How a Cowboy Stole Her Heart Page 4

  They turned out the horses in silence and walked up to the house together. Inside the warm kitchen, Linda cut slabs of coffee cake and there was conversation and laughter around the table, just like old times. Meg reached for a mug on a high shelf and Clay found his gaze locked on her breasts. All Dawson had told him was that she’d had surgery, but Clay didn’t know to what extent. The curve seemed natural enough, and as her heels touched the floor again he quickly turned his eyes toward the plate of cake in the middle of the table.

  She poured the coffee and put cream and sugar next to his mug. He’d been close to the Briggs’s for so long she even knew what he took in his coffee. And yet through it all he realized he missed the old camaraderie that used to be between them in years past. The easy friendship was gone but something new, something bigger was taking its place.

  Something that made his heart catch. Something he didn’t want to even think about. He never wanted to put himself in a position to be left like his father was. And with Meg, the odds were all against him.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MEGAN twisted her scarf skillfully around her neck and adjusted the cap on her head, a funky black knitted item with a tiny peak at the front. She’d made herself come into town today, but she’d held back from going hatless. After seeing Clay’s reaction to her short hair she wasn’t quite ready to face a town full of curious neighbors. The way Mark Squires, the local bank manager, had looked at her when she’d taken off her cap had told her she’d made the right call. He’d been completely polite, but she didn’t miss how his gaze had fixed on her hair before traveling down to her face. His eyes had been understanding and kind, but she knew their meeting began with an automatic subtext, and it had all gone downhill from there.

  There would be no loan for the expansion. Meg put her hand in her coat pocket and ran her fingers over the rock inside. It had been a silly notion, thinking to rely on her old good luck charm. And yet she couldn’t bring herself to toss it away. It was just a rock, a piece of brown stone with an unusual golden streak running down the middle. But Clay had given it to her when they were just kids.

  He’d been angry in those days not long after his father had died and Stacy had come to live with him. Megan remembered it all quite clearly. “That’s very pretty,” she’d commented as he’d turned the rock over in his hands.

  Without a smile he’d handed it over. “Then it’s yours, Squirt,” he’d said, and she’d ignored the horrible nickname simply because Clay had given her something—even if it was just an ordinary rock.

  Today she’d dug it out of the box on her dresser and tucked it in her jacket. It seemed fitting that she have a talisman from the one person to be supportive of her dream. He’d been honest but he’d also encouraged her to keep at it and she’d clung to those words. Because of them she’d set up the meeting. It had been for naught but at least she’d tried. Now all she really wanted was a strong coffee and something sinfully chocolatey.

  The smells coming from Snickerdoodles bakery were too good to resist. She paused for a moment, wondering if she were up to coming face-to-face with Jen Laramie today. Clay was right about one thing—she’d been avoiding her friends since her return. It didn’t matter how many times she practiced lines in her head, she was never quite sure what she would say. She knew she was being a coward and she took a breath and dropped her shoulders. Perhaps with a glass counter between them it would be easier, less personal, a way to break the ice.

  She set her lips and put her hand on the doorknob. The bell above the door gave a happy jangle as she stepped inside the shop and its gorgeous blend of scents—brewing coffee, rich chocolate and spicy cinnamon.

  A young woman she didn’t recognize was behind the counter, and Meg found that despite her resolve she was relieved she wouldn’t have to face Jen. She would have to face her friends eventually—she couldn’t avoid them forever. Nevertheless, she was still thankful that today wasn’t the day, especially when she was so very disappointed at the morning’s outcome.

  She ordered a gooey, thickly frosted hazelnut brownie and a large dark roast coffee to go. Meg took her waxed paper packet and coffee cup and made her way outside again into the March sun. She sat on a nearby wooden bench and slid the brownie partly out of the wrapper. The first bite was heaven. The second, fortifying. She took a sip of the strong coffee and sighed. As comfort food went, it didn’t quite match up to her mother’s beef stew and fresh bread, but for right now it worked. Mark Squires had delivered the bad news and it was either buck up with a jolt of caffeine and cocoa, or wallow in self-pity about yet another thing that cancer had stolen from her. She’d rather work off the calories in the barn than waste precious time feeling sorry for herself.

  “Well, well. A public appearance.”

  Her head snapped up and she nearly bobbled her brownie as Clay’s deep voice slid over her nerve endings. Her tongue seemed to tangle in her mouth as she swallowed. She had put her crush behind her, so why in the world did she still find him so gorgeous? It was ridiculous that a rush of heat flew into her cheeks and her hands grew slippery at the mere sound of his voice.

  Today he wore a black Stetson and a brown ranch jacket above jeans and boots. His mouth turned up in one corner while his eyes twinkled at her, taking the sting out of the words, leaving her completely at his mercy. She remembered the way his gaze had followed her the last time he’d been at her house. She’d avoided eye contact, but she’d been completely aware of the way his eyes had zeroed in on her rather than focusing on his cake.

  She sighed and cut herself some slack. She was a woman after all. And Clay Gregory had that effect on just about every female in Larch Valley, including those with bifocals and old enough to be his grandmother. She reminded herself that he also knew exactly how charming he could be. It went a long way toward cooling her jets.

  She took a deliberate sip of coffee. “I’m not a total hermit, you know.”

  He chuckled. “I’m glad to hear it. And sitting on a bench in the sunshine no less. What’s the occasion?”

  She considered for a moment and then wondered what she had to lose by being truthful. “Drowning my sorrows.”

  The half smile evaporated. “Are you feeling okay?”

  Meg fought back irritation. This is how it would always be. Something would go wrong and everyone would automatically assume it was her health. “I’m fine.”

  When she didn’t elaborate Clay shifted his weight and looked pointedly at the seat beside her. “May I?”

  The fact that he asked rather than simply took it upon himself to sit down made something warm curl inside Meg’s stomach. For all her feminine reactions, they were friends. Or at least they used to be. She slid the brownie back inside the wrapper and nodded. “Of course.”

  His large form seemed to dwarf the wood and iron bench and Meg swallowed. When she met his gaze, his chocolate eyes held concern. Maybe things weren’t as over for her as she’d thought. Being next to Clay, having his undivided attention, brought all sorts of old feelings to the surface. Feelings that would be better if they remained buried, all things considered.

  “Anything I can do?”

  Of all the things she expected him to say, the simple offer had been furthest from her mind. “Not really,” she answered. This was her problem, and it was up to her to find a solution—if there was one. “Looks like my big plan is a bust after all.”

  His brow pulled together in the way she knew it would. “What do you mean, it’s a bust?”

  “I met with the bank today. I can’t get a loan, and no loan, no expansion. Simple.”

  Only three days ago she had been on horseback, looking down over the ranch and sharing her plans with Clay. She’d been able to see it all in her head—the new building with the riding ring, the horses grazing in the pasture, the corral where she taught youngsters how to ride and put their mounts through their paces.

  Now it was all gone in a puff of smoke, and she felt foolish for telling him anything. She hated failur
e, but in particular she hated failing in Clay’s eyes. Clay had always done every single thing he’d put his mind to. Nothing had ever stood in his way, no matter how much adversity he’d faced, and he’d had his share.

  “I’m sorry, Meg. Maybe there’s a way you can get the bank to reconsider.”

  She shook her head and tossed her coffee cup in the garbage can next to her bench. The flavor had suddenly gone stale and flat. “I don’t see how. I have no collateral to back me up. The only way is to get Mom and Dad to cosign and I refuse to let them take on the burden of this project. I won’t put the ranch at risk. They’ve just paid off the mortgage and they’re still just scraping by.”

  Clay remained silent, which only served to cement the facts in Meg’s mind. “Even if I did get financing, I would have a hard time insuring the loan,” she continued, the final nail in the coffin. “With my medical history…”

  Clay put his hand on her knee, a gesture she was sure was meant to be reassuring, but his touch seemed to burn through her trousers right through to her skin. She bit down on her lip.

  “Don’t give up yet, Meg. When life puts up a roadblock, you have three choices.”

  “I do?” She lifted her head and met his gaze. The half smile was back and he patted her knee before removing his hand.

  “You can give up, you can bust through it, or you can go around it.”

  “I don’t want to give up.”

  “Then don’t. It might take some time, but a way will come. You’ll see.”

  But she didn’t want to take her time. Time was too precious these days and she was hungry for everything. How could she explain that to him? She couldn’t, not without going into details about the last year. Details she wasn’t comfortable sharing and ones that she knew Clay wouldn’t be comfortable hearing. There was nothing like staring death in the eye to prompt a sense of urgency to live in the present.

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Of course I am. You’re not a quitter, Meg.” He nudged her arm. “So you stopped for a chocolate fix?”

  “I shouldn’t have. Lord knows it doesn’t solve anything.” She brushed off his question but couldn’t help the tiny ray of hope that still glimmered. Clay didn’t have a solution, but he wasn’t simply nodding his head and saying sorry she’d failed. He believed in her, and he had no idea how much that meant at this moment.

  He laughed. “I’ve lived with a woman long enough to know that chocolate brownies can cure a lot of ills.”

  Meg smiled. His aunt Stacy. The woman had stepped in when Clay had been a boy and raised him as her own. Now she was getting a second chance at love and Meg thought it was lovely. “Well, maybe.” She nudged his elbow back. “But eventually the brownie’s gone and reality is still there, staring you in the face.”

  “Reality is, you only fail if you quit. So don’t quit.”

  She turned her head to study his face. It was utterly relaxed, showing a confidence in her that she didn’t necessarily feel in herself. She might have confusing feelings where Clay was concerned, but today she was glad he’d stopped. She’d needed the dose of no-nonsense optimism.

  “Thanks,” she said quietly. “For the pep talk.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Lots of people will get behind you, you’ll see. Speaking of, did you see Jen inside?”

  “No. She wasn’t in.”

  “She’s not in the bakery as often these days, I hear.” He nodded at a neighbor passing by, then rested his elbows on his knees. “Andrew says he wishes she’d take it easier now that there’s a baby on the way. She has catering jobs booked right up until her due date he says. Stacy’s wedding is one of them.”

  “When’s Stacy’s big day?”

  Clay crossed an ankle over his knee. Lord, where did he get the energy? He couldn’t seem to sit still and it made Meg smile.

  “Three weeks. The second Saturday in April. She’s practically moved everything to Pincher Creek already.”

  Meg knew Stacy Gregory had reconnected with her high-school sweetheart and they were finally making a go of it. “It seems odd thinking of your place without her,” she said. For years it had been the two of them running the Gregory ranch. The thought of Clay alone in the rambling house left an empty feeling in Meg’s heart.

  “I won’t deny I’m going to miss her,” he admitted. “She’s all the family I’ve got. But I’m a big boy,” he replied with a low laugh. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Of course you can!” Meg felt flustered beneath the warmth of his steady gaze. “I never meant to imply otherwise.”

  “As long as you don’t start acting like Stacy. She’s been hovering and cooking and freezing things for weeks, like I’m going to starve if she’s not there.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why she has to flutter so much. We’ve shared the cooking before. I can manage to not poison myself.”

  At his disgruntled expression Megan felt her remaining jitters melt away. “It might not have anything to do with you. Maybe she’s nervous, Clay, and needs something to keep her hands busy.”

  He pondered for a moment. “No, I think it’s more than that. She’s been pushing me to bring a date to the wedding. I’m telling you, Meg, weddings make women stir-crazy. All of a sudden they think everyone in the universe should be paired up.”

  The air had warmed since the recent cold snap and Meg loved the feel of the early spring sun on her face. It was good to chat about a different topic, putting the focus on someone else and such a happy occasion. “Weddings are a big deal,” she answered, and at Clay’s raised brow, she amended, “So I’ve heard.”

  “I don’t know why she thinks I need a date.”

  “Someone to pin on your boutonniere?”

  “My what?”

  Meg really laughed this time. Putting Clay on the back foot was much more fun than thinking about everything that had gone wrong this morning. As distractions went, he was fairly helpful, and for the first time since coming home she felt a return to the easy friendship they’d enjoyed years past. She let her eyes sparkle at him. “See? That’s why. Your flower, silly, on your lapel. I’m assuming you’re in the wedding party.”

  “I’m giving her away. Then it’s just a dinner, right?”

  “And a dance, so Mom said.”

  “Well, whatever. Just because she’s getting married she thinks she can match me up. She suggested Tara Stillwell as if she didn’t already know Dawson’s staked his claim there.”

  Meg’s head whipped around. How had things become that serious so quickly? There were times she still felt so out of the loop while Clay seemed to know everything. “Staked his claim? She’s not a parcel of land, Clay.”

  “You know what I mean. There are rules and I’m no poacher. Besides, I’m not interested in Tara, for all she’s a nice girl.”

  “Are you interested in anyone?” she asked—and then held her breath waiting for an answer.

  What had made her ask? Why did it matter if he had his eye on a girl? Why shouldn’t he? It shouldn’t bother her in the least. But it did. She didn’t want him for herself anymore but the thought of him being with someone…it felt wrong.

  “No. When I said that she said I should ask Lisa Hamm or Emily Dodds—you know, Agnes’s granddaughter? It was all I could do to put her off. There’s a dance, she said.” He took off his hat and ran his hand over his thick, dark hair, clearly agitated. “If I’m not with someone it’ll be open season, she said. Which is ridiculous.”

  It wasn’t ridiculous at all. If Clay went unattached, there’d be a dozen pair of hungry eyes waiting to be asked to dance—or doing the asking themselves. It was nice to know Clay’s ego wasn’t so inflated that he realized it.

  That wouldn’t be a concern for Meg. If she went—and she hadn’t decided if she would or not—she’d be holding up a wall somewhere. Who would ask her to dance? She grimaced. She’d be a curiosity. Lots of people looking but keeping her at arm’s length. On one hand, it was what she wanted, because physical contact st
ill made her nervous. But on the other it was damned awkward in a social situation. Which was exactly why she’d avoided those thus far.

  “You’re a pretty eligible guy, Clay.” Meg turned on the bench so she faced him better. “You’re not exactly hard to look at. You’re in your prime with a lovely ranch all to yourself. Where Larch Valley’s concerned, you’re prime marriage material.”

  Clay looked so horrified Meg nearly choked on the laughter that bubbled up. “Shut up!” he said, putting his hat more firmly on his head. “That’s not true.”

  “Oh, it so is,” she answered, having fun now. Clay had done his share of teasing over the years and it was gratifying to put the shoe on the other foot. “Add in the fact that you’ll be all spic-and-span in a suit and they won’t be able to resist. They’ll be falling all over you, wanting to dance. To catch your eye. Maybe something else.” She waggled her eyebrows for effect. “And then there’s the throwing of the bouquet and the tossing of the garter…”

  “Megan!” He said it loudly enough that a passerby turned to stare before carrying on down Main Avenue. He lowered his voice. “I know you’re teasing but that’s not funny. I’m not interested. Not in anyone. Definitely not in marriage.”

  Once more that odd little hole of emptiness threatened to widen. The bitterness she’d always sensed in him where marriage was concerned hadn’t mellowed over the years. Not that she could blame him. How did one get over being abandoned by their one remaining parent? Times had been rough for the Gregory family, but Clay’s mom hadn’t toughed it out. For better or worse, sickness and health…that hadn’t mattered. They’d never really talked about it, but Megan could understand at least that much. Clay hadn’t had the strong example of a good marriage that she’d had growing up.

  “All I’m saying is that Stacy is on to something. If you went with a date, you’d save yourself a lot of trouble. You just have to find someone with no romantic aspirations.”