Page 26 of A Cowboy to Call Her Own

“We can talk more after the meeting.” By then her pulse was sure to be settled.

“See you later, then.” Instead of leaving, he leaned in and said softly, “And for the record, you are welcome to get in my way anytime.”

That set her pulse to racing and her knees to buckling.

One touch of his fingers against the brim of his cowboy hat and he stepped out of her way. At the exit, he turned back and said, “I should warn you. The kitchen is not what you’re expecting.”

Kelley swallowed against her suddenly dry throat and said, “I’ll make it work. It will be great.”

He nodded and walked outside.

And Kelley finally exhaled.

Her city cowboy was not what she was expecting. But she was holding her own with him. Now all she had to do was keep from holding on to him.

CHAPTER SIX

Where was his resolve?

Bad enough Asher kept thinking about Kelly all night long, but then he stopped and picked blackberries for her, too. As if he had nothing better to do. And now he granted her access to his house and kitchen. What was next—his heart?

Not likely. He was ranch-raised and covered in city grit these days. And no matter the zip code, there just wasn’t room in his life for romance. Nor was he interested.

Not that anyone would know that by the way he flirted just now.Flirted. And badly, to boot. Talk about being rusty and out of practice. Even though he wasn’t looking to change that.

Asher knocked his cowboy hat lower on his head and headed down the sidewalk to Foxglove Bank and Trust.

Asher’s twin was the charmer and fluent in the art of sweet-talking. Asher was blunt and straight to the point. Not to mention, more focused on closing business deals than speaking to a cowgirl’s heart. As if he wanted to do that. Not likely. He preferred a guaranteed return these days, and love came with entirely too many loopholes.

More worrisome than his poor wooing skills was that he cared what Kelley thought of his family’s time warp of a kitchen. But even more, he was starting to care what she thought ofhim. As if he wanted her to like him. Because he liked…No. He jumped off that train of thought before it could gain momentum.

He got back to the matter at hand. The Blackwell employees needed to eat. Kelley needed a kitchen. Asher provided the solution. He would not rescind his offer. Besides, he excelled at workarounds in his day job.

There was only one obvious one now. He would not be home when Kelley was there. Then there would be no more flirting. No more getting to know her. No chance of liking her even more than he already did.

Best all around if he kept himself occupied elsewhere. Busy was his preference anyway. If he was idle too long, those memories he wanted to avoid tended to take hold. Good thing he was something of an expert on how to stay busy. Still, in an abundance of caution, Asher decided to give up turnovers, too. Just to be certain sweet treats would not draw him to his chef again, either.

Asher opened the door to Foxglove Bank and Trust, stepped inside and got back to the business of unraveling the stable’s financials. He crossed the lobby of the small but well-appointed bank branch that was fully staffed yet lacking customers.

At the bank teller counter, Asher glanced at the employee’s name badge then introduced himself and said, “Ivy, I’d like to get a copy of the monthly bank statements for the last three years. Will that be possible?”

“You need Valerie, our customer relationship manager over in account services,” Ivy said politely. Then her grin widened. Her eyes crinkled behind the lenses of her modern, statement-making large round eyeglass frames. She asked coyly, “Could I get your signature first?”

“Sure.” Asher reached for a pen in the jar decorated with colorful paper flowers and asked, “Do you need my ID, too?”

Ivy chuckled. “We all know who you are.” Then she opened a drawer and took out a glossy magazine. The cheerful teller flipped to a page marked with the same kind of sticky note Kelley had stuck all over the folders in his father’s office last evening. With the magazine set in front of Asher, the bank teller said, “Feel free to sign anywhere.”

Asher looked at the magazine ad for Velvet Dusk cologne. A cowboy in a tailored black suit and crisp white shirt, open at the collar, sat atop a stunning white stallion in an empty intersection of a downtown city. Twilight cast a glow against the towering high-rises, and a black, wide-brimmed cowboy hat cast shadows across the cowboy’s face to enhance the mystery. The tagline read:Velvet Dusk. Where city lights fade, stories begin. Always leave a trail they’ll remember.

Asher didn’t bother to hide his confusion and asked the teller, “What is this?”

“It’s you.” Ivy touched his arm lightly and lowered her voice as if sharing a secret with a longtime friend. “You don’t have to be modest. Your brother told us all about your super-busy modeling career in New York.”

Asher coughed and said, “My brother did what?”

Yet, Ivy was already leaning over the partition toward her coworker, whispering for a platinum-haired woman to get her copy. All too quickly, there were two more bank employees crowding into Ivy’s station and several more glossy magazines placed on the counter in front of Asher. Each one featured a different Velvet Dusk cologne ad with the same urban cowboy and stunning white stallion. Asher brushed his hand through his hair.

Peggy, the vault teller, according to her name tag, smiled at him and said, “Dylan told us you caught the modeling bug in college and couldn’t shake it after graduation. So off you went to conquer the fashion world.”