Her Kind of Cowboy Page 3

  His family swore they didn’t fault Ethan, but the agony in his mother’s face, the perpetual slump of his father’s strong shoulders and the missing sparkle in his sister Amber’s eyes seared deeper than any words of blame. He hoped his move would grant him the serenity to come to terms with the past. If his current state of mind was any indicator, he was on the right track.

  Although the temperature had soared earlier in the day, deep shade from an ancient magnolia held the late afternoon heat at bay and cooled the porch. Above the hum of a central air-conditioning unit next door floated the notes from a piano, a classical piece that soared and swirled. He appreciated the beauty of the strange music and welcomed the fact that its unfamiliar tune triggered no memories. He’d learned through experience that he couldn’t escape them, not with alcohol nor medication. Exhaustive physical labor often helped, but not always. He’d also learned that he could handle memories better when they didn’t ambush him, triggered by a sound, a scent, a sight or a few key words.

  Post-traumatic stress disorder, his therapist had called it, and warned Ethan that running away wouldn’t stop the cascade of terrifying flashbacks and painful memories, either. But Ethan had to try.

  There will be peace in the valley for me some day.

  The line from his mother’s favorite gospel hymn popped into his head. Maybe the haunting melody was an omen, he prayed. He’d been through hell the last few months. He could use some peace.

  Footsteps on the walk scattered his thoughts. The owner of the bed-and-breakfast had returned, her golden hair glistening in the sunlight. She was carrying a plastic bag with a Jodie’s Mountain Crafts and Café logo and looking as if she’d seen a ghost.

  He rose to his feet to meet her. “You okay?”

  She’d been walking with her head down. At his question, she jerked her chin up and gazed at him. Her enticing blue eyes widened with a mixture of confusion and surprise, as if she’d never seen him before.

  “Ethan Garrison,” he reminded her. “I checked in earlier.”

  “Of course.” A flush as pink as summer roses brought the color back to her cheeks.

  “You didn’t tell me your name.”

  “I’m Caroline Tuttle.” She sounded distracted, making him wonder what had happened in the short time she’d been gone that had shaken her former poise.

  Something about the woman stirred his protective instincts. “You sure you’re all right?”

  She nodded and moved around him to climb the stairs.

  “Wait, please.” He cast about for something to say, anything to keep her with him a little while longer.

  “Yes?” A tiny line between her feathery eyebrows marred the porcelain perfection of her forehead, and he felt himself going under for the third time in the shimmering depths of her deep blue eyes.

  Then he noted the bag in her hand and found a way to keep the conversation rolling. “Is this Jodie’s Café open for dinner?”

  She shook her head, and the scent of her shampoo, evocative of the wisteria covering the side arbor, filled his nostrils. “Jodie’s place is open only for breakfast and lunch.”

  “Is there somewhere I can grab a bite?” He wasn’t really interested in food, but the topic gave him a good excuse to keep talking.

  “The closest restaurant is Ridge’s Barbecue, but it’s twelve miles east on the main highway.”

  He sighed. “I’ve been driving since before dawn. The last thing I want now is to climb back behind the wheel. I guess I’ll make do with the crackers and Coke left in the cooler in my truck.”

  “Or you could have supper here with me.”

  He searched her face for signs of flirtation, but found only Southern hospitality. But he would take what he could get. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared a meal with a beautiful woman. Or had wanted to this badly. “I don’t want to impose on you and your family.”

  “Mama’s visiting her sister, so it’s just me for supper. If you’ll join me, I won’t have to eat alone.”

  This was his lucky day. “You’re sure it’s no trouble?”

  “Not a bit.”

  * * *

  OKAY, SO SHE’D LIED. But the trouble wasn’t in preparing supper. The trouble was the six-foot-plus of gorgeous man sitting at the island in her kitchen. Caroline had wanted something to distract her from the sadness of Eileen’s death, but she should have been more careful what she’d wished for. Any more distraction and she’d be chopping off her fingers instead of slicing tomatoes.

  “Sure you don’t want some help?” Ethan propped his elbows on the island. “I’ve done a lot of cooking in my line of work.”

  “Are you a chef?” Somehow she couldn’t picture him in a chef’s apron and hat. A business suit didn’t fit, either. With his short-cropped brown hair and intense gaze, he reminded her of the actor Chritian Bale, a man capable of saving the world—or at least his little corner of it.

  “Not a chef. A firefighter.”

  “Ah.” So she hadn’t been far off in her analysis. And firefighting explained the horrible burns on the back of his hands. But he didn’t seem the type who wanted sympathy, so she kept her tone light. “One of those guys who runs into the buildings everyone else is running out of.”

  “It’s mostly sitting around twiddling my thumbs and waiting for a call.” The warmth of his smile was at least four-alarm. “Unless it’s my rotation for kitchen duty.”

  What was it about this man that had her stomach doing a happy dance? She focused her attention on scooping seeds from a cantaloupe, and the explanation hit her. She’d grown up with every male close to her age in the valley—not counting Rand Benedict. All of them were now married and settled down, except for Lucas Rhodes, an officer with the police department. So Ethan Garrison was the first unattached male she’d met in a long, long time whom she didn’t regard as a brother.

  Or was he unattached?

  She arranged wedges of melon and tomato, along with slices of country ham, on a white stoneware platter. “Moving across country must be a chore.”

  “And an adventure,” he added.

  Well, why not, she might as well fish for information. “Will your family be joining you?”

  Agony flickered across his face, and she wished she could call the question back.

  “I’m traveling solo.” His neutral tone seemed tightly controlled.

  She hastened to change the subject in hopes of easing his discomfort. “I’ll be moving across country soon myself.”

  “You’re selling the bed-and-breakfast?” He lifted his eyebrows in surprise.

  “It belongs to my mother. She’ll keep it open after I’m gone.”

  She’d said those words recently to Eileen. And now Eileen, one of her dearest friends on Earth, was gone. Out of the blue, the full impact of Eileen’s death hit her like a runaway eighteen-wheeler, and a sob escaped before she could hold it back.

  In a flash, she found herself wrapped in Ethan’s strong arms, her face pressed against his chest, her tears staining his T-shirt. He smelled of sunshine and leather. Holding her with unexpected gentleness for such a big man, he didn’t try to stop her crying.

  “Let it all out,” he murmured against her hair. “Whatever it is, you’ll feel better for it.”

  Her loss of control in front of a perfect stranger—perfect in every way—horrified her. His strong arms were both consoling and unsettling. Forcing herself to abandon the comforting warmth, Caroline pushed away, crossed the
kitchen and plucked tissues from a box of Kleenex.

  “Sorry.” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “I just found out that a friend of mine passed away last night.”

  The pain returned to his eyes, and he nodded with understanding. “It’s hard losing a friend.”

  “She was quite old. She’d lived a good life and it was her time. I thought those facts would make her passing easier, but they don’t.”

  “Look, you’re dealing with a loss,” he said with appealing gentleness. “I can grab a snack from my cooler. You don’t have to feed me, especially under the circumstances.”

  “No! Please stay.” She shuddered at the need in her voice and tossed the crumpled tissues into the trash. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Between Eileen’s unexpected death and Ethan’s provocative presence, Caroline was more befuddled than sure, but she nodded. “There’s wine in the fridge. Would you like a glass?”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  She retrieved the bottle of white wine from the refrigerator. Ethan took it and the corkscrew from her, and she removed long-stemmed glasses from the cupboard. With a deft twist, Ethan popped the cork and filled the glasses. He handed her one, and their fingers touched, sending a frisson of delight up her arm.

  What was happening to her? Was Eileen’s death making her crazy? She took a deep breath to steady her whirling senses.

  Ethan lifted his glass in a toast. Their gazes locked, and compassion glimmered in the green brilliance of his hazel eyes.

  “To absent friends.” His deep voice was thick with emotion.

  She raised her glass, but discovered she had to clear her throat before she could speak. “To absent friends.”

  They both drank, and Ethan settled once more on the stool beside the island. “Now, how about telling me all about this town you’ll be leaving soon?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “THAT WAS A GREAT MEAL,” Ethan said later. “I appreciate your taking the trouble.”

  “You’re welcome, but it wasn’t any trouble.” Caroline was determined to remain quiet. She’d done far too much talking during supper, encouraged by Ethan’s questions about the town. She’d left him little time to tell her about himself, and she was curious about the handsome stranger with the badly burned hands.

  They were sitting on the screened back porch in wicker rockers, watching lightning bugs flit through the deep shadows of the garden. Jasmine and honeysuckle scented the air. The rising full moon cast silvery dapples on the lawn and added another element of romance to the night.

  If she was thinking of romance, Eileen’s death had definitely sent her off the deep end. Sure, Ethan Garrison was drop-dead gorgeous. Also kind, gentle, amusing, probably even a hometown hero, but he was also only passing through, and she had more important issues to occupy her mind. She had yet to decide whether to remain in the valley to honor Eileen’s requests about Hannah, the foster child, and to provide meals for the artist who was leasing Orchard Cottage.

  Eileen had emphasized that her bequest wasn’t contingent on Caroline’s compliance with her final wishes. If Caroline arranged to have Blackberry Farm put on the market as soon as the will was probated, she could leave Pleasant Valley next week. Eileen’s savings and the eventual income from the farm’s sale, along with Caroline’s own nest egg, would give her enough money to travel through the western states, check out the territory and choose the perfect spot to put down roots.

  “If you’re so determined to live out west,” Eileen had said in her strong gravelly voice one morning several months ago, “I don’t understand why you haven’t left long before now.”

  “I can’t afford to.”

  Eileen had straightened in her rocker in her usual ramrod posture reminiscent of royalty. Her soft gray eyes gleamed with wisdom behind silver-rimmed glasses, and every snow-white strand of her Gibson Girl hairstyle remained in place. With her face remarkably unlined and flushed with color for a woman in her nineties, she must have been a radiant beauty in her youth.

  “You could have taken a job out west,” Eileen said, scrutinizing her closely, “until you earned enough to buy your own place.”

  Caroline twisted her face into a smile that was more of a grimace. “I know everyone in town thinks I’m a wuss for putting up with my mother.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “That there’s more to it than that.”

  Eileen rocked gently, not commenting, waiting for Caroline to explain. Caroline grappled for the right words.

  “I’m not afraid of my mother,” she began, “in spite of what some people think. And I’m well aware of her faults. She’s a…difficult woman. Has been ever since Daddy died.”

  “So you’re not staying with her out of a sense of obligation?”

  “That’s a very small part of it. She is my mother, after all, and I’m her only child. I figure if I have to work until I can fulfill my dream, I might as well help her while I’m at it. Then, when the time comes, I can leave home with a clear conscience.”

  “And that’s all?” Eileen’s gaze was skeptical.

  Caroline sighed. “No.”

  “I’m being a prying old busybody,” Eileen had said with a self-deprecating laugh. “You don’t owe me any explanations.”

  But Caroline had loved talking to her old friend. It helped her think. “Maybe I am a wuss.”

  “Why?”

  “Because in some ways, I’m afraid to leave the valley.”

  “Afraid you’ll miss your mother?”

  Caroline shook her head. “I know I’ll miss her, even though she drives me up the wall with her complaints and demands. She and Aunt Mona are all the family I have. But missing them is not what I’m afraid of.”

  Eileen nodded and rocked some more.

  “What if my dream isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?” Caroline blurted. “What if I’ve spent all these years looking forward to moving out west and when I get there, I’m disappointed?”

  Her friend leaned forward and grasped her hand. “It took me decades to learn one of life’s most important lessons.”

  “Want to share?” Caroline asked. “I could use some wisdom.”

  With her other hand, Eileen tapped the faded blue cardigan that covered her chest. “Happiness comes from inside, from the heart. It doesn’t have a thing to do with where you are. You can live in the most perfect place in the world, and if you’re not content within yourself, you’ll always be miserable.”

  “Are you suggesting I’ll be miserable out west?” Caroline had asked in alarm.

  Eileen had leaned back and smiled. “Quite the contrary. You’ve managed to be happy and content, in spite of living with your very difficult mother. I believe you’ll take that happiness with you wherever you go.”

  Recalling that conversation, Caroline sighed.

  “Thinking of your friend?” Ethan’s deep, rich voice startled her. For a few moments, she’d forgotten he was there.

  “Yes.”

  He rolled an empty glass between his broad palms before he spoke above the clamor of crickets and katydids that filled the night air. “Memories are precious, especially when they’re all you have left.”

  His face was partially hidden in shadow, but the raw pain in his voice kept his words from sounding like platitudes. Caroline had no doubt that Ethan had experienced his own losses. But he was a temporary guest. No need to be involved with his past, even if she wa
s curious.

  She stood, intending to remove herself from the temptation of trying to learn more about him. “If you’re hungry later, feel free to raid the kitchen.”

  He pushed to his feet and towered beside her, the tall, dark silhouette of her afternoon dream. “Thanks for your hospitality.”

  Caroline struggled against the unexpected urge to lean into him, to feel the warmth of his embrace again, the soft brush of his breath against her ear, the beat of his heart beneath her cheek.

  Had she lost her mind?

  She attributed her uncharacteristic impulses to grief. And her uncertainty over what to do about Eileen’s requests.

  “Sleep well,” she said.

  She turned quickly and made her escape before she did something foolish, like standing on tiptoe to kiss him good-night.

  * * *

  FOR THE FIRST TIME in recent memory, Ethan had slept like a rock. Not a single nightmare, not one of the terrors that had stalked his dreams every night for the past few months had disturbed him. Instead of confronting the usual twisted, sweat-soaked sheets, flung pillows and a residual uneasiness, he had awakened to sunshine, birdsong and a sense of hopeful anticipation. Mercifully absent was the smothering cloud of depression that had cloaked his waking hours. After a shower and shave in the old-fashioned but spacious bathroom, he found himself humming as he dressed in jeans and T-shirt and pulled on socks and work boots.

  Minutes later, lured by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, he entered the dining room, where a single setting at the huge table indicated he was the B and B’s only guest. That fact meant he’d have more time alone with his lovely innkeeper. The grin that had taken residence on his face since he’d awakened in such good humor widened at the prospect.

  He poured himself a cup of steaming coffee from the carafe on the sideboard and settled at the table to consider his situation. Just his luck to encounter the most fascinating woman he’d ever met on the day she’d lost one of her best friends. Last night, Caroline had been understandably preoccupied. This morning, he faced the problem of how to get to know her better without intruding on her grief and looking like a jerk.