Page 19 of Destined for the Cowboy

Concise words from one of his many foster fathers, delivered about a family friend who had a problem with alcohol, came back to him sharply now. Mr. Gordan had been one of the better ones. Tough, but fair. And usually right. He’d dared to hope he might be able to stay with that family, but he’d been moved yet again when Mrs. Gordan had gotten sick.

He didn’t want to think about it, about never seeing Tris again, but maybe it was the only way. Of course there was always the chance he’d run into her at her brother’s place, but if he was careful to go when school was normally in session, it should be all right. Yesterday’s encounter, which had led to today, had been purely coincidence after all.

He spent a lot of the rest of the drive home wondering why the hell this part of him, asleep and ignored ever since the reality of Gretchen’s “love” for him had punched him in the gut, had awakened now. Awakened only for this woman.

This woman who was not for him.

He’d best heed that long-ago advice.

Chapter Eleven

“So how’d yourtrip to Irving go yesterday?”

The moment Nic spoke, Tris realized she should have been prepared. Nic had been the one, after all, who had maneuvered them into that joint expedition. From where they were seated on a bale of hay, she carefully kept her eyes on her brother and nephew. They had Pie in the wash rack, giving the pinto pony a bath and getting themselves soaked in the process. But they were laughing, both of them, and it was a sight and sound she would never tire of. Not after what they’d been through. It eased the tangled restlessness she was feeling and hadn’t yet had time to sort out and analyze.

“It was very nice,” she answered, although nice wasn’t exactly the word for it. “The sculpture is amazing, beautiful, and so alive with the fountain imitating the splash of their hooves in the water. And the contrast of the horses and where it’s set is fascinating.”

“Spoken like a true teacher,” Nic said with a laugh. “How was Logan?”

Ah, there it was. “Educational,” she said, neutrally.

Nic practically gaped at her. “You spend an entire, very long day with one of the hottest, sexiest guys in Last Stand, and that’s what you call it?”

“It was,” she insisted, trying to ignore how Nic had described him. “He knows so much about it, not just the history and the meaning of it, but because he works with metal a lot he had insight on the making of the sculptures.” Her mouth quirked. “Although he said he’s limited to more practical applications.”

“He would,” Nic said. “Did you know he designed and helped Dad build my mom’s desk? And the ramp, so she could get off the front porch?”

Tris turned her head to look at her friend—and, she suspected, eventual sister-in-law—in surprise. “No, I didn’t.”

“He custom-made the metal parts and braces so they’d fit in those specific spots. They’ll last forever, thanks to him. And he did the drawer pulls too, handmade.”

Tris remembered the handles on the drawers of Barbara Baylor’s desk, an intricate twist of silver metal that was both decorative and easy to grasp. She’d had no idea they’d been handmade by the local blacksmith, however.

“I’m not surprised,” she said, her voice softer now. “He has…depth.”

“Yes, he does. He had a rough start, but he’s overcome most of that and made a good life. And gained the kind of depth that makes sure you’d never be bored around him.”

She wanted to ask what she meant by a rough start, but now another thought consumed her mind, and she shifted her gaze to Nic’s face. “Is that why you cornered us into making that trip together?”

“Moi?” Nic asked, widening her eyes as if shocked, just a bit too exaggeratedly. Then she laughed, admitting it. “I just thought you two might get along. When Jackson told me about your frequent trips to historical sites, Logan was the first person I thought of, so when the opportunity arose…” She shrugged.

“I see.”

Tris studied the other woman for a long, silent moment, long enough to make Nic apparently uncomfortable. “I wasn’t trying to set you up or anything, really. I mean, I know you’re a very educated, brilliant teacher and he’s just a blacksmith, after all—”

Tris’s temper sparked. “Just? He does a job this town desperately needs, and does it brilliantly and generously. Ontop of that he’s magical with difficult horses—you’ve said that yourself. And on top ofthathe’s the most well-read and knowledgeable person I’ve met in all of Last Stand, and—”

She cut herself off abruptly when she realized Nic was grinning at her. “I know. And I knew you’d know.”

“Then why did you say that?”

Nic’s grin shifted to a rather sad, rueful expression. “I don’t know the details, but he was burned pretty bad by some snooty East Coast transplant who faked being crazy about him. Mom thinks she was only using him to show her wealthy friends how egalitarian she’d become.”

Tris stared at her. “That’s…” She couldn’t think of a word disgusting enough.

“Yeah,” Nic agreed. “He’s a good man, Tris. He’ll never be a social butterfly—”

“Who wants one of those?” Tris said sharply. “I’d rather a man with depth any day.”

---