The Wrong Cowboy, page 13
Hattie still looked dreamy-eyed, but that could have been because of the burger Alice placed in front of her. “I don’t know, Mabel. How can you not see the romance in all of that?”
“Because every day I live with the hate that was born out of a...a frontier love triangle.” Mabel had to laugh then. “I do find it funny that my uncle and brothers, some of the most emotionally constipated humans on the planet, continue to let that romantic story dictate their daily life.”
Hattie was coughing, hard.
“Hattie?” Mabel jumped up. “Are you okay? Are you choking?”
Hattie waved her away, taking a big sip off the straw tucked into her extralarge milkshake. “Emotionally constipated?” She went back to laughing, until tears were streaming down her face.
“You know my brothers, you know it’s true.” Mabel ate a fry, pausing. “And to think, people are placing bets thinking that Jensen or I would play each other to get even for...for what? Cyrus or James? Or Hannah?”
“I think it’s more the duping the other than the actual vengeance part of it.” Hattie shrugged, pouring a large dollop of ketchup onto the side of her plate. “Whatever the reason, people seem to be favoring you on that one.”
Mabel frowned. “That’s horrible. People think I’m capable of...of faking feelings for sport?”
“Is it just me or are these the best french fries you have ever tasted?” Hattie closed her eyes, moaning, as she devoured a ketchup-coated fry.
“Good thing you have the metabolism of a teen boy.” Mabel never got over her friend’s ability to eat. Boy, howdy, could Hattie eat.
“I’m lucky. What can I say?” Hattie winked, smiling slowly. “Emotionally constipated.” She snorted. “That’s a good one.”
Mabel was all too glad for them to change the topic of conversation. But hours later, when she was staring up at the thick wooden beams holding up the ceiling, she couldn’t help thinking about what Hattie had said. Not about the betting or the gossip or that there was any romance in the origins of the feud. She was thinking about what Hattie had said about Jensen. Was he waiting for a sign from Mabel? No. Of course not. That was all Hattie. There was no way Jensen was interested in her. None. But deep down, there was a part of her that hoped Hattie was right. If he was then... Then what? That was the question that kept Mabel tossing and turning into the wee hours.
* * *
TWO WEEKS HAD gone by since he’d unloaded the little paint into the barn and Samantha still had no idea she had a horse. He’d tried, time and again, to get her to help him organize the tack room or go for a ride with him on the tractor—but she seemed to sense there was more to it than that and didn’t budge.
His father did not approve of Jensen’s tactics, glaring and grumbling soft enough that his words were unintelligible but loud enough for everyone to hear he was unhappy. Other than the grumbling and glaring, his father wasn’t talking to him. Not one word. Even at the dinner table, his father would ask Twyla or Kitty to relay things to him. Like a ten-year-old.
Samantha didn’t know what to make of it. She’d tried to get her Paw-Paw to be nice, but Jensen worried his father was so bent out of shape he might snap at her. That wouldn’t do. The idea of Samantha growing up and pulling this sort of thing to get what she wanted also wouldn’t do. Like it or not, he was going to have to offer up some sort of explanation for his father’s behavior—without being a disrespecting son.
After agonizing over just the right thing to say, he decided short and sweet was the best bet. Samantha had listened as he’d explained that Paw-Paw was out of sorts because he and Jensen hadn’t seen eye to eye on something but that, in time, Paw-Paw would get back to normal.
“I hope so, Daddy. Malcolm, in my class, makes faces and grumbles like that and he’s always in trouble. He has to sit right by the teacher’s desk and never gets special classroom jobs.” Samantha sighed. “Mrs. Wilkes says he causes aches in her head with his...attics.”
“Antics?” Jensen had to grin at that.
“That.” Samantha had nodded gravely. “I don’t want Paw-Paw to give people aches.”
“Me, neither, little miss. Me, neither.” Jensen had given her a quick hug and hoped that would be the end of it.
That had been ten days ago.
“Are you taking her to Junior Rangers tonight?” Kitty asked, rinsing off the night’s dinner dishes as Jensen handed them to her.
“Planned on it.” He handed her the last plate and carried a rag to the large wooden kitchen table. “I was thinking... I’d be happy to go.” Kitty put a dish into the dishwasher and looked his way. “I loved Junior Rangers and I wouldn’t mind having some time with Samantha.”
“I’m sure she’d like that, too.” He started wiping down the table. If he were being honest, the last thing he wanted to do was go spend a couple of hours with a bunch of five- and six-year-olds but... “But getting out of the house might be good, too.” He swept the crumbs from Twyla’s fresh-baked rolls into his hand.
“Did you know there are other places to go in Garrison, Jensen?” She gave him an innocent grin. “There’s a restaurant or two. A coffee shop and book shop. And there’s even a place where you can go play pool and watch football and eat wings and drink beer. With friends.”
“You don’t say?” He dumped the crumbs into the trash and washed his hands, shooting her a narrow-eyed look.
“Come on, Jensen.” Kitty stowed the stack of kitchen towels in a cabinet. “You could, I don’t know, call up Tyson and go have a beer and play some pool? Or something.”
He and Tyson Ellis had spent many a night playing pool at Buck’s in their younger days. The two of them were like-minded, avoiding drama and fine with minimal conversation. Considering he couldn’t remember the last time he and Tyson Ellis had spoken—let alone had a beer together—his sister might have a good idea.
“Be men,” Kitty added, shrugging. “Do whatever it is that men do.”
Jensen had to laugh then. “Whatever it is that men do?” He shook his head. “I’m curious now. What do you think we do?”
“I don’t know.” Kitty pulled the broom from the pantry. “Why don’t you grab that dustpan and lend a hand.”
“I’ve been helping, haven’t I?” He collected the dustpan and followed her. “Not going to answer the question?”
“No. I don’t think so.” She swept up the area under and around the table and swept it all into the dustpan he held before she asked, “Are you going to call Tyson?”
He dumped the pan and returned it, and the broom, to the pantry. “Sure.” Why not?
“Really?” Kitty stared up at him.
“You don’t have to act so shocked.” He chuckled. “It was your idea.”
“I know. I’m a genius. Nobody around here seems to notice that, though.” Kitty gave a long-suffering sigh. “It’s sad to be so underappreciated.”
Jensen loved both of his little sisters dearly, but they were as different as night and day. Where Twyla was assertive and independent, Kitty was shy and careful with her words. Kitty was also more empathetic—making her the peacekeeper of the family. He didn’t envy her that.
Kitty handed him the phone. “Here you go.”
Jensen took the phone. “Thank you?” He glanced at her. “You trying to get rid of me? Is something going on?”
Kitty shrugged, dodging his gaze. “No.” She made a dismissive sound. “Don’t be silly.” But her voice sounded funny.
“Really?”
“Yes, really,” she sassed—something she rarely did. “I thought you were more likely to call and go out if you had a witness. Not that I’m telling you what you have to do. You are an adult. You’re an adult who spends all of his free time with his five-year-old daughter, nosy sisters and curmudgeon of a father.” More sass. “Hmm. I can’t imagine why I’d encourage you to have a social life. Just because the rest of your family are hermits doesn’t mean you have to be.” She blinked. “Besides, if you don’t call him, you’ll find some reason to hang out at the Junior Ranger meeting and we both know it.”
“Someone’s full of attitude this evening.” But she was right. He didn’t have a leg to stand on now—she’d called his bluff. Since Casey’s death, he hadn’t spent a lot of time away from Samantha. It wasn’t planned. It was just the way it was. He didn’t like to be away from her. He hadn’t been there when Casey collapsed...
“You know, it wouldn’t hurt her to have some non-Daddy social time, too, Jensen.”
“What, are you reading my mind now?” He grumbled and started dialing. Kitty, he noticed, was grinning when he held the phone up to his ear. “Don’t gloat,” he murmured.
“I’d never do such a thing.” Kitty waved. “I’ll go get Samantha ready.”
“Tyson Ellis here.” Tyson was short and clipped, all business.
“Hey, Tyson.” He cleared his throat. “Jensen here.”
There was a moment’s pause. “Jensen. How’s it going? Been a while.”
“Kitty was just telling me the same thing.” He chuckled. “You got plans tonight?”
“Me? Oh, only eight hours of that reality television show following Texas game wardens while they do their job. So... That’d be a no.” Tyson sighed. “You up for getting a beer or something?”
“Yeah. If you’re okay postponing your television watching.” He nodded. “Buck’s? Half hour or so?”
“I’ll be there. Glad you called.” And Tyson hung up.
When Jensen put the old phone back on its charging stand, he was surprisingly excited. It’d been a while. A long while. Before he’d lost Casey. More than two years ago? Maybe Kitty was right.
“Kitty said you’re going out.” He hadn’t even noticed Twyla coming into the room, but she was standing behind him, opening the refrigerator door. “Not like that, I hope?” Her brows rose.
He stared down at his jeans and button-up shirt. “I’m going to have a beer, Twyla. I guarantee Tyson doesn’t care.”
She rolled her eyes. “You never know, Jensen. Someone might walk in, your eyes might meet across a crowded room, and—”
“You’ve been watching that channel again, haven’t you? The one that plays romance movies all day and all night?” He’d watched one or two in his time. Samantha liked them. Especially the ones with the princesses.
“Or I could just be wishing you’d find someone that made you laugh again.” She wasn’t teasing now. “Besides Samantha, that is. You’re a good father, but you don’t have to spend every minute you’re not working with her, Jensen. It’s not good for either one of you.”
“Fine, right. I get it. First Kitty. Now you.” Then he pointed at her. “Why aren’t you and Kitty going out? You two are young and lively and single. You’re staying home knitting and watching romance movies and Kitty is reading—”
“Romance novels,” Twyla cut in. “And a spy novel or two.”
“The point is, this is a double standard.” He frowned. “If I’m going out, you two should do the same.”
“What’s wrong?” Kitty asked, leading Samantha into the great room. “Why are you two scowling at each other?”
“Yeah, Daddy, are you mad at Auntie Twyla?” Samantha looked worried.
“I’m not scowling.” He smiled at his daughter. “I’m just getting Auntie Twyla to agree we should always take turns.”
“Ooh. Takin’ turns is polite,” Samantha said.
“It is,” Kitty added.
“Kitty,” Twyla snapped. “You might want to know what we’re taking turns doing.”
“What? Oh.” Kitty saw the look on Twyla’s face and panicked. “What would that be?”
“Going out.” Jensen clapped his hands together, making all three of them jump. He scooped up Samantha and spun until she was giggling. “While you go to your Junior Rangers meeting, I’m going to see Tyson Ellis. And tomorrow, we will do some puzzles here and your aunties will go out—”
“With Tyson from the stock-show-farmyard?” Samantha finished. “He’s the ham-some one, right, Auntie Kitty? The one you like?”
Jensen’s brows arched high as he cast his little sister a questioning look. “Tyson’s ham-some, is he?”
Kitty went beet red.
“Kitty?” Twyla asked, smiling. “Well, I never.”
“Why are you so red, Auntie Kitty?” Samantha tugged on her hand. “Are you okay? Do you have a fever?”
“I’m fine.” Kitty stared up at the ceiling. “More embarrassed than I’ve ever been in my whole life, but fine.”
Kitty. Tyson. Huh. Jensen would never have guessed. Then again, his little sister tended to keep this sort of thing to herself. Considering she lived with Twyla and their father—and their very strong opinions on everything—it made sense. But even the two of them would be hard-pressed to find something wrong with Tyson Ellis. Hardworking. Respected. Ethical. A man of his word. Kitty could do a lot worse. The more he thought about it, the more Jensen liked the idea. He’d always worried his sisters would end up taking care of their father and never find love for themselves.
“He is a hardworking, upstanding sort of man,” Twyla agreed.
“I didn’t...” Kitty broke off, blinking furiously. “He’s...just...” Her hands flailed.
“You said he was ham-some and the best man in town. After Daddy, prob-ly,” Samantha announced.
Kitty’s head fell forward and she covered her face with her hand, muffling a squeak of mortification.
“Probably true.” Jensen nodded, having a hard time not laughing at Kitty’s reaction. He had never seen her squirm this way.
“It doesn’t matter.” Kitty looked ready to pop, her words rapid-fire. “He doesn’t know I exist. At all.” She was redder than ever. “I don’t know why we’re having this conversation. I did say he is ham-some, handsome, but that’s all. He is. You have eyes. You know I’m right.” She grabbed her keys. “Samantha and I are off to Junior Rangers so I’d appreciate it if you two would wait to say anything else until we are gone and out the door.” As she spoke, she led Samantha across the great room to the front door. “Ready?” she asked Samantha.
“Ready.” Samantha nodded. “Bye, Daddy. Have a fun playdate with Mr. Ellis.”
Jensen was still laughing when the door closed.
When Twyla had stopped giggling, she said, “I had no idea.”
“Me, neither.” Kitty tended to look after others instead of bringing attention to herself. He glanced at the now-closed front door. “Or, are we making a mountain out of a molehill?”
“Have you ever seen Kitty that color, Jensen? Ever? She’s shy so she’s had her fair share of red cheeks, but that.” She nodded at the front door. “Those weren’t your run-of-the-mill red cheeks. Those were a whole caught-with-her-hand-in-the-cookie-jar-and-her-secret-is-out sort of red.”
All the evidence did imply his little sister was sweet on Tyson Ellis. And, no matter what she said, Tyson knew she existed. Everyone knew Kitty. Everyone liked Kitty. She was a likable person.
Twyla turned to face him. “If it happens to come up in conversation tonight, you could find out if he’s dating? Just to see. You don’t have to bring up Kitty or anything.”
“I won’t bring up Kitty.” He arched a brow. If they thought Kitty had been red now, he couldn’t imagine what’d happen if she heard he was asking Tyson about her. Growing up in a town where gossip was traded with recipe cards at Sunday’s church potluck or Tuesday night’s bingo games, he’d never been one to get involved with someone else’s business. If anything, he tended to avoid conversation that strayed into personal matters or potential scandal. Even something innocent. Like ice cream with Mabel. He shoved all things Mabel aside—like he’d done every time she’d popped to mind over the last two weeks.
Kitty. He’d been thinking about his sister. And Tyson. Right. Kitty was shy. Tyson was aloof. Kitty was on the sensitive side. Tyson was...not. Not openly, anyway. If Kitty didn’t give Tyson some sign or hint of interest, it was possible Tyson Ellis would never find out he had an admirer. Now that he knew, Jensen couldn’t let that happen—not if there was a chance saying something to Tyson gave the both of them some happiness. “But if it comes up, I’ll see what I can find out.”
Twyla didn’t bother hiding her excitement.
“But no matter what happens tonight, you two are going out tomorrow.” He grinned.
“Go on, then.” Twyla sighed, but she didn’t argue. “Go on in your wrinkled-up shirt and dusty boots.”
Jensen didn’t let her jabs get to him. He grabbed his wallet and headed out the door. It took a good fifteen minutes to get into town. As he was parking out front of Buck’s Honky-Tonk—the one and only honky-tonk in four counties—Tyson was walking up the steps to the front door. Jensen sat there for a second, mulling things over. Somehow, someway, he had to find out if Tyson was seeing someone or not. Not that he had the slightest idea of how to go about it. It’d been years since he’d talked about dating and courting let alone actually dating and courting. It’d all been pretty simple. Two people liked each other and they spent time with each other to see how they’d fit. At least, that was the way it should be. Easy.
Then again, he’d had Casey. All he’d had to do was follow her lead. Now... Well, the only woman to spark his interest considered him her enemy. He sighed, beyond frustrated. Why did his brain go there? Why did she keep popping up uninvited?
Tonight was about getting out of the house, relaxing and, maybe, seeing if Kitty had a chance at something more with Tyson Ellis. With any luck, the Briscoes wouldn’t even come up in conversation—especially Mabel...
Mabel Briscoe was off-limits. But it took effort to box up the memory of Mabel’s smile and the sway of her hair in the spring breeze or the sound of her laughter... He groaned, shaking his head. No more. He wasn’t going to waste any more time on Mabel Briscoe. Starting now.
