Solid Gold Cowboy

with a couple that was a perfect blend of Laz’s features. And then one framed picture of an older woman in a floral dress holding a chubby baby with wild curly hair. Laz and his grandmother. Her heart clenched. That was the one time Laz had let her be there for him in any kind of emotional sense. When his grandma had died seven years ago. He’d gotten drunk. And he never did that. He was so smooth and easy and always in control. Always the one who knew what to do. But he hadn’t known what to do then. And she’d wanted to comfort him in a deep way. In a physical way that had scared her. She had reached across the bar that night and put her hands on his. And she had felt... She wanted to press herself against him. To give him all of her as a means of comfort, and it had scared her enough that she had backed way off.
Because she was with someone else and she had to be. She had to be.
It was that had to be that had echoed inside of her yesterday. Because why? Why had she built for herself a series of had tos? Why was she so hamstrung by rules that she had created for herself?
She touched that photo, briefly, Laz and Gladys, and then went down the hall.
“Good morning,” she mumbled.
She hated this feeling. When she did sleep, this was how it was. A brief few hours and in the wrong space of time.
“Oh good,” he said. “You’re up.”
“Is it early?”
“No,” he said. “Very late. But, this is about when I get up anyway, and this is when you should be getting up.”
“You have another bedroom?”
“No. The spare room is an office now.”
“Where did you sleep?”
“The couch. It’s a nice couch.”
“That’s not fair. You didn’t have to sleep on the couch.”
“Where was I going to sleep, Jordan?”
Those dark brown eyes met hers and she faltered. Because there was no real answer for that that didn’t make her skin feel like it was too tight.
“Well. I will take that bacon.”
“I have bacon. Because I always deliver on my promises.”
“I know you do,” she said.
It was one of the things about him. He was just always there for people. For everyone. She’d heard stories over the years... He had single-handedly solved more romance crises in the town of Gold Valley than she could have ever imagined one small community could have had. He was good. At listening, and consequently, sometimes good at hearing things that other people didn’t even realize they were saying. And yet... Well, and yet. Here she was. He hadn’t fixed her issues.
She felt a little bit salty about that.
“Have a seat.”
She did, careful to tuck the blanket underneath her legs so that not too much of her thigh made contact with the cold wood on the chair. The dining table was nice. Solid wood.
“This is...” She looked around. In fact, for all the place was small everything in it was solid. Well made. She could feel the history of the house, and the quality of everything inside. There was a heaviness to it. Not like the new, neighborhood tract house that she and Dylan shared.
“I made it,” he said.
“Get out. You made this?”
“Yeah. I have a wood shop. In my spare time I...”
“Your spare time?”
“I don’t have a family, Jordan. I don’t have anyone to answer to. My time is my own. I come home from the bar, I make sure that things on the ranch are running smoothly when I get up in the morning, handle the payroll for all the staff. For the bar and the ranch. I go to the shop and I wood work. Sometimes I go for a ride. One or the other.”
“How did I not know that about you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t talk about it much.”
“Right. I guess people tend to not ask about you.”
He shrugged. “That’s not really my job.”
“Well, you know about everybody else. You know all about me and all about my issues.”
“You’ve seen some of my issues, Jordan,” he said, his eyes suddenly getting serious. And it made her feel warm.
“Yeah. I guess. But it’s still not the same. People drink, and they tell you everything.”
“You don’t drink. Not really.”
“Fine. I just tell you things because I like you.”
“Great,” he said.
There was a tension in his shoulders as he moved around the kitchen. He went over to the coffeepot and poured a generous mug. “Coffee?”
She laughed. “Well, technically I have a hard time drinking coffee that I don’t make. Because I make it so well.”
“You know, making drinks is kind of my thing too,” he said.
“But not coffee.”
He held the mug out toward her, and she took it, their fingertips brushing. It made her stomach go tight. “I drink coffee. And I don’t like drinking anything that doesn’t taste good.”
“All right, so you’re trying to make sure I know you’re not a disgusting bachelor?”
“Oh, I’m a disgusting bachelor. But also discerning. That’s just how I am. So.”
“Right. So discerning.”
Silence stretched between them. “Why didn’t you tell me not to marry him, Laz?”
She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Not at all. She hadn’t meant to... She felt stupid. Her face got hot.
His eyes went sharp. “You would have welcomed that?”
“I don’t know. It’s just that you... You give advice to everybody. I know you do. You tell them what they really want. You tell them what’s good for them. But you didn’t tell me not to marry Dylan.”
“Look, Jordan, did I know that you weren’t in love with him? Yes. But was there any way to say that? Come on. Be honest with me. If I had said that to you...”
“Fine. But I just wish...”
“Sorry, little girl. You gotta take responsibility for that all on your own. And I know that’s not fun. But the fact of the matter is, it’s nobody’s fault but yours that you let it get up to