Guardian Cowboy

Chapter 2

Janis couldn’t help the bouts of laughter that overtook her throughout the course of the day. Each time she thought of the stunned look on Sawyer’s face when he’d first awakened, she got the giggles.

His copper-colored eyes had radiated a quiet panic as he’d maneuvered the morning conversation in a way for her not to know he had no memory of them having sex.

Of course he had no memory. Absolutely nothing had happened between them. He had slept soundly through the night while sleep had remained elusive for her because she’d been so acutely aware of him next to her in the bed.

His scent had surrounded her and she’d tried to match her breathing to his. She’d wondered what it would really be like to make love with him.

What she’d done to him was wrong on so many levels, but, if given the same opportunity, she would do it again. What if another woman had gotten him to go home with her while he’d been blindly drunk?

It would be easy to lift his wallet or to make him believe he was a baby daddy or to kill him when he was in that kind of condition.

No hint of laughter left her lips as she thought of all the bad things that could happen to him. He was lucky his fellow cowboys babysat him when he passed out. But he was a grown man and shouldn’t have to rely on the kindness of others to see him home safe and sound.

She’d tell him the truth tonight over dinner. She had no idea how he would react. It was possible her little ploy would make him so angry he’d never speak to her again. Hopefully, he’d take it all in good humor and see that the intent behind it was good and she’d meant him no harm.

Still, her heart raced as she dressed for the evening out. Was it beating more frantically because she didn’t know what to expect from him when she told him the truth? Or was the quickened rhythm because she was finally going to spend some quality time with the man she’d had an interest in for so long?

Dinner at the café wasn’t exactly a formal affair, so she pulled on a pair of jeans and topped them with a coral-colored sweater she knew complemented her chin-length brown hair and brown eyes.

At five to six that evening she stood at the window next to the door with her coat in hand. March had definitely roared in like a lion, hanging on to the cold and blustery winds of winter.

She was ready for spring, with warm breezes and the scent of new grass and flowers in the air. A smile touched her lips as a memory of her father jumped into her mind.

Her father had loved spring, too. One day, when she was about ten years old, he’d pulled her out of the house and onto the front lawn. Together they had stretched out on the ground. “Listen,” he’d said.

“What am I listening to?” she’d asked.

“The earth’s heartbeat,” he’d replied. “Sometimes it’s just nice to be quiet and listen.”

A sharp pain of grief pierced through her heart. Her dad had died of a heart attack when Janis was sixteen. That was the day every ounce of love had been taken from Janis’s world.

The pain was vanquished by the sight of Sawyer’s truck pulling into the small parking lot.

Her heart began to beat with the anticipation and excitement of the evening to come in his company.

Before he could get out of the truck, she pulled on her coat and stepped outside the door. She ran to the passenger door and got in.

“Hi,” she greeted cheerfully.

“Hi, yourself,” he replied. “You know, I would have walked up to your door to get you like a proper gentleman if you hadn’t run out so quickly.” He pulled out of the parking area behind the bar and onto Main Street.

“There was no reason for you to get out in the cold,” she replied. The interior of the truck smelled pleasant and masculine, with hints of rich leather and his woodsy cologne.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“I’m starving. What about you?”

“I can always eat, but tonight was a good night to head to the café instead of eating at the ranch. Cookie made meatloaf and I’m not particularly partial to it.”

“What’s your favorite meal?”

She noted how his stiff shoulders began to relax as the conversation remained light and easy. The poor man was probably afraid she was going to bring up last night. She didn’t intend to even mention it until the end of this night when she’d tell him the truth.

“As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing better than a big, juicy cheeseburger. What about you?”

“French fries. I like them plain or smothered with cheese or covered with chili.”

He laughed and flashed her a quick glance. “That’s not a real meal.”

“Bet me,” she replied, making him laugh once again.

By that time they’d arrived at the Bitterroot Café. Sundays, the place was usually packed at lunchtime, after church services let out. But on Sunday evenings there were not too many diners.

Janis was glad. It would make conversation easier. She knew she was intensely physically attracted to Sawyer, but she also recognized that she didn’t know that much about him. By the end of this meal, her attraction to him just might be dead.

Amanda Wright greeted them as they walked in. A month ago, she’d bought the café from Daisy Martin, a fiery redhead who had owned it for as long as anyone could remember.

Janis knew that wasn’t the only change that had occurred in Mandy’s life. A month and a half ago, after a whirlwind romance, she and Brody Booth had run off to Las Vegas and gotten married.

“Lately it seems like weddings are in the air in Bitterroot,” Janis said once they were seated in a booth and had shrugged out of their coats.

Sawyer’s gaze turned wary and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t worry, Sawyer, shotgun weddings went out of style a long time ago. Besides, I don’t have a big brother or a daddy to come after you.”

He visibly relaxed. “But isn’t June Little, who works at the mercantile, your mother?”

It was Janis’s turn to stiffen slightly. “She is, but I don’t have any kind of a relationship with her right now.”

“That’s a shame,” he replied.

Before the conversation could go any further, Carlie Martin appeared to take their orders.

“How’s it going, Carlie?” Janis asked the pretty blond waitress.

“It’s going,” she replied. “We had a hellacious crowd in for lunch but, thankfully, it’s been a fairly slow night, so we’ve all managed to catch our breaths.”

After a little more small talk, Sawyer ordered a burger and fries. Janis opted for a chicken and bacon wrap, a new item on the menu, and a side of fries.

“Tell me why you don’t have a relationship with your mother?” he asked once Carlie had left the booth.

“Oh, it’s a long, boring story. I’d much rather hear about you,” she replied. “Through the years I’ve heard so many rumors about all you men on the Holiday Ranch.”

He grinned. “Probably at least half of them aren’t true.”

She could listen to the sound of his deep laughter forever. “So, you weren’t all found under lily pads in Big Cass’s pond.” She’d wanted him to laugh again and she was successful.

“No,” he replied, a sparkle of humor in his eyes. “And we weren’t all brought in from a reform school when we were kids. But we were all runaways or throwaways who took to the streets when we were young.”

“And which one were you? A runaway or a throwaway?”

“A runaway,” he replied.

“Why?” These were the kinds of things she wanted to know. Who he was as a man, where he’d come from, and what forces might be at play in his life that made him drink himself into a stupor on most Saturday nights when he came into the bar.

He looked so sexy tonight in his jeans and a rust-colored shirt that matched his slightly unruly hair and stretched across his broad shoulders.

“Unlike a lot of the other men who suffered from mental and physical abuse, I ran away when my mom died because I didn’t want to go into foster care.” He gave a dry chuckle. “At fifteen years old, I thought I was old enough and strong enough to survive on my own. But if it hadn’t been for Cass Holiday and Francine Rogers, I probably would have died on the streets or wound up in jail.”

“Who is Francine Rogers?” Everyone in town had known Big Cass Holiday, who had died a year ago in a tornado.

“She was a social worker and a good friend of Cass’s. She worked the streets at night in Oklahoma City. She tried to reunite kids with their parents, if possible. She’s the one responsible for getting us all off the streets and working for Cass. Unfortunately we heard Francine passed away a couple of months ago.”

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their orders. “Anything else I can get you?” Carlie asked once she had placed their plates in front of them.

“I think we’re good,” Sawyer replied. When she left, Sawyer looked at Janis, his eyes lit with curiosity. “Now, tell me about you. I know you’ve worked at the bar for a long time, but I don’t know much about your personal life.”

“That’s because I don’t have much of a personal life,” she replied ruefully as she dragged one of her fries through a puddle of ketchup. “I live at the bar. I work at the bar. And that’s about the sum of it.”

“What do you do for fun?”

“I love to read and sometimes I just like to drive out into the country and sit and listen to the soft noise of nature at work.” A blush warmed her cheeks. “I know it probably sounds silly.”

“It doesn’t sound silly at all to me,” he replied. “Living with eleven other rowdy cowboys, sometimes I just need to get away and enjoy the sounds of nature. When that happens, I usually grab my fishing pole and head down to the pond.”

“That sounds like fun,” she replied.

“Maybe on a warm day I’ll take you to the pond with me.”

Her heart swelled at his words. “That would be nice,” she said. But once she told him the truth about the night before, he might be so angry he wouldn’t be speaking to her tomorrow or on the next warm day.

For the next hour they ate and talked and laughed. Sawyer seemed to be the man she’d thought he would be...easygoing, easy to talk to, and with a great sense of humor.

She loved the way his eyes shone when he talked about his work at the ranch and the other ranch hands, who were like brothers to him. She also liked that he was fiercely loyal to Cassie Bowie, who was Big Cass’s niece and had taken over the ranch after Cass had died.

It would be easy to allow her crush on him to blossom into something more, but first Janis had to tell him the truth.

She’d tell him at her doorstep, she thought. That way, if he was really angry with her, at least she’d already be home. Besides, she wasn’t ready for this pleasant time with him to end yet.

“Are you a dessert kind of girl?” he asked when they’d finished the meal.

“I wouldn’t turn up my nose at a piece of chocolate cake,” she replied.

“Then the lady shall eat cake,” he replied and gestured to get Carlie’s attention.

“I hope the lady won’t be eating cake all alone?”

He grinned at her. “I can’t walk out of here without eating a piece of Mandy’s fancy crème brûlée cake.”

“I noticed it was a new item on the menu. I’m assuming it’s good?”

His eyes warmed and a sensual curl of his lips shot heat through her. “It’s good enough to make a grown man weep,” he replied.

Oh, my, but she’d love for him to look that way, to talk that way, about her.

They had just been served their desserts and coffee when Tony Nakni, his wife, Mary, and Mary’s grandmother, Halena, came in.

Tony and Mary waved as they took a booth on the opposite side of the café, while Halena wove her way through the tables in the center to approach Janis and Sawyer.

“Hi, Halena,” Janis said.

Halena Redwing was one of the more colorful characters in Bitterroot. She had the proud, beautiful, facial features of her Choctaw blood and a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes. Rumor had it she loved dancing naked in rainstorms. She also had a penchant for funky hats and evening dresses.

Tonight she was clad in a red gown with glittery matching shoes. A little hat of black-and-red feathers sat atop her shiny silver hair.

“Evening, ma’am,” Sawyer said.

“Sawyer, it’s nice to see you out with a good woman,” Halena said. “It’s past time for you to get married and have a bunch of babies.”

“Halena.” Janis laughed. “We’re just having dinner,” she protested.

“Dinner is a good start and you could do a lot worse.” Halena leaned into Janis. “He’s got the sexiest, most pinchable butt in all of Bitterroot,” she said in a loud, mock whisper.

“Geez, Halena.” Sawyer’s cheeks flushed red.

“Just saying,” she said and then turned on her sparkly red shoes and headed back to the booth where Tony and Mary awaited her.

“Halena is definitely a pip,” Janis said.

“I swear that woman likes to torment me whenever she sees me,” Sawyer said, but his voice held a wealth of affection. “She steals my hat whenever she can and goes out of her way to embarrass me whenever possible.”

“At least she gave me some valuable information.” Janis grinned at him teasingly.

Once again Sawyer’s cheeks dusted with color. “And now would be a great time to change the subject.”

They lingered over coffee and their conversation remained light and easy.

“Favorite music?” he asked her.

“Anything country,” she replied.

“Favorite flower?”

“Pink roses. When I went to my first school dance, my date didn’t know he was supposed to get me a corsage. My dad ran to the florist and got me a beautiful corsage of pink roses. They remind me of love.”

“Favorite place to hang out in Bitterroot?”

She frowned thoughtfully. “The courtyard in the center of town is a nice place to sit and relax.”

Then it was her turn to fire questions at him. She learned that spring was his favorite season and he loved the sound of a redbird’s song. His favorite time of day was evening and he’d broken his arm when the other guys had dared him to ride a bull named Cowboy Crusher.

They spent a half hour firing all kinds of questions to each other. She was disappointed when their cups were empty and it was time to leave. But she knew work time came early for him at the ranch.

As she got into his truck, nervous butterflies took flight in the pit of her stomach. Now was the time of reckoning. She had to tell him that nothing had happened between them last night.

“This has been nice,” he said when they were a block away from the bar. “I feel like we sort of jumped the gun last night and now we need to work backward and get to know each other better.”

She gazed at him in the illumination of the dashboard. “Sawyer...about last night,” she began. She turned her gaze out the front window, unable to look at him while she made her confession. As his headlights splashed across the back of the bar, she gasped in horror.

* * *

Sawyer stared at the white paint sprayed across the dark wood of the building. The letters were huge—Janis Little is a Whore.

What the hell? Was this because of what had happened last night? Who else had known that he’d spent the night in her bed besides a couple of his friends?

Janis began to cry. “Oh, my God...wh-who would do this?” she said between her gulping sobs. “I... I’m not a whore. I’m not.”

She turned to look at him and in her eyes he saw not only shock and hurt, but also a fierce denial of the characterization the words gave her.

“Janis, of course you’re not...” he began in an attempt to calm her down. He turned off his headlights so the words were no longer visible in the darkness of the night.

“I’ve only had one lover in my whole life. Only one, and I’m thirty years old. You’re the one and only man who has ever stayed in my room overnight. I wasn’t a whore when I was growing up and I’m not a whore now.” Anything else she might have had to say was made impossible as she buried her face in her hands and wept in earnest.

“Janis, nobody believes you’re a whore,” he said. “I mean, nobody I know believes that.” It was true. He had never heard any hint or whisper of a rumor about Janis being loose and wild. “This is the work of some no-count creep. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s cleaned up before morning, but first we need to call Dillon.”

Dillon Bowie was the chief of police for the small town. More recently he had become the husband of Cassie, who owned the ranch Sawyer called home.

“And I should call Gary,” she said as she drew in several deep breaths in an obvious effort to push back her tears.

Gary Runyon owned the bar and Sawyer agreed that he should be called, as well.

The minute the calls had been made, Janis got out of the truck. Sawyer quickly followed her. She stood with her back to him and stared at the building where the letters were faintly visible in the illumination from a nearby streetlight.

He could hear that she was still softly crying and could see that her entire body visibly trembled. “Janis,” he said softly as he grabbed her by one arm and turned her around to face him.

She instantly came into his arms and buried her face in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her in an effort to somehow comfort her.

“Nobody will see this except us and Dillon and Gary,” he said. “I’ll make sure it’s painted over by morning. I promise.”

“But why would somebody do this to me?” Her breath was a warm caress against his neck. She released a small laugh that had nothing to do with her being amused. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think my mother was behind this.”

“Your mother?” Shock swept through him.

She shook her head. “Never mind. Like I said earlier, it’s a long story for another time.”

What kind of story could make a woman believe her mother was capable of doing something like this? Sawyer couldn’t imagine. “Come on, let’s get back in the truck to wait. It’s cold out here.”

They got back in the truck, where he started the engine to get some heat blowing from the vents.

“I’m sorry, Janis,” he said.

She turned and looked at him in surprise. “Why are you sorry?”

“I feel partially responsible for this. It probably wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t spent the night with you last night.”

“I’m a grown woman and I have a right to a personal life without somebody judging me for it. This is just so embarrassing...and...and it’s vile. I hope Dillon finds the person responsible,” she replied.

Sawyer didn’t want to tell her that he seriously doubted Dillon would be able to catch the culprit. In any case, at that moment Dillon arrived, his lights whirling blue and red across the building.

Sawyer and Janis got out of the truck as Dillon departed his police car. “Nasty piece of work,” he said in greeting. He looked at Janis. “Any idea who might be responsible?”

She shook her head. “None. I can’t imagine who would do something like this.”

“I, uh... I spent the night with Janis last night,” Sawyer said. “Maybe that has something to do with it?”

“Janis’s business should be nobody else’s business,” Dillon replied. “You’re both consenting adults.”

“Wait...maybe I do know somebody who would do something like this. Last night at work I poured a beer in Zeke Osmond’s lap,” Janis said.

“Was it an accident or on-purpose spill?” Dillon asked.

“On purpose,” she replied. “He kept grabbing my backside and I’d finally had enough.” Her gaze went back to the building. “He was definitely angry enough at me to do something like this.”

“Or maybe you have a secret admirer who didn’t like the idea of you being with Sawyer,” Dillon said in speculation. “I’m going to look around to see if I can find a paint can that might have been discarded. But, honestly, there isn’t much I can do about this.”

Gary Runyon’s van pulled into the parking lot. Gary was a big man, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. He and his wife, Abigail, had recently celebrated their twenty-seventh wedding anniversary. They had two daughters.

“Gary, I’m so sorry,” Janis said. “Please don’t let me go.”

“Let you go? You mean fire you?” He shook his head. “Janis, honey, did you paint the back of my building?” he asked.

“Of course not,” she replied.

“Then why on earth would I let you go? You’re the best damned bar manager anyone could have.” The big man nodded at Sawyer and then walked over to Dillon, who had begun his paint can hunt.

Sawyer flung an arm over Janis’s shoulder. “You okay?” he asked.

“As okay as I can be,” she replied as she moved even closer to his side. She looked over to where Dillon was walking around and Gary was on his cell phone. “Dillon isn’t going to be able to find out who did this, is he?”

Sawyer hesitated a moment and then replied, “Probably not. But somebody who has the mentality to do something like this will possibly brag to a friend, or get drunk and say something incriminating. Zeke Osmond isn’t the brightest star in the sky.”