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“No, you’re not. You pretend that you are, but I know you. I want to see you happy.”
“I’m happy.” Basically, anyway. Except for a certain stubborn, hardheaded cowgirl he wanted, who refused to see him as more than a friend.
“Happy and settled down with a good woman.”
He sat beside her and sighed. “Grandma, we’ve been over this.” About a million times. If he couldn’t have the woman he wanted—which appeared to be the case, damn it—then there wasn’t a reason in the world he should settle down.
“I want to see you married before I die.”
“What?” Nate asked. “Did you say…” Surely he’d misunderstood.
“You heard me. Married. I want you to get married.”
“Grandma, I’m not even dating anyone seriously. You can’t expect me to get married. That’s ridiculous.”
“I didn’t mean right this minute. But it’s time you settled down.”
He shook his head. “Not happening, Grandma. Not even for you.”
Damned if she didn’t start crying again. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean—I didn’t say I’d never get married.”
“You might as well have. What good will it do me if I’m dead before you ever make up your mind?” She reached for another tissue and dried her eyes. “You’ve dated a lot of women. I know you have. Can’t you see yourself falling in love with one of them?”
“No.” He was already in love with one of them and had been almost since the first time he’d seen her, at the Whiskey River rodeo over two years ago. She hadn’t been competing since it was a youth rodeo, but she’d been in charge of one of the events. Seeing her on one of her paints was something. Talk about a natural in the saddle. As a male he appreciated a beautiful woman riding a stunning black-and-white paint. He’d asked his buddy and fellow pilot Travis Sullivan if he knew who she was.
“Sure,” Travis had said. “That’s Damaris Walker. And before you ask, no, she’s not married.”
“Hallelujah. Introduce me.”
After the rodeo Travis had introduced them. Damaris was even prettier up close. Classic features—a mouth made for kissing, big, brown, beautiful eyes, and a tanned, healthy, flawless complexion. She wore a beige cowboy hat over her long, wavy, dark brown hair, and a tight T-shirt with a picture of a paint horse and the words ‘Walker Paints’ beneath it. She wore beige and brown leather chaps over blue jeans, scuffed cowboy boots obviously meant for hard work and not for show, and she had some kind of championship buckle on her belt. Damn, he hadn’t realized just how much of a turn-on chaps could be. Worn by the right woman, anyway.
He hadn’t really fallen in love at first sight, but he’d sure as hell fallen in lust. Everything went great until their third date. That was when Damaris put him squarely in the friend zone. And there he’d stayed. To top it off, she was always setting him up with other women. He’d go out with them but none of them lasted long. Because they weren’t Damaris.
“Nate, you have a funny look on your face. Are you sure there’s no one you’re interested in?”
“Grandma, you’ve just given me a great idea.”
“I hope it involves a woman.”
He stood and grinned at her. “Oh, it does. It definitely does.”
*
Damaris Walker was no stranger to physical work, but it seemed to her that someone else should be around to muck out the stalls. But the teenager who normally helped them was out sick. Her brother Marshall had taken his wife off to see the bluebonnets that were gorgeous this time of year, and Chase, one of her other brothers who also worked the ranch, was busy taking Ella, his pregnant wife who was also their ranch manager, to the doctor.
Which left her to do the dirty work. Her brother Gabe was a metal artist who lived in his own house on the ranch with his wife, who was also pregnant. Damaris only asked for his help in an emergency. Meaning, guess who shoveled out horse shit?
Of course, anyone who owned horses and particularly someone who was partner in a business raising paints and bucking horses was used to mucking out stalls more than a time or two. But tonight was girls’ night out at Booze’s Bar and Grill, and if she was going to make it in time she’d have to hurry. Sometimes they went to Jalisco’s for margaritas, or they had mani-pedi girls’ night out at Rosario’s Salon. But Rosario was out of town tonight so they’d chosen one of their favorite hangouts. Booze’s—the locals’ place for food, drink, darts, pool, and gossip.
“Hey, Damaris. What’s up?”
Startled, since she hadn’t heard anyone come up behind her, she turned around and frowned at her visitor. “You scared the hell out of me, Nate. You’re lucky you didn’t get a shovelful of horse shit thrown in your face.”
Nate just grinned, stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the opposite stall. “Your reflexes are pretty quick, so I’d only get that shovelful if you were mad at me. You’re not, are you?”
“Why would I be mad at you? Just because the last woman I set you up with told me you said you’d call her and you didn’t?”
He shrugged. “It’s only been a week. I’ve been busy.”
