Page 7 of Take Me Please, Cowboy (The Calhouns & Campbells of Cold Canyon Ranch #1)

T hey were going to keep her uncle for the next few days.

He had broken his wrist from falling on his left side, but there were other concerns, more urgent concerns, like Uncle Clyde’s blood pressure and worrying results from the MRI indicating that her uncle probably had had a stroke, and apparently it wasn’t the first. Dr. Gallagher promised to phone Ansley as soon as he had something concrete to share.

Ansley exited the hospital slightly dazed. Her uncle was in good hands, but she was surprised. It hadn’t crossed her mind they would want to admit him, and now that they had, she wasn’t sure what to do next.

There was nothing forcing her back to the ranch, not immediately.

No animals to feed, no uncle to keep company, nothing specific she needed to do.

For the first time since arriving in Marietta, she had twenty-four hours to herself.

It was a heady thought, and her work ethic told her she ought to return to the barn loft at Cold Canyon Ranch and get painting, while another part of her rebelled against the ranch’s isolation.

Ansley thought about calling Rye and letting him know but held back, fearing he’d think she was trying to orchestrate a date—and she didn’t want a date.

She was drawn to Rye, and the physical attraction was pretty electric, but she still wasn’t ready to get romantic with anyone.

Relationships were hard work and breakups brutal.

Better to avoid entanglements until she was more settled and financially independent.

Heading to her car, Ansley thought about her options and the reluctance to return to the ranch spoke volumes.

Thinking of living on Cold Canyon Ranch long term with an irritable uncle worried Ansley and so she did her best not to think past Thanksgiving when she’d hoped to go home for the holiday and find out what her family intended to do about her uncle and the ranch.

It wasn’t that Uncle Clyde was a bad person.

He didn’t lose his temper with her too often, but he wasn’t a cheerful person, and it was far easier for him to complain than look on the bright side.

Ansley needed the bright side. She needed sun and warmth and smiles.

She’d never tell her family how hard the transition had been, moving in with Uncle Clyde.

If it wasn’t for her art, she didn’t think she’d still be here now, three months on.

So no, she wouldn’t go back to the ranch yet.

It felt too good to be off the property.

She rarely had time to just be in town and explore, and with the rodeo taking place this weekend, there was so much to do and see.

She drove toward Main Street and snagged the first parking spot she could find as Main Street had already been blocked off for the barbecue and street dance.

Marietta had never looked better. Hanging flower baskets overflowing with zinnias, begonias, and petunias adorned each of the old-fashioned looking light fixtures.

Flags were flying, and patriotic red, blue, and white bunting decorated many of the storefronts.

Despite the barricaded Main Street, town buzzed with visitors and locals.

She stopped in front of the pharmacy to read the poster in the window.

The family style barbecue was from five to seven here on Main Street.

Afterward, there would be a live country band—actually two country bands—and dancing.

It sounded fun, almost like the Fourth of July in Last Stand.

People, music, laughter… everything she’d missed since coming to Montana.

Ansley sighed, rather frustrated and torn.

What she really wanted to do was see Rye, and yet she wasn’t going to chase him, especially as she wasn’t looking for anything.

But he’d been good company this morning, and he’d felt like a friend, someone she could trust, someone she could talk to.

He’d lifted her spirits earlier, and even though going to the hospital had been stressful, talking to Rye had been…

fun. Was it bad to want a little more fun?

Taking a deep breath, she opened her phone and texted him. This is Ansley , she typed. It looks like they’re checking my uncle into the hospital for the next few days. Thank you so much for all your help this morning. I really appreciated it. Good luck tomorrow. Don’t break anything!!

She reread what she wrote and then deleted the last line about breaking something. That wasn’t necessary.

She hesitated, thinking the text wasn’t what she wanted to say.

She wanted to see if he’d meet her for dinner tonight on Main Street.

She loved barbecue. She thought it would be fun to listen to the bands with him.

She’d been raised on country music, and an outdoor concert when weather was this nice was pretty much her favorite kind of evening.

But suggesting they meet was forward, and she didn’t want him to think she was looking for something, much less intimacy.

She hadn’t been with anyone since Clark and couldn’t imagine getting close to anyone for a long time.

Blinking back the sting of tears, she pressed send before she could reconsider the text. He’d asked her to let him know the outcome and now she had. The ball was in his court.

Ansley’s stomach growled. She was hungry. Maybe she could get an early lunch before heading back to the ranch. She was trying to decide where to go when a deep male voice spoke her name.

Ansley turned around and Rye was right there walking towards her.

“How’s your uncle?” he asked, his Stetson shielding his eyes as he closed the distance between them.

She felt a flutter of excitement. He was still wearing the blue plaid western shirt and Wranglers, but he’d added a big silver belt buckle and dress boots and, freshly shaven, he was so good-looking it made her breathless.

“They’re admitting him. There’s evidence he might have had a stroke, as well as some concern about his blood pressure.

The doctors want to run more tests.” She flushed, heat rising into her cheeks.

“I actually just sent you a text letting you know.”

“I left my phone in the truck while I was doing the signing at the meet and greet.”

“Meet and greet?”

“The Mercantile is one of this year’s rodeo sponsors so a bunch of us have meet and greets. I just finished my shift. Always happy to support the local businesses, but I’m also relieved to have the appearance over.”

“Why? I bet kids love meeting you.” And women, she silently added, thinking he had to have a lot of fans.

Rye had striking features, but he exuded strength and a masculinity she suspected women had a hard time resisting. She was having a hard time resisting his pull.

“There are bigger names here than me. I always feel like an imposter.”

“But you win, don’t you?”

“Sometimes.” His firm mouth compressed. “More than sometimes, but I rarely go to Vegas anymore for the National Finals Rodeo.”

“When was the last time?”

“Three years ago, maybe?”

“That’s not that long ago.”

His shoulders shifted and he changed subjects. “So, what are your plans now that your uncle isn’t coming home today?”

Ansley tried to ignore the flutter of butterflies in her middle and the frisson of excitement racing through her. He wasn’t asking her out. He was simply asking her plans.

“I don’t know yet.” She nodded at the poster in the Bingley’s pharmacy window. “I was thinking of maybe coming back later, checking out the bands. I like country music.”

“I do, too. What about barbecue? Like that?”

Her pulse thudded, awareness and desire, which was so baffling because she’d only just met him and yet in some ways she felt like he’d known him forever. “I’m Texan. Of course, I like barbecue. Brisket, ribs, chicken—what’s not to love?”

“I was thinking the very same thing,” he agreed, an appreciative gleam in his eye.

Warmth rushed through her, coiling in her belly, making her tingle. “Now as far as I’m aware, Montana does not have a significant barbecue culture.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy great ribs.”

“You’re a rib man, then?”

“I’m a if-it’s-really-good-I-want-it man.” He smiled, his faint but very sexy smile that revealed his dimple. “We could meet for dinner tonight, if you feel like company.”

She would definitely like company, his company.

Rye made her feel eager and hopeful. He also made her feel safe, not something she consciously thought about, but he was just solid and real.

She’d never related to the phrase salt of the earth before, a phrase her mom used often when Ansley was growing up, but it fit Rye.

He was good and honest… salt of the earth.

He didn’t strike her as one of those men who would overstep boundaries, or force attention on a woman.

There were a lot of men who did, and it was one thing to head out for an evening in Last Stand, where everyone knew she was Callen Campbell’s daughter, which meant, if you messed with her, you’d have to deal with her dad and five angry brothers.

But here, no one knew her. In fact, few people seemed to even know her uncle.

She wondered why. Had he and her late aunt not made themselves part of the community?

“I’d love some company,” she said. “If you’re free.”

“I’m free.” He glanced at the poster in the window. “Looks like dinner is from five to seven. What if we meet at the diner at six? Would that work for you?”

“Sounds great.”

The afternoon passed slowly for Ansley. Once back on the ranch, she made herself a sandwich, then cleaned the house, changed the sheets on her uncle’s bed, added a vase of white roses from the garden to his bedside table, before taking a glass of iced tea to the loft.

She had plenty of time to get some work done.

But sitting in front of her easel, she didn’t feel inspired.