Home to the Cowboy. Amanda Renee

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      The noxious odors filling her car added one more page to Tess’s book of highlights for the week. Her swift, security-assisted escort off the aircraft the moment it touched down deserved its own chapter. Ricky’s rendition of “Cat Scratch Fever” wasn’t exactly the cabin crew’s idea of in-flight entertainment. But did they really have to applaud when she exited the plane?

      No matter the hassle, Tess wouldn’t have it any other way. Ricky was the one constant in her life, and wherever she went, he went.

      The fall foliage lined the narrow two-lane highway in brilliant shades of crimson and gold. The sun peeked over the corrugated roof of Slater’s Mill, gilding the honky-tonk’s parking lot in a warm glow. It always amazed Tess how beautiful the most mundane things appeared when bathed in the morning light. The luminous orb didn’t drop by her New York City apartment until almost noontime.

      “Everything’s the same.” She draped her arms across the top of the steering wheel, peering through the windshield at the old brick-front buildings, decorated for Halloween with bats and scary cats.

      Change was inevitable in New York. You went to sleep with a deli on the corner and woke to a dry cleaner in its place. Not in Ramblewood, the land where time stood still.

      A horn startled Tess.

      “Whoops! Sorry.” Tess waved to the man behind her. She drove another block and angled her car in front of the Magpie Luncheonette.

      Located in the heart of town, the Magpie began as a bakery. Her mother wanted to call the place Maggie’s Buns but Tess’s father, Henry, put the kibosh on the idea the moment she uttered the words. Naming it “the Magpie” was his idea. It was appropriate, since her mother and her friends lived to chat and gossip and were downright busybodies. The townsfolk flocked to the Magpie for their coffee and quick meals while they caught up on who was involved with who and what was new in town. Henry never understood why Ramblewood still bothered to print a newspaper. You could get more information in five minutes at the Magpie than if you read the Gazette from cover to cover.

      There was a chill in the fresh fall, cat-poop-free air. She grabbed her sweatshirt from the passenger seat and stretched, stepping from the car. Shrugging the buttery-yellow fleece over her head, Tess felt the muscles in her legs throb from the red-eye flight and drive in from the airport.

      Removing the offending care package Ricky had thoughtfully left for her, Tess pulled the carrier into the shade of the backseat with one hand, digging into her purse for a bottle of hand sanitizer with the other.

      “I’ll be right back.” She tossed the Baggie into the garbage can near the curb.

      Surveying the treats on display in the luncheonette’s grand picture window made her feel like a kid again. Every day, on her way home from school, Tess played a guessing game to figure out which treat her mother had baked. Kentucky Sky-High Pie had been her favorite and still was to this day.

      Maggie had started the patisserie when Tess was four, hoping to bring a little cultural flair to the town. By Tess’s tenth birthday, the bakery had grown into the luncheonette. Maggie’s little eatery was a favorite with the locals for a quick bite, but no matter how successful or busy Maggie was, she always found time for her only child.

      A familiar cowbell sounded from above the door as heavenly aromas greeted Tess, causing immediate salivation. “One of these days that bell is going to fall off and clunk someone right on the head,” she grumbled.

      “Isn’t that the truth?” A striking redhead stepped out from behind the counter. “Girl, it’s been way too long!”

      “Bridgett!” Tess hugged her old friend. “You look amazing!”

      Bridgett spun around in the middle of the restaurant with the grace of a runway model. She stopped when a bell dinged from behind the counter, letting her know her order was up. “Meet me at Slater’s tonight so I can catch up on your exciting life in New York and that cretin you almost married.”

      Almost married.

      Her ex-fiancé, Tim, hadn’t really given her much of a choice. While Tess was home selecting flower arrangements with their wedding planner, Tim was in Las Vegas eloping with his assistant. What was it about that city? It wasn’t the first time she’d been scorned by someone in Vegas, because despite the tourism commercial, not everything that happened there stayed there. At least Tim had had the courtesy to do it before the wedding and not leave her at the altar. The thought alone made her heart stop beating for a few seconds. Mortified would have been the understatement of the year.

      “Hey, Bert,” Tess called to the chef through the kitchen window. He was her father’s best friend and an honorary member of their family. Tess even spent the first few years of her life thinking he was one of her uncles. “Give us a minute out here, will you.”

      “Well, I’ll be!” Bert cried out. “Just arrived in town and already causing trouble by monopolizing my sole waitress today. Your mama’s at Bridle Dance if you’re looking for her.”

      “Excuse me, ma’am.” A petite teenage girl squeezed past Tess and handed Bridgett the check. The word ma’am stung Tess like a hornet on a rampage. She was barely thirty-one, and even though she stood beside Bridgett, who was four years younger, she certainly wasn’t a ma’am in her book.

      “Your mom and Kay are testing some new pastry recipes for Jesse’s wedding,” Bridgett said as she collected the girl’s money. “Maggie didn’t expect you until later today.”

      “I caught an earlier flight.”

      Tess dreaded going to the Bridle Dance Ranch. She loved the Langtrys—Kay and her four sons—but she didn’t want to run into Cole. Friends since the day they were born, they were practically raised side by side like siblings. Once they’d graduated high school, he’d visited Tess in New York and she’d met up with him on the rodeo circuit. After years of flirtation, they gave in to their feelings and took a chance on romance. That is until the Las Vegas National Finals Rodeo in December two years ago, when the half-naked buckle bunnies that followed him from town to town kept throwing themselves at him—correction, throwing their tops at him. He not only seemed to enjoy it, he appeared to have had intimate knowledge of more than one of his faithful followers.

      Yes, her attraction to Cole had been undeniable, but Tess wouldn’t lower herself to compete with groupies for his affections. She’d had enough of that in school when every female within a twenty-mile range fought to be on the receiving end of his megawatt smile. A long-distance relationship was an impossible proposition anyway. New York City didn’t have much use for cowboys unless they were standing on the street corner with a guitar in their tighty whiteys, and she wouldn’t give up the lifestyle she worked so hard to achieve just to traipse through cow pastures in Texas.

      “I’ll catch up with you both a little later.”

      Tess plucked a handful of cookies from the pink linen-lined basket on the counter. Walking toward the door, she pulled her shoulders backward until she heard a crack between them. A nice hot bath in her parents’ antique claw-foot tub would ease the stiffness of the morning.

      Settled in the front seat of her car, Tess looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror. A wild mass of auburn layers framed her face. Her one attempt at a trendy chin-length hairstyle earlier in the year was still in its growing-out phase. Pushing a few strands behind her ears and her face devoid of makeup, she braved another glance and pressed on the bags under her eyes, willing them to go away.

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