Roxann Delaney - Designs on the Cowboy

He hadn’t meant for it to sound the way it had come out of his mouth. He’d been half joking. Before he could take it back or explain, she turned and disappeared down the hall. “Glory,” he called, but all he heard was her footsteps on the wood floor.

A moment later, she answered. “It really will be better soon.”

Relief swept through him, but he wasn’t sure why. “Okay, I believe you.” Did he have a choice?

She reappeared in the dining room doorway, having obviously circled around through the kitchen. “Thanks for trying.”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.” She smiled. “It’s all right. I really do understand that it seems like the work will never get done,” she said, waving her arm to encompass the whole house. “But if you’ll just be patient—”

“It’s not—”

“Don’t say it, please,” she begged.

He wasn’t the kind of man who enjoyed hurting someone, and he wouldn’t make her the exception. “It was a shock to see it, that’s all,” he explained when she came into the room. “I’m sure you’ll make it right.”

She settled on what he suspected was the large sofa, hidden beneath a white sheet. “You hope it will be all right.”

“Do I have a choice?”

She leaned her head back against the sofa and laughed. “No, I suppose you don’t, although it’s always a possibility.” Closing her eyes, she sighed and smiled. “Tell me what it was like growing up here in this house.”

Her request surprised him, and he wasn’t sure how to answer. He also wasn’t sure he wanted to take a trip back to a past he’d spent fifteen years trying not to think about. “There’s not much to tell.”

She turned her head and looked at him with wide eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

His answer was a shrug. The way she sat studying him was causing his body to react in ways it shouldn’t have, and he looked away.

“I know you all worked hard. That’s always a given on a farm or a ranch. And you know it wasn’t like that for me. But that’s not what I’m asking about.”

In the silence that followed, he knew she was waiting for him to say something. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Okay.” He heard her take a deep breath. “What’s your best memory of growing up?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I have any.”

“Oh, surely you do!”

He was forced to look at her. “No, really. I don’t remember much.”

She shook her head, her disbelief achingly clear. “All right. I understand that you don’t want to share with me.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just—”

“It’s all right, Dylan,” she said, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin. “I have my own memories.”

She’d grabbed his curiosity, so when she started to stand, he couldn’t let her leave it at that. “Like what?”

“Like that hayride you don’t remember. All the times Tracy— You remember Tracy Billings? She was my best friend. When we weren’t riding horses at her place in the summer, we were hiding under the bleachers at the park to watch you at Little League practice.”

“You’re kidding,” he said, sure they’d done no such thing.

“Not at all.”

“Someone would have seen you.”

Her smile was impish. “You have no idea how sneaky little girls can be when they want to watch little boys they have crushes on.”

“Crushes?” Now she’d snagged his attention and he wanted to hear more. Had he really been one of those crushes?

With an odd smile, she gave him a dismissive wave of her hand and looked away. “Lots of them. A new one every summer. Sometimes.” She turned back toward him. “Baseball was important to you, wasn’t it?”

“More important than breathing.” He’d won an athletic scholarship to college, but he hadn’t taken it. After his parents’ accident, he felt he had to stay and help keep the ranch running. Luke had still been in high school, and Erin had offered to stay and help.

“Those were some of the best times of my life,” she said. “Those times with Tracy when we were kids.”

He was surprised to hear the sadness in her voice, but didn’t ask why. It wasn’t any of his business.

“If it’s all right,” she said, standing, “I’ll straighten up a little and go home. I’m tired.” She walked toward the kitchen, then stopped and looked back at him. “I promise it will get better. Okay?”

He nodded and she disappeared, leaving him with questions and a tiny hole in the wall he’d built around his memories for the past fifteen years. He wondered if she had any idea what that meant to him. He’d forgotten how happy his childhood had been. He just wasn’t sure yet if that was good or bad and hoped he wouldn’t regret it when he learned which one.

* * *

GLORY’S SIGH ECHOED in the upstairs hallways. Once again, she’d forgotten something. This time it was the faceplates for the wall switches. The electrician would arrive soon to put the new light fixtures in the bedrooms, and she’d wanted everything to be ready. Now she’d have to make a trip into town.

“Hey, Miz Andrews?”

She smiled at the luck she’d had in hiring three high school boys to help out. It hadn’t hurt that one of them had grown up helping his mother wallpaper, and that another was a wizard with a paintbrush.

As she started down the stairs, she spied the tall, dark-haired young man waiting at the bottom. “What is it, Mark?”

“Stu said he’d be here a little late. He promised his mom he’d go with her to the farmer’s market this morning, now that school is out. He said to tell you he’ll stay late, if you need him.”

She stopped two steps from the bottom of the stairs and looked directly at Mark. A blush crept up his face, and he looked down as she spoke. “I don’t see why he’ll need to stay late. And you’re here awfully early, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, still refusing to meet her gaze. “I woke up early and thought I’d give you a hand with whatever needed to get done this morning before Brent gets here.”

“I really appreciate that, Mark. The electrician should be arriving anytime, so I’m glad you’ll be here when he does. I need to run into town for the faceplates, and Mr. Walker seems to have been an early riser, too.”

“No problem.”

She smiled. The boys were eager to help, and she counted herself very lucky to have them. Dylan had made himself scarce since their little bit of reminiscing on Saturday night. No matter how early she arrived, he was gone, and she suspected he was avoiding her. It was just as well. She needed to focus on the job, not him. Even so, it would be wise to let him know she was leaving, just in case someone needed her.

She took the last two steps. “I’ll let Mr. Walker know I’m leaving.”

Mark nodded and moved out of the way as she walked to the kitchen. Grabbing her bag, she looped it over her shoulder and went outside, heading for the barn.

It was a beautiful morning, with only a hint of a breeze stirring the leaves on the trees. Dew glittered in the sunshine, and the scent of flowers drifted around her. There was so much she loved about her hometown and the surrounding countryside. In spite of her failed marriage, she’d enjoyed living in North Carolina and marveled at the beauty of Charlotte. But Desperation, Oklahoma, would always be home to her.

As she walked closer to the barn, she spotted Dylan’s pickup parked on the far side. At least she’d been right, she thought, as she climbed through the corral fence. Moving to the oversize opening of the big barn, she waited for her eyes to adjust, and then looked around for Dylan.

If she hadn’t seen movement out of the corner of her eye, she might have missed him as he worked along the back wall of the barn. “There you are,” she called to him.