The Loneliest Cowboy. Pamela Macaluso
just started.”
They talked until Luke finished his breakfast and set off to work. Clint drank the rest of his coffee, then took the opportunity to slip into the kitchen and talk to Smokey Joe about Ms. Williamson.
The cook at the Diamond S always seemed to be on top of all the news in Harmony Ridge and the neighboring ranches. He knew the lowdown, and always managed to have meals ready on time. Clint didn’t know how the man found time to do both.
Joe didn’t have much information on her younger years, but he knew her name was Skye, she’d graduated from Harmony Ridge High and had worked in the coffee shop. “She was a cute enough kid, a bit on the scrawny side, but from what I hear, she’s grown up to be a real looker.” Joe winked and clicked his dentures together.
“Any idea where she’s been since leaving town?”
“Don’t know where all she’s been, but I hear she’s workin’ at a dude ranch, cookin’ up grub for city slickers who want to play cowboy for a week.”
Clint didn’t think there were any dude ranches within a hundred miles of Harmony Ridge. So Skye must live farther than that.
Just who are you trying to fool, pal? he asked himself.
When it came to Skye Williamson, his one-hundred-mile rule was already history.
“Mommy?” The question was a tiny whisper in Skye’s ear.
She opened her eyes and smiled at Dawn. “Good morning, angel. Did you have a good night?”
“I had trouble sleeping, Mommy. It’s too noisy here.”
Last night had been their first in Harmony Ridge. Although Skye’s old room was on the far side of the parking lot from the bar, she knew the bass line of the country and western music and raised voices from the parking lot carried. Added to that was the noisy comings and goings from the twenty-four-hour coffee shop only a narrow, graveled road from her parents’ home. Many nights Skye had drifted to sleep humming along with the rumble of an eighteen-wheeler’s engine.
As a child, she’d never known anything else, but it was new to Dawn.
“I know it’s noisy, but it’s only for a little while.”
“I want to go home before next bedtime.”
Me, too! Skye wanted to say. “When Grandpa’s all better we’ll go home,” she told her daughter.
It was too soon to know if her father would get “all better,” but she didn’t want to add that uncertainty to Dawn’s task of settling in to her new surroundings. She would carry the burden herself, along with the worry that Clint and Dawn might accidently cross paths.
Of course, since Clint hadn’t even recognized her last night, she was probably worrying needlessly. Even if he noticed a resemblance between himself and Dawn, he would most likely consider it a coincidence.
The rest of the day was filled with a number of odd jobs. Skye took her turn answering the phone and cleaning up around the house. She picked out a fresh set of clothes for her brother to drop off at the hospital for their mother. Mrs. Williamson said she wasn’t leaving until her husband regained consciousness or was stabilized enough for the trip to San Antonio.
At bedtime, Skye settled next to Dawn with a battered copy of The Cat In The Hat. Halfway through the book, she let her voice drift off to a whisper, watching Dawn for any sign that the little girl was still awake.
She closed the book, set it on the nightstand, then carefully scooted off the bed. Hopefully, the night noises wouldn’t bother Dawn tonight.
An hour later, Skye set off for the coffee shop. The minute her boots hit the asphalt parking lot, thoughts of Clint rushed to her mind. From the day Clint hit drinking age, it had been second nature for her to check the parking lot for his truck. She used to find it parked there several nights a week and always on Saturday night. Her heart would beat double time when she spotted it and she’d cross her fingers in hopes of catching a glimpse of him.
She’d been so young, in years as well as life experience. Her dates were few and far between, what with her work schedule and two big brothers who’d already established their reputations as watchdogs with Alice and Heather’s dates. It was a miracle anyone had been brave enough to ask her out at all.
The bravery had only gone so far, though. None of her dates ever took her to the drive-in or any of the local “parking” sites.
Maybe if she’d experienced more than a few chaste good-night kisses on her front porch, she wouldn’t have reacted so strongly to Clint’s kiss.
No, that was just wishful thinking. She doubted if anything could have prepared her for Clint’s kiss—or what had followed.
You really shouldn’t think about this now.
Focusing her gaze on a direct path to the coffee shop, she ignored the parking lot and the memories it evoked. Once she reached work, she tried to keep total concentration on her job.
She was having a moderate degree of success until shortly after midnight the clank of the cowbell announced a new arrival. It was Clint Slade.
Two
Clint’s assessing gaze pinned her to the spot. For an instant, she feared that somehow he’d realized she was the one who’d been in his pickup that long-ago night, but she knew it was impossible. He couldn’t have figured it out, she told herself.
Slowly, his lips curved into a smile and he tipped his hat to her. “‘Evenin’, Miss Skye.”
He strolled through the restaurant and slid his long frame onto one of the stools across the counter from where she stood.
She didn’t remember telling him her first name last night. He must have asked someone about her. A spark of joy flashed in her, but was quickly squelched by the voice of fear and reason.
Look what happened last time you let yourself soak up attention from Clint! This is no time to let your ego get you in trouble again.
Returning Clint’s interest would be an absolute disaster. She could imagine him showing up at the house during the day and Dawn answering the door. What would she say? “Clint, meet your daughter, Dawn. And Dawn, honey, this is your daddy.” She shuddered inwardly. The idea was too awful to think about.
“Coffee to go, again?” she asked as evenly as she could.
“No, I’ll have it here. What kind of pie do you have tonight?”
He was here for coffee and pie? It was after midnight. Of course, he might have been at the bar. But he’d gone to the trouble of finding out her name—maybe he’d come in to see her.
Or maybe he’s taken a real liking to Rocking W coffee.
“Apple, blueberry and pecan,” she said, listing the choices for him.
Clint narrowed his eyes and shifted his bottom lip a fraction of an inch to one side. Skye’s breath caught in her throat. She’d seen that expression countless times. Dawn often did the same thing when trying to make up her mind.
Oh, please, no.
A sinking feeling swept through her, and just as it had when she’d looked at her daughter sleeping last night, the knowledge that Dawn was only half hers tugged at her heart.
As dose as she felt to Dawn, was it possible for her to truly know her daughter without knowing the man who’d set the whole process in motion? Suddenly, she felt a strong urgency to learn more about Clint, to discover other similarities between him and the child he’d helped create.
But on its heels was a stronger urgency. The need for her to be cautious in order to protect herself and her daughter.
“Is there a problem with pecan? I can make another choice.”
Skye