The Loneliest Cowboy
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Pamela Macaluso
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Chapter 1
Clint Slade strolled into the Rocking W Coffee Shop in search of a caffeine rush. He got a rush, all right, of the testosterone kind. Walking down the center aisle of the restaurant, holding a tray and heading toward a couple in the far corner booth was the shapeliest thing he’d seen in denim and boot leather. The cowbell tied to the knob clanked as he closed the door.
The woman didn’t look his way, or break stride. “I’ll be right with you.”
Take your time, honey.
Clint pushed his black cowboy hat farther back to give himself a better view. Watching her walk was a pleasure. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was he found so appealing, but damn, he sure liked the way she moved.
Her blond hair was braided in a single plait that hung down her back. He imagined himself untwining it, could almost feel its silky texture slipping through his fingers...
He watched as she refilled the customers’ glasses with iced tea. They were the only ones here, besides himself. In an hour, after the bar across the parking lot closed, the place would be packed with people grabbing an early breakfast before heading home to sleep off their night out. But at the moment, it was quiet.
The waitress turned in his direction. Blue...he hoped her eyes were blue.
At first, she was smiling. Then a look that might have been surprise, or fear, flashed across her face before her lips settled back into a polite smile. Once she had closed the distance between them, he forgot about the changes he’d noticed in her expression and stared into her blue eyes.
“Would you like a table, booth or a seat at the counter?”
What he’d like and what he was likely to get were two different things. He forced his mind away from the need that had been developing while he’d watched her and onto the need that had brought him into the coffee shop in the first place—his fatigue and the twenty miles left on his late-night drive home from San Antonio to the Diamond S Ranch.
“Just coffee to go.”
She nodded, then walked behind the counter, treating him to another look at the sway of her hips. He’d bet she was dynamite on the dance floor...not to mention between the sheets.
Attractive or not, he admonished himself silently, he shouldn’t be thinking about her that way. He had a strict rule about not sleeping with any woman who lived within a hundred miles of Harmony Ridge, Texas. He liked to keep his business interests, his personal life and the satisfying of his physical needs separate so they didn’t interfere with each other—it was a lesson he’d learned the hard way.
“New to town?” he asked. He hadn’t seen her working here before. Of course, he usually came in during the day. It had been years since he’d been part of the late-night breakfast crowd.
“Cream or sugar?” she asked, clearly not interested in making small talk.
“Back.”
She snapped a lid on the disposable cup containing his coffee, turned and carried it to the cash register.
After paying, he said, “You never answered my question. Are you new to town?”
She kept her gaze on the coins she was placing into the cash register drawer. Maybe she was afraid of him. Or maybe she was shy.
Something twisted in his gut as he looked at her. A sudden primal urge galloped through him. He wanted to take her in his arms, hold her, kiss her, sling her over his shoulder and carry her off.
Before he lost control and followed through, she looked up at him and said, “I...um...I grew up here, but I’ve been away for a while.”
Clint studied her more closely, trying to put a name to her face. He didn’t remember her. How could he have missed those baby blues and those feminine curves?
“Welcome home, then. Maybe once you’re settled in, we could take in a movie.” Okay, he thought, so it went against his rule, but what kind of self-respecting rule didn’t have at least one exception?
“I haven’t moved back permanently. I’m only here to help out while my father recovers in the hospital from his heart attack.”
When he’d called this morning, Smokey Joe, the cook at the Diamond S, had mentioned Lou Williamson was in the hospital. “You’re Lou’s daughter?”
She nodded.
Clint knew that Lou and Marge Williamson, owners of the Rocking W Coffee Shop and the bar, had a whole passel of kids. He’d graduated from high school with their daughter Heather, played football on the same team as their sons, Beau and Chuck, and knew Alice because she’d been waitressing in the bar when he’d reached drinking age, but he didn’t remember this woman. She looked about twenty-five or so.
“How’s your dad doing?”
She shrugged. “Doc Beechem wants him moved to San Antonio for tests as soon as he can travel safely.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. You can reach me at the Diamond S. The name’s Clint Slade.”
She looked him square in the eye. “I know who you are, Mr. Slade.” Her voice had a coolness to it that puzzled him.
He’d never had any gripes with the Williamsons, so far as he could remember. In his younger days, he’d broken his share of furniture in brawls at the bar, but he’d always paid for the damages. Maybe he’d imagined the coolness, he decided. After all, he was overly tired and, with her father in the hospital, she had to be under a lot of stress.
“Other than your dad,” he asked, “how are things with the rest of your family?”
“As well as can be expected.” She glanced away, then back at him. “How’s Teresa?”
Well, that explains her cool attitude.
She must think he’s still married. How long had she been away from Harmony Ridge?
“She keeps cashing her alimony checks, so I figure she’s fine.”
“You’re divorced?”
“Technically, five years ago. I was only married five months, so I feel more single than divorced.”
Whoa, where had that come from? he wondered.
He hadn’t consciously analyzed his feelings about his solo status before. Obviously his subconscious had worked out the matter. He didn’t mind. What bothered him was that he’d never told anyone anything this personal until now, had never been tempted to. So why had he spilled his guts to a total stranger?
“Did you refuse my movie invitation because you thought I was still married?”
“No, I’m here to help pick up the slack at the coffee shop and bar until my dad is better or until they hire someone else,” she told him. “I won’t have time for socializing.”
“Surely you’ll have some time off?” he said.
“From work, yes, but there’s all the household chores to take care of.”
It seemed logical enough to be the truth, rather than a brush-off. “Well, then, give my best to your family.” He tipped his hat, picked up his coffee and headed for the door.
He walked to his pickup, trying to convince himself that his body’s reaction to Ms. Williamson and his personal revelation had been a by-product of too little sleep, too many hours behind the wheel and the endless litany of sappy love songs the country and western station had been playing on his truck radio.
Then again, he thought, maybe sometime after he’d caught up on his sleep, he’d drop by the coffee shop again. Just to see...
Skye Williamson tried to convince herself that she didn’t care one bit that her daughter’s father didn’t know her from Adam. She watched until she could no longer see the taillights of Clint’s pickup moving away along the Interstate 10. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Clint Slade was as attractive as ever. Sure he looked six years older, but time had not detracted from his rugged good looks. And the familiar deep, smooth drawl hadn’t changed a bit. It still sent shivers up her spine.
His fingers had brushed hers when he’d paid for the coffee. For a moment, she’d almost taken his large, work-roughened hand in hers. The casual touch had conjured up a crystal-clear memory of how he’d once roamed his hands intimately over her body—more intimately than any man before, or since.
His invitation to the movies didn’t soften the disappointment that he hadn’t recognized her. She’d been several years behind him in school, but there were fewer students at Harmony Ridge High than in big-city high schools. They’d passed each other plenty of times in the hall, but Clint had always had his eyes on whichever girl he’d had on his arm. Plus, Skye had to admit, she’d been a late bloomer. By the time she was turning guys’ heads, Clint had practically been engaged to Teresa Donnelly, whose father owned the ranch next to the Diamond S. They’d formalized their engagement several months before Skye had left town.
Just then, the couple driving from Maine to California came to the register to pay their bill. She put on her brightest smile.
She’d spent six years dealing with the disappointment that in the dark and with as much as he’d had to drink, Clint hadn’t realized who he’d made love to. But knowing he didn’t even remember she existed hurt more than she would have guessed.
What did you expect? she asked herself. Violins? The swell of a full orchestra? Clint dropping to his knees to say he’d been looking for you for years, declaring his undying love?
It was an unlikely scenario, but she couldn’t help imagining how good it would have felt.
The rest of the late-night crew started arriving, then the customers. As busy as things got, Skye couldn’t banish the vision of Clint’s dark brown eyes watching her from beneath the shadow of his Stetson. The shape of his eyes and the thick dark lashes were the same as her daughter’s. But while Dawn’s eyes sparkled with laughter and curiosity, Clint’s flashed with sexual invitation backlit by confidence and a hefty dose of cynicism. It was a lethal combination.
When things finally slowed at the coffee shop, the regular staff voted unanimously that Skye should go get some sleep. She was grateful, knowing Dawn would be up early. After saying her goodbyes, she stepped out into the parking lot. Most of the vehicles in the lot were closer to the coffee shop, but there were still a few parked near the bar. She had worked the three-to-eleven shift before she’d left town, the bar parking lot was usually packed when she got off.
Her thoughts drifted back to one particular night. That night, she’d just gotten off work and was on her way home. She heard two voices having what sounded like an argument. The couple was moving in her direction and soon she recognized Clint Slade and Teresa Donnelly. The two had been an item for several months. Skye had assumed they were already lovers, but apparently not. From the sound of things, they weren’t likely to be unless Clint came through with a wedding ring.
Clint had a reputation for getting any girl he wanted, and Skye assumed Teresa’s refusal was a major blow to his ego. When Teresa stormed off in her car, Skye found herself feeling sorry for him. She walked over to Clint and invited him to the Rocking W for a cup of coffee.
“Coffee?” He looked at her as though she’d suggested a cup of rattlesnake venom. “You want me to drink coffee? That’s just what I need! Then I can be wide-awake, drunk and horny as hell.”
“I take it that’s a no.”
“Hey, one point for you, sugar.”
Skye turned and started walking away, sorry she’d even bothered trying to help.
Sure, Skye, she’d thought, as if your main concern was to be helpful...it couldn’t have anything to do with this being your one big chance to get Clint Slade to notice you’re alive.
“Where in blazes is my truck?”
Clint’s question wasn’t directed at her in particular, but since she was the only person within earshot, she answered. “Probably right where you left it.” She kept walking.
“Sugar, help me find my truck.”
She’d helped him find his truck, all right. At that point, she should have walked away, but he’d offered her a kiss as a reward. Young, naive and in awe of the sexy cowboy—how could she resist?
The arrival of an eighteen-wheeler snapped Skye’s thoughts back to the present. She finished crossing the parking lot, then the graveled road to her parents’ home. After entering the house as quietly as possible, she tiptoed past the living room where her aunt and uncle were asleep on the foldout couch. Her mother’s brother and his wife had driven over from El Paso to help out while her father was in the hospital. Skye continued up the stairs to the room she had shared with her two older sisters while growing up.
The room was lit by a soft night-light. In one of the bottom bunks, Dawn lay curled on her side, one hand resting under her cheek, the other holding on to a muchloved, stuffed Snoopy. Leaning over, Skye placed a gentle kiss on Dawn’s forehead and tucked the blankets snugly around her.
My baby...my little girl...my daughter.
A surge of possessiveness spread through her. Despite the similarity in their coloring and their eyes, Skye rarely thought of Clint when she looked at Dawn. Other than that one night six years ago, he hadn’t been part of their lives. But after seeing Clint Slade tonight, she couldn’t help thinking about him.
Dawn’s dark hair against the white pillowcase was a visual reminder that although Skye had been solely responsible for taking care of their child up to this point, Clint had provided half the genetic material that had created Dawn.
A dull ache began to throb behind Skye’s temples.
I can’t think about this now. I have to get some sleep so I can be rested to help out tomorrow, and a splitting headache won’t make it any easier.
She changed into her nightgown and climbed into the bottom bunk of the other bed. Although she was bonetired, her mind was busy reliving Clint’s visit to the coffee shop.
Terrific, Skye, start mooning over Clint Slade again. Nothing like asking for a bushel of trouble.
In an attempt to settle her thoughts, she looked around the familiar room. The two sets of bunk beds, nightstands and mirrored dresser were in pretty good shape considering they’d been hand-me-downs way back when. She looked across the room where Dawn was sleeping peacefully, completely oblivious to the turmoil her mother was going through.
The last time Skye had slept in this room, Dawn had been only a slight curve of her belly.
There wouldn’t be any tranquillity thinking along those lines, either. It was going to be a long night.
Clint shot into a sitting position. The bed covers were a tangled mess and the shout of “Wait! Don’t leave me!” hung in the air. He covered his face with his hands, then clawed his spread fingers through his hair.
Damn, he hadn’t had that dream for almost a year now. The shadowy sights in the darkened cab of his pickup, the sounds, feel and taste of a woman having her sexual awakening in his arms. Tonight the vision had been as real as always.
The vision was so vivid that the first time he’d had the dream, he’d thought it was really happening. He’d been so sure that he and Teresa Donnelly had made love that he’d presented himself on her porch the next afternoon with an engagement ring in his pocket.
Not only because it seemed like the right thing to do after she’d surrendered her virginity to him, but because the power of the lovemaking had convinced him that he’d found the female who’d been made just for him. Since he’d found her, it would be senseless to look any further.
He’d walked around with his cowboy boots in the clouds and a perpetual smug smile on his face all through their engagement and up until he’d slid on top of his new wife, entered her and encountered a barrier that he was so sure he’d already passed through.
That’s when he realized he’d been dreaming.
If he hadn’t had such a hangover the morning he’d woken up in his truck, he might have checked for more definitive physical evidence than his jeans being open and pushed low on his hips. But the lovemaking had seemed so real, he hadn’t even thought to question its authenticity.
Some of the ranch hands from the Diamond S confirmed that he’d left the bar with Teresa and hadn’t come back in. They’d noticed his truck when they’d left, but since the windows were fogged, they’d figured he and Teresa were making up after the fight that had driven them outside.
He was a little surprised that Teresa had left him to sleep it off in his truck, but he figured she’d tried to wake him with no luck until she’d had to hightail it home to meet her curfew. With his fuzzy memories of that night, for all he knew, she might have left when he was still awake.
The details weren’t important. The bottom line was that the best sex of his life had turned out to be a dream....
Since he was awake and not likely to be able to fall back to sleep, he got up, dressed and headed for the mess hall. He ate alone in the ranch house most mornings, but occasionally he joined the men.
“‘Mornin’, boss.” Smokey Joe waved a spatula in Clint’s direction. No one knew how old Joe was. He’d had a head full of gray and a beard to match as far back as Clint could remember.
Clint returned the greeting with a nod and took his place at the end of the breakfast line. The other cowboys added a respectful echo of the cook’s reception, which Clint acknowledged.
It was a diverse group. Some had been working on the Diamond S since before Clint was born. Others had been with the outfit off and on over the years, drifting in when the cattle and the open range called to them and drifting out when the lure of the open road was louder. Some of the men had been born and raised in Harmony Ridge, while others arrived from somewhere else on their way to who knew where.
Even though he knew most of them by name, an invisible wall stood between him and them. It had been there as long as he could remember. First, as a barrier between the workers and the boss’s son. Now, between the workers and himself as boss.
It was important that he have their respect, but he paid a price for it. While their loyalty to him and the Diamond S was undeniable, none of them were likely to invite him to join in their after-hours pursuits. And he wasn’t likely to tell any of them how he felt more single than divorced...he still couldn’t get over how he’d blurted that out last night.
Once he’d had his breakfast, Clint took his steaming mug of hot coffee and went to sit across the table from foreman Luke Conner.
“‘Mornin’, Clint.”
“Luke.”
“The boys have about finished breakin’ in the new horses.”
“Good. I saw a few more this week in San Antonio. If I buy them, do you think they can be ready to ride in time for the fall roundup?”
“I don’t see why not. June just started.”
They talked until Luke finished his breakfast and set off to work. Clint drank the rest of his coffee, then took the opportunity to slip into the kitchen and talk to Smokey Joe about Ms. Williamson.
The cook at the Diamond S always seemed to be on top of all the news in Harmony Ridge and the neighboring ranches. He knew the lowdown, and always managed to have meals ready on time. Clint didn’t know how the man found time to do both.
Joe didn’t have much information on her younger years, but he knew her name was Skye, she’d graduated from Harmony Ridge High and had worked in the coffee shop. “She was a cute enough kid, a bit on the scrawny side, but from what I hear, she’s grown up to be a real looker.” Joe winked and clicked his dentures together.
“Any idea where she’s been since leaving town?”
“Don’t know where all she’s been, but I hear she’s workin’ at a dude ranch, cookin’ up grub for city slickers who want to play cowboy for a week.”
Clint didn’t think there were any dude ranches within a hundred miles of Harmony Ridge. So Skye must live farther than that.
Just who are you trying to fool, pal? he asked himself.
When it came to Skye Williamson, his one-hundred-mile rule was already history.
“Mommy?” The question was a tiny whisper in Skye’s ear.
She opened her eyes and smiled at Dawn. “Good morning, angel. Did you have a good night?”
“I had trouble sleeping, Mommy. It’s too noisy here.”
Last night had been their first in Harmony Ridge. Although Skye’s old room was on the far side of the parking lot from the bar, she knew the bass line of the country and western music and raised voices from the parking lot carried. Added to that was the noisy comings and goings from the twenty-four-hour coffee shop only a narrow, graveled road from her parents’ home. Many nights Skye had drifted to sleep humming along with the rumble of an eighteen-wheeler’s engine.
As a child, she’d never known anything else, but it was new to Dawn.
“I know it’s noisy, but it’s only for a little while.”
“I want to go home before next bedtime.”
Me, too! Skye wanted to say. “When Grandpa’s all better we’ll go home,” she told her daughter.
It was too soon to know if her father would get “all better,” but she didn’t want to add that uncertainty to Dawn’s task of settling in to her new surroundings. She would carry the burden herself, along with the worry that Clint and Dawn might accidently cross paths.
Of course, since Clint hadn’t even recognized her last night, she was probably worrying needlessly. Even if he noticed a resemblance between himself and Dawn, he would most likely consider it a coincidence.
The rest of the day was filled with a number of odd jobs. Skye took her turn answering the phone and cleaning up around the house. She picked out a fresh set of clothes for her brother to drop off at the hospital for their mother. Mrs. Williamson said she wasn’t leaving until her husband regained consciousness or was stabilized enough for the trip to San Antonio.
At bedtime, Skye settled next to Dawn with a battered copy of The Cat In The Hat. Halfway through the book, she let her voice drift off to a whisper, watching Dawn for any sign that the little girl was still awake.
She closed the book, set it on the nightstand, then carefully scooted off the bed. Hopefully, the night noises wouldn’t bother Dawn tonight.
An hour later, Skye set off for the coffee shop. The minute her boots hit the asphalt parking lot, thoughts of Clint rushed to her mind. From the day Clint hit drinking age, it had been second nature for her to check the parking lot for his truck. She used to find it parked there several nights a week and always on Saturday night. Her heart would beat double time when she spotted it and she’d cross her fingers in hopes of catching a glimpse of him.
She’d been so young, in years as well as life experience. Her dates were few and far between, what with her work schedule and two big brothers who’d already established their reputations as watchdogs with Alice and Heather’s dates. It was a miracle anyone had been brave enough to ask her out at all.
The bravery had only gone so far, though. None of her dates ever took her to the drive-in or any of the local “parking” sites.
Maybe if she’d experienced more than a few chaste good-night kisses on her front porch, she wouldn’t have reacted so strongly to Clint’s kiss.
No, that was just wishful thinking. She doubted if anything could have prepared her for Clint’s kiss—or what had followed.
You really shouldn’t think about this now.
Focusing her gaze on a direct path to the coffee shop, she ignored the parking lot and the memories it evoked. Once she reached work, she tried to keep total concentration on her job.
She was having a moderate degree of success until shortly after midnight the clank of the cowbell announced a new arrival. It was Clint Slade.
