Page 18 of Buck Me, Cowboy

“Rebecca, wait. Please let me explain what you saw.”

She doesn’t look up from loading her grandfather’s cast-iron pot into the trunk. “You don’t owe me any explanations. Thank you for helping me. I’ll figure out something to tell Polly Williamson.”

The abrupt dismissal hits harder than any anger would have. She’s shutting down.

“Do you really think I’d treat you like that? Roll out from your bed, after having the best night of my life, and entertain the advances of a woman while I was on my way back to you?”

“What else could it be?” Now she does look at me, and the careful blankness in her expression is worse than tears. “You’re a rodeo star who could have any woman he wants. I’m just the girl who helped you pass some time at a county fair.”

The words are like physical blows. That she could think so little of herself, of what we shared, proves how badly I’ve screwed this up.

“Let me help you with that.” I reach for the heavy equipment case she’s struggling with, and after a moment’s hesitation, she lets me take it.

We work in tense silence, loading her car with the cooking gear.

“Can we sit for a minute? Please. Just let me tell you what happened.”

She studies my face for a long moment, and I hold my breath, hoping she’ll see something worth hearing out.

“Five minutes.”

We settle on a bench underneath some oak trees near the fairgrounds, far enough from the crowds to have privacy. The morning heat is already building, but the shade provides some measure of relief.

“That woman cornered me in the hallway. I was coming back to you with coffee when she blocked my path and wouldn’t let me pass. I was trying to get away from her when you saw us.”

Rebecca’s expression doesn’t change, but I press on.

“She said things about you that made me furious. Called you names, acted like you weren’t good enough for me. When the truth is, I’m not good enough for you.”

“How do I know this isn’t just part of the performance?”

The question cuts deep because I understand her doubt. My reputation precedes me—charming cowboy who moves through towns and women with equal ease. Why should she believe I’m any different now?

I gently take her hands in mind, my heart flip-flopping when she doesn’t resist. When I feel her shudder as I trace circles on her palm with my fingertip, I know I have a chance.

“Because I’m sitting under a tree in a parking lot, begging you not to leave. If I were performing, don’t you think I’d be flattering you instead of being terrified you’re going to leave me?”

Rebecca’s blue eyes soften as they meet mine, and I can see her doubt dissolving.

“I want to meet your family. Sunday dinners, family reunions, all of it. I want to be part of what you have. Will you let me show you how much I care for you?” My voice chokes and I dip my head, terrified of seeing the look in her eyes if she says no.

“Amos,” she says softly, her hand reaching up to stroke my jaw. “I do want to give this a shot. You’re not the only one who’s been taken by surprise these last few days.”

“I’m scared of being another stop on your tour.”

“I’m scared of not being worth the kind of love your family gives freely.”

She lets me take her hands in mine as we sit in silence and stare out at the cars starting to fill the parking lot.

“What if we’re scared together?”

Rebecca’s question echoes what I said last night, and this time, she’s the one offering the solution.

“I called my mother this morning,” I tell her. “Left a message saying things are going to be different after this season. That I met a woman I want to build a family with.”

“What did she say?”

“Haven’t heard back yet. But Rebecca, I mean every word. I want everything with you, and I’m willing to do anything to prove that to you.”

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