Her Perfect Cowboy Read online

Oh, for heaven’s sake, she had somehow lost a grip on her nice, orderly life. It was as if Fate decided she needed to shake things up a bit just for fun.

  As she walked into the bank, she stood straight and made sure her steps were confident. She crossed the lobby of the Blue Falls Bank, straight to Kim Stegall’s office. She tapped on the edge of the open door.

  When Kim looked up, she smiled, lighting up her fair face and green eyes. “Hey, India. I was just thinking about you.”

  Was that good or bad? “Oh, yeah?”

  “I saw that darling set of boots you have in the window, and I can’t stop thinking about them. I’ve walked by them every day this week, telling myself I don’t need them, that I don’t need one more pair of shoes.”

  India smiled as she pictured the two-tone, brown leather-and-suede ankle boots. “There is no such thing as too many shoes.”

  “I’m not sure my husband would agree. He thinks the shoes in my closet are having illicit affairs at night and producing more shoes.”

  India laughed but had to force herself to focus on the business at hand when the words illicit affairs bounced around in her head, accompanied by the image of Liam that just refused to keep its distance.

  “Is there something I can do for you?” Kim asked.

  “Yes, actually.” India moved into the office and took a seat on one of the chairs facing Kim. “I’d like to apply for a loan.”

  “How much are we talking?”

  “Enough to buy the building my store is in.” She wanted to ask for enough to buy both spaces, but that really was beyond the realm of possibility. Before Kim could shut her down on the spot, she handed over the printout from Justine’s website with the listing for the building along with a detailed accounting of India’s qualities that made her and her store a good investment.

  Kim took a couple of minutes to look over everything while an entire flock of butterflies fluttered away in India’s stomach. She went back over every detail in her mind, the financial reports for the business, how she’d never missed a rent payment there or a mortgage payment on her home, her good credit score, her plans for making the business even more successful. With the extra space slipping away, she’d spent some time planning how she might rework her current space to make it even more attractive to customers.

  When Kim finished going over all the information and didn’t immediately meet India’s eyes, the butterflies kicked it up a notch.

  “This all looks very good, India.”

  India’s heart dropped into her stomach. “I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming.”

  The apologetic look on Kim’s face when she finally looked up wasn’t that different from the one Justine had worn when she’d brought Kevin and Mark into the store. “I hate doing this, but I know a loan of this size won’t be approved.”

  “What did I do wrong?” It wasn’t what she’d meant to say, and India hated how desperate she sounded. But she’d come to the end of her rope.

  If possible, Kim looked even more sorry. “Nothing. That’s the thing. A few years ago, this most likely would have been approved. But times have changed. It’s much harder to get approved, even for small loans. And this is no small loan.”

  “So there’s no chance?”

  Kim looked as if she was breaking the news to a little kid that Christmas had been canceled. “No, I’m sorry. I really am. I know you have a great business. Maybe the building won’t sell, or the new owners will allow you to stay. After all, you’re a good tenant.”

  A tenant, what she’d been her entire life. Even now, with a business of her own, someone else had the power to uproot her.

  India’s eyes began to burn. She had to get out of the bank before she started crying. She stood. “Thank you for seeing me.”

  When Kim extended the papers to her, India shook her head. “Just shred them.”

  By the time she hurried out of the front door of the bank, she had to blink against the tears. Once outside, she looked up at the sky, the wide, blue expanse mocking her. Anger churned inside her, and before she could tell herself what a terrible idea it was, she headed down the sidewalk toward Celene’s store, her chunky heels clonking against the concrete.

  She rounded the corner at Peach and Main and promptly slammed right into someone, hard. In the space of a breath, she gasped and tried to take a step back, only to twist her ankle and fall in an inglorious heap on the sidewalk.

  “God, India, I’m sorry.”

  Through her blurry, teary vision, she realized the person now crouching in front of her, the person she’d slammed into like a runaway train, was none other than Liam Parrish. Just what she needed.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  Was she? It took a moment for the pain in her ankle and rear end to register, quickly followed by a flood of embarrassment. Could this day get any worse? She cursed under her breath and swiped at the tears.

  “I’m fine.” But when she tried to stand, she rethought that assertion. Pain shot up the leg from her twisted ankle.

  “Here, let me help you,” he said as he put his shoulder under her arm.

  She wanted to decline his help, but she wanted to stop making a spectacle of herself even more. He lifted her with such gentleness that more tears formed in her eyes. Once she was on her feet, he still didn’t let go.

  “Can you stand by yourself?”

  She did her best to stand on her own two feet, but the moment she put pressure on the injured ankle she winced.

  Liam tightened his grip on her. “Come on, let’s get you back to your shop.”

  “No. My car. I just want to go home.” And curl up with the tub of orange sherbet in her freezer.

  “I have a better idea,” he said. Liam started walking down the sidewalk, supporting almost all of her weight.

  Even though she winced every time she stepped with her injured foot, India also grew more and more aware of the feel of Liam’s arm wrapped around her back. He wasn’t a beefy guy, but it was obvious he was strong. She guessed he’d have to be to hang on while a bronc bucked him this way and that.

  Liam steered her to the left, and that’s when she saw his truck parked on the side of the street in front of the hardware store. She couldn’t help but think how it probably bugged Celene to no end that the downtown sported a hardware store in among the “more appropriate” establishments.

  “I can drive myself home,” she said.

  “I’m sure you can,” Liam said, but that didn’t divert him from what he intended. He opened the passenger-side door and edged her toward it.

  India balked and met his eyes. He was close, so close she feared his nearness might intoxicate her.

  He leaned a little closer, not taking his eyes from hers. “Want me to pick you up?”

  She narrowed her eyes but gave in, using the handle above the door to pull herself inside the truck. Liam shot her a victorious smile before he shut her door and rounded the front of the truck.

  She dared not look at the shop windows lining the street. No doubt at least a few eyes had seen her fall, noticed when the handsome cowboy lifted her to her feet then deposited her in his truck. Were her neighbors wondering why she’d allowed him, where they were going, if there was something going on between them?

  So what if there was? It wasn’t as if sticking to her life plan had turned out so well.

  She shook her head, trying to clear out all of the negative thoughts. If she gave in to them, they’d infect everything in her head. She’d lived in that space once upon a time, and she never intended to go back. For those angry moments between leaving Kim’s office and when she’d crashed into Liam, her anger had eclipsed her common sense.

  Liam slid into his seat and started the truck’s engine so the air conditioner could begin cooling off the interior of the truck’s cab. “Where were you goi
ng in such a hurry?”

  “To do something very stupid. I suppose I have you to thank for getting in my way.”

  He tipped his hat. “Here to serve, ma’am.”

  His exaggerated drawl made her laugh, something that hadn’t seemed possible only minutes before.

  “That’s more like it,” he said. “So, where to?”

  She gave him directions to her house on Verbena Lane. “Where’s Ginny?”

  “At a reading program at the library with Mia.” He glanced at her. “Thank you for introducing them. They’re inseparable now.”

  Her life might be falling apart and her ankle throbbed as if it had its own heartbeat, but the thought of Ginny and Mia becoming besties made her smile. “I’m glad.”

  When Liam pulled up in front of her house, however, another pang of worry overtook her as she looked at the little white house with the gardens of wildflowers she’d planted. She had to find a way to ensure the safety of her business. Otherwise, she’d be in danger of losing her home, as well.

  “Why am I not surprised you have a white picket fence?” Liam said as he put the truck in Park and cut the engine.

  India shifted her gaze to him. “What does that mean?”

  He held up is hand. “Nothing. It looks nice, perfect.”

  Did she imagine a bit of extra inflection on that perfect?

  Liam got out of the truck and headed to her side. She didn’t wait for him, instead opening the door and slipping out onto her uninjured leg.

  “There’s nothing wrong with wanting things to look nice,” she said.

  “No.” He didn’t elaborate, and for some reason that annoyed her more than if he had.

  But what did he know about pretty things? He spent his days around dusty barns and smelly animals. There was absolutely nothing wrong with trying to make your surroundings as beautiful as possible. It made her happy, and it didn’t hurt anyone. And she didn’t have to explain it to Liam Parrish.

  * * *

  IT DIDN’T TAKE A GENIUS TO figure out that India was not having a good day. The first clue was the anger that had been fueling her when she’d barreled into him, then the tears that for some reason he thought had more to do with her anger than the physical pain of her injury. Now she was just irritated, probably because her ankle prevented her from stalking off and leaving him behind.

  He pushed the passenger-side door of the truck closed and once again put his arm around her so she didn’t have to put her full weight on her injured ankle. “Come on, Hopalong.”

  “Oh, very funny,” she said, but behind the annoyance was a hint that she wanted to laugh.

  “I seem to keep rescuing you from your feet.”

  She swatted him on the arm, but there wasn’t much force behind it. “You seem to be the reason I always end up in a foot-related crisis.”

  He knew it wasn’t what she meant, but he kind of liked the idea of her feet getting tangled and her not remembering how to walk when she saw him. The mere idea made him smile.

  “What are you smiling about?” she asked as he helped her up onto her front porch, complete with a white porch swing.

  “Nothing.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  He looked at her. “Then you’ll just have to wonder.”

  She gave him a mutinous look that made him laugh then dug in her purse for her house key. She didn’t hand it to him, instead opening the door herself and hobbling inside. She didn’t invite him in, but he followed, anyway.

  “Um, make yourself at home,” she said sarcastically.

  “Don’t fuss. I’m just making sure you’re settled and have everything you need before I go. Never leave a damsel in distress.”

  “I can manage.”

  He crossed his arms as she continued to stand instead of sitting like a normal person. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re stubborn?”

  “I prefer self-sufficient.”

  “No, stubborn.”

  She made a sound of frustration. “What, you’re going to wait on me hand and foot?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

  She glanced toward the door. “What about Ginny?”

  “She won’t be finished for another half hour.”

  India tossed her purse on the glass-topped coffee table and shoved her hands onto her hips. “I don’t think I’m the only stubborn person here.”

  “Nope, you’re not. Only difference is I admit it.” With that, he nodded toward the couch. “Sit. I’ll fix you an ice pack.”

  “Liam—”

  “Sit before I pick you up and put you there myself.”

  India threw her hands up but finally stepped to the couch and sank down. “Satisfied?”

  “Yes.” With a smile he suspected would irritate her further, he headed into her kitchen. When he spotted a bread bag with only a few slices of bread in it, he dumped out the bread and filled the bag with ice from her freezer. He grabbed the towel hanging from the stove handle and wrapped the ice pack inside it.

  “What are you doing?”

  Oh, this had to upset her perfect little world, having someone stroll into her home and take over. Well, she could handle it for a few minutes.

  He walked back into the living room, straight to the couch. He took one of the decorative pillows and laid it flat. “Put your foot up on this.”

  To his surprise, she did exactly that without an argument. He positioned the ice pack on her ankle so that it wouldn’t slide off.

  “Is that the bread bag?”

  “Yep.”

  “But it had bread in it.”

  “Bread that will be sandwiches shortly.”

  With a sigh, India lay back on the couch, her head resting on yet another of the silky white pillows. He never would understand why people had little cutesy pillows everywhere, especially ones with tassels and beads like these.

  When he returned to the kitchen, he gave it a closer look. Like everything else he’d seen about India Pike, it was in perfect order, as though it could be on the front of one those home magazines at the grocery checkout. Pale yellow walls with white cabinets and trim, polished silver handles on the cabinets and drawers, new appliances, and not a dirty dish in sight. He shook his head and couldn’t imagine his home ever being this spotless. Single dads didn’t have homes for the cover of magazines unless it was Disorder Digest.

  Inside the fridge, he found a container of lunch meat and condiments. He put together a couple of turkey sandwiches, but placed a plate with lettuce and tomato slices and some condiments on a tray he found on top of the fridge. He added a couple of bottles of water and retraced his steps back to the living room.

  India was still lying on the couch staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t say what it was, but there was something vulnerable about the look on her face, as if she were all alone. He resisted the crazy urge to pull her into his arms, to make her feel safe.

  “How’s the foot?” he asked instead.

  “Throbbing less.” She hesitated for a moment. “Thank you.” She sounded as if it was hard to say, as if she wasn’t used to needing help or accepting it.

  He pushed aside some sort of decoration on the coffee table. Honestly, it looked like a dugout canoe filled with carved wooden balls. He set the tray down on the now empty space.

  India pulled herself up to a sitting position, leaving her foot elevated on the pillow. “Why are you doing this?”

  Liam sat in the red-and-white-checked chair adjacent to the red couch. “What should I have done, India? Left you sprawled on the sidewalk?”

  “No, but—”

  “But what?”

  She opened her mouth but hesitated, as if searching for an answer. “I just don’t like depending on anyone else.”

  “Everybody need
s help sometimes.”

  “I doubt you ever ask for help.”

  “That just shows you know nothing about me.” He leaned forward and slapped some mayo, lettuce and tomato on his sandwich, then took a big bite.

  India made her sandwich without a word, but once she had it in her hands she didn’t bring it to her mouth. Instead, she stared at the tray. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  She glanced up at him. “For being so bitchy. I’ve just had the worst day.”

  “I suspected by the way you were steaming down that sidewalk earlier.” He rested his forearm on the chair’s arm, his half-eaten sandwich in his hand. “So what ‘stupid’ thing was it that I kept you from doing?”

  Instead of answering, India took a bite of the sandwich, chewed it slowly then swallowed. With a sigh, she sat back from the edge of the couch. “I was about to let go of my temper and cuss someone out.”

  “Now there’s something I can’t imagine, you cussing.”

  “I don’t make a habit of it, but if I get angry enough, I’ve been known to let a few words fly.”

  “Wasn’t me you were going to cuss out, was it?”

  She looked startled by his question. “No, why would you think that?”

  He shrugged. “Just get the feeling sometimes that I’m not your favorite person.”

  “I...I’ve just been under a lot of stress lately.”

  “And I added to it?”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s just I already had work and the next BlueBelles class, and then the rodeo got dumped on top of that. Not that I mind, I want to help Mia any way I can.”

  “Let me guess, you’re one of those people who can’t say no to volunteering.”

  “I just like to do my part.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She didn’t bother arguing with him, probably because he was right.

  They ate for a bit in silence, and his eyes roamed the room, at everything in its perfect place. A well-kept houseplant with not a dead leaf in sight. A painting of bluebonnets hung expertly on the far wall. A few picture frames along the mantel, but not so many that it looked cluttered. Two magazines on the opposite end of the coffee table that didn’t look as if they’d even been opened, let alone dog-eared.