Her Unforgettable Cowboy. Debra Clopton
whole long life seen nobody pass out,” B.J. whispered.
Though lost in the fog, it registered loud and clear to Jolie that her head was resting against Morgan’s chest. His heart beat against her temple so hard it was no wonder she’d come to so quickly.
“Good thang you gone and caught her, Morgan,” B.J. continued. Jolie was surprised how easily she could already identify the boys just by the sound of their voices.
“Yeah, or she might have died,” Sammy said solemnly.
“Caleb and Sammy, how about y’all get me a glass of water and a cold rag?” Nana urged gently.
“Sure! I’ll get the rag,” Caleb volunteered.
“I’ll get the water,” Sammy said. Their voices were followed immediately by the trample of feet.
“Jolie, can you hear me?” Morgan asked gently.
Jolie lifted her eyes and forced herself to pull her head away from Morgan’s heart. Embarrassment warmed her face. “Faint of heart” was not a description of the gal who’d looked down the throat of The Gorilla—the burliest rapids in the toughest of all the extreme kayaking competitions in the world—and felt only an adrenaline rush and excitement. She was not a wimp. Fainting was not in her vocabulary...or at least it hadn’t been until she’d almost drowned.
“Give her some air, boys,” Nana said. Moving in, she fanned Jolie furiously with a booklet she must have snatched from the bookshelf. “Honey, you’re whiter than Walter Pepper’s hair!”
Jolie would have smiled at that if she could have.
“How are you doing?” Morgan asked, his voice gruff in a way that made her heart beat faster.
“I’m okay,” Jolie assured them, looking at Morgan. His eyes were full of concern—and questions. She was thankful they were surrounded by the boys—boys who were silent and looked a little scared. She needed to stand up and show them she was fine.
Even if she was fast becoming a wimp, she certainly didn’t have to broadcast it.
“Are you sure?” Morgan set her on her feet, keeping his arms around her. “Maybe you should sit down.”
Maybe I need to stay in your arms—
Maybe I need to get a grip!
“No, I can stand,” she said firmly, and forced herself to step away from Morgan.
The concern in his eyes almost undid her.
This was the man she’d fallen for when she was sixteen years old. This was a gentler man, not the hard man she’d been dealing with for the last couple of hours. Sadly, she knew she was partly to blame for some of the hard crust encasing Morgan.
Praying her witless knees wouldn’t buckle, she was pleased when she stood firm. All she had to do now was come up with an answer as to why she wasn’t going to teach the boys how to kayak.
Sammy and Caleb came bounding from the back of the building, Caleb waving a washcloth and Sammy sloshing water from the glass as he ran, the hand clamped tightly over the glass not keeping the water from escaping. His big eyes were huge with fear. She hated that she’d worried him when he already had so many things bothering him.
“Sit,” Morgan demanded, pushing her into the nearest seat. B.J. immediately came to stand beside her.
“You’re whiter than a marshmallow,” Caleb declared, pushing the washcloth into her hands.
“I’m fine,” she assured him and the others as they all began talking about how pale she was.
“You scared fifteen years off my life,” Sammy said, sounding like an adult.
Jolie had to chuckle at his tone.
“Sammy, you don’t have fifteen years to scare off,” Joseph teased. “You’re only ten.”
Sammy frowned. “She scared it off me, though.”
Caleb blinked hard. “You scared me, too.”
Jolie’s heart warmed at their worry. “I’ll be honest with you, fellas. It freaked me out a little, too. I mean, really, I blacked out and woke up in Mr. Morgan’s arms—that’s a scary thing!”
She won a round of laughter from all the boys, and keeping the momentum going, she drove the topic away from her. The last thing she wanted was for one of them to ask about kayaking again.
She caught Morgan watching her and her insides did a swan dive straight to her toes. Forcing her chin upward, she gave him a smile and kept her balance as she stood.
Joseph frowned, his lean face looking a little strange without the smile that was usually plastered across it. “You’re as wobbly as the filly we just saw born.”
“I’m okay.” She forced any shakiness from her voice. “Now, let’s talk about this calf wrestling I’ll be winning tomorrow.”
“Winning?” Joseph grinned dubiously, looking more like himself. “I don’t think so. I’m wrestling, too.”
“Me, too,” Wes spoke up, challenge in his eyes. “Which means y’all are lookin’ at the winner right here.” He pulled his thumbs toward his chest and grinned.
Jolie laughed, feeling some semblance of herself returning. “You boys need to remember to never underestimate your opponent.” She let her gaze slide to Morgan. He crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side, his eyes holding steady, assessing her.
She knew she wasn’t fooling him. She also knew it wouldn’t be long before he asked her exactly what the fainting was all about.
She wondered if he would ask purely out of concern, as any decent person would do, or if he would ask because somewhere behind that shield he wore, he still cared for her. She was just going to have to wait and see.
But in the meantime, she should probably figure out what to do about the fact that she desperately wanted it to be the latter.
Chapter Four
A little unhinged by her afternoon, Jolie headed straight for the Spotted Cow Café to see her longtime friend Ms. Jo. The café was in its mid-afternoon lull when she walked through the lemon pie–yellow door. She was immediately greeted by the moo of the four-foot toy cow just inside the entrance. The cow’s hide had bare spots on it from years of kids petting it, but it mooed like a newborn bawling after its mama.
Jolie had good memories in this diner.
The soft buttery walls were covered with all manner of spotted-cow gifts from customers: knickknacks, cattle horns and mooing cow clocks were everywhere. It was a unique place, to say the least. Even the buffed-concrete floor was painted with large, irregularly shaped brown spots. They were supposed to represent the hide of a spotted cow but had come out looking more like cow patties, which was why Chili Crump and Drewbaker Macintosh, a couple of the old-time locals, nicknamed the diner the Cow Patty Café. Needless to say, that made Ms. Jo furious.
Jolie headed for the old-fashioned soda fountain at the back and her mouth began to water the instant the glass case of frothy pies came into view. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten all day.
Pie sounded like the perfect meal after the day she’d had.
“That’ll make you fat,” Edwina, the longtime waitress, warned, hustling out of the back carrying plates of hamburgers and fries. She paused to give Jolie a lopsided grin. “But it’s worth every calorie and more. You can tell by my hips that I partake of a bite every chance I can get.”
Jolie chuckled. Edwina was a character who’d worked for Ms. Jo for years. Skin as tough as boot leather and a personality to match, Edwina loved to tell tall tales. Rough as she was, she was part of the atmosphere and as dependable as all the cow clocks put together.
“You