Dream a Little Dream (14 page)

And she liked that.

She liked it very much, actually.

S
he was killing him. Whoever said laughter was the best medicine obviously didn't have broken ribs. Watching Molly wrestle the calves down in an attempt to force-feed them was a riot. Any other time he'd have enjoyed watching a greenhorn get her first taste of dirt. But this was torture. Entertaining as all get-out, but torture nonetheless.

She'd been knocked down, dragged around, bucked off and almost kicked—which had caused him to start to bolt to help her, an action that was almost impossible. Through it all, Molly hadn't given up. He'd come to realize tenacity was Molly's secret weapon. He admired her for it.

Watching her now, as she eased off the back of the baby Brahman, empty bottle in her hand, her eyes were gleaming. Bob couldn't take his eyes from her as she walked toward him, filthy, completely worn-out, smiling.

Now that was a woman he could love.

 

“So how do you feel?” Bob asked from his perch on the bar stool the following morning. He was tapping information into his laptop computer with his two index fingers.

Molly groaned and limped toward the coffee machine. “Whoa, baby! I have never enjoyed a day more but what a horrible way to wake up. I never knew I had that many muscles.” She smiled, looking beat. “We make a pair now, don't we?”

“Like twins,” he laughed, but caught it before it was hard enough to hurt his ribs. Molly was moving slower than him this morning and he was anxious to see how she was going to catch Baby One and Baby Two moving like that. She paused, pouring her coffee, and pinned her grass-green eyes on him.

“Look at you,” she drawled, letting out low whistle. “You look like you're feeling much better than yesterday.”

Her appreciative gaze prodded him to sit up straighter and force his stitched shoulders back a bit more. “I actually got some sleep last night.” He wanted her to keep looking at him like that. “The ribs are still killing me, but look.” He lifted his good arm above his head. “See, full range of motion.” The stitched shoulder was still tight, but he only had three more days before the stitches came out and he'd be on the road to working again. And time spent with Molly would be over. The thought took the joy right out of the moment as he watched her amble toward him. “Just don't make me laugh.”

“Hey, I can't promise anything. That's up to your
babies. They're the ones that made a clown out of me,” she said, then winked at him.

Bob's heart sucker-punched his broken ribs from the inside and it was all he could do not to gasp.

“Honestly, Bob, I had such a good time yesterday. Painful, but
really
fun. I think moving around will help me the way it helped you.”

Her smile was like dawn breaking through the morning fog. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and he suddenly had the oddest feeling he'd kissed her before. Okay, enough about the kissing. “Remember, I told you bullfighting was addictive. Well, so is ranching.”

It occurred to him that maybe he simply had an addictive personality, because he was finding the more he was around Molly, the less he wanted to be away from her. He'd done nothing but think of her every second after she'd left him the night before. For the longest moment they stared at each other. All he had to do was lean down slightly and he would know what it felt like to really kiss Molly, not just imagine it.

In the distance the bawl of a calf pierced the moment. It brought reality back into play and him to his senses.

“C'mon, I've got the bottles ready.” He spun toward the counter by the door, paying for it when his ribs ground together in open rebellion. He grimaced as he picked up the two bottles he'd prepared earlier with the special milk replacement formula appropriate for the size and weight of each calf. Despite his misgivings about what he was feeling around Molly, he was glad to be moving a little livelier. It was a macho thing, he
knew, but he could feel Molly's eyes on him and frankly he was tired of being crippled around her.

“You
are
feeling better.”

He stood straighter, holding the door for her with his good arm, then rubbed his jaw. “I even managed to shave this morning so I'm a human again. Sleeping in the chair is a great help. Thanks for thinking of it. One night of getting up and down on that bed was enough to make me grateful to have a chair to sleep in. The only drawback to not being so decrepit is I don't get to wrap my arm around a pretty girl.”

Molly shot him a startled look. “If you say so,” she said, groaning as she bent to rub John Boy's head when he yelped for attention from his pen at the side of the porch. “I guess we better leave him here again so he doesn't get stomped by Baby One or Two.”

“For now. But he's a cow dog, so part of his learning experience will be understanding how to be around the cattle.” He eased down the steps, glad Molly had turned her back to him. He'd squelched a grunt, but he was certain she'd have seen its mark on his expression. Once down, he stopped to catch his wind and to let the screaming of his insides calm down. Of course he tried to tell himself he was only waiting for Molly to catch up. He was startled when she reached for the bottles.

“Put your arm over my shoulders,” she demanded. “I heard your steps falter, and don't think for one moment I believe you are telling me the entire truth about not hurting.”

He wasn't going to argue, not when she smelled as good as she did and already had her arm around his
waist. Bending his head close to her ear, he whispered, “I think you just missed my arms around you.”

She laughed. “You wish. Truth is, we can help each other.”

He chuckled and held her tighter. He knew she would be leaving. She wasn't anyone he needed to be having thoughts about, because she didn't fit into any of his parameters for the wife he was looking for. But he enjoyed her company. He always had. From the first day they'd met, they'd clicked.

How many times since she'd moved to Mule Hollow had his mind wandered to thoughts of her? Last night he'd continually thought of the time they'd spent together at the very first revive-the-town Fair Day just after the women had hatched their Wives Needed campaign. He'd been roped into working the lemonade booth by Adela and there had been a swarm of women lined up to buy Adela's unbelievable lemonade. He would never forget turning around with a glass in his hand and coming face-to-face with Molly. She'd taken his breath away.

Okay, enough of that, cowboy.
He'd do well to remind himself that she was just passing time in Mule Hollow until something better came along.

Eyeing the barn, which was still a good twenty-five yards away, he went where he didn't want to go. “So how's it going with your career?”

“Well, great actually. Mule Hollow has given me more of a boost career-wise than I could ever have imagined. I mean, I'd thought when I started the column that I had something unique. But I never dreamed that
you cowboys would get this much press. I'm—” she blushed “—I'm actually a big hit.”

He knew about that. His dad had become an overnight success with the recognition of one story. He forced himself not to focus on that. Molly was different. She didn't have ties. She didn't have a family to forget about. It wasn't fair to put her into the same category as his dad.

“I'm glad for you,” he said, instead. “You've worked hard for this.”

His heart seemed to falter when she looked up at him and her hand on his waist tightened slightly.

“Thank you,” she said. “I've wanted this all my life. I really think I have a shot at landing this contributing editor position with
World View
magazine. It's a step up and means some travel abroad.”

Her expression bloomed and he wondered how it would feel to have her look at him like that.

“Which I've always wanted to do,” she continued, totally oblivious to his wondering mind.

He was familiar with the magazine and, grudgingly, he had to admit that Molly's work was a perfect fit. “When will you know something?”

She looked up at him and he looked away. “Soon, I think.”

They walked a few more steps in silence. He struggled to be happy for her but found it hard.

“I didn't mean for it to sound like I was just in it for the travel,” she said. “It's about the places and reasons for the travel. You know, my stories. This will give me a chance to stretch my wings. I know I can do some good out there.”

He wanted to say that she was doing good here, in Mule Hollow, but wouldn't that be hypocritical of him after the way he'd reacted to her articles?

Truth was, she
was
making a difference, but he didn't say so.

 

Molly was feeling pretty good about the whole experience. It was the evening of her fourth day with Bob and she'd once again fed the two obstinate calves. Bob said the two bad boys had been with their mamas too long on the range and that was the reason they were so ornery and didn't know how to treat a lady. But despite their bad manners, she relished the challenge and had come out the victor once again as they'd both finished their bottles and eaten some dry grain Bob had brought them.

“How cool was that?” she asked herself, standing there watching her boys eat. “Outstanding. That's what it was. Absolutely outstanding.”

There was something to be said for taking care of animals. And to have Bob's glowing approval made it that much better. They had shared a nice day—feeding the boys that morning then relaxing with John Boy on the back porch until the boys' second feeding time rolled around. There were times, though, she felt something was bothering Bob. It had taken a lot of skill on her part to get him to finally open up to her and talk about his dreams for the run-down ranch he'd bought. But when he'd finally started talking about it, it had touched her heart. He was as focused on his life goals as she was on hers.

They were a lot alike, she realized, at least on goal-setting. Their life goals couldn't be any more different. His goal—to be a family man. Her goal…well, her goal didn't include a family. But as she sat listening to him talk, her heart warmed to his vision of his future. This beautiful land he'd bought with its rolling hills and lush grasses would someday soon be home to a cattle ranch of substance similar to the one Clint Matlock ran, as Bob had explained, only on a smaller scale. It would support a family, and for Bob that was all that mattered. A strong sense of longing enveloped Molly. She pushed it away. She'd been here for a couple days shy of a week and understood that her days were numbered. Despite everything that had happened since she'd spent time in Bob's world, nothing had changed. She didn't fit here.

“I think your hard work deserves a reward,” Bob said, breaking into her thoughts as she came out of the pen, the second feeding behind her.

They started walking slowly back up to the house. His arm was draped across her shoulders and she could tell every step was an effort. She could relate, but she was not complaining in the least. “Oh really. And what would that reward be?”

“Dinner at Sam's.”

She glanced up at him. “You're too tired for that. And besides, riding in the car or truck would hurt too much.”

“Hey,” he said, giving her that playful grin.

She lifted an eyebrow. “Hay is for cows,” she said, unable not to react to his good humor.

He squeezed her affectionately with his arm. “Aren't you Miss Smarty-Pants! I can make it, if you can drive.
You deserve not to cook, and I'd like to see everyone. And in case you forgot, tonight Sam's is starting Thursday night all-you-can-eat catfish.”

Molly gasped. “How could I have forgotten that?” She stopped at the porch. “And I thought you were just trying to stop me messing up your kitchen again.”

“So what do you say?”

“If you're up for it, I am. I'd honestly hate to miss it.”

It didn't take long for them to wash their hands and faces, dust off their clothes and head toward town. Since Mule Hollow was a small cattle town, dusty diners were welcome at Sam's. Because of this, Molly wasn't too self-conscious about her appearance. After all, she was living authentically as a cowboy for the time being. She had successfully fed baby bulls, which entitled her to wear her dirt proudly.

She eased the truck over the cattle guard, trying to keep Bob as comfortable as possible. He gave no indication that he was in pain. She knew he was, but she was getting used to the idea that he didn't allow himself to pander to it.

“My mailbox is gone.”

“What?” Molly asked more in surprise than actually as a question. Sure enough, the post that his mailbox had been fastened to was bare.

“Who would steal your mailbox?”

“No telling. I'll mention it to Brady. Chalk it up to one more bizarre happening in my life this week.”

Molly cringed inwardly. She'd almost forgotten that the reason she was spending time with Bob was because of the trouble she'd caused in his life.

He covered her hand on the steering wheel. “Don't let that statement make you start feeling bad again.”

She glanced at him and found sincerity in his eyes.

“I mean it, Molly. I've enjoyed these last few days and don't regret a minute of anything that made time spent with you possible.”

Molly thought that was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her. Especially after what she'd put him through. But that was just the kind of thing that made Bob,
Bob.

The rest of the way into town she wondered about the mailbox. Whoever had stolen it had actually given Bob a blessing in disguise. At least for a little while there was nothing to advertise, at the nondescript cattle guard, who lived over the hill. Though the newspaper only sent the mail general delivery and hadn't given out his address, it was still easy enough for anyone who wanted directions to get them when they arrived in town. The missing mailbox would make finding Bob a little harder for his crazed fans.