The Cowboy Takes a Wife
highlight_author
Trish Milburn
highlight_reads
16.6K
highlight_chapters
17
HarlequinChapter One
Devon Newberry placed the skein of bright orange yarn and a dozen vanilla-scented candles in the paper bag and handed it across the counter to Merline Teague.
“Thanks so much,” Devon said as she smiled at the older woman, the mom of local sheriff Simon Teague and his two brothers.
“No, thank you, dear. Your candles keep the gallery smelling wonderful.”
“I’m glad. I need to get by there soon. I haven’t been in a while.”
“Oh, you should come by next week. We’re having an opening for a new exhibit of art created by students at the high school. I’m just in awe of the talent they have.”
“That sounds wonderful. I’ll try to find some time to see it.”
“Speaking of, I better run. I still have a lot of work to do to prepare. Thanks again,” Merline said as she lifted her bag and headed toward the door of Devon’s shop, A Good Yarn.
Devon sank onto the stool behind the cash register, grateful to get off her feet for a moment. The shop had been busy all afternoon, which was wonderful but also tiring. And she still had to prep the daily deposit and attend a meeting at the Blue Falls Tourist Bureau about the new Arts and Crafts Trail. But she wasn’t going to complain about having a rush of customers, not when the fear of being an abject failure was as fresh now as it’d been when she’d opened her shop on Blue Falls’ Main Street. Not when her mother’s assertion that she was making a stupid mistake still echoed in her mind if she let it.
No, she was beyond thankful that the turning of the seasons to autumn put people in the mood to buy knitting supplies, hand-dipped candles and the various other homey touches Devon offered, even though the temperatures were still in the upper eighties during the day.
She let her gaze drift over the variety of displays she’d taken great care to create in order to best showcase both the products she made herself and those she chose from other sources. A well of pride rose within her. She was closing in on the two-year anniversary for A Good Yarn and felt like celebrating. She needed to plan a special event to bring loads of people into the shop that day.
She glanced at the clock on the wall, surprised by how late it was. Planning for her own event would have to wait until after the meeting about the one already in the works. As she stood, she thought maybe it could even wait until tomorrow. After the Arts and Crafts Trail meeting, she just might have a date with a luxurious bath and a good book.
She was in the midst of completing the day’s tally and mentally picking out what book she wanted to read during her bath when her cell phone rang. When she saw the display, her good mood evaporated. And then she felt guilty about her immediate reaction. She shouldn’t feel dread when faced with having to talk to her mother. But then, most people probably didn’t anticipate disapproval every time they talked to their moms, either.
Not wanting to be late for the meeting, she ignored the call and let it go to voice mail. With the bank deposit in hand, she blew out the pumpkin-spice candle and headed out the door, locking it behind her.
After a quick zip to the bank to make the deposit, she walked down the street to the Tourist Bureau office. The parking lot was full of vehicles, and several people were still making their way inside. Looked like a nice turnout, which was good since the self-guided trail that was to lead tourists from one artist’s or craftsperson’s gallery or shop to the next throughout the county was set to launch in mid-October, just in time for holiday shoppers. From the moment Gina Tolbert, executive director of the Tourist Bureau, had floated the idea to Devon, she’d known she wanted A Good Yarn to be a part of the trail. She was all for anything that brought attention to local artists and people who created products through sustainable means.
She said hello to Ella Garcia and her fiancé, Austin Bryant, as she made her way into the crowded entryway. As she scooted past a knot of people who’d paused to chat, she bumped into someone.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said as she turned to see whom she’d nearly bowled over. And had to look up, right into the bright blue eyes of Cole Davis.
She swallowed as her brain chose that moment to forget its job.
“Are you okay?”
Huh? Did he say something? Oh good grief, you’re acting like an idiot, like an awkward teenager with a crush on the high school quarterback. Yes, she’d been that awkward teen, but Cole hadn’t been the quarterback. No, he’d been the star of the school’s rodeo team, and then he’d ridden his way onto the pro circuit.
“Uh, yeah,” she said, her brain finally remembering she was supposed to say something. “Fine.” She glanced around the room, pretending that she wasn’t flustered. “Crowded in here.”
“Devon, honey, good to see you.” Barbara Davis stepped up beside her son, all smiles as usual. She looked like the perfect grandmother, only without the grandchildren.
“You, too.”
Barbara motioned toward a row of chairs about halfway back the meeting room. “I found us some seats.”
Devon saw that there were three empty chairs midway down the row and realized Barbara meant for Devon to join them. Since she couldn’t come up with a polite way to refuse, she headed for the designated spot, intending to take the farthest chair so she’d have Barbara between her and Cole. Her plan was foiled a moment after Devon stepped past the first people in the row to reach her seat.
“You go next, Cole,” Barbara said. “If you sit in the other chair, poor Ella won’t be able to see anything but your back.”
Devon looked at the row behind her and noticed that Ella and Austin had indeed found seats there. Too late to make a change now without looking like a flake. Oh well, she’d just concentrate on what Gina had to say and start brainstorming ideas for her anniversary celebration.
But when Cole sank onto the chair next to her a few seconds later, she realized that if she left this meeting knowing one word Gina or anyone else said, it would be a miracle worthy of the name.
Never had she found concentrating so difficult. She focused all her attention on Gina and the report of how many participants were signed up to take part in the trail—currently fifteen—but then Cole shifted beside her. He rubbed his large, tanned, powerful-looking hand down his jean-clad thigh, and she could swear she gulped loud enough to be heard in Oklahoma.
That thigh had gripped the side of countless mean bulls during his years on the pro rodeo circuit. She remembered happening upon a competition on TV once. She’d nearly brought blood to her lip from biting it as he rode. When he’d been tossed through the air as if he weighed no more than a gnat and slammed into the dirt of the arena, she’d actually cried out, startling her cat so much that Honeysuckle had fled into the next room.
Devon dragged her attention back to what Gina was saying, something about how the trail was going to be laid out. Doing her best to ignore the man beside her, Devon made a point of taking notes on a small notepad. But she would swear she could feel Cole’s body heat. Or was that her own body temperature going whacko? It was as if he was giving off a megadose of pheromones. And for a guy who worked on a ranch, around cows and horses, he sure did smell good. Like he’d just stepped out from a shower and dried off with a fresh towel straight from the dryer.
She mentally rolled her eyes. Honestly, it wasn’t as if she never saw the man. Granted, that was usually from a safe distance.
She dragged her thoughts back to the presentation again, raising her hand when Gina asked who all was willing to do a prize giveaway on the inaugural trail weekend. Out of the corner of her eye, Devon noticed Barbara raise her hand, as well. Whoever won one of Barbara’s handmade quilts would be one lucky duck. The woman was very skilled with needle and thread and with coming up with original designs.
Devon was confused, however, when Barbara tapped her son’s hand, indicating he should raise his, as well. Did that mean Barbara was going to do two giveaways? That was beyond supportive of the town’s new venture. When Cole started to say something, Barbara shushed him as if he were still a little boy. He obediently raised his hand.
Not wanting to show how humorous she found the entire mother-son exchange, Devon pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. How cute was a guy who still minded his mama.
Stop thinking about how cute he is. Think of something else, anything else!
Like how his high school girlfriend and eventual wife, Amy Frost, had been a complete witch to Devon back when the three of them had attended Blue Falls High. Those interactions were proof that it didn’t matter how much money you had. If someone didn’t think you dressed the right way, liked the right things, befriended the right classmates, they could make your life miserable.
Of course, thinking about Amy led to a memory of Cole during that same period, a memory that had taken on enormous importance to her teenage self. Maybe it still held more than it should.
“I swear, Devon, you were born into the wrong family,” Amy had said as she sat nearly glued to Cole’s side at their lunch table. She made a dismissive gesture toward Devon’s loose cotton boho pants and oversize sweater. “You have the money to buy great clothes and you come to school looking like you picked through the donation bin at church.”
Devon swallowed hard, trying not to cry. Could she stop Amy’s barbs if she’d just wear the things her mother constantly brought home to her from Austin or San Antonio? No, she just couldn’t do it, and not only because the outfits were totally not her style. Her mother was also oblivious to the fact that they weren’t even the right size. The pants and dresses and stylish tops were made for a person three sizes smaller than Devon. It made her want to scream every time a new shopping bag showed up on her bed. What was ironic was a lot of those items ended up at the same church clothes’ closet Amy accused her of frequenting as a recipient.
“Cut it out, Amy.”
Devon’s heart skipped a bit. Had she heard Cole correctly? Had he just defended her? Not only was he so gorgeous it made Devon want to weep, but he was gallant, as well.
More evidence that Devon wasn’t like other kids her age. How many of them even had the word gallant enter their brains if it wasn’t part of their homework?
“Any questions?”
Gina’s voice and the rustling of people around her brought Devon back to the present. Heat rushed to her face because she’d allowed herself to get sucked back to those awkward, not-very-happy days of high school, complete with the accompanying feelings. She was annoyed that she had to remind herself that she wasn’t the person she’d been back then.
She glanced briefly to her right, to where Cole was pushing himself to his feet. How much of the person that Cole had been in high school still resided in him? Or had a life on the road away from Blue Falls, and eventually away from Amy, made him into a man who didn’t really resemble his younger self?
Devon shook her head and grabbed her purse. She didn’t have any business wondering such things. She’d worked hard to craft a life for herself that she enjoyed, and she didn’t need a man to make her complete. Though she couldn’t seem to get that through her mother’s head.
Along with just about everything else about herself. Her business, her clothes, her hairstyle, where she lived—you name it, her mom had something to say about it. Typically critical.
Once Devon was standing, she made eye contact with Barbara. “I take it you’re going to take part in the trail with your quilts.”
“Yes. I have a list of design ideas as long as my arm. But we mainly came for Cole.”
Devon continued to stare at Barbara, confused.
Barbara chuckled. “That look on your face says I was right to bring this one along tonight.” She patted Cole’s upper arm. “We need to get the word out about his sculptures.”
Sculptures? Devon was sure her confusion had left furrows on her forehead so deep you could plant crops in them.
“Turns out he has a real talent for making these beautiful metal sculptures,” Barbara said.
“Mom,” Cole said, sounding a little embarrassed.
Devon barely suppressed another grin.
“I don’t know that beautiful is the right word,” Cole said as he shifted his gaze to Devon. “I just weld together old scrap pieces that nobody wants.”
“Pfftt,” Barbara said with a dismissive wave. “Don’t listen to him. I stick by my assertion that his work is beautiful. You should come out to see it sometime.”
Devon caught her mouth before it fell open. The last thing she needed to do was spend more time with Cole. At least not until she managed to purge her brain of those long-ago memories of him and got used to seeing him around town again. She knew he’d been back living on his family’s ranch with his mom for a few months, but she’d probably seen only him twice.
You know it was twice—once at the Primrose Café and once when he’d been talking with Liam Parrish outside the hardware store.
She’d heard he’d retired from the rodeo circuit, but that was about it. And she hadn’t been about to start asking questions about him. That would draw too much unwanted attention and questions directed back at her.
“Mom, I’m sure Devon is busy.”
Once again, Devon pulled herself back to the present, hoping she hadn’t offended Cole by being so obviously surprised by the fact that he was an artist, one who was going to take part in the Arts and Crafts Trail.
“Maybe after the trail’s opening weekend, I’ll leave the shop in Mandy’s hands and drive it myself. It’d be good to be familiar with all the stops in case anyone asks about specifics.”
What would Cole look like working on a sculpture? Every time she’d thought of him in the years since high school, his image was always attached to rodeo and bulls. She imagined him with a welding iron, shaping pieces of metal to his will, sweat drenching his body to the point that he had to remove his shirt.
Ahhh, she couldn’t think like that. She had to get out of there before she said or did something monumentally stupid and embarrassing. A glance at the smile on Barbara’s face made Devon wonder if the older woman had some idea the route Devon’s thoughts had been traveling. Forget about embarrassing. More like mortifying.
When Ryan Teague stopped to speak to Cole and Barbara, Devon made for the exit as if the back of her pants were on fire.
She was already a few steps out the front door when she stopped. Because she’d evidently ticked off fate today, her mother was walking straight toward her and it was too late to make an escape. When Devon spotted the nice-looking man in an impeccable suit accompanying her mother, a sinking feeling appeared and immediately dropped to the bottom of Devon’s stomach.
“Devon, there you are, dear,” her mother said, too bright and cheery. Devon wondered if anyone besides her could tell that it was a facade. “I think something’s wrong with your phone. I tried to call you earlier. I thought you’d want to know so you can check on it.”
Her mother knew good and well Devon had most likely ignored the call, but this was all a show for the man beside her. He might be a perfectly nice guy, but the mere fact that Devon knew what was coming soured her on him. Not to mention he didn’t look at all like the kind of man she found attractive. His blond, perfect, high-end-magazine-ad appearance didn’t fit in here in Blue Falls, and he certainly wasn’t a good fit for Devon.
Not like Cole.
Stop thinking about him, especially in front of your mother.
Devon wasn’t entirely sure her mother didn’t have the ability to read minds. Angela Newberry just chose to ignore what she found there.
Her mother gave Devon’s outfit—white drawstring cotton pants with pale orange pinstripes and a billowy orange peasant blouse—a disdainful look that her companion couldn’t see.
“Sweetheart,” Angela said, pouring on the mother-daughter closeness act a little thick, “I didn’t want you to miss the opportunity to meet Steven Jackson. He’s an attorney for one of your father’s important customers, in town only for today. I told him he simply couldn’t leave Blue Falls without exploring the charm of our fair town.”
Devon resisted the urge to strangle her mother, instead deciding to beat her at her own game.
“I wouldn’t dream of denying you that opportunity, Mom. After all, you know more about the town than I do since you’ve lived here longer.”
The slight narrowing of her mother’s eyes told Devon she was going to pay for that comment later when Steven Jackson was nowhere near to hear it. Still, her mother didn’t listen to reason. She simply refused to believe that Devon didn’t like any of the men her mother deemed appropriate for the only daughter of one of the county’s wealthiest families.
“I can’t, dear,” her mother said. “I have a meeting that was planned before I knew Steven would be here.”
Yeah, right.
“If it’s an inconvenience, please don’t worry about it,” Steven said.
Before Devon could respond, her mother said, “Oh, nonsense. I’m sure Devon is free and would love to be your tour guide. I just heard that they have a new chef at the Wildflower Inn, too. You’ll have to try it out and let me know how the food is.”
Devon wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if poor in-the-middle Steven could see the steam coming out of her ears.
“There you are, sweetie. Sorry we got held up in there.”
Devon turned to Barbara, who’d stepped up beside her. Cole had to be close by, but Devon didn’t look for him. She wasn’t willing to risk that certain rush of heat up her neck and into her face in front of her mother.
“You ready to go?” Barbara asked Devon.
She was about to ask Barbara what in the world she was talking about when she realized the older woman was throwing her a lifeline. It didn’t matter why, Devon decided to look at it as a gift from the universe and roll with it.
“Yes.”
She could almost feel the anger radiating off her mother.
“Excuse us, Barbara, but Devon was making plans with Steven.”
Devon barely kept herself from telling her mother she was being rude. How could anyone be rude to Barbara Davis? She was as sweet as pie.
“Devon already has plans to have dinner with us,” Barbara responded. Was that a little edge to her voice? What was going on here?
Her mother’s expression revealed a moment of shock, over in less than a blink when she pasted on her fake smile. “Perhaps you can reschedule. Steven is only in town from Dallas for this evening.”
Steven looked like he wanted to be snatched up by a giant eagle and carried right out of this really uncomfortable situation. Devon didn’t blame him.
Devon sensed movement on her left a moment before someone wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Not someone. Cole.
She stiffened, afraid that if she moved he would disappear, taking his delicious warmth and fresh, clean, honest scent with him.
“You ready for dinner?” he asked. “I’m starving.”
She was starving, all right. Starving for air. Starving for a regular heartbeat. Starving for the ability to be able to look up into his eyes without revealing just how much his simple gesture was rocking her world.
lists_shelf_title
view_allreading_lists:lists_shelf_subtitle
