The Cowbear's Curvy Valentine (Curvy Bear Ranch 5) by Liv Brywood Page B

him on the way to the door.
    “Mornin’, ma’am,” he said.
    “Don’t forget what I told you,” Vicki called over her shoulder.
    “I won’t,” Abby responded.
    “What’d she tell you?” Cody asked.
    “She’s a smart woman. She gave me something to think about.”
    “Women and secrets, I swear,” he said with a huff. “Anyway, I came to find you because I have some exciting news.”
    “I thought you didn’t watch the news,” Abby said.
    “No, not that kind of news. Your painting sold.”
    “What?” Her eyes widened.
    “My friend framed it and put it up in the gallery. I wasn’t sure how to price it, so I told him to sell it for what he thought it was worth.”
    “How much did he sell it for?” she asked.
    “Two hundred dollars.”
    “What? That’s impossible. It was a crappy painting made with cheap watercolors. I only spent a few hours on it. It wasn’t even on good paper.”
    “You’re talented. My friend recognized it the minute I showed him the painting. He wants more of your work,” he said.
    “I don’t have anything else. I can’t give him another painting like that, not without a proper paint set and canvas,” she said.
    “True, he did say that if it had been on better paper, he could have sold it for more. This could be the start of a new career,” he said.
    She frowned and turned to rest her forearms on the railing around the porch. The sudden change in her mood confused him. Why wasn’t she happier about selling the painting? If he could whip up something in a few hours that would earn him two hundred dollars, he’d sure as hell want to do it again.
    “What’s wrong?” he asked. He moved closer and rested a hand on her back.
    “This doesn’t really change anything for me.”
    “Why not?”
    “I can’t live on two hundred dollars. I make more than that every day as a lawyer, and I don’t think I’m good enough to sell a painting every day,” she said.
    “You wouldn’t have to. When I was in the gallery, I was looking around at some of the other paintings. A few had prices of more than ten thousand dollars. You’d only have to sell one a month at that rate.”
    “A professional artist?” She shook her head. “My parents would have a fit.”
    “Who cares? Would it make you happy?” he asked.
    “I don’t know. I don’t want to disappoint them. But I guess I’ve already done that by losing the case.”
    “At some point, we all disappoint our parents. People aren’t perfect.”
    “What did you do to disappoint your parents?” she asked.
    He sighed. Did he really want to tell her the story? Even though the incident had occurred years ago, he could still see the pained looks on his parents’ faces when they’d arrived at the park ranger’s office to collect him and his friends. He really didn’t want to relive it, but after glancing at the forlorn look on Abby’s face, he decided to tell her everything.
    “When I was seventeen, my friends and I drove into Yellowstone,” he paused. “God, this is embarrassing to admit.”
    “What happened?” she asked softly.
    “We were out joyriding in the truck my father had given me for my birthday. We shouldn’t have been driving so fast and horsing around, but we were.”
    “You were kids,” she offered.
    “Yeah, but dumb kids. Anyway, I took a corner too hard and the truck went off the road. It was the middle of summer and there were tourists all over the place. We didn’t hit anyone—thank God—but we did manage to knock over a tree.”
    “That’s bad, but not as bad as losing a case and letting a child murderer go free,” she said.
    “I wasn’t done with the story,” he said. “The tree fell on a historic building that had been standing for two hundred years. We basically demolished it. My parents had to pay the fine and the truck was totaled. I think that’s the only time I ever remember my dad raising his voice. He was furious.”
    “I bet,” she said in a blasé tone.
    He frowned. Maybe