The Cowboy Takes a Bride by Debra Clopton Page B

smiling, too. “Don’t kill him,” she giggled, and everyone grinned. It was quite strange, actually.
    Sugar didn’t know what in the world they found funny about this. That mean, horrible man had basically made a fool out of her. In a huff, she pressed on the gas.
    It was time for a showdown.
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    With the crickets providing backup, Ross lay beneath his tractor, singing while he worked. It was a George Strait number about a father’s love, an old song Ross had sung with Grandpop in the early days. That was appropriate, since today was his dad’s birthday. Earlier, he’d called Jud Denton and wished him a good day. Before saying goodbye, they’d talked about the tractor Ross was ready to burn, the beavers he was ready to shoot and finally the woman he couldn’t get out of his head.
    The one he continued to feel guilty about.
    He was well aware of the time. Sugar was probably in the middle of her tryouts. And more than likely, things weren’t going well.
    He’d been trying not to think about it, he couldn’t help himself. After all, it was Sugar, the woman who’d imprinted herself on his mind like a brand. They’d talked three times in the five days since she’d moved to town, and he couldn’t get her out of his thoughts.
    Since he’d turned twenty-seven and began heading toward thirty, he’d started to see areas of his life where he was changing. Like this intense tunnel vision he’d developed over finding a wife. He’d heard it called nesting, which made him feel a bit like Elmer Fudd for some reason, or the Pillsbury Doughboy.
    Still, he was feeling the need to marry…and although he knew Sugar would be shaking the dust of Mule Hollow off her cute little feet before the New Year set in, she had captured his attention like no other woman ever had. This was not a good thing.
    â€œI thought you were a nice guy!”
    Sugar! At the sound of her angry voice, he jerked up and slammed his head into the undercarriage.
    â€œOhhh! Are you all right?” she gasped, all the anger dissipating with the thud of his head against steel.
    â€œI’m fine,” he grunted, pulling himself from beneath the tractor as he rubbed his forehead, squinting at her through one eye as pain radiated from the knot he could feel forming above his other eye.
    â€œYou have a lump,” she cried, dropping to kneel beside him. She touched his forehead with tentative fingers.
    â€œIt’ll go away,” he said, still squinting at her. The pain evaporated the second her fingers touched him, or maybe it was the instant she leaned close and he caught the scent of her—like spring, soft and fresh. For a brief moment, they just stared at each other. Then she blinked, her eyes hardened and her fingers fell away.
    â€œServes you right,” she said. “You knew those cowboys would walk out on me the minute I told them what the show would require.”
    â€œYes, I did.” Ross stood up and grabbed a rag off the tractor’s fender, wiping his hands clean. “Like I told you before, this isn’t Hollywood, where everybody works a job around their auditions. This is cattle country. The cows come first. That’s what cowboys do—they tend their animals. And that means they work as long as the day’s duties require, and into the night when needed. You should have realized coming into it that acting wouldn’t be paramount on their list. That you didn’t only proves that you have no idea what you’re trying to undertake. Especially since your production depends on having a local cast and crew.”
    She crossed her arms, looking as if she’d like to give him another lump on his forehead. But he knew she couldn’t deny the truth.
    â€œThat may be true, but you still could have warned me. No, wait. I know. You didn’t tell me because you can’t be bothered with anything that has to do with putting on a