The Bachelor Cowboy Read online

  “Ouch.” Jack clutched his chest, wounded. “So then you decided to empty the whole wallet?”

  “No . . . that was me wanting to win.” She gave him a rueful smile, looking nervous and uneasy. Her gaze flicked to his mouth repeatedly, and she blushed. He suspected she liked looking at him, and that made him want to flex. “Besides, it’s for charity.”

  “That’s why you bid against your mom? Doesn’t have anything to do with this?” He struck a Superman-like pose, chin in the air, a hand on one hip, dog tucked under the other arm.

  She snort-giggled, a sound that he found endearing. “Okay, now you’re just fishing for compliments.”

  “Damn. How’d you guess?”

  Layla gestured at the door. “I can recognize narcissism from a mile away.”

  “Do you think I’m a narcissist, then?”

  “No, I think you just know that you’re hot.”

  Not cute. Not charming. Hot. His grin widened. Well now. Things were getting mighty interesting.

  Layla fidgeted in place, as if uncomfortable with the silence that fell between them.

  “So . . . about our date,” Jack began, but someone came up to Layla and whispered something. She nodded and pulled out a checkbook. Right. This was for charity. For a moment, he’d almost forgotten because he’d been so pleased to see her. She was the one girl around here that he’d had his eye on, and seeing her up close and talking to her just cemented his fascination.

  It had almost distracted him from the fact that her mother had announced to the entire room that Layla was a virgin. He didn’t know what to think about that. He lifted a hand to pet Oscar, and the dog snapped at him. He winced and pulled back, wondering what the hell the dog’s problem was. Sometimes he was loving and affectionate, and sometimes he was a damn asshole.

  “Hands,” came a thin, reedy voice.

  Jack looked over. There was a thin woman with a walker next to Layla, her hair teased into a snow-white helmet atop her head. She wore a bright glittery dress and looked as if someone’s nana was heading out for a night on the town. “Ma’am,” he said politely, offering her a smile.

  “It’s your hands,” she told him. “That good boy is afraid of hands. Someone probably hurt him in the past. Just don’t wave them in front of his face and he won’t panic.”

  She had a wistful look on her face as she eyed the dog, and he sat down next to her and held Oscar out. The little dog immediately began to tremble, but the woman was careful and cradled him against her chest. She kept her hands out of sight and petted his head, and sure enough, Oscar calmed down.

  “You’re a real genius with animals,” Jack mentioned. “You have several at home?”

  “No.” Her voice took on a sad note. “My last dog died a few years ago. Didn’t realize how much I missed him until now.” The woman continued to hug the dog, a smile on her face. “I bid on you, you know.”

  “I know you did,” Jack said, grinning. She’d bid a dollar on everyone.

  She looked up and gave him a sharp look. “Not you. The dog.”

  His brows went up, and he laughed. “Sorry. I misunderstood.” Damn, but he liked this fiery nana. She reminded him of his before she’d passed on when Jack was ten.

  Layla sat down next to the woman and glanced over at him again, a hint of a smile on her face. “I’m sorry I bid against you, Miss Cora. I just saw Jack and had to have him for myself.”

  “It’s okay, dear. You’re young.” She stroked the dog’s head, careful to keep her hands out of his face. “I don’t need a boyfriend. I have too many of them already.”

  He noticed Layla’s lips twitch with amusement as she glanced over at him. “The dog’s up for adoption,” she pointed out. “And he seems to like you, Miss Cora.”

  Cora considered this. “Do you think I should?”

  Layla exchanged a look with Jack, one full of sympathy and sweetness. “Well, since I outbid you, maybe it’s only fair that I get you the little man you came for.” She reached for the dog, and Oscar bared his teeth.

  “Hands,” Cora said calmly, patting the dachshund’s fat sides.

  “Right. Why don’t you pet him and I’ll get the details worked out?” Layla got to her feet, wallet in hand again, and brushed past Jack and Cora.

  Jack watched her go, following the sway of her hips.

  “She’s a nice girl,” Cora said. “You’d better lock that down if you’re interested.”

  He grinned over at her. “Of course I’m interested. I have eyes, don’t I?”

  Cora just hmphed again. “I know your type. You’re a pretty man who thinks the world should kiss his feet. You’re no good for her, but if she likes you, it’s because she’s dazzled by your charm.”

  Was he getting a dressing-down from Cora? Jack fought back an amused smile. “So you think I’m charming?”

  “I think that you think you’re charming,” Cora pointed out.

  Jack laughed. Well, damn. “That cut me right to the bone.”

  “All I’m saying,” Cora continued, patting the dog’s fat sides as it nestled in her arms, “is that that young lady paid a lot of money to spend an afternoon with you. I only bid a dollar, you know.” She sniffed. “Not sure you’re worth more.”

  “You’re breaking my heart, Miss Cora.”

  “Oh please. You’ll get over it.” She rolled her eyes. “Just don’t go breaking her heart. She deserves better than that.”

  He suspected he’d never win this argument, so best to bow out gracefully, considering that he wasn’t even sure why they were arguing. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Layla returned with a leash and paperwork a short moment later, smiling. “He’s all yours, Cora. I hope the two of you are very happy together.”

  “Why, thank you, dear. You’re a lovely girl. You deserve the best.” And she gave a sharp look to Jack that had him twitching to laugh again.

  Layla looked uncertain for a moment, so Jack pulled up the chair next to him and offered it to her. “Won’t you sit? We were just talking about Oscar.”

  “Oh, of course.” She glanced at Amy, but Caleb’s girlfriend was busy talking to Becca and another person. Layla pulled out her phone and looked over at him. “Maybe we should—”

  “Time to give the dog back, Miss Cora,” a firm voice said, and a stout woman arrived, keys in hand. “The bus is about to leave.”

  “Five more minutes,” Cora demanded, holding Oscar tightly.

  “No, I’m afraid we’re leaving now.” She pulled out Cora’s walker. “Come on. Party’s over.”

  “Oh, but we got the dog for her,” Layla said, a hint of a frown on her face. “Oscar’s going home with her.”

  The newcomer frowned at them both. “No, he’s not. There’s no pets allowed at the assisted-living facility.”

  Assisted living? There was a place on the edge of town, Pine Tree or Pine Grove or some pastoral name like that for a square, soulless-looking building. Cora lived there? Layla was clearly shocked, too.

  Miss Cora, however, had a sly look on her face. She got to her feet and handed the dog carefully back to Jack. “I can have visitors on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” she announced. “Bring my boy by to see me.”

  “We’ll see, Miss Cora,” the nurse said in a firm voice. “These nice people might be busy. Come on, now.”

  Cora winked at him, turned and put her hands on her walker, and then let herself be led away. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she muttered.

  Layla looked at him, her mouth slightly open. “I thought she was just a little bit spirited and having fun. I didn’t realize . . .”

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure she was having fun,” Jack drawled. “Something tells me she played us exactly how she wanted.”

  “Maybe so.” Layla’s expression softened and she reached for Oscar, careful not to flash a hand in front of his face. She sc
ratched the back of his ears, leaning in toward Jack. “So what do we do now?”

  “Figure out a way to share custody of our new grouchy child?”

  She chuckled, and the sound was husky and low and like magic. “I have a cat. I can’t have a dog.”

  He could. No one at the Swinging C would care if he added another dog to the mix, even if it was as odd a breed as the dachshund. His uncle—and the Swinging C’s owner—was a veterinarian. Another dog wouldn’t be a problem . . . but he didn’t want Layla to know that. He wanted an excuse to see her again.

  More than one excuse, really. Sure, they had a date to schedule, but he couldn’t stop looking at her. At the way her mouth pursed with consternation as she rubbed Oscar’s ears. At the small hands and long fingers. The way her glasses slid down her cute nose. The way her thick hair escaped its haphazard bun. There were a lot of things about Layla that weren’t “his type,” but on her, he liked the look.

  In fact, he liked everything. And he liked it more and more the longer he was around her. So, yeah, he’d push some dog sharing on her if it meant seeing her again.

  He suspected Layla was skittish. She was nervous as she talked to him, as if she wasn’t entirely sure what to say. She fidgeted in place. Glanced at the doors and other people as if she was looking for a way out . . . and yet he suspected she liked him. She watched his mouth a lot. Blushed. Leaned toward him. He knew if he agreed to the date she’d paid for and nothing else, he’d see her that afternoon and then never hear from her again.

  He had to corner her, it seemed.

  Jack pulled his phone out, and immediately Oscar started to snap at it and his hand. He grimaced, handing the phone in her direction. “Uh-oh.”

  She took it, chuckling. “How dare you move a muscle and scare our child?”

  He tried to put a hand on Oscar’s back to comfort him, but the dog was worked up and snapped at his fingers again, yapping sharply. Jack winced, letting the dog maul his fingers as he nodded to Layla. “Can you put your name in there for me? And your number?”

  She waved the phone at him. “I don’t have your password, friend.”

  “I’ll give it to you.” He recited it and she unlocked his phone, then arched a brow in his direction. “What?” he asked.

  “You’re awfully trusting. How do you know I’m not going to log on and clean out your accounts or dig through all your emails?”

  “Maybe I don’t mind you digging through my life,” he teased, then bit back a curse when Oscar nipped a little harder.

  “You are a terrible flirt, and I’m already regretting the money I’ve spent.” But she said it while smiling, and she typed on his phone with those fascinating long fingers, her movements far quicker than his when he tried to type on the damn thing. “Okay, my name and phone number are in there.”

  “Great. I’ve got your number now, so there’s no backing out.”

  She rolled her eyes, her smile wider. “What, you think I’d spend twenty-six hundred dollars to ghost you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Layla laughed at that, shaking her head. “Am I that obvious?”

  “I’d raise my hand to signal that you’re maybe a little obvious, but, well . . .” He glanced down at the dog mercilessly chewing on his forefinger. Lucky for him, they weren’t aggressive bites, just annoying.

  “Okay, I’m texting,” Layla began, her concentration on his phone.

  “Here, put this in there,” he interrupted.

  “Didn’t realize I was a secretary,” she grumbled.

  “To the beautiful woman who won my hand and my heart this day,” he began in a lofting voice, watching her reaction. She flushed, not looking up from the phone, but her smile grew wider. “I’m very glad you won me and would like to meet over coffee to discuss our future date that you won, and the custody of our child.”

  She flicked him an amused look over the phone but went on typing. “Anything else, Shakespeare?”

  He liked that some of her twitchiness was giving way to a relaxed ease. That her smiles were wider with every moment they spent together.

  “Just one thing,” Jack said, and winced as the dog snarled and bit down again. “You won my hand, but you might have to pry it from Oscar’s mouth.”

  She looked up and, with a horrified giggle, set the phone down and took the dog from him. Oscar, the darn dog, immediately quieted in her arms, and Jack noticed she was careful to hide her hands this time.

  They were both learning, it seemed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jack took Oscar the dog home with him when he left, and Layla said a quick goodbye to Amy and Becca, who were being swarmed by people wanting to just chitchat; both promised to text her later. Sage grabbed Layla and full-on hugged her, ecstatic that the auction had been a success, and it was all because of Layla’s checkbook.

  “You’re such a vital part of this community,” Sage gushed.

  “Of course I am. I do your taxes.”

  “No, I mean it. It really shows just how much you care at moments like this.” She smiled and squeezed Layla’s hands again. “Anything you need, you let me know.”

  “I need twenty-six hundred dollars,” Layla teased, but when Sage got a frozen look on her face, Layla immediately added, “I’m joking, I’m joking.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive,” she reassured the mayor. “Jack’s worth it.”

  At least, she hoped so. It was a good cause and she hadn’t totally cleaned out her savings . . . and it was a tax write-off. Even so, it was a large chunk of cash . . . for a date. And Layla didn’t date. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to date. It just didn’t seem to happen for her. All her online matchups fizzled out. There wasn’t a big pool of locals with similar interests. Anytime Layla had expressed interest in someone in the past, there had been crickets . . . or her mother had swooped in and ruined things. Eventually Layla had stopped trying. Why date when it was just going to turn into a shit show anyhow? She’d bought herself a battery-powered boyfriend and left it at that.

  Today, though, she’d more or less been pushed into this, and Layla was definitely feeling out of her comfort zone. What if Jack found her irritating? Or weird? What if he didn’t like being around her? What if he didn’t call? Ugh.

  Problem was, now she was invested. It wasn’t just the money—though, sure, that was a huge chunk of the situation—it was that Jack was incredibly handsome. And charming. And funny. And he liked animals. And because of all of that, her heart was fluttering like she was a teenager with her first crush.

  He was just doing this as a favor to Becca and Amy, she chided herself as she drove home. Don’t get too caught up.

  But he’d flirted with her. With her. And he’d laughed at her jokes. She’d felt a connection when looking at him.

  It was probably all in her head and she was in too deep already, but, damn it, she was excited. He’d have to text her first, because she knew if she did, she’d really look desperate and needy and—

  Her phone buzzed with an incoming text.

  Layla almost swerved off the road and sideswiped a bush. She pulled over, heart pounding, and checked her phone.

  It was her mother.

  MOM: Are you mad at me, sweetie?

  Ugh. Now came the apology tour after the public humiliation. Because it was all about Janet and her need for attention. She didn’t like it when people were mad at her, because she craved love and affection . . . and even more attention. She knew she’d embarrassed Layla, so now she was going to backpedal and swear she didn’t mean it and basically whine until Layla forgave her with gushing reaffirmations of how great Janet was and no, no, she wasn’t mad at all.

  So Layla ignored it.

  After all, therapy had taught her that the best way to get under a narcissist’s skin was to ignore them. She put her phone on silent, t
ossed it into the passenger seat, and drove all the way home. Once she got to her house, a tiny little two-story a few streets over from her office, she took her shoes off, peeled off her winter coat, and made herself a cup of coffee in the kitchen. Sterling was draped over one of the countertops, exactly like he wasn’t supposed to be, and she scooped him up and set him down on the floor. Even the cat didn’t listen to her, she mused, but at least the cat loved her. Well, she was reasonably sure he did. Maybe not as much as he loved licking his own butt, but surely Layla was somewhere on the hierarchy.

  Once her coffee was done, she grabbed the cup and moved to the living room, hauling her laptop onto her crossed legs. It was Saturday night, which meant it was online gaming night, but that wasn’t for several hours. She poked around on her email, scanned over a few work documents, and then futzed on the internet, killing time.

  When she could ignore her phone no longer, she finished her coffee and crossed the room to get it, moving back to the couch. Sterling jumped into her lap, wedging himself next to her laptop, and began to knead, his claws digging tiny pinpricks of pain into her skin.

  “Ow, buddy,” she whispered, clicking on her phone screen. The cat didn’t move, just kept on purring and making biscuits, and she couldn’t really be mad at that. Layla stroked his ears while she flipped through the texts. There were a bunch more from her mother that she didn’t want to process right now so she refused to look at them and scrolled past, searching for other names.

  Amy had texted her and Becca both in a group chat.

  AMY: I was sweating so hard that the auction wouldn’t be a success. Did you see how many chairs were empty? Did you see what Mr. Peppridge wore on the stage? But it’s done and it happened and I’m so happy!! You’re our rock star, Layla!

  BECCA: Omg, yes! We can’t thank you enough, girl. When we asked you to pony up, we didn’t mean like that. We were just nudging. You know, a friendly nudge. I didn’t mean for you to bid your entire savings on Jack. ☹ Now I feel like a terrible friend!