Along Came a Cowboy by Christine Lynxwiler Page A

“and many mooore.” I didn’t delete that message until Christmas.
    I open my mouth to try to explain, but the earbuds are in place, and her eyes are closed. One could quickly learn to love technology.
    When we turn into the Lazy W driveway, I glance over at Jennifer, whose eyes are still closed, and slip my lip gloss from my purse. It’s a light pink, barely noticeable really, but maybe it will help me not to feel so frazzled. I slow to a crawl and keep one eye on the road and one on the mirror as I quickly trace my lips with the wand.
    â€œYou know this guy?”
    I jerk and make a shiny line on my cheek, then fumble for a napkin. I wipe it off and meet her level green gaze. She’s not a little girl anymore.
    â€œWe were neighbors growing up, so of course I knew him back then. Not so much anymore.”
    â€œWhat’s he like?”
    â€œHe’s. . .” Smooth. A tad arrogant. Sometimes infuriating. Unbelievably good-looking. “Nice.”
    â€œReally?” Her brows draw together. “You don’t sound very sure.”
    â€œJenn, why do you want to ride a bull?”
    She shrugs. “I just do.”
    â€œTo prove that you’re as opposite your mom as you can be?”
    A shadow crosses over her face, and I know I nailed her motivation.
    She folds her arms in front of her. “I really want to ride a bull. Do you think Granddaddy is just messin’ with me?”
    I shrug with my hands still on the steering wheel. “I quit trying to read his mind years ago.”
    â€œDo you still barrel race?”
    â€œNot competitively.”
    â€œWhy?”
    I struggle to phrase an answer. I slip out to the ranch several times a week in the early morning hours and ride, but anything more than that would require days like today. And I’m sure not up for that. There are other, deeper reasons, but that one is enough. “I’m pretty busy with my practice.”
    She may not be a little girl anymore, but today she’s asking as many questions as a five-year-old.
    When we get out of the car, Jack and Dad are standing out near the barn talking. Dad waves us over. “Jack, this is my granddaughter, Jennifer.”
    Jack makes no indication that he picked Jenn up hitchhiking last night. Instead, he doffs his hat and smiles, his dimples deepening. “Jennifer.”
    She blushes.
    Maybe she’s embarrassed because he’s the one who picked her up when she was on her way to my house, but it could just as easily be his good looks. It doesn’t matter what age females are, he apparently has the same effect on them.
    He smiles at me, and I pray I don’t blush. “Rachel. Good to see you again.”
    I nod. “Small world.”
    Dad laughs and looks at Jack. “Remember what I told you the other day when we were fixing that stretch of fence that runs by the main road?”
    Jack nods. “When we’re working by the road and hear a car coming, I should just give a quick wave over my shoulder and keep on working. It’s most likely either someone I know or someone who knows me.”
    â€œOr both,” they finish together with a laugh.
    Jennifer has wandered over to the horse stalls while Dadand Jack are male-bonding. Dad excuses himself and goes over to introduce her to Jack’s horses.
    I’m amazed that I feel a flare of jealousy that Dad is so at home here, and with Jack, in general. Before I got pregnant, I did everything I could to be the son Dad never had. Is Jack filling that bill now?
    When I look back at Jack, he’s watching me, his eyes scrutinizing my expression.
    I raise an eyebrow. “So do you have a plan?”
    â€œExcuse me?” he asks as if he didn’t hear me.
    â€œA plan. To keep Jennifer from actually riding a wild bull.”
    He shrugs. “Your dad has a plan. We’ll see how it goes.”
    I figure I might as well cut to the chase. I square my shoulders and look him