Reaching Little Robyn (Littles of Rawhide Ranch #8)

Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Robyn

Little bird,

If you need to get out of bed or need me to bring you anything, just ring the bell and I’ll come running.

Yours, Rooster

PS: You don’t have to worry about my taking advantage of you in your sleep. You can thank Ms. Ethel for ensuring I remembered I’m a gentleman.

PPS: If your feet hit the floor for any reason, I’ll not only hear them, I’ll be up here with one of those thick wooden spoons you have in the kitchen.

PPPS: I hope you don’t read this until dawn breaks as you really were one very exhausted little bird.

Robyn read the note, then reread it. “That man sure thinks a lot of himself, doesn’t he?” she muttered and tossed the note to the side. Her eyes widened, then blinked as if to clear her vision. She gasped and grabbed not for the bell, but for her phone.

“Robyn?”

“You’re never going to guess what I’m looking at right now!”

“Where are you?” Hayleigh asked.

“In bed of course.”

“Of course,” Hayleigh echoed. “Let me guess. A rooster?”

Robyn’s mouth dropped open as she lowered the phone to make sure she hadn’t hit FaceTime. Returning the phone to her ear, she said, “How in the hell do you know that?”

This time it was Hayleigh who practically shouted. “Crap on a cracker! I’m right? Wow, that sure didn’t take long. I knew putting him on the same floor might speed up the process, but even I didn’t expect he’d be in your bed already.”

“What? Who?”

“Rooster? Wait, are you dreaming again?”

“No, I’m wide awake though I don’t really remember going to bed and I’m… still dressed.”

“Well, that’s a shame. Girl, when you are in bed with a hot cowboy Daddy, the only thing you should be wearing is his hat.”

“Time out.” Robyn shook her head and pushed back to sit against her headboard, wincing a bit when the move had her ankle throbbing. “Let’s start over. There is no cowboy in my… wait. What do you mean you put him on the third floor?”

“Everyone with eyes knows that there is an attraction between you two. I know you’ve got this hang-up about his name, but I figured once you really got to know him, you’d see he is a really nice guy, so when I took his reservation, I went with the whole closeness makes the heart grow fonder plan and?—”

“Good grief, Hayleigh, the saying is absence not closeness?—”

“How does that make any sense? Whenever my Daddy is away it makes me sad and I want him… oh, hmmm, maybe it does make a little sense, but whatever.”

Robyn took a few deep breaths, not wanting to overreact. It was clear to her that her friend hadn’t been thinking anything malicious. “Next time leave the matchmaking to Master Derek. In fact, I was given the impression that he was the one who made the reservation.”

“He did. I mean, Master Derek told me Rooster would be coming. I was going to tell you but then you got really busy with all the tours so I just put the reservation in the book. I’d forgotten about it until I saw Rooster when I was leaving and?—”

“And you thought that since he wound up in the attic with me, I what? Just threw back my covers and asked him to jump into bed with me?”

“Hey, you’re the one calling before the crack of dawn all excited and playing guessing games as to who is sharing your bed.”

Robyn laid her head against her headboard and groaned. She couldn’t deny that she’d started this entire crazy conversation, but still. “I want to make it absolutely clear. That man is not in my bed.”

“But you said I was right.”

“You are but it’s a what not a who. The rooster isn’t a man, it’s a stuffed animal.”

“Since when do you have a rooster stuffie?”

“Since last night I suppose. Believe me, it’s as much of a surprise to me as it is to you. I think that after I saw Nurse MacIntosh and Master Derek, I was just too tired to keep my eyes open. He must have carried me into the Ranch store and bought me a stuffie. Guess he thought I might need something to either scream into or to squeeze the life out of if I woke up in pain.”

“Robyn, I sort of feel like I’m in that old show The Twilight Zone. You’re not making any sense. When I left, you were eating your lunch and Rooster was just about to check in.”

“So you knew he was checking in and didn’t tell me?”

“Already established and Daddy is giving me the side-eye. I guess I woke him up, which being as it’s 4:30 in the morning, I’m pretty sure he’s not happy about it. I gotta go, but I’m coming over later. Okay?”

Robyn had already checked her phone and had cringed at the numbers displaying the time. “Tell your Daddy I’m sorry, but do not think that gives you a free pass.”

“Noted, bye!”

When the phone call ended, Robyn reached for the stuffie which was sitting up, his head tilted to one side as if waiting to see what she was going to do. “I ought to toss you right out of this bed,” she said. “You’re lucky you’re awfully cute. I guess I’ll keep you. Now, what does one name a rooster?” She giggled and ran her hand over his plush feathers. “The only name that comes to mind is Cocky and I definitely can’t name you that.”

“Why not?”

Robyn screamed and threw the stuffie at the shadow standing in her door before attempting to scramble off the opposite side of her bed where escape could be found if she made it through the round window.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me,” Winston said, catching the stuffed animal as he took the few steps necessary to reach her bed before stopping her battle with the covers by dropping down to sit on the side of her bed.

“Don’t you ever do that again!” she demanded, one hand slapping at his arm while her other was pressed to her heart. “You scared the tar out of me!”

“I didn’t mean to. I heard voices and thought you might be having a bad dream.”

“You heard me? All the way down the hall or were you skulking outside my door?”

He chuckled. “I assure you, I was dead to the world in bed. Granted, I did leave my door open to make it easier to hear the bell if it rang.” He gestured to the bell that was supposed to be downstairs on the desk.

She supposed she could grill him but at the moment she had something more urgent to attend to. Wiggling out from beneath the covers, she started to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. It had to be a subconscious acknowledgement of the undercurrent in the room that kept her feet from hitting the floor. When she looked over it was to see him nod.

“Good girl. I’m guessing I might have scared more than tar out of you?”

He might have been correct, but did that give him permission to not even bother to wait for her to answer? Then again, she wasn’t sure it was such a bad thing. Asking a man to carry one to the toilet had to be at the very bottom of any list of how to attract a man. He simply scooped her up and carried her into the bathroom. She managed not to smirk when he missed smacking his head on the sloped ceiling with a last second dip of his head. She groaned at the image that popped into her head of how her chickens bobbed their heads.

“Did I jostle you?”

Did this man always think of others before himself? She felt a rush of shame that had nothing to do with her bodily needs. He could have really hurt himself if he hadn’t ducked in time.

“Sorry, it’s a little small in here.” She reached over his shoulder to flick on the light before he tripped and they wound up in the shower.

He smiled and gave the room a quick glance to take it all in, which took all of about two seconds. “Not small, just a bit cozy,” he said. “Can you manage to, um, take care of business on your own or do you need help?”

“I’m going to draw the line at the bathroom door, cowboy. If I need help, I’ll shout.”

“Make it a quiet shout. I’m pretty sure your guests would appreciate a few more hours of sleep.” He set her down by the toilet and she made sure to show him she could stand on her good leg without toppling over.

“Fine, just go!” She planted her palm on his chest and gave a little shove to hurry him on his way.

“I’ll be right outside.”

The moment the door closed behind him, she pulled her panties down and almost fell onto the toilet. There were certain things in the world that gave one a feeling of relief that was actually palpable. Relieving one’s very full bladder was one of those things. She prayed he wasn’t actually standing right outside as she was pretty sure she was peeing loud enough and long enough for him to consider calling Nurse MacIntosh. The thought had her burying her face in her hands to stifle her giggle.

Girls dreamed of growing up and sharing their time with boys until finding the one . Of course, she guessed she wasn’t like other girls. Nope, she wasn’t putting on makeup and a pretty dress to go out to dinner where she could entertain her partner with scintillating conversation before they went dancing where she’d be incredibly graceful and not step on his toes. Instead, she’d twisted her ankle, had to be carried around like a baby, had threatened to haunt him after her death when they were in the infirmary, and was now peeing like a racehorse while he tried to stay awake long enough to carry her sorry self back to bed… her lonely, empty bed.

When she was finally done, she managed to put herself back together and stand at the sink washing her hands. The room wasn’t just cozy. It only took her three small hops to reach the door. She hadn’t even turned the knob before it opened.

“Seriously, you’ve got to stop popping up like a demented jack-in-the-box!”

“Caring, not demented”—he swooped her up again—“and I’ll try, but no promises. Now, I know it’s a little early, but you didn’t eat any dinner and I’m pretty sure that was your lunch I interrupted yesterday. Are you hungry?”

She was about to say no, not wanting to put him out further, but the mere mention of food had her stomach growling its approval at the suggestion.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Do you want to eat downstairs or in bed?”

Robyn looked at her bed, smiling when she saw the stuffie sitting beside her pillow. “I don’t want to keep you up. It’s not even five yet. You’ve got to be tired.”

“I’m fine, and to tell the truth, I wouldn’t mind eating another one of those scones. Best one I’ve ever had.”

Pleasure coursed through her at the compliment. “Then how about I get changed and we can go downstairs? That way you won’t have to carry me back down later?”

“We can do that. Just tell me what you want to put on.”

Yep. Not like other girls who had men who were far more concerned about what they would take off.

“I think I can manage.”

“True. You could hop about until you’ve exhausted yourself and awakened every guest in the house, or…”

You can keep fighting it, or stop being a stubborn mule and just admit you need help, girl.

“Just to be clear, I’m doing this as a concerned proprietor and not because I need a man to help me.”

“Never thought otherwise,” he lied smoothly, gently setting her down on the bed.

It was only when he stepped away that she realized the condition of his clothing. Or lack of. His chest was totally bare. How she’d managed to miss that she had no clue. But seeing him standing a foot away in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips, was making breathing a bit difficult. What would happen if she reached out and gave that little white string a pull? Would the cloth slide effortlessly down his legs or perhaps get hung up on?—

“Did you fall asleep on me?”

“Huh?” She lifted her gaze and knew by the smirk tugging at his lips that he had a good idea where her thoughts had gone.

“Clothes?”

Mine or yours?

Pulling her thoughts away from that cliff, she said, “I think a dress will be easier to manage with my ankle. My, um, undies are in the top two drawers.” She pointed to the dresser that was tucked inside her small closet.

The moment he stepped away, she grabbed for the stuffie, running her hands over him while watching Rooster pick out a mint green dress with a darker green belt. When he opened the top drawer, Robyn felt her cheeks heating, but when he made what sounded like a muffled growl, she felt the heat moving to flood her sex. It seemed to be taking far longer than it should to pick out a bra and pair of panties, but when she saw him reach down and adjust himself in the sweats he was wearing, she’d admit it made her feel a bit like those other girls after all.

Finally, he turned and brought his choices to the bed. He’d picked a white set of lingerie that had a small pink rosebud at the center of the bra as well as a matching one in the center of the back of the panties that would rest right above the crack of her ass.

“Thank you,” she said as if he’d brought her nothing more than a cup of coffee. When he didn’t move, she giggled. “I really do think I can take it from here. And, unless you plan on giving my guests coronaries, I suggest you might wish to change too.”

“Oh, right. I’ll, um, I’ll go put a shirt on. If you need me?—”

“I’ll ring the bell,” she assured him.

By the time he gave a soft knock on her door, she’d managed to dress though it had taken more out of her than she’d thought it would. He seemed to recognize that the moment he saw her after she’d invited him to come in.

“Too much activity,” he said. “I’ve got an ice pack and a better brace downstairs. Do you have some ibuprofen?”

“In the medicine cabinet.” She pointed to her bathroom.

She took the pills he placed into her hands with the water he’d filled a cup with from her sink. He handed her both her phone and the bell before picking her up. When he padded quietly across the kitchen floor to set her on a chair at the table, she realized he was barefoot.

“Are you going barefoot in some sort of show of solidarity?”

He chuckled. “No, but boots make a lot of noise on the stairs. I’ll go back up and grab them in a bit. But first, coffee.”

“You’re definitely a man after my heart.” The moment the words left her mouth, she blushed scarlet. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

“I’m not sorry in the least,” he said. “It’s true after all.”

Could it be, really? They’d spent what? A few hours together and none of those could be considered normal encounters. Was it even possible that despite her disbelief that the universe would drop a cock in her lap…. Robyn closed her eyes and shook her head. What the hell was happening to her, to her nice little calm life where the only things she’d had to worry about was what color to paint the walls and how many throw pillows might be considered too many by her future guests? When she opened her eyes, it was to find the cause of all her inner turmoil smiling down at her.

“Relax, little bird. I’m a patient man. I’m not going to jump you. You let me know when and if you’re ready to take this beyond friendship. Okay?”

Could it really be that simple? Robyn hoped so because she was tired of trying to convince herself to run in the opposite direction when all she really wanted to do was run toward this cowboy. There was really only one way to find out if this pull was meant to be or not.

“Okay.”

He’d said he wasn’t much of a cook, but he obviously knew how to make a good pot of coffee. He stood in front of her open shelving examining her cups and saucers before choosing one that had a small robin sitting on a branch. Filling it, he set it down before her. “Know what I’d like to know, little bird?”

“What?”

“Are you a masochist?”

If he’d asked her if she was a serial killer, she didn’t think she would have been as shocked at the question.

“For someone who just said it was up to me about friendship or more, that’s a pretty invasive question.”

To her surprise, he laughed which had her about to tell him where he could shove it.

“No, little bird. I didn’t mean it in a sexual way. I meant that while you constantly tell me you have an aversion to your name and to mine, you’ve surrounded yourself with birds. You don’t use numbers for your rooms, you use the names of birds. You don’t just have vintage teacups, you’ve chosen ones with birds on them. You have books about how to identify birds and binoculars on your window sill. They are on the pillows on your couch and chairs. The salt and pepper shakers on your guests’ tables are all things birdy. Every sampler on your walls has at least one variety of bird in it, even the antique ones.”

Her mouth dropped open. What sort of man roamed around another’s house and noticed such things? He’d actually stopped at each sampler she’d stitched or purchased and there had to be at least two dozen throughout the house. And really? Who noticed salt and pepper shakers of all things?

“You must think I’m nuts.”

“Not at all, I think you’re adorable. I just wish you’d realize that enjoying your feathered friends and embracing the love your parents offered in their choosing of your name, doesn’t make you weak or strange. I think you’ll find life a little easier to navigate when you realize that those kids who bullied you aren’t half as blessed as you are. You have a family who loves you, you have found your niche in this wild, crazy world, and have friends here who’d gladly go to battle in your defense without ever asking why.”

She felt tears welling, but not ones of anger. He was right. She was twenty-six, not six. She’d met other people with names that had them cringing and yet they’d been good people. Rose Bush, Sandy Beach, Candy Kane, and Fig Newton were but a few. Every single one of those people were not only kind and good people, they met whatever life threw at them with a smile on their face and a knowledge that behind every cloud was a silver lining. When he knelt beside her and used the pad of his thumb to wipe away a tear, she shook her head.

“Don’t cry, baby bird.”

“I’m not, well, I am but not because I’m hurt or sad. I guess I’m just relieved that you aren’t judging me, not on my name, but on how silly and obstinate I can be. You honestly find my name cute, though I guess with a name like yours, I should have known you understand more than most.”

“I don’t find you silly at all. Obstinate, yes, but I’ve never wanted a milquetoast partner. A little brattiness keeps life interesting and a Daddy on his toes.”

His words had the power to make hope run through her. She just needed to trust him… to trust herself. Taking a deep breath, she took a leap of faith.

“I want you to know that it’s not you that had me running from the cafeteria. It was when I heard you say the word ‘rooster’.” When she paused, unsure if she could really continue, he seemed to sense it. He rose and scooped her up, turning to take her seat with her now on his lap.

“I’ve got you, little bird.”

And she truly believed he did. “When I was in the fifth grade, my teacher, Mrs. Smith, assigned each of us in my class a subject we had to do a report on. They were supposed to teach us about nature and how food and things don’t just show up wrapped in plastic or in cartons on grocery store shelves. My subject was chickens and eggs. Raven got bees and honey but wouldn’t trade with me even when I offered to do her share of the household chores for an entire month. Anyway, I did the research and wrote the report and turned it in. It was only then that I learned our teacher was going to make us read them aloud. I was a little shy, but when Raven gave hers and did so well, I thought I’d be okay.” She paused again and he didn’t press her to continue, simply rubbed his hand over her arm as he held her.

“When my turn came, it went okay at first. Then I made a mistake and instead of saying that if a farmer wanted his hens to have chicks and not just lay eggs, there had to be a rooster involved… I-I said there had to be a cock involved. That-that’s just how the farmer I interviewed kept referring to his roosters, I never meant to repeat the word.” She darted a glance up, waiting for him to laugh, but he looked at her with kindness.

“I’m thinking that didn’t go over very well? Especially not if there were any prepubescent, hormonal boys in the class?”

“You think right. It was awful. Even Mrs. Smith laughed before she told everyone to settle down and for me to continue. I wanted to die and was shaking so hard I could barely read the words on the report in my hands. But when Raven turned around and told the class to shut up, which instantly got her in trouble, I knew I had to finish. I raced through the rest of the report and thought that was it. But it wasn’t. It never really ended. For years I’d pass someone in the hall and they’d snicker or make comments like, ‘Watch out and cover your rooster if she kicks you in the nuts,’ or ‘How’s your rooster hangin’?’ and then they’d throw back their heads and crow like a-a?—”

“Rooster,” he said, his arms tightening around her. “Robyn, I am so sorry. I can’t even imagine having to go through something like that.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago, and there are other things that are worse. No one ever hit me or anything.”

He cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her head up until their eyes met. “It’s not okay. Yes, kids can be cruel little shits, but there is a line where cruelty turns into trauma even if it’s not physical. I know that wasn’t easy for you to share, but I appreciate you being brave enough to tell me. If it helps, you can call me Winston if you’d rather.”

“No!” she said instantly, somewhat surprising herself, but she knew it felt right. “You said your friends call you Rooster and I’m your friend, so that’s what I’m going to call you, got it?”

“I do,” he said with a smile.

Still, she couldn’t help but add, “Just please, I beg you, tell me your last name isn’t something awful like Fowl, Beak, or Cock—” Her face instantly burned and she knew it was bright red. “I-I didn’t mean to say that I swear!”

Winston laughed. “I believe you, and no. My folks didn’t go quite as far as yours did. They were just crazy about John Wayne but instead of honoring their favorite actor by giving me his first name, they named me after the character he played in True Grit , Rooster Cogburn.”

“So your full name is?”

“Winston Rooster Wane.”

“And you honestly prefer to be called Rooster when you could be plain old Winston?”

He grinned. “Like most kids, it wasn’t really my choice. Once my brother blabbed my middle name was Rooster, it just stuck. Since I also like John Wayne, I didn’t really care. Though I can see where it might be harder for a girl.”

Robyn could easily imagine a younger brother trying to one up his older one. “What’s your brother’s name?”

“Can you believe the little shit was born right after our mother fell in love with a certain Scotsman named Sean?”

“I can,” Robyn said with a laugh. “I mean, come on, that Scottish accent is enough to melt most women’s?—”

“Panties?” he asked in a horrible attempt at a Scottish accent.

“I was going to say hearts.” Robyn rolled her eyes. “So his first name is Sean?”

“Nope, it’s Woodrow. All the men in the Wane family have had first names beginning with the letter ‘W’ as far back as anyone can find.”

“Okay, then what’s his middle name? Wait, let me guess. Connery?”

“No, remember my parents love the characters the actor portrays.”

She thought about it for a moment. “Sean Connery has been in hundreds of movies.”

“He has, but what is the first thing that pops into your head when you think of his career?”

Robyn didn’t hesitate, her giggle ringing out. “Don’t tell me they named him 007?”

He barked out a laugh. “That would have been clever, but no. His middle name is Bond.”

She crinkled her nose at the misjustice of it all. “Well, that seems a bit unfair. At least all my sisters also have bird names, and since none of us have middle names, there isn’t a whole lot we could do about it.”

“Boys have a tendency to want the scales to balance. It didn’t take long after he started crowing…” He stopped and winced. “Sorry, little bird.”

Robyn shook her head. “It’s okay.” When she realized it truly was okay, she smiled. “Really, please go on.”

“Well, when he started calling me Rooster, it only made me want to dig a little deeper and discover all sorts of little-known tidbits about the great Sir Connery.”

“Like what?” she asked, totally enraptured by his story.

“Like the fact he was a milkman before he was an actor. That he was in the Merchant Navy, that he has a tattoo that reads Scotland Forever. But none of those are what tipped the scales in my favor.”

“What was?”

“First let me ask, do you see any kid calling another kid Woodrow?”

“Probably not. That’s a mouthful for a kid. They’d probably call him Woody?”

Winston nodded. “Now, that in itself could have been enough to mess with him if we’d only started calling him that when we hit puberty, but by the time that happened, we’d been calling him Woody for years. By then Woody Harrelson was a famous actor and I had no intention of filling my brother’s head with images of winning the next Oscar.”

“Okay, I’m following. So how did you, as you said, balance the scales?”

“Skeletons.”

She stared as if he’d spoken some foreign language. “Sorry, you just lost me. Did you say skeletons?”

“Yep. Plastic skeletons were easy enough to come by even on a meager allowance. And Bones was close enough to Bond to get away with calling him Bones without getting in trouble for teasing my poor innocent little brother. We were part of the same crowd so I had plenty of help leaving bones all over the place, including his locker at school and his football helmet. I still remember me and a couple others were waiting at his girlfriend’s house when he went to pick her up for junior prom. While he was inside posing for the obligatory photos, we had access to Dad’s car Woody was driving. I’ll never forget hearing his girlfriend screech when he opened the door and an entire skeleton fell out onto her feet.”

Robyn slapped at him. “That was mean!”

“Hey, we dressed Bones in a tux and everything. Of course, there might have been a rather large woody sticking out of his fly.”

Robyn burst out in giggles at the image while still shaking her head in an effort to show that she didn’t think that had been a nice thing to do. “That’s awful!”

“I know, but what can I say, kids will be kids. If it helps, I had to sleep with one eye open for a few weeks waiting for payback.”

“Did it come?”

“Nah, I think that was the beginning of our truce. But, like I said, by that time I was Rooster and he was Bones. Still are to this day.”

“I think I’d like him,” she said, sitting back against his chest. “You make a good nurse, Rooster.”

His smile lit his entire face. “Do you realize that’s the first time you’ve called me Rooster without a note of disdain?”

“I didn’t… I guess I did and I really am sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

“It’s okay, little bird. I’m a big man. It takes more than that to hurt me.”

“Still, it makes me like those kids in school. I really am sorry.”

“I accept your apology.”

She sighed deeply. “It’s just too bad your parents’ favorite movie wasn’t Batman . Then you could have been Winston Bruce Wane.” She paused and frowned. “Though that’s not really much better. Maybe it should have been Clark Kent. That way you could be Super Daddy instead of Cock-a-doodle-doo Daddy.”

His laugh had her joining in. When she stopped giggling, he cupped her face between his hands. “Little bird, as long as there is a Daddy attached, I honestly don’t care what else you tack on to it.”

With that, he kissed her. Not on the top of her head or the tip of her nose. Not on her forehead or her cheek. His mouth settled over hers and when one hand slid behind her head to pull her even closer, Robyn no longer needed to consult with her friends about what they might think. She was a total goner.