Free Jenna's Cowboy by Sharon Gillenwater Page B

girl in a bright pink lightweight stroller. Were those cloth pig’s ears sticking out of the stroller’s canopy?
    Jenna noticed his double take. “That’s the Piglet stroller from Disney.”
    “As in Winnie the Pooh?”
    She looked surprised. “You know about Winnie the Pooh?”
    He leaned closer, breathing in the soft coconut scent of her shampoo. “I had a Pooh bear when I was little. Real little.” He straightened. “But don’t tell anybody.”
    “Don’t tell anybody what?” asked Will.
    Jenna glanced up at Nate and winked. “Nothing.”
    Nate wasn’t ashamed of having a bear when he was a toddler, but he knew the Callahan boys, especially Will, would figure out a way to kid him about it. And he wasn’t in the mood for teasing. Even if the fragrance of coconut and a bright pink stroller with pig’s ears eased his tension slightly.
    Until he caught a whiff of smoke from somebody’s barbecue. His mouth went dry and sweat broke out on his forehead. How long before the football team tossed torches onto the huge stack of dried scrap wood? Years ago, he’d been one of those wielding a torch to light the bonfire. Now the thought of it made his heart pound. Lord, help me through this. Don’t let me lose it.
    They strolled between the cars in the parking lot until they reached the back half of it, which had been roped off to keep the vehicles at a safe distance. Jenna spotted a group of old friends from out of town and rushed over to give them hugs amid girlish squeals and laughter.
    Nate stared at the thirty-foot-tall pile made mostly of old pallets with some wooden odds and ends tossed around the bottom and a weather-beaten chicken coop perched precariously at the top. The stench of diesel hung in the air.
    Foreboding crawled along his skin.
    He couldn’t do this.
    He took a deep, slow breath. He had to do this. For Jenna. For himself.
    “Our outhouse was better than that chicken coop.” Chance’s words barely registered. After a long pause, he added, “Earth to Nate.”
    When his friend nudged him with an elbow, Nate jumped, barely catching himself before he drew back a fist. He shoved his hands in his pockets to hide their trembling.
    Chance frowned, his eyes filled with concern. “You all right?”
    “A little jumpy.”
    “Hey, man, we don’t have to stay.”
    “No, it’s okay.” Nate took a deep breath, focusing on Jenna. The women were all talking and giggling at the same time. “I think we’ve been beamed back to high school.” His voice was steady. Maybe nobody else would notice that he had a major case of the jitters.
    “It’s good to see her having fun and acting a little goofy. So do you think they had to steal that chicken coop or did someone donate it?”
    Nate didn’t look at it again. “Donated it. It’s too big to carry off without somebody noticing.”
    “A few years ago, Mr. Brown told me that he spotted us swiping his outhouse.”
    Nate turned to Chance. “And he didn’t come after us with his shotgun? I’m not buyin’ it.” The fear of the cantankerous old man chasing them off had added to the excitement the night Chance, Nate, and two other guys from the football team appropriated the rickety one-holer in the name of school spirit. Not that Mr. Brown or anybody else had used the outhouse in ages.
    “He’d been waiting years for somebody to take it for the bonfire and was about to give up and tear it down. So he was happy as a pig in slop that we hauled it away for him. He even attended the pep rally that year but stayed in the shadows so we wouldn’t see him. Said he and his friends had done the same thing when he was a senior.” Chance’s face broke into a wide grin. “Only the one they pilfered was still in use. They went back the next day and built the owner a new one.”
    Jenna rejoined them, bringing her friends with her. The Callahan men and Nate were older, but they were acquainted with all of them. In a town the size of Callahan Crossing, most students