Come Closer, Cowboy Page 4

  Like Ben had said, part of it was Grace. Gunner had hauled ass from California to make it in time for Mallory’s opening night. So he’d only met Grace an hour before the three of them had come to town. But he’d liked her right off. She seemed to be straightforward, had a good sense of humor and a street-smart air about her. And she was pretty.

  Come to think of it, she reminded him of Mallory.

  So if Ben and Grace could make a go of it...

  There was a big difference. Ben and Grace didn’t share any history. The only things she knew about Ben was what he’d told her. Mallory knew everything about Gunner, warts and all as the saying went. And he had some pretty damn ugly warts in his past.

  4

  MALLORY KICKED AN empty box to the side and studied the stack she hadn’t opened yet. Most of them were marked by room, but where the rest belonged was anyone’s guess. At least she had plenty of space in the two-bedroom rental. Yes, she supposed it was small by most standards, but to her it was a palace. She’d never lived in a house before.

  Not only that but the rent was crazy cheap. Way lower than she’d been prepared to pay. And talk about convenient...she was just off Main, an eight-minute walk from the bar. Six, if she was in a hurry.

  Gunner wasn’t going to believe—

  She stopped the thought cold.

  Things were different now. She wouldn’t be telling Gunner about every stupid little thing that happened in her day. In her life. When had they started doing that anyway? Hanging out at the Renegade on slow nights, huddled at the end of the bar, just the two of them, talking about nothing? Sometimes, shooting pool in the back and making crazy bets. Or calling each other at odd times just to let off steam?

  She’d never had a real friend before Gunner. Not even in high school because the girls her age had only wanted to talk about boys and clothes. Although it was just in the past two years that she and Gunner had started to test the waters, throwing out tidbits of personal stuff. Nothing big, but she was going to miss all of that.

  She was going to miss him.

  Dammit.

  Why had he shown up here? Seeing him last night was like ripping off a scab before the wound had healed. Of course she was to blame. She should’ve answered his calls. Pretended the best she could that nothing had changed. Then done the only thing that had a chance of solving her problem...moving as far away from him as possible. With the expired lease and ridiculous rent hike she’d had the perfect excuse to relocate.

  Instead she’d shut him out and ran. Out of fear. Out of embarrassment. But most of all, she’d fled for self-preservation. None of it mattered now. She would have to face him and explain why she’d behaved like the silly school girls she hadn’t wanted as friends.

  Well, no, not exactly. Mallory knew an explanation was unavoidable, but she was perfectly willing to play fast and loose with the truth. She’d have to be an utter moron to admit that she’d gone and done the stupidest thing ever.

  She’d developed feelings for Gunner.

  Her friend.

  The guy who would hotfoot it all the way to the moon rather than be tied down to any one woman. Let alone her. Someone he expected to know better than to mistake sex for anything but sex.

  And if that wasn’t enough to make her want to disappear from the face of the earth, jealousy had her by the throat. Her. She was supposed to be immune to that sort of pettiness.

  Oh, she’d guessed after that night she might have a problem with the way women threw themselves at him. It was another reason she’d run. But watching how women had reacted to him last night was so much worse than she’d imagined.

  She drew in a deep breath and glanced around. She had a lot to do. Her new living room was narrow but clean and rustic, and she loved having a fireplace. She didn’t even mind that it took up a third of the brick wall. But it was the wraparound porch with a perfect view of the Rockies that had stolen her heart. The owners had even left a swing and a wooden rocking chair. If she didn’t have so much unpacking to do, she’d be out there right now, lounging on the swing and sipping an iced tea.

  Boy, that was a hard image to picture. Much too homey and so not her.

  She would never let Gunner see the place. For sure he’d think she’d lost it. The possibility wasn’t too far out there. What else would explain her decision to start moving in now? She was paid up at The Boarding House Inn for two more days and she was still wiped out from last night. If she believed Sadie, and it seemed the woman was never wrong, the Full Moon would be packed tonight again.

  Luckily, Mallory had a woman wanting part-time work coming in later to talk to her. Elaine had vouched for her. It would simply be a matter of agreeing on schedules.

  She ripped the tape off a box and then heard her phone. It wasn’t in her pocket. She listened, thought the ring might be coming from the kitchen. By the time she found her cell under a pile of newspapers, the caller had been sent to voice mail. But she recognized Dexter’s number and saw that he’d also called forty minutes ago.

  Mallory listened carefully to his awkward message and sighed. She disconnected and looked at the time. If she’d understood correctly, he’d be delivering the bull in about ten minutes.

  Great. She had no one to help her unload and set up. Damn, she couldn’t even call Ben now that Gunner was staying at the Silver Spur. Hopefully, Dexter was bringing someone with him.

  She made it to the bar just as a pair of brawny cowboys climbed out of an old blue truck parked at the curb.

  “Mornin’,” the taller man said, touching the brim of his hat. “We heard you might need some help?”

  “Yes, but how would— Sadie?”

  He grinned and nodded. “I’m Brady. This here is Tom.”

  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Tom said and yanked off his cowboy hat, revealing a buzz cut.

  “I’m Mallory.” She stepped forward and shook their hands. Both men were about her age, she guessed, and looked nice and strong. “I appreciate this so much. Of course I’ll pay you for—”

  “No, ma’am. We volunteered.” Tom seemed offended.

  “It’s our day off.” Brady lifted his hat and swept back his longish blond hair before resettling the hat on his head. He was kind of cute. Great smile. And he seemed familiar. “We’re on our own time and just wanna help.”

  “Oh, well...” She studied him more closely. “You were here at the opening last night. Sitting near the jukebox...” She took a guess. “Both of you...”

  They nodded, clearly pleased she remembered them. “We’re real glad you opened the place,” Brady said. “The Watering Hole is okay but it gets old.”

  The sound of a sputtering engine had her glancing over her shoulder. “I think this might be Dexter,” she said, shading her eyes and watching the ancient pickup slow down. “Look, guys, if you won’t let me pay you then I’m giving you free drinks for a week. Sound fair?”

  “No need—” Brady protested.

  “Good. It’s settled.” She dug a key out of her jeans pocket and unlocked the door to the bar.

  The bull was a monstrosity. It sat in the bed of the truck covered by a white tarp. After a word with Dexter, she hurried inside to clear a path to the back room. Brady followed behind her, picking up the solid oak tables as if they weighed nothing.

  Tom joined them and the two men scoped out the spot for the bull and strategized the best way to bring it inside. They didn’t ask for her opinion, in fact they mostly ignored her. And as they maneuvered the bull through the double doors and she tried to help, she was politely ordered to stay out of the way.

  Mallory wasn’t used to being dismissed. Nor had she ever been comfortable with depending on anyone, much less strangers, to do things for her. She’d always hated asking for help, even as a kid. Luckily she was generally self-sufficient.

 
Moving back to give them a wide path into the back room, she told herself this was a different culture out here. They hadn’t really dismissed her. But it was still hard not to jump into the mix as she watched these young husky guys labor under the weight of the bull. Surely it would be better with three people...

  Tom momentarily lost his footing, and she stepped forward.

  “Don’t do it, Mallory.”

  At the sound of Gunner’s voice, she started to turn around. But his hands cupped her shoulders and he drew her several steps backward, until she came up against his chest.

  She jerked free and glared at him. “Don’t do what?”

  “Get in their way,” he said, his gaze trained on the men. “You’re liable to get someone hurt.”

  Even though they were no longer touching, she could feel the tension in his body. Nothing showed in his face as he sidestepped her and whipped off his black Stetson. Her favorite.

  “Hey, guys, let me give you a hand.” He pressed the hat to her and she hugged it to her chest.

  “We got it,” Brady said, but they were obviously struggling.

  Gunner grabbed hold and they managed to carry the bull to the padding she’d had installed in the wood floor. She fought the urge to point out the bull belonged in the reinforced center, afraid they might tear the padding. She figured Gunner had already noticed and would make allowances.

  “Ready to set her down?” Gunner asked.

  “Ready,” Tom said.

  Brady didn’t answer.

  “Let’s try to avoid the padded area,” Gunner said mildly. “Now, on the count of three. One...two...three.”

  The bull landed dead center.

  Sighing with relief, she loosened her death grip on his hat.

  Tom stumbled back a step, and then let out a winded laugh. “The sucker is heavy.” He nodded at Gunner. “Thanks.”

  “We were doing just fine,” Brady said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. “You didn’t need to jump in.”

  Tom shook his head. “I’m shorter than you so I was having trouble with the angle.”

  “It’s done. That’s what’s important, right?” Gunner clapped Brady on the back. “Now, what can I get you boys? How about a nice cold beer?”

  Mallory saw the startled look that passed between the two cowboys, and she wanted to give Gunner a swift kick in his rear. He had no business acting like he owned her and the bar.

  “Sure,” she said with a bright smile. “Help yourselves to whatever you want while I go pay Dexter.” She paused. “I’m sorry for not introducing you to Gunner.” She widened her smile and tossed him his hat. “My cousin is visiting for a little while.”

  “Oh.” Brady grinned and shook his hand. “I saw you last night. You just get in yesterday?”

  Gunner started to laugh, a loud belly laugh that followed her out to the sidewalk. He wanted to talk? Oh yeah, they were going to have a conversation all right. The second she saw Dexter leaning against his truck, hands stuffed in his baggy overalls, his eyelids drooping under a battered straw hat, she remembered something.

  He straightened when he saw her, his mouth lifting in a gap-toothed grin. “They get Fanny in there okay?”

  “Yes, they did.” She passed him the envelope. “Cash. Just like you wanted.”

  “Well, I reckon I don’t need to count it, do I?”

  “I’m pretty good at math. It’s all there.” She smiled. “Now, how about that demo?”

  Frowning, he pushed up the rim of his hat. “What’s that?”

  “You know, show me how to work it.”

  “Oh, good thing you said something.” He opened the driver’s door and brought out a short stack of papers, the top right corners curled up from what looked like a dried coffee stain. She hoped. Chewing tobacco seemed to be a favorite pastime with some of the men around town. It was gross.

  “This here is the manual,” Dexter said, holding the papers out to her. “Tells you everything you need to know.”

  Oh, God, there were a lot more stains. She forced herself to accept it. “Thank you,” she said. “This will help. But I’d really like you to show me—”

  “You mean get up there and ride Fanny?” He snorted a laugh. “Nooo. That’s not gonna happen. I don’t recall agreeing to anything of the kind.”

  Mallory rubbed her right temple. Yes, he most certainly had agreed, in fact he’d offered.

  “Tell you what... I’ll stick around until you get her plugged in and working.” He closed the door. “Help ease your mind some.”

  “Thank you,” she said and led him into the Full Moon.

  A bark of laughter greeted them. As they neared the back room, she heard the whir of a motor and a fair amount of squeaking. Something sure needed to be oiled.

  Of course it was Gunner sitting on top of the bull, holding on with one hand while it bucked and whirled. Brady watched from the sidelines drinking from a longneck, while Tom had the controls that tempered the speed and buck of the bull. Both cowboys were grinning like kids.

  “Can’t that thing go faster?” Brady asked, nudging Tom with an elbow to the ribs.

  “You’re welcome to get up here and see for yourself,” Gunner said, his black T-shirt stretching across his broad shoulders.

  Mallory stared at his chest and stomach. He wasn’t moving much, just holding on to the short leather strap, his other hand in the air for balance. But her gaze was caught by the way the muscles in his arms and thighs rippled with even the tiniest movement.

  Brady set down his beer. “I’ve ridden my share of ornery broncs,” he said, and flexed his shoulders and arms. “I can handle a piece of machinery.”

  “Better you get thrown now than in front of those gals from the Sundance,” Tom said, chuckling.

  “Well, heck, he makes it look too dang easy.” Watching Gunner, Dexter removed his straw hat and scratched his head.

  Mallory waved to get Gunner’s attention. “Would you please turn that off for a minute?”

  He nodded at Tom, and with a fluid grace that always made her breath catch, Gunner landed on his feet.

  She made a quick introduction. “Can you think of anything we need to ask Dexter before he leaves?”

  Gunner turned to eye the bull, showing no reaction to the error she’d made by using we. “I would’ve thought you’d have oiled that thing up before bringing it.”

  “Well, son, I surely did just that.” Dexter sounded defensive.

  “Okay. I believe you.” Gunner nodded. “But that tells me we’ve got a problem. Whatever is causing the squeaking is gonna need more work than a simple servicing.”

  Mallory hadn’t thought of that.

  Dexter’s face turned red. “I reckon you got a point.”

  “I take care of all the trucks and equipment at the Bar T,” Brady said. “Can’t promise I’ll know what’s wrong but I can have a look if you want.”

  He’d addressed Gunner, not Mallory, which irked her to no end. Aware she was partly to blame, she kept her cool and just listened to the men discuss what needed to be done. She liked to think she was independent, perfectly capable of running her own business, and mostly she did a good job. But for the past year she’d relied on Gunner for so many little things.

  Once he’d given her a ride when her car was in the shop. Another time she’d asked his advice on whether or not to add a second pool table at the Renegade. Just minor things, but she couldn’t deny she’d established a pattern.

  She realized she’d blanked out of the conversation when she saw Gunner and Dexter shake hands. The older man gave her a polite nod and left.

  “I assume that’s okay with you,” Gunner said, the amusement in his eyes making it clear he knew she’d zoned out.

  “Of course, or I would’ve said
something.” She turned to Brady. “Will you have time to look at it soon? I’ll pay you whatever you think is fair.”

  The look Brady and Tom exchanged told her that was the part she’d missed.

  Gunner turned to the two men. “You guys can take off. I’ve got it from here.”

  Brady frowned. “Sadie thought you might need some help moving into your new place,” he said to Mallory. “Tom and I planned on giving you a hand.”

  “That’s really nice.” Mallory was genuinely touched and sorely tempted to accept their offer. Giving them each a smile, she shook her head. “I wouldn’t feel right ruining your day off. You still get free drinks, though, so don’t forget,” she said and started herding them toward the door.

  Brady seemed hesitant, glancing at Gunner, who hadn’t moved. “It’s really no trouble.”

  “Well, come on.” She motioned for Gunner. “I’m locking up.”

  “Good.” He folded his arms across his chest. “We need to talk.”

  5

  GUNNER WOULDN’T HAVE been shocked if Mallory had run like hell once she got to the door and let the two men out. When she turned to him, the fear and dread he saw in her face twisted him up inside. This wasn’t like her, running from a problem, not tackling it head-on.

  “You want anything?” she asked as she slipped behind the bar and brought out a glass.

  He used silence to get her to look up. “An explanation would be nice.”

  She blinked and focused on fixing herself a soda water with lime. “I was wrong for not returning your calls. I’m sorry.”

  Gunner waited, taking in the shadows under her eyes. She hadn’t been sleeping well. Tough. Neither had he. “That’s it?”

  “I’ve been busy with the move.”

  “Ah, of course. I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Really?” Her chin came up. “Sarcasm?”

  “Hey, whatever it takes to get you to open up.” He held her gaze, watching the fire flash and die in her eyes. It was hard to watch this strong, fierce woman look away in defeat. Maybe he needed to let this go. For both their sakes. “You put me through hell the past five weeks. I want to know why.”