Opposing the Cowboy Read online

  “My boss from Cowbelles gets back tomorrow,” she replied, swinging her backpack over her shoulder. “I won’t have time.”

  “Okay,” he said, and stood up. He plucked his hat off the table and settled it on his head. “What time should I be there on Saturday?”

  “If you’re serious about going through anything, you’ll need all day. Let’s start in the morning. Eight?”

  “I’ll be there.” He watched her as she slipped out of the coffee shop, her step light, her hips swaying in a way he found utterly hypnotic.

  That conversation had gone about as well as he could have hoped—really, he reminded himself, it was no surprise that LeeAnn so vehemently opposed the idea of drilling on her land, given her job as a yoga instructor. Those types tended to despise everything about what he did.

  But that didn’t mean she couldn’t like him, right?

  He sighed, irritated with his own response to the woman.

  As much as he’d liked his plan to hire her as his assistant when he came up with it, he was beginning to think that perhaps he wasn’t thinking logically about her at all.

  The sooner he finished this job and moved into his new position, the better off he would be.

  So why was he looking forward to Saturday so much?

  Chapter Six

  LeeAnn was only one long talk away from figuring all this out.

  Because that’s what best friends were for, right? She had been ecstatic the night before when she checked her phone messages and discovered that Kylie had gotten home a day early. She’d called the store owner back after she had washed off the dust from crawling through the attic to pull out the single box of paperwork she knew existed, and they had made a date to meet up at Azteca for dinner—LeeAnn had suggested lunch, but Kylie had wanted the day to unpack and get settled at home.

  Now they were sitting at a back table, and LeeAnn had begun telling Kylie everything.

  Well, almost everything. She hadn’t exactly detailed how…unsettled…being around Jonah made her feel.

  But she had given all of the pertinent facts.

  How I feel isn’t significant to the story.

  “Wait. You fell down?” Kylie leaned over the table between them, her mouth hanging slightly open. “You? You’re the most graceful person I know.”

  “Oh, it gets worse.” LeeAnn dropped her purse into the unoccupied chair beside her. “Then I kissed him.”

  Kylie leaned back in her seat. “Okay. Back up. Start at the beginning. You walked into the new diner and saw Darrell.”

  LeeAnn nodded and began talking. By the time she had finished, Kylie had both hands over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter.

  “Oh, sweetie,” Kylie said. “And now you’re going to work for him? That’s…I don’t even know what that is.”

  “It’s screwed up, is what it is.” Rubbing her eyes with her knuckles, LeeAnn shook her head. “I cannot believe my life.”

  Kylie ripped open a pink packet of sweetener and dumped it into her tea. Then she tilted her head and gazed at her friend for a long moment. LeeAnn waited for her to say something.

  Anything.

  But preferably something insightful.

  Maybe even inspirational.

  “So,” Kylie finally asked, “which Superman?”

  “What?” It felt for a moment like the room had tilted—the question was so unexpected that LeeAnn had to shake her head to try to make sense of it. “What do you mean, which Superman?”

  “I mean, are we talking the nineteen fifties television Superman? Because honestly?” Kylie pursed her lips and shook her head. “Not so hotso.”

  “No. Not that one.” With a nod of thanks to the waitress who had set down their drinks, LeeAnn pulled a menu out of the stack on the table, and, taking a sip of her own, unsweetened tea, she narrowed her eyes at her friend. “You know what I mean. Dark hair, blue eyes. Pretty face.”

  “So maybe Christopher Reeve’s Superman?” Kylie squeezed a lemon into the drink with one hand and used the other to stir with her straw. “He was pretty.”

  LeeAnn opened her menu and stared down at it, but she couldn’t focus enough to even read the options. “Why are we having this conversation?”

  “Oh, I’m just getting started. There’s Tom Welling’s Smallville Superman.” LeeAnn’s friend nibbled thoughtfully on her bottom lip. “Too young in the early seasons, but by the end of the series? He’d probably do.”

  LeeAnn sighed and shook her head. “You’re insane. You realize that, right?”

  “Then there was that guy from Lois & Clark in the nineties. He was totally hot.” She began ticking them off on her fingers. “The Superman Returns guy? Gorgeous. But really, I hope it’s not him, because that’s a stupid movie. Superman is not a baby daddy.”

  “I hope not,” LeeAnn muttered.

  Flashing a grin at her friend, Kylie kept counting. “There was a Prius ad, but I’m not sure that counts. And then there’s Henry Cavill.” She fanned herself as she took a sip of tea. “He’d be my choice.”

  “How do you know all of this? I don’t think I could name even one Superman actor,” LeeAnn said.

  “Are you kidding? I’ve been on the road with my musician boyfriend for weeks. I’m glad he has Netflix in the tour bus.”

  “Seriously? Calling that behemoth a bus is like calling the Ritz a motel. Of course Cole’s bus has Netflix. Anyway, surely you could think of much better things to do than watch old Superman shows.”

  A pink blush crawled across Kylie’s cheeks. “I got bored watching the rehearsals all the time.”

  “Yeah. Rehearsals. That’s what I was talking about,” LeeAnn said, her tone turning dry. “So, really, you hid in the tour bus the whole time? Weren’t you checking out new cities, finding all the local hot spots?”

  “I wasn’t hiding,” Kylie protested. “I did all that stuff, too. Sort of.”

  “Admit it,” LeeAnn said. “You barely set foot out of the bus unless Cole was with you. You spent all that time watching television and waiting for him to get done rehearsing so he could go out with you.”

  “We have gotten off topic.” Kylie finally flipped open her own menu. “We are discussing your love life, not mine.”

  LeeAnn snorted. “My love life is nonexistent, unless you count being dumped on my ass, and then falling on my ass, as a love life.”

  “You forgot kissing Superman,” Kylie teased. “Then going to work for him.”

  “I’ve lost my mind, haven’t I?” LeeAnn moaned, covering her eyes with her hands.

  “You know you can come to work full-time with me.” Kylie’s tone changed from teasing to earnest, and she stretched one hand out, placing it on the table in front of her friend. “You don’t have to take the job with this guy if you don’t want to. You’re not stuck having to take his offer, even if stupid TexZen doesn’t realize how much they need you.”

  “Thanks,” LeeAnn said, placing her own hand atop Kylie’s. “I really do appreciate it. But Cowbelles can’t support both of us yet. Don’t forget, I’ve been running the store for the last three weeks—I’ve seen the numbers.”

  “We can make it work,” Kylie said.

  “No.” LeeAnn shook her head. “This is really the best option. I’ll go back to working weekends and whatever other times you need me. Anyway, if the mineral rights don’t belong to me, I need to know about it.”

  “If they do belong to you?” Kylie asked. “What then?”

  “If they do, then I will have legal proof and can send the Natural Shale lawyers packing when they show up.” She gave a determined nod.

  “And Superman? Will you send him packing, too?” LeeAnn didn’t like the intent stare her friend gave her as she asked the question.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Him, too.” She tried to put conviction into her tone, but it came out sounding more tentative than she had intended.

  Why did saying it send a pain through her stomach?

  “Okay, then,” Kylie
said. “Now that I’m back, you don’t have to come in for a few weeks—unless you need the cash. But it sounds like he’s paying you enough that it won’t be a problem.”

  LeeAnn made a small noise of agreement, but she was still thinking about sending Jonah away. Dropping her hands into her lap, she stared down at them, her fingers twisting around each other.

  She wanted to get rid of him. Getting rid of Jonah Hamilton was high on the top of her to-do list.

  Then why did the thought of it make her anxious enough to want to start doing back bends in the middle of the restaurant?

  When she glanced up, she realized that Kylie was still staring at her—and had been for quite some time.

  “Well, then,” her best friend said, picking up her menu and nodding to herself. “I’m guessing he’s Henry Cavill hot.”

  “So, anything else exciting happen while I was gone?” Kylie asked after dinner as they strolled down the sidewalk toward Cowbelles.

  LeeAnn shrugged. “I tried to quit cursing again.”

  With a laugh, her friend looped her arm through LeeAnn’s and hugged it to her side. “And how did that go?”

  “Not too well,” LeeAnn admitted.

  “I figured as much.” Kylie laughed again. “I know you really want to be the amazing yogi woman, all serene and calm. But you might as well accept that fact that at best, you’ll be something of a redneck yogi.”

  “I am not a redneck,” LeeAnn protested.

  “Not really,” Kylie said, “but you’re a Texan. You own a ranch and a horse. And you can’t quit cursing, no matter how hard you try. In fact, you kind of curse like a sailor.”

  “Aw, hell,” LeeAnn said in her best Texas drawl, fighting a grin. “I am a redneck yogi, aren’t I?”

  The two women were half bent over with laughter as they passed the parking lot that backed up to the Wagon Wheel Diner. “Oh my God,” LeeAnn said, dragging them to a halt, staring over Kylie’s back. “I can’t believe he did that.”

  “Can’t believe who did what?” Kylie pulled away and glanced around nervously.

  LeeAnn waved her hand wildly in the direction of the parking lot. “That smart-ass put testicles on his truck.”

  “What are you talking about?” Kylie asked.

  LeeAnn took her friend by the shoulders and spun her around to face the parking lot, then pointed at the back of the truck. “See? Right there. Those Truck Nutz hanging off that green pickup?”

  Kylie nodded. “Okay, I see them.”

  “Last night,” LeeAnn said, “I told Jonah that I hated those things. So he went out and got some, just to screw with me.”

  Kylie’s mouth opened once or twice before she finally replied. “Are you sure?”

  “They’re right there.” LeeAnn’s voice rose in indignation. “Look at them.”

  “I mean, are you sure that’s Jonah’s truck?” Pressing her lips together, the store owner squinted a bit at her friend.

  “Of course I’m sure. How many old green pickups do you see around here?” Spinning in a complete circle, LeeAnn indicated the whole parking lot.

  Kylie made a noncommittal noise.

  “I can’t let him get away with it.” A decisive nod punctuated the statement.

  “Get away with what?” Kylie asked. “It’s his truck. He can do whatever he wants to with it.”

  “Not this time. Come on.” LeeAnn grabbed her friend’s hand and began tugging her toward the sidewalk.

  Kylie planted her feet on the asphalt. “Where are we going?”

  “To the hardware store.” With one final, sharp tug, LeeAnn made sure both women were headed out of the parking lot. “They’re open until nine, I think.”

  Kylie’s last comment sounded more resigned than actively glum. “This isn’t going to end well, is it?”

  Chapter Seven

  Fifteen minutes later, armed with a brand-new pair of gardening shears, the two women stood in the alley behind the diner.

  LeeAnn crouched down low and peered around the corner. Catching a glimpse of movement near the green pickup, she ducked back behind the brick wall again.

  “I really think this is a bad idea,” Kylie hissed from behind her.

  “No, it’s not,” LeeAnn said, trying to keep her voice to a whisper. “Those things are offensive. Seriously, what man in his right mind hangs plastic testicles off the trailer hitch of his truck?” She didn’t give Kylie a chance to respond before continuing. “I’ll tell you who. A rude, sexist, obnoxious jerk whose truck takes the place of any real masculinity he might have. That’s who.” By the time she finished her mini rant, her voice had risen to something below a shout.

  Kylie slapped at her back. “Would you shut up, please? If you’re really going to do this, just go, already.”

  Nodding, LeeAnn hefted the garden shears in one hand. “I still say we should have tried to find some real bolt cutters.”

  “I think those might be illegal,” her friend said.

  “And I think that Truck Nutz ought to be outlawed, too.” Standing up straight, LeeAnn put her back against the wall. This time, there was no movement when she looked out at the truck. “Okay,” she said. “You come with me and keep an eye out.”

  The two of them scuttled out from behind the building and into the parking lot, dashing from car to car to avoid the yellow pools of light under the lampposts dotting the pavement.

  When they reached the pickup, LeeAnn crouched down and grabbed Kylie’s hand, dragging the shop owner down beside her. “Look at these,” she hissed, gesturing at the dangling ornament. “They’re tacky and disgusting.”

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Kylie said. “I don’t want to do this. I think castrating someone else’s truck might be even more illegal than carrying bolt cutters.”

  “You know he thinks they make him manlier.” LeeAnn centered the shears on the coated wire that attached the offending decoration to the hitch.

  “And Cole will never let me hear the end of it if we get caught.” Kylie began chewing on her bottom lip—a nervous habit she’d had for as long as LeeAnn had known her.

  “He’s. Better. Off. Without. Them.” Tiny grunts punctuated each word as LeeAnn began applying pressure to the shears, working to force them through the wire.

  “We’ll end up in the tabloids again.” Clasping her hands together, Kylie rocked back and forth slightly. “I can see the headlines: Cole Grayson’s Girlfriend Arrested for Emasculating a Truck.”

  “There,” LeeAnn said triumphantly. “One wire down, one to go.”

  “That’s it. I’m going to jail,” Kylie whispered.

  With a slight thunk, the shears severed the second wire, and the flesh-colored object fell into LeeAnn’s waiting palm. “Gross,” she said.

  “What are you going to do with them?” her friend asked.

  “Hang them over my door, maybe? No, wait. I know—let’s use them to replace the bell at Cowbelles.” She snickered, bouncing the plastic testicles in her hand. “We can change the name to Cowballs.”

  “Yeah, right. Great. Let’s get out of here.” Kylie stood up, then froze in place as headlights swept across her face. “Someone else is here,” she hissed.

  “Of course they are. It’s a parking lot. Let’s go.” LeeAnn stood up, tugging at her friend’s sleeve as she began to turn around.

  “LeeAnn? Is that you?”

  She jumped and squeaked a little at the sound of the deep voice from behind her. She shoved the truck nuts behind her back as she turned to face Jonah. “You startled me.”

  “I see that.” A tiny frown indented his forehead. “What’s up?”

  “We’re…headed home from dinner.” LeeAnn could tell her voice was still too high, but she couldn’t seem to bring it back down.

  “Are you two okay?” The suspicious look on his face carried over to his tone.

  “Oh, nothing,” Kylie sang out, sounding completely guilty.

  “What?” Jonah asked, blinking in confusion.

  “We�
�re not doing anything.” Kylie shook her head emphatically, and LeeAnn frowned, wishing she had the power to make her friend shut up—but she had to settle for shooting a quelling look at her.

  “We’re fine,” LeeAnn replied, working to sound normal. “How are you?”

  Cheerful but normal—that’s the plan.

  “I’m doing well,” he replied, his own voice anything but normal.

  He’s already suspicious. I need to make sure he doesn’t see what we’ve done to his truck. Or what’s in my hand.

  “So,” she said, working to buy time. “You headed out?” A quick glance told her it would take only a step or two to stand between Jonah and the evidence of his mutilated Truck Nutz. As Jonah shifted on his feet, LeeAnn turned to keep him from viewing what was in her hand. Sidestep one…two…and now he can’t see the hitch.

  “Nope,” Jonah replied. “Just got here.”

  So why is he back out in the parking lot? “Did you leave something in your truck?” she asked.

  Lean back against the tailgate. Act casual.

  LeeAnn’s heart raced.

  Now that he’s seen us out here, he’ll know we were the ones who castrated his truck. How can I reattach these without him seeing?

  …

  LeeAnn was practically two-stepping back and forth in front of Jonah, while her friend—Kylie, he remembered, the one who owned the shop where LeeAnn worked part-time—twisted her hands and chewed on her bottom lip.

  They’re definitely nervous. What the hell are these two up to?

  “Did you leave something in your truck?” Instead of turning this time, LeeAnn took a big, sliding step sideways until she stood with her back against the tailgate. Watching him carefully, she leaned back against it, trying to act casual. It didn’t work. With her arm twisted up behind her back to hide what she had in her hand, she looked more uncomfortable than anything.

  “No,” he said, frowning a little and waving toward the diner. “I was planning to get something to eat.”

  “Oh, okay,” LeeAnn said breathlessly.

  But her friend tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “You just got here?” she asked.