responsible people I know, but he’s got a lot to deal with right now, including a daughter who’s coming to live with him in a few days.”

  “He has a kid?” She didn’t know why she was surprised. Cash was about the same age as Jace, and he had two beautiful boys. Jace nodded. “What happened to the wife?”