My Heart Lingers (A Hearts of Misty Mesa Story): BWWM Interracial Romance (4 page)

Cole smiled. “Just shows you were able to multitask. Do you know what you’ll do next?”

“Honestly, no. I guess I’ll have to hit the pavement and troll the internet for a job later. First, I need to get this house together. I meet with the realtor in two weeks or less, depending on how fast I can work.”

“You’ll only be in town until then? What a very short trip.”

“Well, being unemployed for a long time doesn’t have any advantages.”

“Would you be interested in looking over some documents for me while you’re in town? If you’re too busy, I’ll understand.”

Kyra took a sip of the sports drink. “What kind of documents?”

Cole removed the ice from her ankle as it was starting to get too cold. “My youth center teaches children and teenagers the arts and skills native to the West. In order for it to be accredited by the county, it needs to have all the forms in order. I need someone with a legal background to help me, but I don’t trust the lawyers downtown.”

Kyra thought out loud. “I’ve handled accreditation paperwork for non-profits and corporations before. I wouldn’t mind taking a look at what you have.”

Cole looked very pleased. The tension left his face, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “I would appreciate it if you could swing by on Monday. I know you have other things to do in town. I won’t take up all your time.”

“Sure. No problem.”

“I’m willing to pay you for your work.”

She waved her hand in dismissal. “No way. It’s the least I can do for you giving me a ride home.”

He smiled. His dimples came out in a boyish expression of happiness. “Thanks, Kyra. You saved me a trip downtown. Those devils in suits are the worst.”

“Hey, you might want to dial down the attitude about lawyers. We’re not all cutthroat and devious.”

“Of course not.” Cole became quiet, and an awkward silence filled the room. He opened his mouth as though he were about to say something, but changed his mind at the last minute. “I should head to the ranch before Cyclone gets antsy in the trailer.”

“Thanks again for coming to the rescue.”

“Anything for a damsel in distress.” He swiped his hand through his hair. She supposed he left his Stetson in the living room. He rose to his feet, headed to the door, and then stopped. “The rodeo is going on tomorrow night. I’m thinking of entering the lasso competition again.”

“You used to practice lassoing all the time. As a matter of fact, you tried to rope anything that moved, even if it wasn’t walking on four legs.”

“Not anything. Just you, because you hollered louder than a calf when being chased.”

“Great. Just the thing every girl loves to be compared to, a small cow.”

A smirk appeared on his well-shaped lips. “That would never be on my list of things to compare you to.”

Kyra stopped herself. Why was she flirting with him? That wasn’t the way to behave just because he did her a favor by taking her home. Her mind drifted again. She had a flashback of Cole fooling around as a teenager, chasing her with a lasso. She had run all the way to the hay loft. He followed her inside, and that was where they had their first experience.

Was it the last time Kyra had actually been out to his ranch? She remembered it like it was yesterday.

“Back to what I was saying about the rodeo tomorrow.” Cole helped her snap out of her nostalgia. “If you’re up for it, I could take you. Unless you find those Chicago types much better companions than us good ol’ country boys.”

“Just stop, Cole.” She stifled her laugh at his mock self-deprecation. “You watch way too many movies.”

Cole was over six feet tall and judging from the tautness of those muscles beneath his molded shirt, close to two hundred pounds. His strength was honed from years of hard work on a ranch with livestock and heavy equipment, not sweating to Pilates in the gym. Most of the men she knew in Chicago wouldn’t be able to go toe to toe with him for one hour on the ranch.

“So you want to go?” He awaited her answer concerning tomorrow’s rodeo.

“Sure. Why not? It’d be fun. I think I packed a pair of jeans in my suitcase.”

“You’re kidding, right? Tell me you haven’t lived in the city so long you forgot what the word casual means.”

She grinned when he showed his disdain for urban life once more. “If I haven’t worn a pair of jeans in a while, it’s not Chicago’s fault. You can thank my old job. I practically lived at the firm.” She sighed. “Well, I guess that’s all dust in the breeze isn’t it?”

He lifted an eyebrow.

Kyra shook her head. “Look, now you have me speaking western jargon.”

“Wait till tomorrow and I’ll have you doing more than speaking it.”

Whether his statement carried more than one meaning, it caused warmth to spread low in her core. “Is that right? Care to tell me what you mean, cowboy?”

“You’ll find out tomorrow if you come to the rodeo. Pick you up at six?”

“I’ll be here.”

He nodded. “Nice to see you in town again. See you tomorrow.”

“See you then.” She heard the front door shut behind him. She gulped down the rest of her sports drink, her mouth suddenly gone dry. Did he really mean what he said about her being in Misty Mesa again? He was very friendly and courteous to her, a gentleman in how he helped her get home. Was he saying those things just to be polite, or had he truly gotten over the past?

She got up from the air mattress and stepped lightly into the bathroom to shower. When she came out twenty minutes later, the doorbell was ringing. Maybe it was her neighbor Mrs. Banks. “Coming,” she yelled, hoping that whoever was at the door could hear her. Kyra threw her bathrobe on in place of her towel and left her bedroom.

She favored her left ankle as she walked to the front door and answered it. A pizza deliveryman squinted at her before reading the receipt taped to the cardboard pizza box. “I have an order of cheese, pepperoni, and black olives for Kyra?”

“I’m Kyra, but I didn’t order a pizza. There must be a mistake.”

“No mistake. Someone ordered it for you. It’s already paid for.” The deliveryman thrust the pizza box towards her, eager to be rid of it and to go about the rest of his deliveries.

Kyra glanced at the receipt and saw Cole’s name at the bottom of the transaction. He must have read her mind and knew once the munchies settled in, she would want to go into the kitchen and whip up something to eat. This was his kind way of keeping her mostly off her feet for the rest of the day.

Kyra stuck her hand in the empty pocket of her robe. “Can you wait while I get your tip?”

“That’s been taken care of, too. Have a good evening.” The deliveryman walked off the porch and back to his car.

Kyra closed the door and went to get a soda from the fridge. The pizza was perfect, hot and gooey as she lifted a steaming slice from the box and onto a paper plate. Cole even remembered her favorite pizza toppings.

Their time and conversation spent this afternoon were both too short to tell how he felt about her or exactly what he remembered before he left for Georgia. All Kyra knew was she had a rodeo to attend tomorrow with a man she thought she’d never see again. And here she thought her weekend was going to be spent scrubbing floors and washing windows.

Sunday evening arrived, and so did Cole at Kyra’s doorstep. The doorbell rang at six sharp. This time, Kyra made it to the front of the house without having to favor her ankle. It felt much better after a good night’s sleep and a day of rest.

“Look at you.” Cole remarked when she opened the door. His eyes swept over her from head to toe. “How’s your ankle?”

“Feeling great, thanks.”

He did a double-take of her feet. “You packed your boots after all.”

Kyra spared her feet, clad in tan leather cowboy boots, a cursory glance. “I figured I might get some use out of them while I’m home. I won’t tell you the last time I had the opportunity to wear them.”

“Let me guess. You were still picking out your dress to wear to prom.”

“Something like that. You look really nice.” Though she was happy he liked her chosen outfit of fitted bootcut jeans, white tank, and purple shirt, she was much more interested in his appearance than her own. He wore jeans that hugged his lean hips and belted around his taut, flat stomach. His black shirt had button snaps and sharp chevron pockets, the kind men out West wore to events like the rodeo or stock show. She had to admit, even after time spent looking at male attorneys in their flashy three thousand dollar suits, nothing could beat a good pair of worn, well-fitting Wranglers on a man.

“Ready to head out?”

“Yes. Just let me get my phone.” Kyra grabbed it from the mantel over the fireplace. “Let’s go.”

She walked alongside Cole to the driveway where his truck was parked. The horse trailer was gone. “You decided not to enter the lasso competition?”

“I put my horse in Ron’s trailer since he’s going to the rodeo ahead of me. Figured you wouldn’t want to smell horse all the way there and back.” He opened the truck door for her.

Kyra glanced at the evening sky before she got into the truck. A soft breeze blew by, bringing with it the clean smell of open air and the flowers from Mrs. Banks’ garden. She didn’t realize until then how much she missed those scents of home. “Thanks for the pizza, by the way. The delivery guy rang the doorbell just as I was starting to get hungry.”

“You’re welcome. I hoped I guessed your favorite toppings correctly.”

“The black olives were tasty.”

He made a face. “Only you would like olives on pizza.” He joked with her the way he used to do.

“If that’s the case, they wouldn’t keep a whole jar of them at the pizza place just for me.”

Cole turned on the radio on the way to the rodeo. He turned to the country music channel. “Figured you should listen to something to get you in the mood for watching calf roping and barrel racing.”

Kyra gave a small laugh as the strains of electric guitars and fiddles came out of the speakers. “It’s been a while since I heard music like this and it wasn’t being used in a TV ad for a steakhouse.”

“It sounds like it’s been a while since you’ve experienced anything enjoyable. Are things that harsh in Chi-Town?”

She guessed her descriptions of life in Chicago did sound pretty bleak, especially in light of the slower-paced lifestyles people here were known to savor. “I think I’m giving you the wrong impression. I work—worked—many hours in an office building, so I didn’t get to see much of the city. There are many attractions in Chicago.”

Cole shrugged as if to suggest the phrase,
if you say so
. “I got us good seats at the rodeo, not too close to the arena where dust can get in your face and not so high where you need binoculars to see everything.”

They parked in the gravel lot next to where the rodeo had been held every spring and summer for the past sixty years. Cole handed the attendant their tickets and led Kyra to their seats. She settled down beside him and waited for the first competition to start.

The rodeo had a good crowd tonight. There were several new competitions open for younger participants. Cole told her they were put together by his youth center. His instructors trained the boys and girls for the activities.

Kyra spent the first half hour watching the initial parade of flag twirling and marching performed by the town’s high school band, followed by the singing of the national anthem by a talented blonde-haired woman in her mid-twenties. Soon after, it was time for Cole to get ready for the lasso competition.

“Knock ‘em dead,” she said to him as he left the stands. She took a look around at the crowd once he departed. Being a former local, she was able to tell who was from around those parts and who was visiting.

Cole was right about the small increase in tourism. She smiled to herself as she saw a young black family taking pictures of the mare and colt prancing in tandem in the arena below. It was good to see more people like herself, her parents, and the Banks family in Misty Mesa. Contrary to popular belief, not all blacks were glued to urban life.

Kyra laughed to herself. Cole was one persuasive talker. What had it been, a little over twenty-four hours and here she was, extolling the praises of country living. She breathed in the fresh air as another evening breeze blew by, giving her skin a cool kiss. Perhaps Cole couldn’t be blamed for it all. Maybe she was simply happy to be home again, even if certain things about home had changed and would never be the same.

The announcer came on the speakers to introduce the contestants for the roping contest. Kyra focused on listening for Cole’s name. When she heard it, she clapped along with other people in the stands.

Cole came out shortly after two contestants. When he went below the stands, he donned a pair of riding chaps and gloves to hold the lasso. Kyra admired the strong, proud figure he made sitting astride his horse. He rode a different horse today than Cyclone. This one was a brown mare, a quarter horse named Gale Force. Kyra didn’t understand his obsession with naming his animals after forces of nature, but found it amusing.

A calf ran out of the gate just before the signal sounded for Cole to begin. He shot out of the gate on Gale Force, waving his lasso high over his head before letting it fly. The rope landed around the calf. The rest happened in what seemed like a split second. He vaulted off his horse and finished lassoing the calf’s legs until he had it hogtied. The crowd cheered.

Cole participated in two more rounds before the victors were announced. Cole came in second place behind a professional bull roper who was widely recognized around the regional circuit. Kyra clapped as he was presented with his ribbon.

“That was amazing,” she told him after the rodeo. They walked to his truck. “I cheered for you the entire time.”

“I was a bit rusty with the execution.” He held the door open for her to climb inside the truck “Maybe I’ll shoot for first place ribbon next time.”

“I thought you did really well. That is, if this city girl’s opinion is worth anything to you.”

His eyes danced at her joke, but his tone was serious. “Your opinion does mean something to me. Thank you.”