One Good Cowboy(8)
Author: Catherine Mann

Waxed floors and…flowers? She didn’t have any inside, not even a floral air freshener.

Patting along the wall, she found the switch and flipped on the light. A wagon wheel chandelier splashed illumination around the room full of fat stuffed furniture in paisley patterns, a girly escape for a tomboy in a dusty, mucky profession. She spun to scan the room, her eyes landing on her shabby chic sofa.

Where a man was sprawled out asleep.

Her gaze skated from the boots on the armrest, up muscular legs in jeans, past a Diamonds in the Rough belt buckle, to broad shoulders in a blue flannel shirt. For a second, she thought Stone had followed her here. A straw cowboy hat covered the man’s face as he snored softly.

Although once she looked closer, she realized it wasn’t Stone at all. It was his near twin. His cousin Alex was asleep on her sofa, with a fistful of wild daisies on his chest.

As she saw him waiting there for her, she couldn’t help but think, Amie and Alex didn’t tell each other everything.

Three

Johanna swept the cowboy hat from Alex’s face. “What are you doing in my house?”

He peeked out of one eye lazily, scrubbed a hand over his face and yawned. Stretching, he sat up, keeping his hold on the daisies, apparently in no hurry to answer her question.

Alex rarely rushed. Yet he always seemed to get crazy amounts done. He was a fascinating individual, like all the McNairs. And while he’d been in her cabin often, she hadn’t expected to see him here tonight.

“Well?” She hitched her hands on her hips. “Do you have anything to say for yourself? I locked the door, so you’re breaking and entering.”

“As your landlord,” he drawled, his voice like Southern Comfort on the rocks, smooth with a bite. Stone spoke in more clipped, bass tones—like boulders rumbling. “I used my master key. I own the place.”

She’d known Alex as long as she’d known Stone. She’d met all of the McNairs when her father took a stable hand job here during Johanna’s third-grade year. Where Stone was the outgoing, bad-boy charmer, Alex had been the brooding, silent type, a tenacious rodeo champ even as a kid, breaking more bones by eighteen than any pro football star.

After she’d ended her engagement to Stone, she’d realized Alex’s resolute nature had hidden a longtime attraction to her. Six months after the split, Alex had made his move by asking her out to dinner. She’d been stunned—and not ready to consider dating anyone. He’d taken the news well. Or so she’d thought. She was beginning to grasp how persistent, patient and downright stubborn this quiet giant could be.

With that in mind, she should have realized their grandmother’s plan would not go over well with Alex. “Even though you own my rental cabin, I didn’t realize landlords slept on the sofa,” she joked, needing to keep things light. Her emotional well was running on empty. “Do you have a specific reason for being here?”

“I’m making sure you don’t fall under my evil cousin’s spell again.” He swung his legs to the floor and thrust out the fistful of daisies.

Roots straggled from a couple of the stems. He definitely was a unique one with a charm all his own. At another time in her life she might have been tempted.

She took the daisies from him. “You’re trying to persuade me by giving me flowers?”

“Consider it elaborate bribery,” he said with a self-deprecating grin directed at the raggedy bouquet.

“You stole them out of the garden by the back deck,” she shot over her shoulder as she stepped into the kitchen area to get a large mason jar.

“The garden belongs to me.”

“To your family.” She slid the flowers into the jar and tucked it under the faucet.

“Same thing.” His smile faded. “Are you okay with this trip?”

“Your concern is sweet and I do mean that.” She smiled, then jerked as water overflowed from the jar and splashed onto her hand.

“My motives are purer than Amie’s were out there on the porch.”

“You heard her?”

“I did, since you always leave your windows open rather than use the air conditioner.” He stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing his boots at the ankles as he extended his arms along the back of the couch. “You would be wise to remember she’s the most ruthless of all of us.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say.” She placed the flowers on the end table by the floral sofa, a perfect match for the rustic charm of her place.

“I only mean that you’re my friend.” He reached for her hand and tugged her down to sit beside him. “You and Amie don’t have that kind of relationship. She’s thinking of the family. I’m worried about you.”

Johanna looked into his eyes, the same unique shade of light blue as Stone’s. Though born three years apart, the men could have been twins. Alex was actually better suited for her. They had more in common. Alex ran a family ranch, whereas Stone was the king of the boardroom, such a workaholic he’d made it clear he had little room in his life for white-picket dreams.

Yet, as she sat here inches away from this incredibly sexy cowboy who’d just given her the sweetest flowers, she could only think of how much she’d wanted Stone to kiss her earlier. And Alex left her lukewarm, and it wasn’t fair to keep stringing him along.

She touched his wrist. “Alex, we need to talk about—”

The front door opened with a knock in progress, no real warning at all. Johanna jolted, nearly falling off the sofa as she turned to face the intruder.

Stone stood in the open door, scowling, holding a handful of purple tulips.

* * *

What the hell?

Standing in Johanna’s doorway, Stone cricked his neck from side to side, trying to process what his eyes told him. His cousin Alex sat on the sofa with Johanna. Close to Johanna. So near, their thighs pressed against each other and before she’d jolted away, she’d been leaning in, her hand on Alex’s arm.

And there were fresh flowers on the end table.

Stone strode inside and tossed the tulips—ones that he’d pulled out of a vase in the lobby of the main lodge—onto the end table beside the daisies that looked remarkably like ones in the garden by the deck.

“Sorry to have interrupted…” Whatever had been about to happen. His pulse hammered behind his eyes; his head pounded in frustration over a hellish day that was spiraling down the drain faster and faster by the second.

Nibbling her bottom lip, Johanna rubbed her palms along her jeans. “At the risk of sounding cliché, this isn’t what it looks like.”