Page 48 of A Cowboy to Call Her Own

“If you don’t have coffee, turn right back around,” Asher muttered and smashed the pillow into place under his head. “And come back when you’ve got some.”

The boots stopped. A throat cleared. “Asher.”

“Morning, Owen,” Asher said and gave up going back to sleep.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Owen moved into the family room. “Well, actually I did.”

Asher rubbed his hands over his face, then peered out the tall windows across the room overlooking the back porch. It was still dark. “What time is it?”

“An hour or so before dawn,” Owen said, his words hesitant as if the sunrise was slightly further off than sixty minutes.

His chef would be heading to the diner soon for her morning shift. The day would be in full swing by the time Asher saw Kelley. If he got to see her. His mood failed to improve. Asher tipped his head until he eyed Owen from an upside-down perspective. The quick-to-help stable hand hovered near the end of the couch, looking unsure and out of place.

Asher stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “You don’t have any grocery bags, so I take it Kelley didn’t ask you to prep something for breakfast.”

“The French toast casseroles are all set,” Owen said. “I just need to put the casserole dishes in the oven later to heat up.”

“Then what brings you by?” Asher asked and shifted before he got a crick in his neck. He swung his bare feet off the couch and onto the floor. “I take it whatever it is couldn’t wait until breakfast.”

Uncertainty cast a deeper shadow across Owen’s face. He tugged at his hair, until the red strands stuck out in every direction. “It’s Derby Dreamer.”

“Derby Dreamer.” Asher stood, quickly folded the blanket he was using and tossed it on the back of the couch. “What happened?”

“Nothing specific.” Owen gave one last yank on his hair and lowered his arm. “But he seems off. I mentioned it to Elliot yesterday. He was supposed to talk to Joe about it.”

In flannel shorts, Asher headed to the office where his suitcase was, and not wanting to disturb Big E in the guest room down the way, he motioned for Owen to follow him. “Did you hear anything from them?”

“Just that Joe said Derby Dreamer had a decent workout,” Owen replied.

Asher pulled a plain light blue T-shirt from his suitcase and yanked it over his head. “And yet you are here. So, what’s really bothering you?”

Owen set his hands on his hips and said, “My gut.”

“I keep telling Asher there are several perfectly fine bedrooms in this house to set up camp in,” Big E said from the doorway. The older cowboy was already dressed in his usual jeans, button-down plaid shirt and well-worn boots. He looked well rested and not the least bit fazed that the sun wasn’t even up and there was no coffee brewing.

Asher knew he could stand to learn more than a thing or two from the old cowboy. As for those bedrooms, well, they belonged to Asher’s brothers. Asher was fine where he was. Besides, he wasn’t there to make himself at home. In the common space the trips down memory lane were more manageable. But if Asher went down the brothers’ wing, he feared he might get lost in the past. “I fell asleep watching TV and didn’t feel like moving.”

Big E frowned yet kept his thoughts to himself. He shifted to eye Owen as if taking the young man’s full measure. Finally, Big E asked, “What’s wrong with your gut?”

Owen touched his stomach.

“He’s got a feeling in it about Derby Dreamer,” Asher said when Owen remained silent.

Big E nodded and asked, “Are you sure it’s not indigestion? Got a spell of it myself. My wife told me I need to cut back on the homemade ice cream and pie.”

Asher knew a little something about cutting back. He needed to cut back on the time he spent with his chef. If only to make his goodbye easier. Selfish, certainly. But true, nonetheless.

“I told my wife she needs to taste Kelley’s food.” Big E chuckled and shook his head. “Then she would understand that her request is impossible to do.”

It also seemed impossible that Kelley was always on Asher’s mind. First thing on his mind when he woke up and last thing on his mind when he fell asleep. And on his mind every other minute of the day.

Owen frowned. “It’s not indigestion, sir.”

And it wasn’t anything serious for Asher, either. Nothing for him to be concerned about, really. It was admittedly more than a mild interest in a cowgirl. A passing interest to be sure. As in, it would pass when he left and returned to the city. At least, he hoped.

Asher ran his fingers through his hair and walked toward the bathroom. “Give me five minutes and then we’ll head to the stables.”

“Maybe it’s nothing,” Owen hedged. “Elliot didn’t seem all that concerned.”