Page 64 of The Cowboy's Country Charm

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “All the more reason to enjoy this spread.” He spied in her hand the large spoon his mother had packed. “Are you serving?”

She nodded.

“Serve me up some coleslaw, beans, and two pieces of fried chicken. To start.”

She cocked her head. “Just to start? Not aiming for leftovers, are you?”

“No place to keep them, and I don’t want to attract hungry animals.”

She stiffened and looked around. “Are there bears in this area?”

“We’re close enough to the Black Hills that we can get an occasional mountain lion, which are more likely in these parts. And there are always coyotes. The good news about both is that they don’t want to meet you any more than you want to meet them. Still, hunger is a big motivator, and we certainly don’t want to motivate them.”

“That’s what the rifle is for? I noticed it strapped to your saddle.”

He nodded. “Mostly to scare them off. Of course, if we’re in real danger, I’ll use it on them, but I’m not into trophy hunting.”

“My father is big into trophy hunting.”

“I’ve seen too much killing to be interested.” He’d much rather try to save an animal than kill it.

She placed the items he’d asked for on one of the plastic plates his mother had supplied.

“My father likes the trophy part more than anything else, I think.” She handed him his overflowing plate and began to assemble her own.

She’d never had much complimentary to say about her father. Made him wonder. “You have a good relationship with your dad?”

She sat up, jiggling the plate of food onto her cross-legged lap. “I think he would say so. But…”

“But?” Not much good ever followed abut. He tasted the crispy chicken. His mother was a master chef, in his eyes.

“As I’ve mentioned, he’s very controlling. If he had his way, I’d be working for him so he could program my every move. It’s… suffocating.” She cut a bite-sized piece of chicken and popped it into her mouth. “Hmmm. So good.”

“As I said, Mom’s a good cook.” He took a forkful of coleslaw. The creamy, crunchy salad was perfect. “That why you decided to move here? You wanted some freedom?”

She nodded. “I need some space. He means well, and I know it’s because he wants to protect me, wants the best for me—his version of what’s best. But I’m an adult. If I make a mistake, it’s mine to fix.” She was gobbling down the chicken. He couldn’t blame her.

“That’s why you don’t want me to fix things, isn’t it.” He’d been trying to dial it back, but it was hard. When he saw a need, he wanted to fill it. When he saw a problem, he wanted to solve it. It was what had kept him, and others, alive in more than one precarious situation.

“If I rely on other people to fix things, how will I know how to do it? Or if I can do it?” Having finished one piece of chicken and a dollop of coleslaw, she leaned back on her elbows. The slight breeze caught a strand of her hair, and she brushed it aside.

“I hear you. At least I do now.” He shoved the last spoonful of beans into his mouth. There was still some chicken and bread left. He’d have to put it in the cabin in the small cupboard by the door. He might work up an appetite later.

“I really don’t want to talk about my father. I just want to enjoy sitting here and listening to the creek babble on by.”

“Let me put this food and the rest of the saddle bags inside, and then you want to check out the water?”

“Sure.”

He’d have to find a way to pitch his plan before the light faded, in case she didn’t want to go through with it. The thought was a gut punch.

She packed up the picnic basket with the leftovers while he retrieved the saddle bags, and he took it all to the cabin. Inside, he gave it a quick glance as he put the food containers into the old cupboard and the saddle bags by the bed. It looked decent enough. He just had to hope he was reading her right and hadn’t jumped the gun. The whole thing could blow up.

His mother’s warning sounded in his ear. He didn’t want to get too far down the road to find out she’d only ever wanted to be friendswithoutbenefits. With benefits he could handle. But “just friends” would mean he’d be pining after something he couldn’t have. He was too old for that.

He closed the door to the cabin and walked back to her. She’d gathered up the blanket and folded it to be put back on the horse, and stood there watching him. Assessing him. He’d give anything to know what she was thinking.

When he reached for her, she slid her warm hand into his. He gave it a slight squeeze, and together they walked down to the creek. Holding her hand, he felt like a kid again, walking with his girl. It had been a long time since he’d had a relationship in which he held hands. In the air force, it was a lot of one-, maybe two-night stands. Strangers hooking up in the dark, taking the edge off a rough week. No relationship expected, and that was by mutual consent. People trying to survive in unreal conditions, taking each day as it came, not thinking too hard about the future.

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