That Girl is a Cowboy

It was a hundred and seven
We were heading to town
She had her sleeves rolled up
And the windows rolled down
That girl is a cowboy
Robert Earl was singing out
The "Buckin' Song"
With every word that Keen was bringing
She was singing along
That girl is a cowboy

Sometimes the best cowboys
Ain't cowboys at all
She's got my back
Even when it's against the wall
When I need a friend
She's the guy I call
Cause sometimes the best cowboys
Ain't cowboys at all

So I took her out to show her
How to rope and ride
I can't believe that it was me
That wound up broke and tied
That girl is a cowboy

So that night I decided
We should paint the town
I made it home although
I really don't remember how
That girl is a cowboy

Sometimes the best cowboys
Ain't cowboys at all
She's got my back
Even when it's against the wall
When I need a friend
She's the guy I call
Cause sometimes the best cowboys
Ain't cowboys at all

There's just something that a cowgirl has
Ain't no cowboys got
Man she's something when she's one of the boys
But something else
Any time she's not

Sometimes the best cowboys
Ain't cowboys at all
She's got my back
Even when it's against the wall
When I need a friend
She's the guy I call
Cause sometimes the best cowboys
Ain't cowboys at all

That Girl is a Cowboy
Garth Brooks

This is my favorite time of the year. Every morning, I get to wake up to frost on the windows. The skies are filled with the promise of snow (as much as I love my sunshine, there's just something beautiful about gray, big bellied clouds). Christmas lights glitter on the wet streets. I get to bake, bake, bake without breakin' a sweat in the kitchen. And I get to bake with my two favorite ingredients: chocolate and cranberries. I've had a recipe cooking in the back of my head for a few days now. It's going to be a pie, filled with cranberries, pears, and something else. I haven't decided what, though. Once I get everything right, it just might be the bakery's new signature holiday dish!

Speaking of the bakery; it's doing really well. We've tripled the number of special orders we had this month last year. I have to work my *** off keeping the counter filled. The tables out front are always busy, too. Something tells me I might have to hire someone to help me in the back. At least it's a small place, so things will never get very far out of hand. With Christmas just around the corner, though, I'm expecting to have lines out the door soon.

Nick comes home in two weeks. Kyle is so excited. He has his ABC's down pat and can't wait to sing the Alphabet Song with his daddy. His school is putting on a little play of Twas the Night Before Christmas. He's the mouse that wasn't stirring. My mom made him his costume. He's the cutest mouse you've ever seen - and no, I'm not just saying that 'cause I'm his mom. It's true!

My pear/cranberry pie was a hit! I took a couple to the "after party" for Kyle's play, and they were gone in about fifteen minutes. I added some pecans to give the pie some substance. I guess it worked!

Kyle did such a great job in the play. He looked so adorable all curled up in his costume - like my baby again, and not the little boy he's turning into. I can't believe he's already four. One day, he figured out how to hold his head up on his own and bam! Now he's almost ready for kindergarten. My mom keeps telling me it's time for another grandbaby. I wouldn't mind having another one but... Not with things the way they are now. I'm too involved with the bakery. I hardly ever get to take Wari out. Nick is never home. It just... It wouldn't work.

Tomorrow, Kyle and I are gonna go get our Christmas tree. That means going without Nick, but Christmas is just around the corner. I can't justify spending eighty bucks on a tree we'll have for a week then throw away, and I absolutely refuse to get one of those ugly, scrawny, fake, pre-lighted disasters. So, as soon as I can sneak away tomorrow, we're off to the Christmas tree farm.

Frank.

I... I thought he was gone.

GirI is a Cowboy: Seth peered out the windshield and killed the engine. "Rustic Corner Cafe." She checked the address on the crumpled piece of paper she'd thrown onto the dash, just to be sure she was, in fact, at the right place. Though she seriously doubted there were two Rustic Corner Cafes in the area. Stuffing the keys into the pocket of her coat, she hopped out of the van - an old Volkswagen bus, to be exact, with Sunflour Bakery printed on the side and green and white gingham curtains in the windows - and opened up the back.

Boy is a Shark: "Hey, Mack! Y'got a delivery!" The shark called from the common room towards the kitchen where his twin was currently stocking the pantry in the kitchen. Receiving no answer, he prowled for the front door himself, pushing back the curtain to have a look outside. All he could see was the delivery van as the back doors obscured the view of the owner of the vehicle. **** , it was already December and getting wickedly cold. He reached for his tailored jacket, throwing it on as he pulled the front door open, stepping out onto the frost covered lawn. His breath mingled in the chill of the late evening air causing a faint shiver to coarse down his spine. Perhaps they could use some help. Actually, Frank, you were gonna need some help in about two seconds flat. Ha!

GirI is a Cowboy: She unhooked and pulled down a dolly, sidling from foot to foot in an idle attempt to keep warm while she flipped through a clipboard full of invoices. It was getting late, but she had other deliveries to make before the day drew to a complete close. "There you are." She carefully removed the Rustic Cafe's invoice and checked the inventory. No cooked goods. Just batter and dough. Seth pulled the boxes from the small freezer near the wheel well and loaded them onto the dolly, closing the back doors just as she heard footsteps coming toward her. "Hi," she said, rounding the corner of the van. "I'm--" Seth stopped dead in her tracks, hands clenching around the dolly's handles. She had often wondered just how she would handle it, if she were to ever run into Frank Cord again. And this, had to be Frank. What the **** he was doing at the Rustic Corner Cafe, she had no idea. She didn't give a rat's *** , either. Seth simply took one of the smaller boxes from the top of the stack and chucked right at his head.

Boy is a Shark: Fuckin' Christ. The heathen's curse the only words that could fill the sudden static of his brain. He felt stock still, and yet still sensing the fury that was sure to come, side steps just in time to avoid the hurled box, aimed like a missile at his head. Not that he didn't deserve as much. He tried to speak, but there were no words. The expression on her face was enough to make lesser men cower and fall to their knees. But the attorney had never been faint at heart. Mouth set in a grim line, dark brows knitted together in a perpetual scowl and hands clenched at his sides, though no from anger, no never anger, rather to keep from reaching out and touching her. Right about now, that'd be like trying to pet a wildcat. Not very wise at all. "Seth," he breathed. It was more a whisper of sound, than an actual syllable. A mingling of emotions etched across that rugged face. Shock. Amazement. And something else undefinable.

GirI is a Cowboy: Seth did not want for things to say. Hundreds of words surged up the back of her throat and bubbled onto her tongue. Too many for her to form any sort of coherent sentence. She managed a rage-choked, "You--!" before emotion from all across the spectrum overwhelmed her. Growling, she reached into the next box, closed her hand around a tube of cookie dough, and threw it at him. She threw another, and another, until the box was empty and she was panting from the exertion. "--******* !"

Boy is a Shark: Frank didn't even attempt to avoid the onslaught this time. He figured he owed her as much. Let her spend herself with rage if that is what she needed to deal with her fury. The anguished expletive had him cringed on the though he remained cool and impassive on the outside, hardened as steel and just about as yielding. Calmly, as he brushed bits of dough from the sleeve of his (once) immaculative jacket he commented. "Now is that any way to say hello?" Oh, no he didn't. Yes, complete with the finger snap. He did not want to incite her any further. Or did he? It was like he was egging her own, spurring her to infuriating new heights. Because, **** she was so incredibly beautiful when she was angry. And well, this was about as gorgeous as he'd ever seen her. Do not smile. Don't you dare smile you ******* ....

GirI is a Cowboy: Oh, did it ever rankle her that he so calmly and coolly withstood her barrage of baked goods. And when he said that, Seth immediately clamped her hands around the dolly, lest she start clawing at that pretty, perfectly tailored coat of his. "Only when you don't get a goodbye," she said stiffly. Seth tilted the dolly back and gave it a good kick, to get it up and over the curb. Shoulders tight and hunched nearly to her ears, she wheeled briskly past him and into the cafe. Her heart was hammering. Her hands, even wrapped around a solid metal frame, were shaking. It had been four years. That should have been plenty of time to move on. Bury the hatchet. To let bygones be bygones. She thought it was, too. Until now.

Boy is a Shark: Now, if she hadn't had her back to him she would've seen the cracks in that steely mask he wore so well. The sudden flash of undisguised guilt and pain stricken expression splashed across the canvas of rugged features. As composed as he appeared on the outside, he was shaken to the core inwardly. A fine tremor beginning to wrack that powerful frame as her words hit him like the backlash of a whip. Broad shoulders sagged, as though under a sudden great deal of weight, hands delving into the pockets of his trousers. Still staring at the now empty space where the cowgirl had been. And it wasn't often that he admitted he was in the wrong. He was far too stubborn for that. But there was
Boy is a Shark: a first time for everything. And if ever there deserved an apology.... "I'm sorry," he murmured. Whether to himself or towards the retreating back of the cowgirl turned baker, it wasn't evident. The sincerity was there. He never said anything he didn't mean. In or out of the court room. His word was as good as gold. Even if his promises seemed to mean nothing anymore. Not that he thought two words would make everything better. But.... she deserved to hear them just the same.

GirI is a Cowboy: She made a three point turn at the door, nudged it open with her hip and pulled the dolly through. "You're sor--" She choked the words off with a quiet, bitter laugh. "You're sorry? Well." Seth met his gaze, her bright green eyes sparking like flint struck with steel. "Good for you." The door slammed shut. She dragged the dolly into the kitchen. She knew her way around one, and they were all built the same. Heading straight for the freezer, she yanked it open and started to pile the boxes toward the back, stacking them with short, ******* movements. Why? Why was she here? Had he known, when he placed the order with the bakery, that she owned it? Was it some ploy? Some ruse, to get her to the cafe? And for what? So he could apologize? Hi, Seth. Long time no see. I'm sorry I asked you to marry me then completely abandoned you. Friends? Ugh. Livid, disgusted, and hurtling like **** , she swatted her hair out of her face and wiped her nose, running from the cold.

Boy is a Shark: Yes, he was indeed sorry. Sorry for it all. Sorry son of a ***** , even. After an interval of time he followed slowly after the seething cowgirl, angling into the cafe and leaning against the door jamb for the space of a few moments. Silhouetted there with the moonlight at his back spilling across the rough angles and planes of his face, he looked more weary than formidable. Lines and creases that had not been visible last she'd seen him now criss-crossed those achingly familiar rugged features. He wasn't going to try to explain now, he'd said he needed. In time, perhaps he could make her understand the reasons why. Although right now, he couldn't for the life of him remember them himself. "You still bake..." He began, swiftly changing topics as though they were merely exchanging a lively conversation on any given day. Nothing unusual or out of the ordinary at all. You had to hand it to him. The lawyer had guts. Or absolutely no sense whatsoever. "S'my place. Well, Mack and I are partners in the venture." Just removing any lingering doubt that he'd lured her here for any untoward purpose. For some reason, he didn't think she was completely assured any other way. Not that he blamed her. He'd given her plenty of reason to be wary in the past. Releasing a sigh, fingers lifted to scratch beneath the edge of that heavily whiskered jaw. Pushing away from the door and prowling inside. Hands still in pockets and looking about as harmless as a Texas rattler.

GirI is a Cowboy: She could feel him. Standing there. Watching her. Frank Cord knew how to fill a room. She had loved that presence about him, once upon a time. Anymore, it felt as though she was being backed into a corner. Shoving the last box into the freezer, Seth rolled the dolly out of it and shut the door behind her. But instead of barreling right past Frank, she paused, struck by the stillness of his form in that doorway, dark and limned with moonlight, looking so very haggard. No! **** him. She was not going to feel sorry for him. When he came into the room with that slow, predatory gait, Seth angled in the opposite direction so that they were slowly circling each other. "Yes," she said, eyeing him warily. "The bakery is mine." At his lattermost revelation, her brows arched. "What happened to the ranch?"

Boy is a Shark: He was advancing towards her, slowly, like a shark circling its intended prey, though unconsciously so. No wonder she felt like she was being backed into a corner. He paused at her inquiry and pushed a hand through meticulously styled onyx. An uncharacteristic habit of his, as it disheveled the locks and gave him a much more boyish appearance. "Mack sold the horse breeding program to Amanda. He still owns the property but s'been rented out in later years." For just reasons. He had a feeling rattling around in that old house with all those memories was just too much for the cowboy.

GirI is a Cowboy: Surprise registered across the smooth lines of her face, followed by a quickly snuffed flicker of remorse. She loved the ranch. She couldn't imagine it run or inhabited by anyone but the Cords and their hired hands. But that was neither here nor there, because Frank ran his hand through his hair and for a heartbeat, Seth looked utterly stricken. She had forgotten he did that. And just the other day-- No. She shook herself, slowly inching toward the door, the dolly's wheels squeaking as she went. "Good luck with the cafe," she said.

Boy is a Shark: Now it was Frank's turn to feel panicked. And the tough as nail attorney didn't get rankled very easily. He couldn't just let her walk right out that door, not knowing when or if he'd ever see her again. But all he did was watch in silence, the squeak of the wheels of the dolly the only sound to disturb the stillness of the night. He was absolutely terrible. Here he should be feeling the worst guilt imaginable. And all he could think about was bending her back onto that cart and doing the most filthy and vile things.... snap out of it! He gave a guttural sound from the back of his throat. Trying to disspell those wicked fantasies.

GirI is a Cowboy: Her eyes narrowed sharply. "Don't," she said, stabbing a sharp finger toward him. Seth was no mind reader, but she knew what dark and lascivious things rolled through his mind when he looked at her like that. And to think he had the gall to let those thoughts roam free at a time like this! She wrenched the door open and pushed the dolly through it. "Goodbye, Frank." Then she went through the door, jaw working as she tried to make sense of the tumult of emotions that roiled around inside of her. Shaking her head, muttering to herself, she loaded up the dolly - making a mental note, as she passed the spoiled dough, to have someone make a replacement delivery - and slammed the back shut.

Boy is a Shark: Swift as a rattler, he moved stealthily after her, those powerfully menacing strides eating up the distance easily enough to overtake her before she'd the chance to slip back into the van. He reached out and caught her wrist between that vice like grip, tugging her to him. "Don't?" He dared to mimick her? Rumbling lazily around the word. "Don't what?" Murmuring as he eased his grip yet still holding her quite captive. "Maybe don't this?" Teeth raked against the bottom of his lower lip before he had pulled her fully against him. **** , if she was going to disappear from his life again, he was going to making this moment count for something. Not even daring to stop and think of the consequences, he crushed his mouth against hers, taking with great intensity and force that which he'd one given all away. He was a damned fool. The minute he had kissed her, he knew it had been a mistake. It had been meant to taunt her into submission, and yet here he felt humbled and weakened in the knees. God, how had he forgotten the taste of her? He shuddered, as though the revelation was suddenly too much to endure.

GirI is a Cowboy: She turned and he was suddenly there, his eyes sharp and dusky and every line of his body smoldering with heat she remembered all too well. Seth's breath caught. She tugged, futilely, against his grip. Fury and indignance sparked in the bright, clear green of her eyes, setting flame to something else. Something older. Something deeper, moving swiftly across the back of her gaze. She made a soft sound against his mouth and for a heartbeat, she lost herself in the achingly familiar heat. Then she stiffened, pain and memory dousing the small flame that had ignited in her chest. She drew back and slapped him across the face. "Don't touch me," she breathed, her eyes red and glassy in the moonlight.

Boy is a Shark: He had fully been expecting the blow, which is probably why he didn't even wince. She would just take it as further proof of his callous indifference and lack of emotions. Surely the robot shark didn't have a heart, so what good did it even do? "Thanks for the delivery. G'night, Wendy, bella fiore." It was as though time stood still for the space of a few heart beats. Then he calmly turned on his heel and stalked back inside. Without looking back.

GirI is a Cowboy: Nothing. He didn't flinch. He didn't react. He did absolutely nothing but stare into her eyes for what seemed like a heart wrenching eternity, cast her aside, and walk away. Stunned and pained into silence - the cowgirl, all leather and lace and southern fury, silent - she wiped the tears off of her cheeks and climbed into the van. The engine coughed and sputtered to life. She wrenched it into gear, backed out of the parking lot and drove away, taillights shining on the wet asphalt.

Boy is a Shark: He hadn't wanted to just walk away like that, much less he'd wanted nothing more than to feel her in his arms again. It'd felt so good to hold her once again. All his reasons for why he'd taken off without a word seemed so foolish and trivial now. He fumbled in the pocket of his jacket for his phone and hoped that the number still stored there was still one and the same. Keying in a short message and sending it with a click of his thumb before he lost the last of his resolve. "I've loved you all along..." It was their special code of sorts... a fragment of a confession linked to the past. If she even remembered. The song they'd first danced to that night at the tavern, when everyone had gone home and all the chairs had been put up for the night. They danced. And it was magic. And it was going to take some brand of magic for the shark to get back into the cowgirl's good graces again. And a prayer.

GirI is a Cowboy: She was halfway down the street when her pocket buzzed. Braking at a stop sign, Seth dug her phone out and flipped it open. She had to read the words twice - because he couldn't be that callous. He couldn't be that cruel. Feeling both enraged and as though she'd been shot through the heart, Seth, teeth grinding, dialed his number back. It wasn't saved in her phone anymore. She had deleted it four years ago. But she knew it by heart. "Pick up," she demanded.

Boy is a Shark: And on the counter of the cafe's bar, a cell phone buzzed, the vibrations nearly sending it crashing to the floorboards below. Its owner nowhere in sight. The voicemail kicked in after an exasperating number of rings. "Yeah, S'Cord. You know what to do." *beep*

GirI is a Cowboy: He didn't pick up. It rang right to voicemail. And that, made Seth all the angrier. "What the **** is wrong with you?!" she demanded after the beep. "I've loved you all along... This isn't a game, Frank! This is real. This is my life. My heart! It's not a toy. It's not something to entertain you when you're bored. We're not all sharks, okay? We're not all soulless lawyers who never bat an eye. There are consequences! Everything you do affects someone else and you can't be so ******* cavalier." She didn't even say goodbye. She stabbed an angry thumb at the End Call button and with a huff, tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.

Boy is a Shark: "**** ," he muttered beneath his breath, towel draped around his waist and dark hair wet and slicked back from a recent shower. He'd heard the phone ringing but couldn't get to it in time. Snagging it up from the bar, he carried it back upstairs, holding it against the crook of his shoulder and ear, while he listened to the pre recorded voicemail alert. 'You have one new message. First message.' He drew in on a sharp inhalation of breath as for the second time that evening the anguished furious cries of his former love dripped with scathing disgust. Thumbing the cell closed, he indeed felt properly shamed. Sinking down onto the floor once he reached the upstairs loft, he let the phone slip out of his fingers and onto the ground. If Seth could only see him now. The steely facade was crumbling, and that dark head dropped to his chest, as his eyes closed. Weariness finally sweeping over him, he let the worst of the guilt and pain finally wash over him like a tidal wave. "Hey, what's with you---" Mackenzy stopped abruptly at the sight of his brother's face. Alarmed. He'd never seen Frank like this. Well, once. When his wife had died. Wisely, he left his sibling to himself, as it looked as though he wished to be alone with his thoughts. Or misery as it were.