The Forgotten Cowboy. Kara Lennox
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take you out on a date and certainly not to such a public place.”
Nana had a point.
“You’re worrying for nothing.” Nana patted Willow’s arm as they headed for the exit. The bride and groom had already left for their honeymoon. Willow supposed there were people she should say goodnight to, but she would have to summon up names again and she really didn’t have the energy. So she just waved at anyone who made eye contact.
Soon they were safely in Nana’s car, a twenty-year-old Ford Taurus she kept in immaculate condition.
“Cottonwood is full of nice young men,” Nana said as she pulled out of the parking lot. “Maybe your mystery man was that nice sheriff’s deputy, Luke Rheems. He’s handsome and eligible and I noticed him watching you.”
“Or he might have been Orville, the garbage man.”
“I think you would have noticed if he was missing several teeth. Anyway, he was young, wasn’t he?”
Willow shrugged. “Age is one of those qualities I have trouble with. I can tell a child from an old man, but those ages in between tend to look a lot alike. Oh, Nana, what if he’s someone I have nothing in common with?”
“You won’t know until you spend time with him.”
“How can I go out with a man,” Willow tried again, “if I don’t know his name?”
That stumped Nana for a moment. Then she got a decisive look on her face. “This isn’t a problem. When he comes to pick you up tomorrow, I’ll be there to greet him. Before you leave, I’ll have a private word with you and I’ll tell you who he is. Then you’ll at least be able to call him by his name.”
“What if you don’t know him?”
“Then he’ll introduce himself and the problem will be solved another way. Willow, darling, you spend way too much time worrying. It will all work out. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? You admit to him that you have a bit of a problem recognizing faces—”
“No! I can’t tell him that. I can’t tell anyone that. Then it would get all over town, and people would feel sorry for me even as they’re avoiding me—”
“Oh, Willow,” Nana said. “Like I said, you worry too much.”
CAL WAS MORE NERVOUS about his date with Willow than he could ever remember being. He still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to go out with him. Or that he’d kissed her. Or that she’d kissed him back.
And what a kiss. It wasn’t like he remembered from five years ago. He’d always enjoyed kissing Willow, of course. She’d been shy about it at first, very inexperienced. She’d confessed that he was only the third boy she’d ever kissed, and the first two had been just little pecks. But he’d persevered, and pretty soon they were making out every chance they got—any time they could escape the watchful eyes of her overprotective parents.
He’d been crazy for her, just about as horny as an eighteen-year-old boy could get. But he’d never gotten the idea that Willow was similarly inflamed. She went through the motions and her technique improved. But Cal never sensed that she was getting carried away.
Last night at the wedding, however, had been a whole ’nother story. The woman had been on fire, just as he’d been. Maybe that was the difference between the girl he’d fallen in love with and the woman she’d become. The girl had kissed him because she loved him and wanted to please him. The woman had kissed him because she’d wanted to.
He wondered what else about Willow had changed. She was taller and she’d filled out slightly, though she still had that reed-slim body and waist-length hair that haunted his dreams. But had she changed inside? Could he push his outdated memories of Willow into the past where they belonged and fall in love with the woman she’d become?
He looked forward to finding out.
Her grandmother’s house looked the same as it always did when he pulled up out front. The large, two-story frame house, almost a hundred years old, had a wide, inviting front porch with a swing. The front yard was practically overrun with roses in every color, blooming like crazy. Willow had grown up in Mooresville, on the other side of Town Lake. Her parents owned the bank there, and they both worked there full-time. So Willow had spent summers living with Clea.
Clea Marsden was the perfect grandmother. She baked cookies and made fresh lemonade and sewed quilts and grew roses. But she was a modern thinker and a lot more liberal than Willow’s parents. While Willow’s parents had disapproved of her romance with Cal because of the age difference, Clea had encouraged it. She’d told Cal once that she could tell from the very beginning that the two of them belonged together. So Cal had run tame at Clea’s big, homey house all summer long.
Even after Willow had broken up with him, Cal had stayed close to Clea. He did odd jobs for her now, fixing little things around the house, checking the oil and tire pressure in her car, mowing the lawn. She’d been a widow for a long time, and she was pretty self-sufficient, but everyone needed help now and then.
Now it was seven o’clock on the nose. Willow had always valued punctuality, so Cal had made sure he wouldn’t be late. With one final glance in the rearview mirror, he got out and headed for the door, his stomach tumbling with nerves. Those weren’t butterflies in there; it felt more like a herd of rhinoceros.
He rang the bell. Heard footsteps. Swallowed, his mouth suddenly full of cotton. The door opened, and Clea stood there, a pleasant, welcoming smile on her face. Her smile faltered a moment when she recognized Cal, but then it returned, even bigger than before. Had Willow not told her grandmother to expect him?
“Come in, come in, Cal. It’s so good to see you. Willow’s just finishing her hair—she’ll be down in a minute.” She showed him into the living room, where a plate of cookies sat invitingly on the coffee table. “Would you like a cookie?”
Cal groaned. “Are those your oatmeal peanut-butter cookies?”
“Mmm-hmm. Just baked them this afternoon.”
“I don’t want to spoil my—okay, just one.” He couldn’t resist. He took a cookie and bit into it, savoring the sweet, rich taste that brought back a thousand memories. He and Willow used to pack picnic lunches and hike into the woods that ran through the back of the Hardison Ranch. They would spread out a quilt by the creek, gorge themselves on fried chicken and potato salad and at least half a dozen cookies each, then swim in the creek.
Clea disappeared briefly, and when she returned, she had her purse in her hand. “I hope you won’t think I’m rude, but I have bingo tonight. You kids have fun!” She waved and disappeared again. Moments later, Cal heard the back door open and close.
Less than a minute after Clea’s departure, Cal heard another door open and close, then footsteps coming down the stairs.
He bounced to his feet just as Willow entered the living room. She looked like a goddess in a white gauzy summer dress. It wasn’t short or clingy or low-cut, but Cal found it sexy as hell, the way it gently conformed to her breasts and the curve of her hip. Her dainty feet were encased in high-heeled white sandals, and she’d woven her long hair up into a sophisticated twist of some kind.
“Hi,” she said with a shy smile.
“Hi, yourself. You look gorgeous.”
She looked around. “Where’s Nana?”
“Oh, she said she had to go to bingo.”
A look of panic overtook Willow’s face. “What? You mean she’s gone?”
“Yeah. Is something wrong?”
Willow headed for the kitchen. Cal followed, curious as to why her grandmother’s departure would upset Willow. Was Clea in ill health? Willow opened the back door, stared out, then slowly shut it. She turned toward Cal, looking very upset indeed.
“You’re right. She’s gone. Bingo? I didn’t