City Boy, Country Heart_Contemporary Western Romance Read online

  Chay thought perhaps Adnan should not count on it but kept his thought to himself. “I hope you can do that,” he said instead.

  “And I hope K.C. will move with you to your Wyoming. What is that like?”

  Chay laughed. “You’ll have to ride your magic carpet and go find out for yourself, Adnan.” Chay could see the saccade of Adnan’s eyes.

  “I think you are joking with me, Chay Ridgway. You well know there is no magic carpet. And before you suggest it, there is no genie in a bottle either, or a lamp to rub for three wishes.”

  Chay feigned surprise. “Really? You mean that’s a myth?”

  “It is a story for children, not even a myth. But you cowboys actually exist, so tell me what Wyoming is like. It is not like New York, I take it.”

  “Nothing like. Thank goodness.” He thought a moment—how to describe Wyoming to someone who had never been, someone who may never have been out of a city in fact. “It’s got huge open spaces for one thing. Prairie. Mountains, lots of mountains. And rivers. It’s the least populated state in the Union, or at least the lower forty-eight—there are fewer people in the entire state of Wyoming than there are in the city of New York.”

  “That sounds like a very desolate place to be.”

  “Desolate? No, I was never lonely, that’s for sure. I’m lonelier here than I ever was back home.”

  Chay stopped. The thought had never occurred to him he was lonely, that leaving his friends and what family he had, and being dependent on K.C. and her family and friends for companionship had put him in a very solitary position. “You can be lonely in a crowd, Adnan.”

  Adnan jogged beside him, waiting to go on.

  Something Adnan said traveled through Chay’s mind like a freight train at full steam without brakes: “She does not strike me as the sort of girl to leave New York.” He held his head for a moment, then shook away the thought.

  “Hey.” A second thought occurred to him that perhaps he hadn’t made much of an effort to gain friends. “Let’s finish the run and go for lunch.”

  * * *

  ‘The Test Assessing Secondary Completion,’ Chay read. Let’s see: Math, Reading—Reading? People get to high school level and can’t read? Science, Social Studies, and Writing. This is ludicrous. This is the New York State high school equivalency? I’m supposed to study for this?

  He pushed the book away and lay his head on the kitchen table before fingering the pages and pulling it back. He thought of his promise, his deal with K.C.—that he would stay with her while she finished her Master’s degree and study for his high school diploma, work to help her pay off the student loan she had insisted on getting rather than have her parents pay for her education. Help with the rent, with food, utilities—all on a meager waiter’s salary. After, they would both return to his beloved Wyoming so he could develop and run his ranch while she wrote and taught. It had sounded like the perfect way to be together, to avoid the problems of a long-distance relationship, to discover what they both were made of, and if they were made for each other. But life in the city, which had seemed so much like a great adventure, a change of scene, so far was proving to be more of a misadventure, more of an obstacle course, an endurance test rather than the settled life he had envisaged.

  ‘Read the excerpt and answer the questions that follow’…wouldn’t you have to be an idiot to not be able to read then answer the questions? Geesh. It seemed to him that leaving high school to look after his father and run their ranch may have educated him better, with all his non-high school reading, than the diploma course could do.

  He looked up to the sound of a body elbowing the door and managed to smile for K.C.

  “Hey, cowboy.” She raised her eyebrows in query with a nod toward their house-mate’s room to ask whether Daphne was at home, and got the desired shake of Chay’s head, ‘no.’ Dropping her books on the table by what served as their kitchen—a series of cupboards and appliances in a space about as big as a garden shed—she eased herself onto Chay’s lap and put her arm around him, moving in for a kiss.

  “Good class?”

  “Uh-huh. How ’bout you, your day?”

  “Ran into Adnan—literally—and we ended up running and eating some street food off a cart. That was an experience. If I’m sick you’ll know why.”

  “You won’t be sick. Was it good?”

  “Suspiciously so. Probably horsemeat or something.”

  “Chay! What else? What have you been studying?”

  “Let’s see. I’ve learned about the Constitution; energy consumption in the U.S., China, and India; and OPEC, NATO, and the EU. You might say I’m well on my way toward running for office.”

  K.C. snorted. “I think you might make a better president than some.”

  “There doesn’t seem to be very much here of use to a future rancher.”

  K.C. slipped off his lap and went to the fridge, pulling out a bowl of grapes. “That wasn’t the idea, Chay, and you know it. The idea was you got your high school equivalency so, if at some later date, you wanted to go on to agricultural college or something, you could apply. I know—we both know—you’re well read and know all this stuff. That wasn’t the point.”

  “And just who will run the ranch while I’m off at this agricultural college or whatever? Had you thought of that?”

  “No, but at least it gives you options. Maybe you’d decide to go before starting the ranch back up, letting Breezy continue to rent out the house and the neighbors have the land. It would give you another couple of years to save.”

  “I don’t think so. We’d be saddled with another loan—had you thought of that?” Chay closed the book. “I could sit this test tomorrow and pass—”

  “Then do it! Take it and get it out of the way. Maybe you could get a better job, something you’re happier with, rather than waiting tables.”

  “Tips are good.” Chay drummed the book.

  K.C. popped a grape in his mouth, then bent to give him a kiss as he tried to chew at the same time. As she pulled back, she caught his grimace. “I know you’re not happy; I know you’re not happy here, hate Daphne, hate New York, and for all I know hate me now—”

  “Don’t be an idiot.” He grabbed her hand and got her back onto his lap. “Hate’s not in my vocabulary. I just feel like…a fish out of water, I guess. And having to live with someone who does hate me, or at least is jealous of us, it’s just another irritation.”

  “Do you want to move? We could look—”

  “Don’t be silly. You said this was a convenient location for you; it works for me, you’ve told me it’s a good deal, and Daphne is your friend, if not exactly mine. Plus the neighborhood is suitably named—Hell’s Kitchen! I can’t see starting house hunting; it was bad enough job hunting, plus I know my way around this area. You can’t teach an old dog.” He tapped her on the nose.

  “You’re hardly an old dog. Elderly perhaps….”

  “Ha!”

  “And there’s my parents, of course, whom you adore and love you like a son.”

  Chay grunted. “Do you think they’ll ever get used to me? To us?”

  K.C. blew out a breath. “I’m not taking any bets, I’m afraid. But the fact you managed to sort out your life and come here to be with me—I think that counts for a lot with my mother if not both of them. It’s just…it’s just, well, you know. I guess parents think they see a whole future life in front of their children, have it mapped out, and when it doesn’t turn out the way they want, they can’t handle it.” She leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. “We won’t be like that with our kids, will we?”

  “Oh, no.” Chay fanned the pages of his book. “But any kids of mine who don’t work the ranch, or want to inherit it, get kicked out straight away.” He checked to see her reaction but got a knowing, smug look. “All right, maybe one can be a lawyer or something.” There was a touch of sarcastic generosity in his manner.

  “Well, my parents would approve of that.”

  Chay took
in a breath. Was the approval of K.C.’s parents always going to be needed, always going to be playing in the background? He pushed a loose curl behind her ear. “Okay, back to work. Let me look this over and think about taking this dumb test.” He shoved her off his lap, then grasped her hand again. “You can make this all worthwhile, you know.”

  “Love in the afternoon?”

  “Well, now Daphne’s let the cat out of the bag and admitted she can hear us….”

  K.C. wiggled her brows at him. “I might be amenable to a kiss or two.”

  “A kiss or two, huh? A kiss or two?” He stood and swung her into his arms. “We’ll just see about a kiss or two and exactly where that leads.”

  * * *

  She ran a finger from his pubic line to his clavicle and back again, content. Chay was dozing, his body slack yet still firm in its rest. The lines across his stomach and chest that marked his muscles left no doubt as to his strength, the skin smooth in the rises and valleys of his body. She crouched back for a moment and looked at him, a sleeping Adonis to her eyes, his light brown hair falling over his forehead, the dimple in his chin now a pause in the strong lines of his face.

  If men could be deemed beautiful, Chay Ridgway was that.

  K.C. leaned forward and skimmed her hands up his arms, but before she had even reached his elbows, in a flash, he grabbed her and pulled her down into a deep, hungry kiss.

  “You little minx.”

  “Just admiring the merchandise.” She tilted her head with a smile, letting a drape of rich brown hair brush his chest.

  “Merchandise, huh? Is that all I am to you? A plaything?” There was humor in his voice and a smirk on his face.

  “That’s all, buster: a plaything for me. And you’re all mine.”

  Chay clasped her head and pulled her to him, the kiss sending shivers down K.C. until it was interrupted by the Alan Jackson ringtone of Chay’s phone.

  * * *

  “Breezy!” He sat up in bed as if this was a call he had been waiting for, tucking one foot under his other leg and leaning back on the bed with a huge smile.

  K.C. lay there, eyebrows raised in question.

  “I hope this is good news,” he went on. “No problems.”

  “No problems!” Breezy, whose last name no one ever seemed to know, if they had ever been told in the first place, cackled on the other end of the line. “Everything’s fine. Jarrod finished the work on time and everything looks just terrific, Chay, really good. You won’t recognize the old homestead when you see.”

  “Well, I hope he didn’t go over budget?”

  “Nope; he made the improvements and upgrades but nothing high end, ya know, just nice enough to be in the modern world without feeling you’re back there in New York. How is it, by the way?”

  “How is what?”

  “New York, you dumb cowboy.”

  “Oh, yeah. Yeah. Great.” He glanced across at K.C. as she rose and headed to the bathroom. “It’s…you know…a city. I’m a city boy now.”

  There was a guffaw down the line. “Yeah, I bet sweetheart. Pull the other one, it’s got jingle bobs on it.”

  “I’m not pulling your leg. I use the subway, live in an apartment—”

  “And dream of Wyoming every night.”

  “You’re the one who sent me here. I’m with K.C., and that’s what matters.”

  There was a momentary silence, before Breezy went on. Her voice was softer now. “How is she, these days? Studying hard?”

  “Very. And I’m…working hard.”

  “Roping dinner plates?”

  “Something like that.”

  K.C. stuck her head out of the bathroom and mouthed, ‘Send her my love.’

  Chay nodded in acknowledgement and said back to Breezy, “K.C. sends her love. You’re sure there are no problems?”

  “Chay, don’t you worry about a thing. We got a good booking coming up through the winter; you know the housing shortage out here. And when folks start thinking about their summer vacations, I’m sure it will be a big hit and even more money will roll in.”

  “I guess I just get nervous when you phone instead of email.”

  “Just wanted to make sure you were okay. Hear your sweet voice.”

  “More likely you knew I wanted to be reassured.” He let that hang for a moment. “How’s everyone at the Lazy S? Bob and the rest of the crew.”

  “Same old, same old. Everyone’s just fine and missing you and your goofy skateboard. Bob himself has been riding Dusty for you, and he’s well, too.”

  For a second, Chay felt as if he were suffocating. He could feel his eyes glazing and his throat tighten. Afraid to try to speak, he remained silent until Breezy said, “It’s only two years, Chay. You’ll be fine, and you know you want to be with K.C.” as if she could sense what was happening to him.

  “Ya,” he murmured into the phone. “I’ll be just fine.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  K.C. put down the phone with a sigh and thought she might just pull out her hair. Since she and Chay had flown into New York, stopping for a brief exchange at her parents’ Park Avenue apartment to say hello and good-bye, her parents had ignored Chay. They had even suggested he wait in their vestibule while K.C. get some things to move to the new apartment, which Daphne had tied up for them all. Or had tied up for her and K.C., and later agreed to let Chay stay on certain terms. So, there was Daphne who resented Chay’s presence in what should have been ‘their’ apartment, and her parents who resented Chay, period. While Daphne had no doubt envisaged fun evenings out together, going to bars, clubs and other events, K.C. had now presented her with a somewhat solitary single’s life in the Big Apple. And while Chay kept telling K.C. she was free to go out with ‘her friends’ by herself, especially as he often worked late nights at the restaurant, she was loathe to do so knowing he was unhappy in New York, money was tight, and he had given up two years of his life to be with her.

  But now here was her mother phoning and asking why they never saw K.C., inviting her to come over one evening, almost demanding it, but with no mention of Chay joining them. K.C. knew Chay disliked her parents, or at least there was friction on both sides, and she knew at some stage she had to see them. It was just…at some point she was going to have to insist they recognize she and Chay were a permanent couple. You get one, you get us both, Mom.

  Preparing for bed, she mulled this over. The juggling act tired her out: keeping Daphne as happy as possible, keeping her parents contented—or at least as contented as they could be—and last, but certainly not least, trying to make Chay comfortable with life in New York. She looked at the open cap on the toothpaste, the tube that had been squeezed in the middle, shards of hair left in the sink from Chay’s morning shave. Living with someone was a whole kettle of fish different from loving them. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and pivoted straight into Chay.

  “I didn’t hear you come in!”

  “You weren’t meant to. I’m testing a new process of entering at night to see if Daphne just complains for the hell of it or really gets woken up.”

  K.C. giggled and pecked Chay on the lips, pushing him back into their bedroom with quiet care. “And what is this new process, may I ask?”

  “Boot removal. Outside in the hall. And holding the door handle while I sidle around the door and grasp the inside door handle before letting the outside one go while reaching down for the discarded boot—”

  “You have got to be kidding.”

  “It worked, didn’t it? You didn’t hear me and, by golly, by Jove, and by all the stars in heaven, it would appear the blessed Daphne didn’t hear me either. How do you like them beans, babe?”

  K.C. turned down the sheets and gave Chay a wide-eyed look. “Are you going to do that every night?”

  “Every night. I am going to be such a fantastic house-mate, Daphne will fall madly in love with me and wonder why she ever complained.”

  “Well.” K.C. slipped into bed and took up her papers from
the bedside. “She had better not fall madly in love with you because I haven’t got time for any competition and I certainly don’t want any.”

  Chay perched on the side of the bed and took up her hand to kiss the palm. “You have no competition. I promise. Do I?”

  K.C. snorted.

  “I take that as a ‘no.’”

  “There is one thing, however….”

  “Uh oh.” Chay got up and started to unbutton his shirt.

  “Chay.” K.C. knew this late at night, the thought of starting a long discussion about anything was not on his cards.

  He turned to head for the bathroom.

  “Chay,” she repeated. “My parents want us to go for dinner Saturday night, the night you’re off.”

  He turned in the bathroom doorway, shirt hanging open, belt undone, his arms up either side of the door frame as if he were supporting it. “Us or you?” he asked before twisting toward the sink. To the silence he repeated, “Us or you, K.C.?” He squeezed some paste on his toothbrush and raised it to his mouth before peering back at her over his shoulder.