Heart of a Cowgirl Read online

  Heart of a Cowgirl

  Heart of Oklahoma

  Lacy Williams

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Dear Reader

  3 Days with a Cowboy sneak peek

  Also by Lacy Williams

  1

  "I see they let any old trash in here."

  Weston Moore heard the words and knew they were directed at him. He worked at keeping an implacable expression on his face even as his temper simmered. His buddy Maddox's New Years' Eve party wasn't the place to air old business.

  He turned to face the man who'd spoken. "Ezra." He stuck out his hand. "It's been a long time."

  Not long enough, apparently. Weston's outstretched hand went ignored, and finally he dropped it.

  Had Ezra approached just to insult Weston? He'd known the now-high school principal over a decade ago, but since Weston's return to Redbud Trails a few months earlier, they'd managed avoid each other.

  Weston met Ezra's stare head on. He was four or five years older than Weston's thirty-three, and obviously, those old family grudges had never been resolved.

  "Hey, man."

  Maddox Michaels came from the crowded front hallway and clapped Weston's shoulder. He gave Ezra a nod. There was no way Maddox had missed the tension between the two. Maybe that's why he'd come over.

  "I heard your season went well," Ezra said to Maddox, who was the junior high's football coach.

  "We definitely missed having Jeremy on the roster," Weston returned. "I bet Coach Franks loves having him on the team." Franks was the high school varsity coach. Ezra's son must have been a sophomore if he'd made varsity.

  "You guys okay over here?" Maddox looked from one man to the other. "Need a drink or anything?"

  Weston was reminded that Maddox was new on the school payroll. Junior high might be in a different building than the high school, but Weston wouldn't do anything to jeopardize his bud's career—if Ezra tried to start something.

  "Everything's fine," Weston said.

  Ezra drifted away to talk to someone else in the crowded living room. Maddox turned raised eyebrows on Weston, but he only shrugged his friend off with a smile.

  You can't go home again.

  Weston vaguely remembered some famous book with the title in a long-ago college literature class, and obviously it was true. He felt battered from the exchange with Ezra, but he wouldn't let it show.

  He shouldn't have come.

  The New Year's Eve party was in full swing, people talking to each other, eating from the spread Maddox's wife Haley had laid out in the kitchen.

  Weston didn't belong.

  He'd left town a month after high school graduation, and he hadn't looked back.

  Until he'd had no choice but to return three months ago, thanks to a frantic phone call from one of his twin sisters.

  Maddox had pushed him to come to the party tonight. Knowing he was heading back to the city soon, Weston had done his best not to make new ties, but Maddox wouldn't be denied.

  They'd always been seated next to each other back in high school, at least when the teachers had used alphabetical seating charts. But they'd been on opposite ends of the social spectrum—Maddox, the beloved football star, and Weston, barely eking out an education.

  After Weston's return to town, Maddox had struck up a conversation with him in the church parking lot and then insisted Weston come to his early morning Bible study, which they had every week. Between Maddox and another new friend, Ben Taylor, Weston was surrounded by good men, good friends.

  He'd hoped that things could change with folks in town. But if Ezra were any indication, the folks in Redbud Trails had long memories.

  And Weston would be better off when he got home to Oklahoma City. It wouldn't be long now. Maybe another two months.

  He'd miss his sisters. They were the only ones who could've brought him back here to the town that despised him.

  He shook himself out of his funk. So much for enjoying the party. He made a circuit of the room and couldn't help but notice a cute blonde shooting him covert glances from where she stood near the fireplace.

  He'd seen her around town. Knew she must have some kind of retail business on Main Street, because she seemed to be there all the time. She'd had as many hairdos as the weeks he'd been here. Purple, red, pink.

  Tonight's blond curlicues seemed kind of tame for her. But maybe the flirty red dress beneath a stylishly faded jean jacket was wild enough, because he couldn't keep his gaze from following her around the room.

  She was pretty, no doubt. But he wouldn't do more than look. He didn't need a Redbud Trails complication. Especially in light of the way folks around here held grudges.

  Besides, he was still licking his wounds after his last relationship detonated over the summer. He'd been looking for the one since...well, it seemed like forever.

  The chances that he would meet her in Redbud Trails?

  Zilch.

  Still, something inside Weston chanted let's have some fun! He couldn't place this gal from his past. She must be a transplant. Which meant she might not know about the things that had chased him out of town.

  He could have all the fun he wanted with her.

  Yeah, right.

  For some reason, the sensible part of him wasn't getting a word in edgewise as fun Weston tracked her progress across the room.

  She started in a triangle with two other very attractive women in what seemed like an intense conversation. Didn't stop her from darting quick looks in his direction.

  Ben Taylor and a man he didn't know came and claimed the other two, and the blonde bombshell slipped away, circling the room. She stopped to talk to an older couple, animated, showing off her dress. She was closer now.

  And those looks were getting more frequent. And of longer duration.

  He shouldn't encourage her. If she was grounded in her life here in Redbud Trails, there would be no future with her.

  But the stupid part of him sent his feet wheeling into the empty farmhouse kitchen. With the overhead lights off and only a small light above the sink, the room was darker. Too intimate.

  He heard the soft click of her boot against the wood grain floor. Closer.

  Finally, he turned.

  "Hi." She sounded shy for someone bold enough to chase him in here.

  "Hey."

  She was even more beautiful up close, with startling violet eyes. Could that even be her natural eye color? The end of her nose turned up the slightest bit. And she had a smattering of freckles.

  His throat had gone dry. He cleared it. "Great party, huh?"

  "Yeah." She looked back over her shoulder where the noise of the party still went on. No one seemed to have noticed them both slip in here.

  She wore a blue-green scarf twined around her neck. It had dangly beads that clicked softly when she moved. She was over a foot shorter than his six-two, and slender.

  Everything about her interested him, and that was dangerous indeed.

  "I'm Weston." He stuck out his hand, and she gave hers. Thank God, not a repeat of earlier.

  Her slim, cool hand disappeared entirely in his huge paw, and sparks skittered up his arm and down the back of his neck.

  "I know." A mottled pink blush climbed her throat above that scarf and made its way into her cheeks.

  His stomach hollowed out. What did that mean? I know.

  "I'm Melody Carter."

  Melody. It fit her. Her voice was a soft alto that he knew he'd be hearing in his dreams tonight.


  "I wondered if you..." She faltered. Must've shored up her courage, because her shoulders straightened beneath that jean jacket. "Would you like to go out sometime? On a...date?"

  The last word seemed almost to strangle her.

  It was cute.

  The women in Oklahoma City would eat her for lunch. She was entirely too sweet. He was used to the urban dating scene, women who weren't afraid to let a guy know what they wanted.

  He really wanted to say yes. But she'd hit some kind of warning gong inside him a moment ago, and he hesitated.

  Long enough for her to rush on. "I don't know if you're in town for very long, but that's okay, because I'm not looking for anything serious, and I know you must..."

  Her words had tumbled over each other until they ground to an awkward halt. Her eyes had gone wide, and he didn't want to know what his expression looked like. Black. Ugly.

  I'm not looking for anything serious. I know you aren't either.

  Words that cut. Words that took him right back to his senior year in high school. When whispers had followed him around the hallways. When he'd skipped his commencement ceremony because it was too painful.

  "I'm not interested." He probably should've attempted some semblance of politeness, but the words emerged harsh.

  She took a step back, her eyes huge and locked on his face. She turned and fled.

  You can never go home again.

  He'd thought after fifteen years that people would be able to forget his reputation, but apparently he'd been wrong.

  He couldn't wait to get back to the city where he belonged and forget about Redbud Trails. For the second time.

  * * *

  "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

  Melody Carter took the stairs two at a time, desperate for a place to lick her wounds.

  Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

  The upstairs hallway was blessedly empty and mostly dark, the sounds from the party muted. Five doors led off from the hall. Which one was the bathroom?

  A hiccuping sob stuck behind her breastbone, and she stopped with one hand on the wall. What if there were someone in the bathroom? She didn't want to be a crying mess if she ran into someone coming out.

  She was already embarrassed enough.

  So much for tackling number one on her bucket list. She blinked at the hot prickling burning her eyes, but it didn't erase the image of the sneer that had turned Weston Moore's handsome face into something altogether different.

  She didn't have much experience with men—okay, any experience with men—but she hadn't thought asking one out was that big of a faux pas.

  Maybe it was her.

  There was movement behind her at the base of the stairs and, still not wanting anyone to witness her humiliation, she ducked into the first room.

  But instead of finding a dark bedroom, the lights were on and a TV blared in one corner, showing the New York City countdown from the east coast. The room was full of kids. She must've been really upset not to notice the noise from the hall.

  If it was only eleven o'clock, that meant she had to stay at the party at least another hour.

  If she knew anything about being rejected, it was that you couldn't slink off in a corner or go home. She would have to act like the life of the party.

  Even if she really wanted to go home and eat a tub of Cherry Garcia ice cream.

  "Hiya, Melody!" Mikey, Anna's eight-year-old son, dropped the handheld video game he'd been engrossed in and bounced up off the bed, where he'd been sitting next to Livy Michaels.

  "Melody!" Mikey's little sister Gina abandoned a pair of blonde dress-up dolls and threw herself at Melody, wrapping little arms around her knees until Melody wobbled.

  Two teen girls—they must have been about fourteen—glanced her way from where they lounged on a pair of beanbags in the corner of the room.

  On closer inspection, they had to be twins. One had her hair cropped short and wore baggie jeans and a T-shirt, while the other's hair was longer and had been curled around her shoulders. Still, their facial features were an exact match to each other's.

  The girl with shorter hair wrinkled her nose and went back to the sports magazine she had spread across her knees, but her twin swiveled to face Melody, who felt caught between her own feelings and the exuberance of the children.

  "You're her," she said excitedly.

  "I'm...?"

  Before the girl could answer, a childish shout echoed down the hallway, and something banged into the wall from outside the bedroom.

  "What—?"

  Both teen girls stood with identical long-suffering sighs. They brushed past Melody, who couldn't help watching.

  In the doorway, they each caught a small boy in their arms.

  "No wrestling," Pixie-cut said to the first.

  "And no chasing," her twin said to the second.

  "I can't believe you dragged me into this," Pixie-cut grumbled as they set the two small boys down. A third boy—triplets? Really?—darted between their legs, and the three boys ran circles around the room.

  "Hey, you wanted the paycheck, too."

  One of the boys picked up Gina's dolls and threw them at his brother.

  "Those are mine!" Gina shouted.

  The triplets scrabbled across the bed, knocking into Livy, who wobbled on the edge and then tumbled off.

  She popped up almost immediately, her hair mussed. "I'm okay."

  "We wanna play hide and seek!" one of the boys yelled.

  Pixie-cut rolled her eyes but followed the boys out of the room.

  "I'll play," Livy echoed, and Mikey rode her heels out of the room too, leaving behind blessed quiet, Gina, and one twin.

  "Sorry about that," the teen said. "We're sorta babysitting for the party."

  Melody was surprised the younger children hadn't been put to bed, but then it would probably be impossible for them to sleep here with all the noise and distractions.

  She hoped their mothers had a supply of patience—or another babysitter—for tomorrow morning.

  "I'm Melody." She stuck out her hand, and the teen shook it rapidly, her eyes shining.

  "You own the dress shop on Main Street. I love your clothes. I mean, the clothes in your store. But also what you're wearing is awesome. I mean..."

  The girl shook her head, and a blush climbed in her cheeks, but Melody had a flash of pride—the same one she felt every time someone complimented her store.

  "And you are...?" Melody knew all of her customers by name. It was one of the things she loved most about working and living in a small town. And she was sure she'd never seen this girl in her shop before.

  "I'm Claire. And..." She waved her hand, indicating the hall or maybe the back of the house. "My sister is Chase. Actually, her real name is Charlotte, but she goes by Chase."

  Chase. It seemed to somehow fit the other girl, with her short haircut and her tomboy outfit, but Melody couldn't help being curious as to why she'd chosen the moniker.

  It didn't hurt that curiosity was a nice distraction from the disappointment and embarrassment still churning in her gut.

  And she loved talking fashion.

  "I have a brand new shipment of dresses coming in—a new designer I haven't carried before. Do you want to see some of them?" She plucked her smart phone out of her jacket pocket and pulled up her Photos app.

  She'd fitted three mannequins with the new dresses, though she wouldn't change the display in the window until after her day off tomorrow. But she had taken pictures.

  Claire's intake of breath told her all she needed to know as Melody swept her finger across the screen to reveal photos of the three dresses.

  "I love that one," Claire said softly, her eyes locked on a knee-length navy dress in linen with a sweetheart neckline and a ruffled skirt. The lighter stitching made the dress.

  "It would look great with your fair coloring. You should come in to the shop and try it on—"

  A derisive snort from the doorway brought Melody's head
up. Chase was there, standing half-hidden in the hallway but obviously eavesdropping. Claire stepped away from Melody, the interest disappearing from her face.

  "I couldn't afford a dress like that," Claire said. But Melody heard the slight wistful undertone in her voice. Or maybe she'd imagined it. She'd been pretty sure there'd been at least some interest in Weston's eyes tonight, and obviously, she'd imagined that.

  "I run sales a lot," Melody offered. But not typically on her new inventory. She had to make a profit, or she couldn't afford to keep the store, even if she wanted to help a budding fashionista.

  Claire's eyes tracked to Melody's phone, now casually at her side.

  She hadn't mistaken the girl's interest. And if anyone knew about being denied what they wanted, it was Melody. Maybe it made her a softie.

  But she was who she was.

  "Actually..." she said slowly, an idea taking shape. She trusted her gut. This was the right thing to do. "I've been looking for a part-time employee and haven't found anyone. You could work for me a couple of days a week after school. Employees get a discount."

  Claire's face lit, her expressive eyes dancing.

  "We aren't sixteen," Chase said.

  Claire didn't seem fazed. "Arianna Mills has a job, and she's the same age as us."

  Melody nodded. "You have to get someone from the school to sign off on it."

  "You know he'll never let you," Chase hissed from the hallway.

  Some of Claire's excitement faded.

  "Your dad?" Melody asked.

  "Our brother," Claire said, her voice now subdued.

  "Is he here? I could talk to him." Melody pressed. Something inside her knew that this was just right. She had been looking for help. A couple of hours away from running the register would allow her more time to work on the website and build her online presence—something that helped supplement her monthly income. If she relied solely on the customers in the tiny town of Redbud Trails, she's starve to death.

  "What are you girls cooking up...?"

  It couldn't be.

  But of course, because that was the kind of night she was having, Weston Moore filled the doorway with his broad chambray-covered shoulders.