Page 33 of Catch Me, Cowboy
Gramps gave a small snort of acknowledgement, then stood up slowly, as if keeping dizziness at bay.
Once he was on his feet, he picked up his plate and headed for the sink. “Something you need to know, Shelby—at my age, every day you can work is a blessing. And I’m going to harvest blessings for as long as I can.”
*
Ty caught aglimpse of Shelby heading to the corrals while he was loading equipment on the quad. He was about to intercept her when Les called his name. He turned to see the old man tromping toward him, looking as if he’d eaten an onion sandwich.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning.” Les growled. “Is everything ready to go?”
“I have to get my gloves and water jug.” Because Les was twenty minutes earlier than usual.
“Get ’em.”
Yes, sir.
Ty went back to the trailer, grabbed his gloves and jug from where he’d left them on the fold-out table, then headed around the barn the opposite direction from which he came. He caught sight of Shelby at the tack shed, wrestling with the stubborn latch that apparently still jammed when closed wrong, and all he wanted to do at that moment was to help her beat the rusty fastener into submission, then turn her in his arms. Kiss her lips. Feel her soft skin beneath his fingers.
But no. Instead they would “act normal”.
“What’s up with Les?”
Shelby started, then swung her gaze toward him, blue eyes wide with concern. “Why?”
“He looks like he wants to deck me.”
She let out a breath, looking relieved that her grandfather might want to hit him. “But he’s not having balance issues?”
Ty frowned at her. “Not right now.”
She brushed a couple of windblown tendrils off her face. “He saw us last night.” She turned back to the latch, gave it a mighty twist and it opened. “Finally.” She stepped inside, coming back out a few seconds later with a halter, rope and carrot stick whip.
“By ‘saw us’ you mean—”
She gave him an impatient look. “I think you know what I mean.” She started coiling the rope, the picture of cool nonchalance. “He’ll get over it.”
Les might get over it, but would Ty? Shelby was all walled up, deep in the land of denial, and he thought about pointing out she was not acting normal, but it wasn’t the time. He’d allow Shelby her walls. At least until he figured out a few things. No. Make that a lot of things. Maybe a bigger man could have pretended he was good with things the way they were. That he didn’t still want Shelby back in his life.
He wasn’t that big.
There was a loud clattering sound on the other side of the machine shed—the sound of posts being rearranged on a trailer by an impatient and protective grandfather. “Les is waiting.”
Waiting and pacing. And he didn’t look pleased when he saw Ty coming around the far end of the barn instead of returning the way he’d left.
“We have a lot to do. We’re quitting early today so that I can be at the round pen this afternoon when Shelby works that knot-head gelding.”
Les was going to be there when Shelby worked the gelding?
Ty didn’t fight him. It would have only made matters worse. Les bristled at any suggestion he wasn’t capable of doing what he’d done for his entire life. Ty figured he’d stay close, just in case there was trouble, and he was fairly certain there wouldn’t be. Shelby knew what she was doing, and she wouldn’t get on the horse unless she was certain it was safe. Or as certain as one could be. Horses could surprise the hell out of anyone. Blindside them.
As could other things in life.
When he’d come back to Marietta, he’d told himself it was to see whether he’d feel comfortable settling there after his career was over. Marietta was his hometown, after all. And if he ran into Shelby… well, he’d see how things went. That had been his rather vague master plan, but within twenty-four hours of arriving, he’d been at the Forty-Six. It’d been a long four years with no contact—well, none except for that first call when she told him not to call again. Told him to forget about her.
He’d tried. Thought he’d been successful. He’d focused on his career, moved on with his life…
But he hadn’t. And the kiss last night had simply hammered the point on home.
