The Last Good Cowboy Read online

  “Come into the house, and I’ll check the schedule.”

  Ry picked up the empty bowl Roy used for his food scraps and brought it along with him. “You have a schedule now? You used to have it all in your head or written on a chalkboard in the barn.”

  “TC, I mean Chase, has been getting at me.” Roy sighed. “He says I’ve got to set goals, and be accountable, whatever the hell that means.”

  “That sounds like my big brother.” Ry paused as he noted the brand-new laptop on Roy’s countertop. “Wow, he’s really serious about this, isn’t he? Are you using that thing?”

  “Yup, some spreadsheet or something.” Roy gestured at the laptop. “Take a look. Chase set it up so even an idiot like me could understand it.”

  “Then I should be fine.” Ry clicked the space bar and a calendar opened up. “Cool.”

  He read through the list of tasks while Roy pottered around the kitchen making a fresh pot of coffee.

  “What needs doing the most?” Ry asked.

  “Fences.”

  Ry groaned. “Figures. I’ll get on that if you like.”

  Roy handed him a cup of coffee. “You sure?”

  “That’s what I’m here for.” He paused. “Anything else?”

  “Talk to January about the wedding.”

  “Which particular part of it?”

  “Where she’s going to hold the ceremony, and all that kind of thing. I guess she won’t want to share a field with a herd of cows and cowpats on her big day.”

  “Okay.” Ry sipped at the scalding coffee.

  “HW wouldn’t come, then?”

  “He’s angling to get to the finals in Vegas.”

  “Do you think he’ll make it?”

  Ry shrugged. “He’s got the talent.”

  “But—”

  “He’s a bit full of himself at the moment.”

  “Fame gone to his head?” Roy nodded wisely. “See it all the time on the TV. One little bitty part in a reality show, and some folks think they’re God Almighty.”

  Ry deliberately changed tack. He was sick and tired of talking about his brother. “I saw Avery Hayes up at the ranch.”

  “Yeah? Good to see her getting out and about. Her mom says she works too hard.”

  Ry considered his next question. It wasn’t like him to pry, but he felt a certain kind of responsibility for Avery from way back when, and didn’t want to mess things up with her again.

  “Did she get hurt?”

  “Didn’t you know?” Roy sat down at the table and decanted the rest of the coffee into a metal flask. “I suppose it was just after you boys left home. Barrel racing.”

  “Damn.” Ry had seen way too many riders come to grief barrel racing to be surprised that she’d been injured. “I remember she was really good at it as well.”

  “Yeah. She was all set to go pro.” Roy shook his head. “Her mom says she’s still in pain, but she gets by.”

  Ry pictured the giggling teenager he’d once known and contrasted it with the woman he’d watched struggling to climb three steps up to the porch. It was like something had leeched all the light out of her.

  “She works at the hotel, right?”

  “Works there twenty-four seven. Never does anything else.” Roy sighed. “Poor girl. You should take her out sometime.”

  Ry raised an eyebrow. “I just got back, and I doubt she’d want to hang out with me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because HW’s the one with the good looks and the charm.”

  “And he’s not here.” Roy drained his cup. “So maybe it’s time for you to step out of his shadow.” He nodded at Ry. “You coming? I’ve got all the supplies you need in the barn.”

  * * *

  Avery leaned more of her weight on her cane as January considered the square Yvonne had helpfully spray-painted on the grass.

  “If you put the caterers’ tent here in the center of everything, right beside the welcome center, which has power and water, then I think we’ll be okay.” Yvonne walked back toward January and Avery. “What do you think?”

  “Looks good to me.” Avery shifted her right hip and angled her body toward the ranch. She was already worried about making it back up the slope. If she stood still any longer she might not make it at all. She was normally a lot more capable than this, but the bang on her hip the day before had shaken her up, and she needed her cane for the first time in a long while.

  Yvonne checked her cell. “I’m going to have to go soon, January. I’ve got baking to do.”

  “I think we’ve got it all sorted.” January nodded decisively. “Time to eat those éclairs.”

  She started back up the slope toward the house with Yvonne beside her. Avery slowly turned as well and took a couple of faltering steps.

  Yeah. This wasn’t going to be fun. She set her jaw and kept going, her attention focused downward on the rugged terrain.

  “You okay, Avery?” January called back.

  “I’m good. I just need to take my time. Don’t eat all the chocolate.”

  January’s laugh floated back down to her. She’d trained her friends not to hover over her and make her feel worse. For once she wished she hadn’t.

  A pair of scuffed brown cowboy boots came into view and she looked up into Ry Morgan’s unsmiling face. He was standing on the slope above her, slightly to her right.

  “Need a hand?”

  She wanted so badly to say no—to say she was fine—especially to this man, who more than anyone made her remember the silly girl with silly dreams she’d once been. She didn’t want him to see her like this. She wanted . . . But she wasn’t quite that dumb.

  “Sure.”

  He came around to her left side and she grabbed his forearm, his hard muscles flexing under the sleeve of his shirt. Although he was considerably taller than she was, he matched her halting gait as if he had all the time in the world. Neither of them spoke; him because he could never be described as chatty, and her because she didn’t have the breath for it.

  When they reached level ground, she carefully released his arm and tried to sound casual.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He stayed where he was, as if assessing her ability to keep going without him.

  Avery raised her chin. “Are you coming in the house?”

  “Yeah. I need to talk to January.”

  Damn.

  She nodded and started walking again, putting all her energy into making it look as easy as possible. The three steps up to the veranda looked like Mount Everest. She slowed as she approached them, and then his hand cupped her elbow again, and he silently and effortlessly added his support to getting her where she needed to be.

  “You look a bit stiff.”

  He had to spoil it by saying something now? She refused to turn around, and focused on hobbling toward the door. “I’m fine. I fell down the stairs yesterday.”

  “Ouch.” He winced. “You’ve got to stop drinking so much.”

  Wait up . . . Had Ry Morgan just made a joke?

  She looked over her shoulder to find him watching her. “Ha. I fell over the cat.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Incredibly, he smiled at her, and her stomach did a complete flip.

  “I’ve got some emu or ostrich cream that one of HW’s sponsors claims is the best thing for sore muscles and stiffness. I’ll bring it over.”

  “Eew. You’re not smearing anything on me.”

  His smile deepened, showing the dimple low on his left cheek. “Could be fun.”

  Dude, he so wasn’t eighteen anymore. This level of flirting was totally beyond her. Sure, she’d had a couple of boyfriends over the years, but none of them held a candle to Ry Morgan. Without attempting an answer, she kept moving.

  Before she even got to the door, his hand appeared over her head and held back the screen while she wrestled with the inner latch.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She
didn’t take off her boots, which weren’t muddy, but headed straight for the kitchen, where January and Yvonne were already chatting with Ruth. Ry turned left toward the mudroom, giving her a moment to compose herself.

  He was just being kind. He always had been.

  So why did it bother her so much?

  She hesitated at the kitchen door, but Ruth saw her, and that was that. She was made to sit at the table, and eat and drink while Ruth plied her with questions about her parents and her siblings. It almost kept her from noticing when Ry came in and started talking quietly to January.

  Yvonne was the first to leave, blowing kisses at everyone as she promised to introduce Avery to the chef who was coming to help her out with the actual cooking. As the chef would be using the Hayes kitchen as well as Yvonne’s, Avery was looking forward to meeting him and laying down a few ground rules. The last thing they needed was to upset the slightly temperamental, but very talented hotel chef by misusing his space.

  Although Avery wished she could leave with Yvonne, she needed more downtime before she could get out of her chair, squeeze herself into her car, and drive home. Not that anyone seemed to mind her sitting there. That was one of the things she’d always loved about the Morgans. Ruth had always welcomed her grandkids’ friends, and nothing had changed.

  Eventually, though, she had to move or she’d stiffen up completely. She checked her cell, saw a text from Nancy about meeting her at the hotel, and stood up to make her excuses.

  January came around to hug her. “Thanks so much. You were so helpful!” She grinned at Ry. “If you have any more questions about the wedding, talk to Avery. She’s got a map of where everything needs to be set up.”

  “Will do.” Ry rose as well. “I have to get back to my favorite job in the world—mending fences. Let me walk you to your car.”

  She made it down the three steps unaided and over to her car, Ry strolling at her heels.

  “Is it okay if I talk to you about wedding plans?” Ry asked.

  “Sure. Especially if it saves January some time.” She hesitated, one hand on her car door. “She does seem a little . . . stressed.”

  He opened the door, took her bag out of her unresisting fingers, and placed it on the passenger seat within easy reach.

  “Cane in the back?”

  “Yes.” He held out his hand and she relinquished the cane. “Thanks.”

  She slipped her sunglasses down on her nose and got in, waiting for him to slam the door. Instead he leaned down so he could see her face.

  “Speaking of mending fences. You busy tomorrow night?”

  “Why?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I’ll be in town. I was hoping to see you while I’m there. I can meet you at the hotel.”

  “What for?”

  He smiled. “Clearing the air?” He took a step back and closed the car door. “See you tomorrow, Avery.”

  She immediately wound down the window. “I don’t think there’s anything left to say, is there?”

  “Maybe not from your point of view, but I’d like to give it a try.” His hazel gaze was fixed on her. “Will you be there?”

  Avery nodded. She was always there. The hotel was her life.

  He touched the brim of his Stetson. “Good. I’ll look forward to it.”

  Chapter Four

  “Ry Morgan wants to talk to you?” Nancy put down her mug. “So what?”

  “You know what.”

  “That all happened years ago.”

  “I know. That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you. Why on earth would he want to talk about it now?”

  “Maybe it’s something else entirely.”

  “Like what?” Avery asked.

  “I dunno.” Nancy waved a vague hand in the air. “Maybe he wants to book a function at the hotel.”

  “Yeah, right. Thanks, friend.”

  They were sitting on her bed, curled up in their usual spots at either end, a cat settled in between them. Nancy was due at her second job at the Red Dragon bar, and often popped in to see Avery before her shift. Nancy had persuaded Manolo, the hotel chef, to make them burritos for dinner, which were so awesome Avery was thinking of asking him to put them on the buffet menu.

  Nancy was good with people. She said it was due to a lifetime of dealing with tourists in the main—and for a long time, only—Morgantown store, but it was more than that. She genuinely liked her customers, and had an amazing ability to draw out their life stories within seconds of meeting them. Also working in the bar meant she had the best and most scandalous gossip in town.

  “Manolo said this is his mother’s recipe.” Nancy wiped her mouth with her napkin. “He has written down a whole lot of her recipes that he’d love to try out in the restaurant.”

  “Then why didn’t he say something to me? He’s been here for two years.”

  “He’s shy.” Nancy belched discreetly.

  “Yeah, I can tell that by the way he bellows at all the other guys in the kitchen when they’re not moving fast enough.” Avery took another bite, and almost sighed with bliss. “This is really good.”

  “Being a chef is like performance art these days. They all think they have to behave like Gordon Ramsey. Manolo really is the sweetest guy.”

  Avery stared hard at her friend. “You like him?”

  “I like his food.”

  “And the rest of him?”

  Nancy licked her lips. “He’s . . . okay.”

  “Does he like you?”

  “He made us burritos, didn’t he?” Nancy uncurled her long legs and stood up. Her blond hair was in a high ponytail and she wore her usual jeans and Red Dragon bar T-shirt. She didn’t really believe in long-term boyfriends and had half the local population just waiting for her to change her mind and pick them for more than one night of fun.

  “I’ve got to go. How about you worry about your love life instead of mine?”

  “I have no love life.”

  “Exactly.” Nancy pointed at her. “Come to the bar with me. I’ll fix you up.”

  “That’s very sweet of you.” Avery fake-smiled. “But I have to meet Ry Morgan downstairs in twenty minutes.”

  Nancy grabbed her backpack, and then spun around to look at Avery. “I just remembered. You had a crush on him at school.”

  “All the girls had a crush on him.”

  “Nope, most of us preferred HW. He was more fun.” Nancy studied Avery’s face. “Is that what’s worrying you? That you might still like him?”

  “Of course not. He’s way out of my league.”

  “He is not.”

  Avery fixed her friend with her best stare. “You’re going to be late.”

  “And you’re avoiding the subject.” Nancy came over to kiss the top of Avery’s head. “Have fun with Ry, and say hi to him from me, won’t you?”

  “Sure.”

  Nancy held her gaze. “Just let yourself enjoy his company, okay? He’s a nice guy.”

  She waved as she went out, leaving Avery with the task of collecting the plates and silverware and sticking them outside the door. Yet another advantage of living in a hotel. She never had to wash a dish in her life.

  Checking the time, she brushed her straight brown hair, braided it, and made a face in the mirror. If Ry was expecting her to make an effort, he was going to be disappointed. She wore her Hayes Historic Hotel T-shirt, name badge, black pants, and her most comfortable boots. She looked competent, professional, and way too tense. He’d pick up on that in a second. He always had.

  Time to go.

  She hesitated. Maybe she should take the name badge off?

  If they were both going to live in this small town, getting everything settled between them was probably a good idea. He’d feel more comfortable and she . . . Avery paused at the door. What would she gain? Her hard-won serenity back? She liked her life just how it was, and just wished everyone else would understand that. Seeing Ry again had brought back too many memories of the fun they’d shared growin
g up together. She firmly closed her bedroom door. It was time to stop looking backward and move on.

  * * *

  “Nice to see you, sir.” Ry grinned at Mr. Hayes, who was serving behind the bar in the old-fashioned saloon in the hotel. He hadn’t changed much in the years since Ry had left, and bore a strong resemblance to his oldest daughter.

  “No need for the sir, Ry, you can call me Tom.” Avery’s father extended his hand and shook Ry’s. “Now what can I get you to drink?”

  “A beer would be good.”

  Ry went to hand over some money, but it was waved away.

  “This one’s on the house. Welcome home, son.”

  “Thanks . . . um, Tom.” Ry took the beer. “Is Avery around?”

  “Avery?”

  “Yeah, your daughter, Avery. She said she’d meet me here at six.” Tom was staring at him as if he’d never seen him before, and Ry hastened to add, “I wanted to ask her something about the upcoming wedding.”

  “Oh, a business meeting.” Tom occupied himself wiping down the old mahogany bar. “Do you want me to see if I can find her?”

  Ry was just about to reply in the negative when he spotted Avery coming through the double doors from the lobby. She smiled at one of the guests as she passed by and he was struck by how it changed her face, letting him see that vibrant girl again—the one who had apparently disappeared since her accident.

  She was listening attentively as the woman gesticulated and pointed upward. Ry took his beer and walked toward her, catching the end of the conversation.

  “Of course, I’ll send someone up to check on that for you right now, Mrs. Bryson. What room number are you in again?”

  She saw Ry, and briefly acknowledged him before walking back to the front desk with the still babbling guest.

  “Tucker, can you help Mrs. Bryson? Her grandson’s gotten his toe stuck in the faucet. Apparently he’s never been in a bath before, only a shower.”

  Ry fought a grin as Tucker expressed just the right amount of sympathy and concern, and followed the guest over to the elevators. Avery swung back toward Ry and rolled her eyes.

  “Dear God, why do boys do stupid stuff like that?”