Page 10 of Lucky Cowboy
The reason Blair had told their mom she remained under her roof was to save up for future rent on her own place, but the true reason was that she and Mark didn’t feel comfortable leaving their mother on her own for too long. At twenty-five, Blair took care of his mom as much as her mom took care of her.
And personally, he liked the idea of his mother and sister depending on one another.
But maybe his mom no longer required that.
It was hard not to worry about her, however, since he still remembered so vividly what it’d been like when she’d grieved his dad. Slowly but surely, she returned to herself, but even with her sense of humor intact, she’d never quite been the same. She’d also never attempted to remarry. The one time he’d asked, she’d told him, “Your father was my soulmate, and that hasn’t changed. Dating again will feel like a sacrilege.”
That’d been the end of that discussion.
Yet what appeared to be good for the gander wasn’t allowed for the goose.
“Men need to be cared for at home. There are several studies citing that fact,” his mom went on, but he’d lost the thread of the conversation.
“What fact?”
“That married men live much longer than their bachelor counterparts. It’s bad enough that your career has hazards that others don’t. You could at least have a wife there for support and companionship.”
“Well, that thinking is positively prehistoric,” Blair murmured under her breath. He didn’t know if their mother heard her or not since she didn’t react. His sister raised her voice. “So this fictional wife of his is just supposed to be there at his every beck and call?”
“Of course not,” his mom glared at her daughter. “I don’t expect every woman to stay at home like I did. A lot of times that’s not possible nowadays. But he could have someone to go home to. Someone he knows is there for him.” She focused back on him. “You deserve that. I want that for you.”
That was a nice concept and all, but between his own mortgage and paying for some of his mother’s and sister’s bills, affording such a lifestyle sounded not only impractical but unlikely. Without warning, the image of Val Bernard’s stunning face filled his psyche, and he blinked at it. But he couldn’t have her. Even if the thought of that struck a reverberating chord deep inside him.
“Did you have a general not-good day or a confidential not-good day?” Blair asked, tugging him out of his reverie.
The news wasn’t confidential. Not exactly. So without names, he provided them with a brief rundown of the judge failing to punish Biggs. Then he couldn’t help but smile. He’d redacted the man’s name just like his mother had hinted at earlier.
“Why do you care?” his sister pushed. “What did he do besides drive like an idiot and rack up a bunch of parking tickets?”
“He threatened Val—someone.” He switched what he’d said at the last minute, but it was too late.
“Val?” Blair smirked at him. “Who’s Val?”
“Is this a lady friend of yours?” his mom chimed in hopefully, and he covered his face with his hands, groaning in frustration.
“You two are relentless,” he complained.
“Well,” Blair kept right ongoing. “We’re waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“An explanation. Ooh, itisa lady friend, isn’t it?”
So much for his sister being on his side. Apparently, she’d decided to gang up on him alongside his mother.
“She’s nobody. A trick rider at the rodeo when it was in town a couple of weeks back.” The two women sat next to each other, propping their elbows on the table and resting their chins on their arms, peering at him in eager anticipation.
Great. He’s stepped his foot in it without even realizing. He sighed and reluctantly continued. “The security guard had an issue with some clown with a loud mouth and an aggressive posture. He called me for help, and I made sure the guy took a hike.”
“And is this Val lady around your age?” his mom piped up.
“I don’t know how, Mom. Maybe. Probably.”
“What does she look like?” Blair poked her nose back in.
“Blonde with light brown eyes, I guess…” He pictured her as she’d met her that night. Her long curls draping almost to her waistline over her spangly hot pink costume. How the golden decorations along with the jewelry at her wrists, neck, and ears gleamed and glittered. How that gold matched the decoration on her ten-gallon hat and the large oval belt buckle she wore below her naval…
“Did you think her pretty?” Mom again.
