Steal Me, Cowboy by Kim Boykin

be disappointed. But he was already disappointed. Who was he kidding? There was no getting Rainey Brown out of his head or his heart.
    Before he could say anything, Courtney stopped in front of the elevator and nodded like she’d had an ah-ha moment, her smile thin. “Mind if I ask you something, Jim Beck?” He nodded. “You seem slightly distracted. Maybe more than slightly?” She held his hand up. “There’s no ring, but you’re kind of giving off a married vibe. Even if this is just for fun, I’m not that girl.”
    The truth was, five days ago he would have had this woman screaming his name by now, his real name. But as much as he tried to make himself want her, he didn’t. “It’s complicated,” he said. How trite could he possibly get? “Yeah, I’m sorry, this was a bad idea.”
    He thought she would be mad; if things had been the other way around, he might have been. Instead she let go of his hand and smiled like she’d saved him from himself. “Go home, Jim Beck.”
     

     
    It was just after two in the morning when Beck started making croissants because that was all he could think of to do. After he got home from the bar, he’d tried to sleep, but was too amped up, his mind racing, trying to think of a way to keep Rainey in Marietta. And the best he could come up with was fucking croissants?
    Some plain, some chocolate. He put them in a pastry box, grabbed his car keys, and looked at himself in the foyer mirror before he headed out the door. Without any sleep, he looked like shit, but there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about it.
    Now that he had admitted to himself that he had to have Rainey, Beck couldn’t imagine ever not feeling this way. But what if she left Marietta? Left him? What if he never saw her again? He’d probably be like one of those pathetic bloodhounds who gets the scent of a person and can’t stop searching until it finds them. Even if it takes forever.
    He pulled his hair back in a ponytail and smoothed out his shirt. Oh, hell, he should at least change clothes, but he was running out of time. He sprinted to his closet and was pulling on a clean shirt as he headed to the front door. He stopped in front of the mirror again brushed the flour off of his jeans, grabbed the box, and jumped in the truck.
    The back end slid a little on the curves as raced to catch her before she left for work. If he didn’t make it—. He couldn’t let himself think like that.
    He parked on the street, blocking the driveway, but he didn’t care. He was almost to the door when she opened it. She looked shocked and maybe a little afraid.
    “Hi.” He was breathless, presenting the croissant box like a peace offering. “I wanted to catch you before you left for work, Nell. These are for you.”
    “You’re Deb Hartnett’s boy, aren’t you? Beckett.”
    Beck didn’t bother to correct her. “Yes ma’am.”
    “Is there a reason, you’re blocking my driveway and bringing treats?” her hands were on the bottom of the box. “My God, are these still warm?”
    “Yes ma’am. I have a favor to ask.”
    Nell took one of the chocolate croissants out of the box and took a bite, closing her eyes. Beck had been a little worried; he hadn’t made them in a while and he didn’t know if they’d be good. The blush on the old woman’s face said they were good enough. “Well, hurry up, you’re making me late for work.”
    “You know Rainey’s trying to earn enough money to get her car fixed?”
    “Who doesn’t? One of the newspaper guys here in town wants to do a story on her for next week’s Sunday edition. You know how good folks are around here, always pitching in. Rainey doesn’t want to, but I bet if that story were to run, she’d have enough money to pay for her repairs outright, if not ride out of here in a new car. As it stands now, without the story, I think she’ll be close.”
    “How close?”
    “A hundred. Maybe a hundred and fifty dollars tops.”
    “And what about you, Nell?