Her Rodeo Cowboy (7 page)

Yes, she was still angry, and she had her moments where the anger snuck up and ate her up, but it was getting easier each day to ignore it.

She opened the back door to the house and walked inside, choosing to acknowledge the denial.

Denial meant freedom. And that denial didn't need a man complicating it and messing it up.

“S
o you're sure that you're going to be all right with us going out?”

Montana bounced Tate on her hip, making him giggle. “Are you kidding? Me and Tater can't wait to have the house to ourselves. We plan on having a party. He's got all his buddies hiding in the bushes, waiting to see y'all's taillights disappearing down the drive. Isn't that right, little buddy?”

Clint wrapped his arms around Lacy from behind and grinned at Montana. “You and the kiddo have fun, then. I'm taking my wife out on the town. If the party gets too rowdy, call the cops. Brady or Zane will come to the rescue.”

“Or you could call Luke,” Lacy added innocently. “Word has it that it's only a matter of time before the matchmakers have you two tied up tighter than a—”

Montana threw Tate's stuffed puppy at her, hitting Lacy in the chin. “You are really pushing it, cuz.”

Lacy laughed, walking over to kiss her baby good
bye. “You know I love you. But seriously, they
have
targeted you.”

“And you haven't?”

“Well, no. Now, why would I do that when I know you aren't interested?”

Clint rolled his eyes and cleared his throat loudly.

“Don't worry, Clint, I'm not buying her innocent act, either.”

“Then fine. You know that I want you to relax and get on with your life. But I also want you to think about what God has in store for you, and we both know that there is something going on between you and that handsome cowboy.”

“Maybe it has nothing whatsoever to do with God.”

“
Maybe
not,” Lacy said. “But maybe it does.”

“Luke's a good guy, Montana,” Clint said, serious now. “He had a rough upbringing. Not your typical happy family. Not even your
almost
happy family. He worked here on the ranch beside me after they moved here growing up, and he idolized my dad. He's a quick learner and as reliable as they come. But he's never, ever talked about marriage. So, in that respect, you two match up. As a guy, I'll tell you he might be one who never marries. Though I know he's building a ranch he can pass on. He's setting down roots that will last and become a legacy.” He hunched his shoulders and tilted his head. “The matchmakers may be wrong about him—and his brothers Jess and Colt. Some men aren't married because they just aren't ready and haven't met the right woman. And then there are some who got such a bad taste growing up that it's not a place they
want to return. That said, I for one can tell him that, when God puts the right woman in his path, there is nothing on earth that can compare to the fullness life takes on from there. That goes for you, too.”

Montana was shocked by such a long speech from Clint, as much as the words he spoke about Luke. “Thanks, both of you. I'm touched by your concern. I know you both mean well, and it means a lot to me. You will never, ever know how much. Luke and I will be just fine. For starters, we do understand each other, so it's good. Now go, have a good time.” She waved them toward the door. “Tater's little buddies are probably sucking their thumbs fast asleep under the mesquite bushes by now.”

 

Montana was watching Tate show off his new crawling skills when a truck pulled up in front of the house. She wasn't expecting anyone, she realized as she headed toward the door. Through the big windows, she saw Luke step out of the truck, hesitate, then slam the door and stride her way. The rush of pleasure at his appearance surprised her. All afternoon, she'd looked forward to his showing up in the barn, and the disappointment hadn't been something she wanted to think about. Now a glimpse of him in a chocolate-brown button-up shirt that matched his eyes had her pulse bouncing off the charts.

She pulled the door open before he knocked, startling him. “A little late to be checking on the arena setup, isn't it?”

“I didn't come for that.” He looked past her into the house.

Following his gaze, she glanced over her shoulder to see Tate rise up on wobbly knees and reach toward the coffee table. “Oh, no, you don't.” She laughed, hurrying back to the tot. “Come on in,” she called, catching Tate just in time to keep him from bumping his tiny chin. Swinging him into her arms, she kissed his cheek as she turned back toward her unexpected guest. “Clint's not here. He and Lacy went on a date.”

He looked puzzled as he scanned the room. “A date? But—where's everyone else?”

“Who?” Now it was her turn to look puzzled.

“I saw Norma Sue at the feed store and she asked me to come to a rodeo committee meeting here at seven.”

Montana laughed. She couldn't help it. The sneaky Norma Sue. “You've been had. You know that, don't you?”

“I should have known.” He gave a short laugh, snugged his hat tighter to his head, in a movement that spoke of embarrassment. “I've watched those women in action over and over again, and they
still
got one over on me.”

“They knew I was going to be watching Tate tonight. They came poking around earlier, when I was riding.” She tried to figure out what to do next. Did she ask him to stay? Did she want him to go? It was one weird situation she found herself in. Shifting Tate in her arms, she used him as a sort of emotional shield between the two of them. Something to keep her from thinking about hugging the man or kissing him.

She held Tate tighter as Luke walked toward the kitchen. “So, do you have anything to eat?”

“I might, but I don't remember inviting you to stay.”

He shrugged one muscled shoulder and hooked a thumb in his pocket as he studied her. He looked as if he could care less whether he stayed or not. It had her insides feeling queasy. Was that romance in the air, or just butterflies in her stomach at the thought of wondering such a thing? She didn't want romance. She didn't want the hint of it. Did she?

“There's roast beef in the fridge, and potatoes,” she heard herself say.

“You sit and I'll fix it.”

Her mouth dropped. “I didn't invite you to stay for dinner.”

“So?”

She looked at Tate. “Did you hear that, Tate? This is not the way to act. He—” she nodded her head toward the unbelievably good-looking man in her kitchen “—has a lot to learn in the romance department.”

“Who said anything about romance? I'm just having dinner. The way I figure it, if you won't go out with me for dinner, then I come to you. I owe the posse for this one.”

“But I haven't told you that you could stay yet.”

He opened the door to the fridge and studied the contents in silence. Acting like he didn't need her invitation, he pulled the pot from the shelf and set it on the counter. “This looks good.”

Yes, it did. The cowboy had skills, she thought, as he began opening drawers and finding the items he
needed: forks, knives, glasses. She cuddled Tate and watched in silence while Luke made himself at home in Lacy's kitchen. It amused her that he didn't ask. That he just did it.

He was taking charge…and oddly enough she liked it. It was flattering that he wanted to have dinner with her this much. She admired his never-give-up mentality.

“Lacy and Clint seem really happy,” he said at last while he was ladling roast and gravy onto plates and nuking them in the microwave.

“Romance is alive and well at the Matlock house.”

Luke leaned against the counter, hooked his thumb in his jeans pocket and held her gaze. “Do you ever wish that for yourself?”

“You've come into the house, invited yourself to dinner and now you're asking some
very
personal questions. I'm not too sure I want to play this game.”

He hiked a shoulder. “I'm just curious. I ask everyone the same question—well, sort of.”

“Ah, yes, the no-strings-attached question. And here I thought you were about to ask me to marry you.”

“Not today. So
do
you?”

“Persistent little badger, aren't you?”

“Yes. And I'd rather be called something a little more masculine than a badger. You sure know how to knock a man's ego down a notch.”

She laughed full and hard at that. Tate grinned and clapped his hands. Luke laughed at them, sending a ripple of awareness through Montana. His smile faded suddenly, as something passed between them. Same as
she'd felt that day in the arena when he'd tried to get her to talk to him, she felt drawn to Luke. It was unmistakable.

She admitted it. Admitted to herself that she liked him. She liked his blunt manner and his frank openness about what he wanted out of life. The man was truthful when it came to his expectations. At least it appeared so. When a woman went out with the guy, it was with eyes wide-open, because he'd made himself clear. Honesty was a good thing. Montana had felt bad for tea-tossing Erica that night at Lacy's barbecue. Now that she really understood Luke, she realized that tea tosser had to have understood the reality—Luke wasn't looking for marriage, and just the mention of it had him throwing on the brakes.

“I think I owe you an apology,” Montana said.

“You talkin' to me?” he asked, spinning from where he'd just closed the door to the microwave, a look of mock disbelief on his face, his hand to his heart. “Say it ain't so, Sally. What in the world for?”

“The man is crazy,” she said to Tate. “My name isn't Sally. Is yours?” Tate grinned at her and tried to pull her hair. “Maybe you didn't deserve to have tea poured all over you the other night.”

“Now that is interesting. Very interesting. How did you come up with that deduction, Sherlock?”

She cocked her head to the side. “You make yourself very clear about you not being a marrying man. Tea tosser had to have known that, or you slipped up.”

“I didn't slip up.”

“Didn't think so. Anyway, I'm sorry I was so hard on you. But I still don't want to date you.”

“And yet, here we are having dinner at Lacy's. Together. No date intended.”

“Well, there you go. That fixes both our dilemmas.” Not exactly, since it was a setup by the matchmakers, but she'd go along with it.

“If that's settled, then let's eat. I'm starving.”

She'd have fixed Tate something, but he'd already had his bottle. Instead, she walked across the large living room and set him down in his playpen. Handing him his favorite teething ring and plush toy, she then headed back to the kitchen. Her pulse skipped like a dozen pebbles skimming over water as she watched Luke. They were having dinner. Sucking in a deep breath, she tried to relax. Luke had set the plates, napkins and flatware out, and was filling glasses with tea as she sat down.

“I figured you wouldn't toss this on me.”

“I'll behave. I promise.”

He placed the glasses on the counter next to their plates, then sat down beside her on a stool. Montana wondered if, by sitting at the kitchen island instead of the table, he thought she'd feel more inclined to believe this wasn't a date.

It
wasn't
a date, but the posse would never believe it.

“Earlier, I was teasing Lacy and Clint that Tate's little buddies were hiding outside in the bushes waiting for them to leave so they could come inside and play with Tate. But it's actually the posse who's prob
ably out there. I can see them in the bushes wearing camouflaged outfits with mud swiped under their eyes, believing that we're on a date.”

His eyes danced. “Right. I can almost hear the sound of their chatter.”

He picked up a glass of tea and held it up in salute. “Let them have their fun. We understand each other. Agreed?”

Smiling, she picked her glass up and touched it to his. “Agreed.”

T
hey made small talk over dinner. Montana knew, from the day in the arena, that Luke was curious about her and she was curious about him and his past. But he didn't ask her and she didn't ask him. She was fighting through her issues on her own, and knew that, though he'd tempted her a couple of times with his strong shoulder to cry on, she was
not
going to go there.

It didn't matter how many times those deep, dark eyes of his called out to her to spill her guts to him.

Instead, they filled the blank space with small talk that led to stories about Luke's friends who had been targeted by the matchmaking posse and lost. His smile was warm and teasing when he said
lost.
They both understood what that meant.

There had been rumors of emptied gas tanks, wild hog encounters, help from a matchmaking donkey, which he promised to introduce her to at the festival. Samantha would be the main attraction of the petting zoo.

“It's never totally clear how much of a hand the gals have in all the matches,” he said halfway through the roast beef. “But no matter what, we all know they're in the background, pushing love buttons to get whoever they've decided to match up together.”

She had a feeling there were several women wishing the matchmakers' button-pushing had included them and Luke. Erica was at the front of the line. “Lacy says they get a lot of help from above.”

“I suspect she's right. The matches seem to be good ones. Tate looks like proof to me.”

Montana laid her fork down and glanced over at Tate, who'd conked out. He looked so peaceful. “Sadly, kids don't always prove a couple's happiness. Don't get me wrong, I believe Lacy and Clint were a match made in heaven. They didn't have to have Tate to prove it, but I know what you mean.” Why, oh, why, had she just done that—opened her big mouth?

Her words had instantly drawn that look back into his eyes, and they were seeking as they settled on her. “I understand that more than you can know. Children don't always mean all is well on the homefront. Wasn't anywhere near right when it came to my home. But then I guess nothing on earth is perfect.”

Silence stretched between them for a few moments. Montana held back voicing all the thoughts in her head, because it was just so personal. Still, she wondered about Luke's childhood. The way her thoughts kept swinging over to such a topic was a far cry from the distance she claimed she wanted to keep.

How could it be that she was so put off about the
idea of a man in her life, and yet she couldn't seem to stop thinking about Luke and being interested in his past?

He leaned back in his chair. “My thought is that if God isn't in it, then marriage shouldn't be an option.”

She was wading into the deep end, and she knew it. “Again, something we agree on.”

“What's got you so adamant about that?”

She considered changing the subject, staring into his dark eyes. But the words wanted out too much and she couldn't hold them back. She felt too compelled to say something. “Growing up, I thought my parents had the perfect marriage. They never fought—they didn't really spend time together, but I never thought much about that. In my mind, they'd be together for all time. It's a major blow when you find out your parents are getting divorced. Or that your dad was having an affair.” She shook her head. “It's just crazy. Disappointing…pointless, really…” Her voice trailed off and she didn't finish, as she felt the hard nudge of anger try to surface.

He gave her a gentle smile. “Is that what has you so angry?” he asked cautiously, as if afraid she was going to run out of the house and throw herself against a barrel again.

The very idea almost made her chuckle, and in a weird way lifted her up. She sighed. “You know…I can't—” She shook her head slightly, realizing she didn't want to mess up the evening by talking about her troubled past.

“I guess it can go both ways when it comes looking
from the inside out,” Luke began. “My parents were loud and fought over everything. They made no pretense about not enjoying each other's company. I've never been able to figure out why they were together in the first place. But they were. At least until my mom left when I was about twelve—not sure I blamed her. My dad was a drunk who couldn't hold a job. Worse, he didn't want to hold a job. He wanted everyone else to do the work.”

“Your mom left?”

He nodded.

Surely she misunderstood. “Left you with your dad?” Did he mean his mother had left her three small sons with a man who drank and didn't work? He nodded again, and she felt ill. “How did y'all survive?”

“We worked. Me and my brothers.”

Though he said the words in a matter-of-fact tone, Montana got a sharp image of Luke and his brothers working at young ages doing any jobs they could find to help support their family. She'd heard the edge to his words, and she studied him. He'd done what he'd had to do to survive. Luke had started overcoming challenges early. He'd learned to accept life as a challenge and to want to overcome it.

She was amazed by him. And she admired him. Talk about a complete turnabout on her part.

“How old were you when you started working?” she asked.

“About ten—if you count small odd jobs I did for people. It was good for me. There's nothing wrong with working. We—my brothers and me, are good at that.”

“I bet you were. Are.”

He gave a small grunt of a laugh. “Yeah, Jess and Colt say we were due for retirement by the time we were in high school.”

She chuckled. “I guess that's one way to look at it.”

He gave that shrug that she'd come to learn was his. No big deal, it said. “You do what you have to do. We're the men we are today because of the kind of man my dad was. He was the worst role model around, and frankly, I could be bitter about it. And I've had my moments, believe me. But—” he gave an assuring look “—we've made peace with our childhoods. All three of us, in our own way. We each know what we don't want to be—my dad drank himself into an early grave. I couldn't do anything about that. Mac Matlock opened the Bible and showed me Galatians 6:4. It says. ‘Each one should test his own actions. Then he can take pride in himself, without comparing himself to somebody else.'”

He rubbed his thumb along the edge of the granite counter and studied it as he did it. “That's what I'm trying to do.”

Montana didn't have the words. She was trying to process all he'd said when he reached for the plates and stood up, as if needing to move.

“Those are strong words,” she said. “You are doing great.”

“I'm trying. My mother married a couple more times, then decided to give it up. She lives in Fredericksburg and manages a small restaurant. She loves her life now, and that's important to us. We tried to
talk her into moving out here, when we bought the ranch last year, but she wouldn't hear of it. She has her church family there that she's involved in. She wouldn't budge.”

Placing her elbow on the counter and her chin in her hand, Montana marveled at his attitude. His mother had left him in charge of his two younger brothers
and
a drunk dad, and yet he was acting as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Wasn't he angry at her?

She was angry for him.

What kind of woman did that? She'd left her boys to fend for themselves, and now Luke was talking as if they were best friends.

It was hard to swallow, especially in light of what was happening with her dad. She reached for the collar of her shirt, feeling hot suddenly. Galatians 6:4 played in her head. It said test her own actions…

Her hand trembled slightly as she thought about that. She had to change the subject before she said something she would regret. He had moved on with no anger—she was moving on, too, but she couldn't lose the anger. Not yet, anyway.

“Can I ask you something?” She got up and went to help clear the dishes away, hoping it would help her calm down.

“Sure,” he said, opening the dishwasher.

“If you and your brothers have a need to own this ranch so you'll have a legacy for your families, why aren't any of you married?”

He placed a glass in the dishwasher.

“I figure Jess and Colt just haven't met their matches yet. Sure, I want to leave a legacy, but for me that includes helping Colt and Jess build theirs for their family. I'm not getting sidetracked until I do that. My brothers will fall in love, and I'm determined that this ranch will be something they can be proud of when that happens. That's my legacy.”

It suddenly made sense. He was the protector. His mother had left him in charge of Colt and Jess, and he was doing that. It didn't matter that they were strong, capable men; this was a challenge he'd accepted, and he was seeing it through. He was taking pride in himself, like the verse said.

Focused. That's what he was, just like she was focusing on her riding. But he was also thinking about God's direction in his life, too. She was more amazed by him with every moment that passed. “We're a lot alike, it seems, Luke Holden.” Not exactly, but sort of—what was she saying? She'd handed him the emptied glasses. He took them and his fingers brushed hers. His touch sent her pulse skittering. They were standing close enough for her to see the light flicker in the depths of his eyes.

“How's that?” he asked, his voice smooth as he held her gaze.

Thoughts of his arms around her slammed into her. “We…we're alike—” Her mind went totally blank and she had no clue what she'd been about to say.

He cocked a brow ever so slightly, and one corner of his lips turned up. “We're both focused,” he prompted. “And we know what we want.”

Yes, that was true. She leaned against the counter and he did the same, his arm touching hers as he watched her, amusement lighting his eyes. Her heart suddenly was pounding inside her chest, and there was a flutter of butterflies in her stomach. “Yes, that's right,” she managed. Did she truly know what she wanted? Looking at Luke, she seemed to forget for a minute.

“Are you all right?” he asked, leaning closer, her heart thumping like a rabbit's foot.

In the other room, Tate stirred and whimpered. The sound was like an ice chest of cold water being dumped on her head. She snapped to attention and immediately put distance between them.

“Gotta check on Tater Man!” As if on cue, he started crying. Scooping him up she hugged him to her—unceremoniously, using him as a shield again as she turned back to Luke. He had stopped at the edge of the large area rug. He looked about as uncomfortable as she was—she had a feeling he'd felt exactly what she'd been feeling. There was no way to kid themselves that they weren't attracted to each other. But that was all it was. Attraction. Nothing more…well, admiration. And that was dangerous to her.

“I need to change his diaper,” she said, glad to have an excuse to bring this impromptu dinner to a close.

He yanked a thumb toward the door behind him. “I need to head out. I've stayed longer than I should have.”

She wasn't about to suggest that he stick around—
oh, no, that was not a good idea. She held Tate closer. “Okay, see you later. Sorry there was no meeting.”

“You mean sorry we were set up?” He gave a light smile.

Was she sorry? Not exactly. “That's right. Watch out for the posse in the bushes.”

He laughed as he strode toward the door. “I'll let myself out. You tend to that little guy.”

She trailed him to the front door but held back a few feet. “See you.”

“Yeah.” He opened the door and grabbed his hat from the hat rack next to the door. Snugging it onto his head, holding her gaze the whole time. “Good night, Montana. You aren't half-bad.”

She laughed. “You, either.”

Grinning, he strode out, closing the door behind him. Through the bank of glass windows she watched him stride off toward his truck. His stride long and sure, his shoulders straight—she liked the proud, strong look of him. Especially after hearing about his childhood. “Not half-bad at all,” she said to Tate. “Not half-bad at all.”

 

Luke couldn't get the picture of Montana holding Tate in her arms out of his mind. Her bright eyes, her soft skin, and the gentle look of a loving mother touched him. He thought about that all the way home. She was focused, perceptive and interesting. He was drawn to that. As a rule, he didn't talk about his personal life on his dates. At least not like he and Montana had done. He didn't care to rehash a past that he hadn't
enjoyed nor been able to control. He didn't like thinking about his dad. What kind of man would destroy his own life and then almost destroy his own sons? It was something he'd never understood. And nothing he'd ever talked about. Though there had been a moment there when he'd been tempted to tell Montana everything. He'd been tempted to see what her take on his dad would be. How she'd analyze Leland Holden. She'd pegged his mom's motivations dead-on. Like hitting the nail with a hammer in one strong strike she'd done so with his mom. It was almost as if she understood because of insight. Deep insight that only came from a true understanding.

Pulling into his carport, he turned off the ignition and sat staring out at the darkness. What in Montana Brown's background gave her that kind of insight into his life?