Trusting the Cowboy by Carolyne Aarsen Page A

cookie, and she was thankful for the easy give-and-take between them. Just two people spending time together. Nothing more.
    “You make these?” Vic asked.
    “The only kind I know how to make, much to my grandmother’s disappointment. She always said oatmeal-raisin cookies were the reason she has trust issues.”
    Vic’s frown told her he didn’t get the old family joke.
    “She always thought they were chocolate chips and got disappointed. She never liked raisins. In anything.”
    “And yet you continued to make cookies with raisins?”
    “Because I like them and it was the only recipe that turned out well for me,” she returned, taking another drink of her own chilled lemonade. “Erin was the one who liked baking every kind of cookie and cake she found on the internet and in any cookbook my aunt had lying around.”
    “Jodie much of a baker?”
    “No. She was the entertainer of the family.”
    “Youngest child,” he said, taking another cookie out of the bag.
    “You know of what you speak?”
    “Dean’s the same way. Or used to be.”
    “How is he doing today?”
    “Better. He’s helping Jan today, so that helps. Lets him feel useful.”
    Her thoughts shifted to the conversation they had at his mother’s place. The abrupt way he had turned away from her when she brought up Dean’s accident. She knew she should leave it alone, but her curiosity got the better of her.
    “So how exactly did he get hurt?”
    “He got dumped off a saddle bronc.”
    “And that’s how he broke his leg?”
    “No. That happened when he got tangled up in the gate he fell on.”
    Lauren winced. And couldn’t help notice the harshness in Vic’s voice. There was more to it than this.
    “Has he been riding saddle broncs long?”
    “Since he was a little kid.” Vic raised one leg and rested his forearm on his knee as he stared off, as if returning to that moment. “It wasn’t lack of experience that caused the accident. I should’ve paid attention.”
    His comment puzzled her. “What do you mean you should’ve paid attention?”
    Vic’s face grew hard and his eyes narrowed. In the silence that followed, she wondered if he was going to say anything at all.
    “I was riding pickup that evening,” he said, his voice quiet. “I was supposed to be watching. I was supposed to grab him if he was in trouble. I didn’t notice—”
    He stopped, abruptly finished off the last of his lemonade and set the cup aside.
    “So you think it’s your fault that he got hurt?”
    “I don’t think it is, I know it is.” Vic sounded angry.
    Slowly things fell into place.
    “You want the ranch for Dean because of what happened,” she said.
    Vic’s eyes latched on to hers and Lauren wondered if she had pushed him too hard, said too much.
    But as he held her gaze, his shoulders seem to slump and he leaned back against the tractor tire. He moved his hand over his chin, as if debating what to say next. “No secret I want the ranch for Dean. I told you that from the beginning.”
    “No. But I didn’t know it was because you felt guilty. About what happened to Dean.”
    “I don’t feel—” He stopped himself, blew out a breath and released a harsh laugh. “You’re the first person that seems to have put all that together.”
    “Not the first. You have, too. And I wonder if Dean has.”
    “Doesn’t matter. I have to do this. I have to try,” he amended. “And I know it won’t work for you if I find that agreement, but I still need to try.”
    She understood completely, recognizing the burden of every firstborn child. The need to take care of everyone, to take on the responsibility of everyone. Once again doubts assailed her.
    Stop overthinking this. For once put yourself first. It’s what you want, what you need.
    The little mental lecture centered her. But at the same time she was sorry the topic of Dean had come up. For a few moments she’d felt a connection with Vic. For a few moments she’d shared ordinary