Debra Clopton - Her Unexpected Cowboy

“I’m Lucy Calvert.” She stared up at him and held out her hand.

Lucy. He liked it. Liked more the tingle of awareness that sparked the moment he took her small hand in his. When her eyes flared, as if she felt the same spark, his mind went blank.

“Rowdy. Rowdy McDermott, at your service,” he said as his pulse kicked up like a stampede of wild horses.

“Rowdy.” She slipped her hand free and tugged the edge of her collared shirt closed. Her smile faltered. “I think I may have heard my uncle mention you—I think he said your name fit you.”

The disapproval he detected in her voice snapped him out of his infatuated fog as regret of the life he’d led twisted inside his gut. What exactly had his old neighbor said about him?

“It fits, but in all honesty, I’m trying hard to mend my ways.”

“Oh.” Her blue eyes dug deep. “What were you here for before I literally threw myself at you?”

“Food,” he said, feeling off balance by the way she studied him. “My, um, my grandmother made you a casserole and I’m the delivery boy.”

“How sweet of her.” She laid her hand on his arm and his pulse kicked again. “And of you for bringing it over.”

Rowdy wasn’t sure he’d ever been called sweet. He looked down at her hand on his arm as that same buzz of electricity took his breath away. She turned, hips swaying and arms pumping as she headed toward the exit and left him in her dust.

“Tell her thank you for me,” she called over her shoulder, keeping her steps lively without looking back.

Rowdy followed.

“Can I ask what you were doing up there knocking out walls in your barn?”

They’d made it into the sunshine, and what had appeared to be her dark blond hair glistened like gold in the sun. She was getting better by the minute.

“I’m starting my remodel job. I’m making an art studio up there and a wall was in my way.”

“So you knocked it down. Do you do that with everything that gets in your way?” That got him the smile he was looking for. Trying to put her more at ease, he tucked his fingers into the pockets of his jeans and assumed a relaxed stance, putting his weight on one leg.

“I like to hope I do.”

“Really?”

Her brows leveled over suddenly serious eyes. “Really. That happens to be my new life motto.”

“Sounds kind of drastic, don’t you think?”

“Nope. Sounds good to me. It felt quite pleasant actually—” she scowled “—until I flew over the edge of the loft.”

“The little woman has anger issues,” he teased.

“This little woman has a lot of anger issues.”

Rowdy knew a lot about anger issues, but would rather not discuss them. Trying to figure out a change-of-topic comeback, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Uh-oh,” he groaned, looking where he’d left the casserole. The oversize yellow cat had ripped through the foil and was face-first in the Cowboy Goulash. “Nana isn’t going to be happy about that.” Even so, Rowdy was grateful for the distraction from the conversation as Lucy raced toward the cat, arms waving.

He owed the hulking orange cat big-time.

* * *

“No!” Lucy yelled, tearing across the yard with the troubling cowboy on her heels. She was not happy with her reactions to the magnetic man. Not only had he saved her, he’d taken her breath away. And she didn’t like the air being sucked out of her. Nope. Not at all.

What was more, the fact that he—that any man— could do that to her was shocking.

“Bad kitty,” she admonished Moose when she reached him. The cat had adopted Lucy four days ago when she’d arrived. Now the moose of a cat—thus his name—looked up at her with a goulash-orange smile, then promptly buried his head in the noodles again. “Hey, how much can a hairy beast like you eat?” Lucy asked, pulling him away from the pan as his claws dug in, clinging to the wood.

“Shame on you. Shame, shame.” Lucy was so embarrassed. “Honest, I feed him. I really do.”

Rowdy chuckled. “In the cat’s defense, Nana’s food is pretty irresistible.”

Lucy’s gaze met his and her insides did that crazy thing they’d been doing since the moment she’d found herself in his arms.

“I would have loved to find that out for myself,” she snapped.

He gave a lazy, attractive grin. “Don’t worry, Nana will be coming by soon to invite you over for dinner. She figures you need to feel welcomed, but also she wants to introduce you to our wild bunch over at Sunrise Ranch. We can be a little overwhelming for some.”

His odd statement stirred her curiosity. “And how’s that?”

“So you don’t know. You’re living next door to a boys’ ranch.”

“A boys’ ranch—what do you mean exactly?” Envisioning a bunch of delinquents, Lucy felt her spirits plummet.

“No, no, I didn’t mean to make you worry. They’re good kids. We have a foster program of sorts. There are sixteen boys ranging from eight to eighteen who call our family ranch home. They’ve just had some hard knocks in their lives and we’re providing a stable place for them to grow up. Speaking of which, I need to run, they’re waiting on me.” Grinning, he started backing away. “No more flying, okay?”

Lucy laughed despite feeling off-kilter and uneasy. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, and then he was gone. The unease didn’t leave with him.

After the betrayal and nightmare she’d been through with her ex-husband, she was stunned by the buzz of attraction she’d felt toward her new neighbor.

Especially since he’d admitted being a reformed rowdy cowboy. Reformed—that alone was all the deterrent she needed to keep her distance. Fuzzy warm feelings or thoughts of cozying up to cute cowboys hadn’t crossed her mind. Even to feel attraction at all was startling to her. Then again, the man had swooped in and saved her from breaking her neck—maybe that explained away the attraction.

The thought had Lucy breathing a little easier. She’d come here to find the joy again. Joy in her life and in her painting: things she’d lost and desperately needed to find again. She was praying that God would help her and show her the way. What she wasn’t praying for was romance, relationships or attraction. She’d learned the hard way that there was no joy to be found there.

None at all. Nope, this ole girl was just fine on her own, swan diving out of the hayloft and all.

* * *

The day after he’d caught her falling out of the hayloft, Rowdy drove up Lucy’s driveway again as Toby Keith played on the radio. He had a ranch to run and horses that needed training, so what was he doing back here?

Making sure she wasn’t dangling from the roof. He chuckled as the thought flashed through his mind.

Stepping out of his truck, he looked up at the eaves just to make sure she wasn’t doing just that.

All clear; nothing but a rooster weather vane creaking in the breeze.

Looking around, the first thing he noticed was a large pile of barn wood a few yards from the barn. It was after five and, by the looks of the pile, she’d been busy.

He had work to do, but he hadn’t been able to get his new neighbor off his mind. True, he couldn’t get those pretty eyes out of his head or that cute figure he sensed beneath that oversize shirt she’d been wearing, but mostly he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her over here ripping her property apart all by herself.

He shouldn’t have left the day before without offering to help, and that he’d done just that had bugged him all night. He’d been taught better by his nana; buying the property for himself had vanished with Lucy showing up. And though he hated that, he didn’t hold it against his new neighbor— Well, maybe a bit. But that shouldn’t have stopped him from helping her.