Shoulda Been a Cowboy, page 4
He buttered a warm muffin, took a bite and almost moaned with pleasure at the burst of flavors.
“Good, huh?” Caroline said with a smile that made him want to rise from his chair and kiss her.
“So good I’d be willing to marry the woman who baked these.”
Caroline laughed. “You’d have to fight off her husband first. And as a former Marine, he’d be tough to beat, even for you.”
“You didn’t bake these?”
She shook her head. “Jodie at the café. They’re her specialty.”
“What’s your specialty?”
Caroline nodded toward his plate. “I wish I had a dollar for every breakfast I’ve cooked the past fifteen years.”
“And what would you do with all that cash?”
“Buy a horse.”
He almost choked on his grits. “A horse?”
She nodded and her brilliant blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight streaming through the tall east windows. “I’ve always wanted to learn to ride.”
Caroline was nothing if not full of surprises. Most women he’d met would have wished for jewelry, designer clothes or a trip to some exotic locale. But horseback riding?
With his time with Caroline growing short, Ethan decided to take a chance. He’d never ridden a horse, but if climbing onto the back of an unfamiliar animal was what it took to make headway with the woman who captured his imagination, he’d gladly make a fool of himself. “Go riding with me today.”
She considered him with a cool stare over the rim of her coffee cup. “You’re not serious?”
“Why not? I have a couple of days to kill. So why not spend one of them horseback riding?”
She cocked a feathery eyebrow in a manner that shot a bolt of heat through him. “Have you ridden much?”
“Never,” he admitted. “But there’s always a first time.”
She shook her head, but whether in astonishment or refusal, he couldn’t tell.
“Is that a no?”
“That is most definitely a no.” A slight smile softened her rejection.
“Because your mama warned you not to take up with strangers?”
“Because, one, there’s no place to ride horses within a hundred miles, and, two, I have…arrangements to make.”
“Your friend?”
She nodded and her smile faded, replaced by a sorrowful expression that dimmed the light in her eyes.
His opportunity was sliding away, slipping from his grasp, and he couldn’t think of a damned thing to stop it. “I’m sorry.”
She pressed her lips together as if fighting back tears and pushed away from the table, taking her coffee cup with her. In a moment, the kitchen door closed behind her, leaving Ethan alone to finish his breakfast and contemplate his next move. He’d be leaving tomorrow, and he was running out of time.
THE FOLLOWING DAY, after a funeral attended by more than half the town and families from the outlying farms, Eileen Bickerstaff was laid to rest behind the Pleasant Valley Community Church in a cemetery plot on a rolling hill that overlooked the Piedmont River and far mountains. At the end of the service, Rand and Brynn Benedict invited the mourners to their home at River Walk for lunch.
River Walk, an impressive multistory log mansion with multiple decks that descended to the river, was the perfect spot for a crowd. Teenage boys from Archer Farm directed arriving guests to parking spots and to the buffet, catered by Jodie and set up on the largest deck beneath the shade of spreading oaks. Conversations centered on Eileen and the impact her life had made on so many people in the valley.
Caroline, wearing a sleeveless black linen dress, helped Jodie serve. Amy Lou Baker, beautician at the Hair Apparent, and Jay-Jay, the mechanic from the garage, heaped their plates and moved away to find a seat at one of the many tables Rand had rented for the event.
“Eileen was an angel,” Jodie said during a lull in the buffet line. “When I was fifteen, unmarried, and pregnant with Brittany, an anonymous benefactor gave my parents a thousand dollars to help with my expenses. I didn’t know until Rand told me yesterday that the gift came from Eileen.”
Caroline nodded. “From the snippets of conversation I’ve heard this morning, she showed that same generosity to lots of others in the valley, too. She was a good neighbor and a good friend.”
“Speaking of good friends—” Merrilee Nathan approached the buffet table “—do you two need any help?”
With her blue eyes and blond hair, Merrilee could have been Caroline’s twin, except where Caroline was tall and willowy, Merrilee was curvaceous and petite.
Jodie shook her head at Merrilee’s offer. “Thanks, but almost everyone’s been served. Why don’t we fill our plates and find a table?”
Brynn left a group she’d been talking to across the deck and joined them. Her simple black dress set off her figure and complemented her deep auburn hair. When Brynn had been a cop and single, men in the valley had been known to break the speed limit, just to be pulled over by the attractive officer.
“Whenever I see you three together,” Brynn said, “I figure some kind of mischief’s being hatched.”
“Nothing yet,” Caroline said with a smile, “but maybe you’ll help us think of something. Where’s Jared?”
After their wedding last fall, Brynn and Rand had adopted his orphaned nephew, now an adorable if somewhat tyrannical three-year-old.
“Lillian’s taking care of Jared along with Merrilee’s daughter in the guest house,” Brynn explained. Lillian was the Benedicts’ housekeeper and nanny. “So that gives the four of us time to catch up.”
Caroline settled at a table in a shady corner of the deck. Brynn, Merrilee and Jodie joined her.
“So,” Brynn said, “what’s happening in town?”
“What,” Merrilee asked, “no new lawyer jokes?”
“The joke’s on her,” Jodie grinned, “marrying an attorney after all those years of lawyer-bashing.”
Caroline glanced at each of her friends. “Marriage seems to agree with all of you.”
“I highly recommend it.” Jodie dug into her potato salad.
Caroline shrugged. “Not that I’m looking, but where would I find a husband in Pleasant Valley if I was?”
“How about right under your nose?” Brynn asked.
“What are you talking about?” Caroline toyed with the food on her plate. As delicious as it was, she’d lost her appetite when Eileen died.
“Don’t you have a current guest?” Brynn said.
Jodie and Merrilee were looking at Caroline with expectation.
“He’s leaving today,” Caroline said. “In fact, he’s probably already gone. Besides, how did you know about him?”
“I was a cop for eight years,” Brynn said, “trained to observe. So when I noticed a handsome stranger wandering around town and later filling the tank of his pickup at Jay-Jay’s, I made a few inquiries.”
“But you’re married,” Caroline said.
“Married,” Merrilee said with a giggle, “but obviously not blind.”
“And still a cop at heart,” Jodie added. “What else did you discover about Caroline’s gorgeous house guest?”
“Maryland plates on his vehicle,” Brynn said. “Pleasant but reserved with everyone he met in town. Didn’t wear a wedding ring. Then I had to pick up Jared at day care, so my investigation was terminated.”
“Well?” Jodie looked at Caroline and raised her eyebrows. “Tell us more.”
“Nothing more to tell. He only stopped in the valley until the van with his furniture caught up with him. He’s moving to Baltimore.”
“Too bad,” Brynn said. “I liked him.”
“How could you?” Caroline asked in surprise. She’d drawn the same conclusion but wasn’t about to admit it. “You didn’t even meet him.”
“Cop’s intuition,” Brynn said. “He was one of the good guys.”
“And now he’s gone,” Caroline said in a tone that she hoped ended the conversation. She rose to her feet. “And I have to go, too.”
“Don’t leave yet,” Merrilee said. “Between families and work, the four of us haven’t had a chance to talk in ages.”
Caroline tossed her a regretful smile. “Wish I could stay, but Eileen has a tenant arriving at Orchard Cottage tomorrow, and I promised Rand I’d check today to make sure everything’s ready.”
AFTER SETTING A DATE for a girls’ night out with her friends, Caroline had climbed into her old Camry for the short ride up Valley Road to the turnoff to Blackberry Farm.
Brambles, thick with almost ripe blackberries, draped the split-rail fence that lined the road to the main farmhouse. Caroline slowed as she passed the old homestead, half expecting Eileen to appear on the wide front porch with a wave of welcome. The road forked just past the house, and Caroline took the left branch, a narrow red dirt road overgrown with weeds, that led to Orchard Cottage.
She parked her car in front of a picket fence in desperate need of paint and eyed the property with dismay. Eileen’s tenant needed to be more than an artist. He needed to be a miracle worker. Or at least a licensed contractor, if he expected to live here. Between the sagging porch floor and missing shingles on the roof, the tiny house appeared dilapidated and sad. Caroline doubted even a good cleaning would make it presentable.
But the property was hers now, and she was embarrassed to have anyone, much less a paying tenant, view it in its present state. With a sigh of resignation, she removed a change of clothes and her bucket of cleaning materials from the car and trudged up the front walk.
THREE HOURS LATER, the cottage was still derelict but clean. She had swept the floors, cleared cobwebs and scrubbed the kitchen and bathroom fixtures. She’d even washed the windows that overlooked the porch. With an ancient scythe from the barn, she’d cleared the foot-high weeds from the front yard. In an effort to make the place more welcoming, she’d filled old mason jars from the kitchen cupboard with Queen Anne’s lace from the roadside and roses from the rambling bushes that grew along the fence. She placed the containers of lacy white flowers and deep red blooms on the kitchen counter and the living room windowsills. But not even the roses’ cheerful color could distract from the cottage’s glaring short-comings. Caroline wondered if the poor condition of the house would be a lease-breaker. If so, the departure of her tenant would take care of one of her obligations to Eileen.
Which would still leave Caroline with the problem of what to do with little Hannah. She’d have to find just the right people to love and nurture a child who’d lost her mother.
Loading her cleaning supplies into the trunk of her car, Caroline heard the rumble of an approaching vehicle. She slammed the trunk lid and turned to see a pickup truck kicking up dust on the red dirt road. Sunlight glinted off the windshield, obscuring the driver from view. She didn’t recognize the truck. It didn’t belong to the Mauneys, who operated the neighboring dairy farm. Uneasiness gripped her, alone with a stranger approaching, and she headed for her car, thinking it better to be locked inside and behind the wheel with the engine running for a quick getaway when confronted by someone she didn’t know.
The truck parked behind her car, and in the rearview mirror, she watched the driver’s door open. First one leg swung out, clad in jeans and a workboot. Then the other leg appeared, and the driver jumped out. She recognized the Western hero of her daydreams, with his tall figure and broad shoulders silhouetted against the setting sun.
No longer afraid, she shut off the motor and climbed from her car to confront him.
“You?” he said in surprise. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Caroline’s astonishment mirrored the newcomer’s. “What are you doing here?”
“I stopped at the house,” Ethan Garrison said, “but Mrs. Bickerstaff isn’t home. I’m her new tenant.”
Chapter Four
“You’re a firefighter.” Caroline’s eyes squinted with suspicion.
“What’s firefighting got to do with anything?” Ethan was trying to figure out why Caroline Tuttle was waiting at his new residence.
“I was expecting an artist.”
Ethan’s confusion grew. “Where’s Eileen?”
Dismay flashed across her features. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Are you a friend of Eileen’s?”
“You might say that.”
“What kind of friend? I never heard her mention you.” Disbelief tinged her expression and her voice.
Ethan removed his ball cap and combed his fingers through his hair. “I met Eileen several months ago in an online chat room.”
The chat room was a support group for post-traumatic stress disorder patients, but for now, that was his secret. As in AA, members kept their identities and all that was said in the online meetings confidential.
“Eileen and I,” he continued, “have corresponded regularly since then. And we’ve talked several times recently by phone. That’s how I set up the lease for this place. Eileen mailed me the papers.”
“Oh, dear.” Caroline, her pretty face crumpled with distress, shook her head. “I had no idea or I’d have told you that first day.”
“Told me what?”
“She’s gone.”
“Out of town?”
“She’s my friend, the one who—” Caroline struggled for words.
Ethan finally put the pieces together. “The one who died?”
Caroline nodded. “I just came from her funeral a few hours ago.”
He shook his head in bewilderment. “But that’s not possible.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You told me that your friend who died was old.”
“Eileen was ninety-eight.”
Stricken with sorrow and a sense of loss, Ethan sank onto the running board of his pickup. “I had no idea. She sounded so much younger in her postings and on the phone. So…alive.”
Caroline smiled through her sadness. “That was Eileen in a nutshell.”
Ethan had known that Eileen was a widow and a good bit older than he was, but he’d never guessed that she was in her nineties. When he’d confided to the support group that he needed to get away from Baltimore to try to put his life back together, she’d offered to rent her cottage with a promise of as much peace and quiet as he wanted. And she’d been savvy as well as generous. Fearing that he’d withdraw into a shell in the isolation of Orchard Cottage, she’d insisted that he share meals with her. She’d made the demand under the guise of needing company, but he’d known better. Eileen Bickerstaff had seemed too self-sufficient to need anyone.
So self-sufficient, in fact, that she’d never revealed whatever trauma had brought her to the online support group in the first place. Not that he blamed her. He hadn’t been able to broach what had caused his PTSD, either. Without talking about the event and bringing his feelings into the open, his therapist had warned, Ethan couldn’t expect to improve. But he hadn’t found anyone he trusted well enough with whom to share his inner turmoil. He wouldn’t put his family or the guys at the firehouse through the ordeal of his soul-baring. God knew, they’d all suffered enough. He’d hoped his daily face-to-face meetings with Eileen, whom he’d already considered a friend, would give him the courage to open up and express his pain and find some release.
Because he’d closed himself off from his family and his firefighting buddies, Eileen had been his only remaining friend, his one hope for an objective confidante, and now she was gone. But she had been more than a prospective sounding board. He had respected and cared for the old woman, and she’d seemed too vivacious not to have many more years ahead of her. Her unexpected death left another gaping hole in his life.
Caroline sat beside him on the running board and placed her hand on his arm. Her consoling touch was warm, her fingers long and delicate, her nails pale pink. The kind of hand he’d like to lace his fingers through and hang on tight.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“Yeah, me, too.” He cleared his throat of the emotion lodged there, rose to his feet, slapped his cap against his thigh, and placed it on his head. “Well, I guess that’s that.”
She stood and crossed her arms over small but exquisite breasts, outlined by the snug fit of her T-shirt. With his feelings numbed by trauma and grief, he welcomed the sizzle of heat that poured through him at the sight. He might be down, but he wasn’t out for the count. Not yet. Not as long as he could appreciate a beautiful woman like the one in front of him. Cocking her head at an angle, she gazed up with those amazing blue eyes that had captivated him the first day he met her. He stuck his hands in his back pockets to keep from brushing the smear of dirt from the delectable curve of her cheek.
“What do you mean, that’s that?” Caroline said.
“I’m no attorney, so, with Eileen gone, I don’t know how valid my lease is, but I doubt her family will want me here. They’ll probably either move in themselves or put the property on the market.”
“She didn’t have any family.”
“No one?”
Caroline shook her head. A blue-and-white bandanna held her luxuriant blond hair away from her face. She wore cut-off jeans that emphasized her long tanned legs, sneakers green with grass stains, and her cropped top was streaked with cobwebs and dirt.
“So what are you doing here?” he asked.
“Getting the place ready.” She grimaced. “Such as it is. Eileen left me Blackberry Farm, so I’m your new landlady. That is, if you still want the place, after seeing the shape it’s in.”
He didn’t tell her that Eileen had given him prior warning of the cottage’s derelict state. One of the conditions of his lease was that he make repairs both on it and the other small house on the property. In return for his renovations, Eileen had kept his rent ridiculously low and thrown in two meals a day, because she’d known he was on a tight budget. His disability checks only went so far.
For now, Ethan was enjoying his time with Caroline so much, he wanted to extend it as long as possible, so he kept his knowledge of the property’s dilapidated condition to himself. “How about showing me around so I can make up my mind?”
