The Trouble With Cowgirls. Amanda Renee

She climbed inside, scaring her daughter half to death.

      “That’ll teach you.” Lucy grinned and gently tugged on Carina’s earbuds.

      “What do you want?” Carina snarled in Italian.

      What happened to the sweet little girl with the cheery disposition I raised? “How was school?”

      “I hate it.” Carina pouted.

      “Did you give it a chance?” Lucy sat on the edge of the twin-size bed. Her daughter had had a king-size one in their villa.

      “Yes,” Carina huffed. “They talk fast and I don’t know what my homework is.”

      “Did you ask your teacher to write it down for you?”

      “No.” She shook her head. “I didn’t want to look stupid.”

      “I’ll call the school on Monday and ask the teacher to write out your assignments.” Lucy stopped Carina from putting her earbuds back in. “You can’t give up. It’s not easy for me, either.”

      “Fine.”

      Lucy stood, knowing she was about to be tuned out once again. “What would you like for dinner?”

      “Nothing.”

      One-word answers. Lovely. “Okay, I’ll leave you alone, but keep the door unlocked or I’ll take it off the hinges. Oh, before I forget.” Lucy fished the new cell phone from her pocket and handed it to Carina. “For you.”

      “Great, now I have a phone and no one to call.”

      Lucy threw her hands in the air and left the room. Skipping dinner, she sank into one of the white rocking chairs on the front porch. A refreshing breeze ruffled the collar of her Bridle Dance polo shirt. A lush green palette of the Texas Hill Country danced before her as the sun began to cast evening shadows against the house. The view was still gorgeous. She had seen her first American sunset with Lane. They’d been barely fourteen that first summer. He had placed his hat on her head, kissed her cheek and called her his Italian cowgirl. What she wouldn’t give to relive that moment again. There used to be so much hope in the unknown, before life became scary and real. She missed those days... More important, she missed those days with Lane.

      * * *

      LANE POPPED THE top off a longneck and sat on the wooden front steps of the bunkhouse. The setting sun reminded him of Lucy. It always had.

      “Do you want a burger?” Rusty asked from behind the grill.

      He eased his body up, grabbed a plate and heaped a spoonful of the older man’s famous mac and cheese onto it. He fixed his burger and joined the rest of his bunkmates at the picnic table.

      “How’s the boss lady working out?” one of them asked. “Didn’t you used to date her? It’s gotta suck working for your ex-girlfriend.”

      Lane groaned, opting to take a bite of his burger instead of answering.

      “Hey, kid,” Rusty began. “Far be it from me to stick my nose in your business, but are you sure that kid ain’t yours?”

      Lane shot him a death glare. “You’re right. It’s none of your business, but I’ll set the record straight before that rumor spreads and Carina or one of her cousins catches wind of it. Lucy and I have already had that conversation. She isn’t mine. She’s not even the right age.”

      While it hurt to know Lucy had gone home to Italy and had another man’s child while he’d been planning a future with her, a part of him had been equally relieved Carina wasn’t his daughter. He hadn’t been ready for kids back then. He wasn’t sure if he was ready now, but he’d given the idea more thought lately. Despite Nicolino’s never giving him enough credit, he envied the man’s relationship with Ella. Their lives were crazy and loud with five kids, but even as disorganized and frazzled as they sometimes were, they were happy.

      “I think you should ask her out,” Rusty said between bites. “You’re far from strangers, and Lord knows, you’ve been pining over her ever since she left.”

      “Since when did you become a matchmaker?” a ranch hand asked.

      “I’ve done more livin’ than all of you combined. That entitles me to give advice.”

      Lane laughed. “You noticed he said advice, not good advice.”

      “Where’s the kid’s father?”

      “He died four months ago, and the kid’s name is Carina.” Lucy had bombarded him with questions all day. He didn’t want to answer more, especially any that pertained to her. “Do me a favor and let it drop.”

      They finished their meal talking about trucks and the new female bull-riding instructor at the rodeo school adjacent to the stables. It was nice seeing other men make fools of themselves over women so it wasn’t just him.

      “The way I see it, you and Lucy are doing the Texas two-step.” A collective round of groans accompanied an onslaught of wadded-up napkins aimed at Rusty.

      “You might as well hear him out and then maybe he’ll shut up,” a ranch hand said.

      Lane set his beer on the table and faced Rusty. “Okay, this is your one shot. Lay it on me.”

      “All I’m sayin’ is, you best be damn sure you don’t want a second chance with her, because she’s an attractive woman and this place is filled with cowboys who’d ride through fire for a chance to whirl her around the dance floor.”

      He hadn’t thought of that. He looked around the table at his bunkmates. “I swear, if any of you ask her out, I’ll—”

      “Relax.” Rusty smacked Lane on the shoulder. “She couldn’t handle a man like me.”

      Everyone laughed. Lane didn’t think he had to worry about a 75-year-old ranch hand going after Lucy. Rusty had a point, though. Lane had no claim to Lucy and she was free to date whomever she wanted. So why did the thought of it gnaw at the pit of his stomach?

      Lane checked his pockets for his keys and wallet and excused himself from the table. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

      He started his truck with no real direction in mind but somehow found himself pulling in front of Lucy’s cottage fifteen minutes later. He hadn’t noticed her watching him from the porch while he gathered up his nerve to talk to her. Wonderful. Now he had some explaining to do.

      He climbed out of his truck and silently joined her on the front porch, watching the sun make its final descent beyond the horizon.

      “I was just sitting here thinking about you.” Her admission offered him a little more confidence.

      “What a coincidence,” Lane said. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

      Lucy faced him, her head still resting against the rocking chair. “I was remembering the first sunset I saw in this country.”

      “That was with me, wasn’t it?”

      Lucy nodded, a slow, easy smile forming as she closed her eyes. “My first night in Texas. I was in Ramblewood Park eating ice cream and you sat beside me on the bleachers.”

      “I can still remember how nervous I was to talk to you.” He watched her smile broaden as her eyes opened lazily. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her—slowly, as though they had all the time in the world to experience each other all over again.

      “You and I had a good thing once.” She turned back to the horizon. As soon as she’d broken eye contact, he ached for it again.

      It was every man’s fantasy to hear his first love admit she still thought of him, but Lane wasn’t prepared for the pain of actually hearing the words. “We were kids. Neither one of us knew what we were doing or where we were going. I won’t deny what I felt for you was real, because it was, but as much as I’d love to go back in time, we’re