Page 4 of The Curvy Girl’s Lucky Cowboy (Cowboys Love Curvy Girls)

Chapter four

B o

After paying Lizbeth for the day, I dump my keys on the counter with a soft clink and check the fridge.

Not a lot going on there. Was I expecting food to magically appear?

I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck, and toss a frozen pizza in the oven.

I tug on a pair of scuffed leather gloves, and amble into the living room.

“Did you miss me?” I ask, kneeling beside the crate of the juvenile great horned owl I’m rehabilitating.

A local brought him to my clinic seven weeks ago, a tiny thing that had tumbled from his nest. West Palomino Elementary's second-grade class held a contest to name him, and Hoot was the winner. He’s become a celebrity, even though I’ve let as many people as possible know that Hoot isn’t ours to keep. He isn’t a pet.

“How’d you and Lizbeth get along today?” My voice stays low and soothing as the owl perches calmly, his amber eyes blinking lazily. Soft, downy tufts frame his face, making him look like a grumpy old scholar caught in the middle of a nap.

With careful precision, I unlatch the crate, the metal clasp giving a quiet click. “Time to check those wings, buddy.” I ease the door open, my movements slow to keep him calm, and gently scoop him up, one gloved hand cradling his chest, the other supporting his spine.

Hoot emits a faint, scratchy chirp but stays relaxed, trusting me after weeks of care.

I place him on the towel on the coffee table.

He stands tall, talons lightly clutching the fabric, his head swiveling to track my every move.

“That’s it, champ,” I whisper, brushing a finger along his back to calm him as I begin my checkup, assessing if he’s ready to return to the wild.

Using my penlight, I examine Hoot’s eyes and find them bright and alert, with no trace of haze or discharge.

He blinks rapidly, feathers puffing slightly, but holds still.

I extend one wing with care, my fingers tracing the sleek feathers to test their strength and alignment, ensuring they’re fit for flight.

Then I glide my fingers over his primary feathers, checking for weak spots or uneven growth, and nod as the wing tucks neatly back.

“You’re doing great, buddy,” I murmur. A sudden thump from the backyard snaps my attention to the sliding glass doors.

I freeze with my hand hovering over Hoot as bushes rustle outside, making a sharp sound against the gentle drizzle.

Odd, there’s no wind tonight. Was that a yelp?

“Don’t get spooked now, ”I say, lifting Hoot carefully.

“We’ll pick this up after I figure out what’s going on out there.

” I tuck him inside the crate, secure the latch, and grab a flashlight from the counter.

My hand brushes over the cold metal of my gun in the drawer and I decide to take it with me.

It’s better to have it and not need it, than need it, and not have it.

Who knows what I’ll run into? I quietly slip out the back door into the rain.

“Ouch! Shit!” A woman’s voice comes from the northern perimeter of my property. “Come here, you little bugger!”

“Everything alright?” I call out softly, keeping my tone calm as I sweep the flashlight’s beam across the yard.

It catches a tumble of fiery red hair, shimmering in the wet glow, and a spectacular curvy behind that looks vaguely familiar.

The mysterious intruder is on her knees, her sleeveless top damp and clinging to her frame, jeans smudged with mud.

Her arm disappears into a sprawling shrub as she coaxes, “Now, come out of there, you stinker!” Whatever she’s after stays hidden.

“Need some help?” I step closer.

“Huh?” She twists, peering at me over her shoulder, her green eyes wide with surprise. A flush creeps across her cheeks, and she scrambles upright, brushing damp curls from her face with a dirt-streaked hand. “Oh, my God, it’s you.”

Do I know her?

“I’m so sorry,” she softens her voice, rubbing her palms on her jeans, leaving smears.

“My mom’s cat bolted from our house and won’t come near me.

If he gets hurt, she’ll never get over it.

” She winces, her gaze flicking to the shrub before settling back on me.

“I shouldn’t have left the front door open.

If anything happens to him, it’ll be my fault,” she adds under her breath.

“Maybe I can help,” I offer, approaching her, half expecting her to disappear like a mirage.

“I guess the kitty couldn’t have picked a better yard to hide out in. I’m Riley, by the way. I live a few houses down the street.”

“Bo Jordain.” I extend a hand, and when her fingers brush mine, a jolt surges through me.

“I think the whole town knows who you are.” She sends me the kind of expression that could knock the clouds from the sky.

“Have we met before?” I ask, leaning in just a touch, my voice dropping lower as I study her face, memorizing the curve of her jaw.

She shakes her head, her damp hair swaying, and her eyes dart to the grass, a shy edge to her smile. “But you probably know my mom. Mrs. O’Donnell? And her kitty The Count? She brings him to your clinic for his checkups.”

I grin. I know exactly who she’s talking about. “The Count is under there? This is going to be easy. Let’s get you out of the cold, and I’ll go find him.”

Riley follows me with her sneakers squishing in the damp grass.

As she brushes past me through the door, her shoulder grazes my chest, and I catch the scent of rain and roses coming from her hair—a mix that leaves my head spinning.

She pauses just inside, her emerald eyes sweeping the cozy room.

I haven’t lived in West Palomino long, but I can’t remember when I’ve ever had such a beautiful woman in my home.

“Here, you’re shivering.” I grab the throw blanket off the couch and gently drape it over Riley’s shoulders, pretending not to notice the spark of heat that shoots through me the second my fingers come in contact with her skin.

“Thank you,” she says softly in a voice like sweet honey. I have a sudden urge to wrap my arms around her and make her shiver and moan myself.

I remind myself to get a grip and force the thought from my brain.

Focus.

Treats . I stride to the kitchen, my boots heavy on the floor, and rummage through the pantry. “Swear I’ve got tuna here somewhere,” I say, glancing back. Riley’s watching with a faint smile.

“I really appreciate you helping me like this after I barged into your yard. I’m surprised you didn’t call the sheriff on me.”

“Happy to help, and you’re not exactly what I consider scary.” I shoot her a grin. Threatening, maybe, on an entirely different level, but not frightening. I snag the tuna can and pass Hoot’s crate. “That’s a young owl in there,” I say, nodding at the kennel. “Hoot’s very shy.”

Riley crouches, her hairs pilling over one shoulder as she peers inside, her top shifting to reveal a hint of skin. My throat tightens, and I drag my eyes up to her face.

“I’ll stay quiet,” she whispers, barely above a breath. “Hoot’s adorable.”

“Back in a sec.” I flash a wink, my voice a touch rougher, and step outside, heading straight for the shrub.

This won’t take long. I know the Count from experience—that big boy is easily bribed.

I kneel, setting the opened tuna can on the ground.

Its sharp scent cuts through the damp air, and soon enough, the Count slinks out, tail flicking, to nibble at the bait.

I let him enjoy a few bites before gathering him into my arms.

Riley’s waiting in front of the door, still wrapped in my throw, looking edible, with those pouty lips and creamy soft skin—

“You’re a lifesaver! Thank you so much!” She breaks into a smile that makes my chest tighten.

“Anytime.” I start to hand the cat over, then pause, cradling him a moment longer. “I’d ask you both in, but cats and owls don’t exactly hit it off.”

“Totally get it.” Her laugh is a little breathless, and she tucks a curl behind her ear, her fingers trembling faintly. “I can’t thank you enough.” Her eyes lift to mine as she reaches for the Count, and for a heartbeat, everything else fades.

“You’re not thinking of walking home alone, are you?”

She blinks and there’s that smile again. “I haven’t planned that far ahead,” she teases.

“Perfect, then. I’m walking you home.” I gesture to the path around the side of the house.

“Wait. What about your blanket?”

“Keep it.” I lean in closer to her. “It looks far better on you.”

***

Riley

I peek over at Bo, strolling with me on my right, unbothered by the rain, with my nemesis cradled in his strong arms. The cat’s fluffy tail sways lazily, brushing against Bo’s flannel shirt.

I smile to myself. Who knew this day would turn around so quickly for the better?

He catches me staring and gives me one of those lopsided, almost bashful grins, as if he’s happy I’m looking at him but doesn’t want me to know.

“How are you adjusting to being back in West Palomino?” His deep voice rolls over me like warm sunshine. I start to answer, but my brain skitters to a stop.

“What makes you think I haven’t lived here the whole time?” I tilt my head, raising an eyebrow playfully.

He chuckles, shifting the kitty to a more comfortable position. “Your mother. Now I can put a face to the beautiful, brilliant, kind daughter she’s always bragging about.”

I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment and I tighten the blanket around me.

With all the stress of moving and finding a new job, I haven’t had time for socializing.

I’m not used to anyone flirting with me.

“She says all that about me, does she?” I shoot him a sidelong glance. “I’ll bet you get an earful from her.”

“Not really.” Bo shrugs, his broad shoulders rising and falling as he scratches behind the Count’s ears. “She’s proud of you, and now that I’ve met her personal kitty chaser in the flesh, I can see why.”