Passionate Wishes

by Barbra Campbell

  Passionate

  Wishes

  by

  Barbra Campbell

  Copyright © 2020 Barbra Campbell

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction.

  Cover design by Hans Campbell

  If you’d like to stay up to date on my stories, subscribe to my newsletter:

  https://BarbraCampbell.com

  Chapter 1

  Brandt

  Hailey sang while she helped me get the blankets off our two older horses. The winter storm had passed and several sunny days were in the forecast.

  She had a song for everything, even branching into older stuff from my generation. Singing seemed like more of an addiction than a hobby for her. Appropriately, this morning’s song was Walking on Sunshine, although she had to do her own back-up whoa-ohs. Singing wasn’t my thing.

  I wasn’t sure where Hailey had gotten her talent because I had none and her mom considered singing frivolous. Trish considered a lot of things frivolous, like owing a ranch. We’d gotten married shortly after high school and she hadn’t believed me when I’d told her my dream was to run cattle. Eventually she let me in on the grandiose plans she’d made to take over my family’s ice cream shop and branch out to the Denver area, certain we would get rich and live in the city. My parents didn’t have any interest in her shenanigans, as they put it. When that plan fell through fourteen years ago, she divorced me, left us for the big city, and got a law degree. Never looking back, never seeming to care how her absence impacted our daughter except the one week a year she played mom.

  It didn’t make any more sense to me than Hailey wanting to be a singer, but I saw no reason to dash a kid’s hopes.

  With the horse blankets hung, we washed up before heading to the ice cream shop. She stopped her song long enough to keep tabs on me. "Don't forget I'm opening the store today and you're picking up whipped cream before you check on me."

  “Thanks, what would I do without ya?” I should have been prepared for her to answer in the form of a song.

  “You need me, man, I don't need you. You need me, man, I don't need you… just kidding, Dad.”

  I wasn’t familiar with the song, and the refrain gave my heart a tug, perhaps a little reminder she was as independent as I’d raised her which turned out to be a little more than I liked. And she wasn’t going to be around forever. Less than two years and she’d be headed to college. My mind tried to avoid the thought by racing through everything I had to do with the cattle after making sure Hailey was fine.

  She’d begged me to let her take over and this was the first time she was opening on her own.

  ***

  Melody

  Kale chips didn’t exist in the Wild West, or at least not in the Hopeful, Colorado grocery store. Guess my worries over whether I was in the mood for the wasabi or ranch flavor would have to wait until I returned to the city. Lite popcorn would have to suffice.

  I found the flavored waters but kept my expectations to a minimum. Scanning the shelves, I spied one bottle of cranberry on the bottom shelf. Redemption. I grabbed it and squatted to search for more behind the other bottles. To my delight, several had gotten shoved to the back. On my knees, practically in Child’s Pose, I reached to the back of the shelf, pulled two out, and stretched up to put them in my cart. Out of fear they wouldn’t get stocked again any time soon, I decided I better buy all of them.

  As I went for the next two, a strange clinking sound caught my attention. It came closer. I watched the end of the aisle a few feet away. It wasn’t a bum cart, more like someone walking but with some sort of jingle. Christmas was only a few weeks away.

  My breath hitched when jeans-clad legs walked into view. Boots. Spurs. Holy crap. Spurs in the grocery store? Was that legal?

  The final clink sounded as the saddle-ready cowboy stopped and turned my direction.

  My heart raced. I had a thing for cowboys, but it had been nothing more than a movie fantasy until I decided to teach in rural BFE for a semester.

  Starched shirt and cowboy hat. Shit. If I’d wanted to avoid making a spectacle of myself, I should have gone back to fishing my drinks off the bottom shelf. I couldn’t move.

  “Ya okay, ma’am?” His low drawl, oh my god.

  Ma’am would have been offensive coming from anyone else. My palms sweated. I’d never survive a semester teaching if the kids had cowboys for dads. Why had that not occurred to me? Meeting his eyes, I was captive to his dark brown stare.

  He extended a hand.

  “I’m fine.” I popped up too fast and bumped into my cart, knocking my phone to the floor. “Ouch.” Bending to grab it, I had my butt pointed at him. I tried to turn which made me appear even less coordinated than I’d already proven to be. Standing again, I used the cart to steady myself.

  He stepped closer, his hand still extended. “Ya sure?”

  Every bit of me wanted to grab his hand, but touching him would be too much since I couldn’t even deal with looking at him.

  His other hand held whipped cream. The spray type.

  Breathe. I had to get my mind out of the gutter. When I gathered myself, I met his eyes again, having to crane my neck. He had to be six and a half feet tall minimum, a solid foot taller than me.

  His friendly smile seemed to be holding back a laugh.

  "I'm fine." Not really. I was in full swoon over his dark beard and mustache, and hair long enough to curl under the back of his cowboy hat. My cheeks flushed at how well he filled out his shirt, lean but muscular. The only thing better than a well-fitted starched shirt over toned muscles was a starched shirt on the floor next to a well-toned man. With any luck, he'd assume my flush was because I embarrassed myself.

  He lingered for a moment and his eyes held as many questions for me as I had for him, one of which I answered by noticing he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. A serious relationship had been the last thing on my mind, but I developed a sudden fascination with the possibility of local bachelors being cowboys.

  “Good day.” He tipped his head and walked past the aisle.

  He fit every sexy cowboy stereotype and then some. I suspected nothing about him was for show, except watching him was bound to be better than the last three movies I’d streamed. If he wouldn’t have minded standing there a while longer, I could have opened the popcorn in my cart and found out. I mentally shook myself and opted for the checkout. Shopping when he wasn’t around would be safer. Popcorn and cranberry water could sustain me for a day or two.

  Unloading my items and my shopping bag at the cash register, I was thankful the cashier was an eighty-something-year-old woman and not another cowboy.

  “Hello again, ma’am,” his low voice said from behind me making my knees weak.

  “Hi Brandt, that girl of yours was out after curfew again last night,” the cashier said past me.

  I seriously doubted this elderly woman had been awake very late. Maybe she hadn’t actually seen his kid break curfew, just heard about it.

  “Thanks, Betty. I’ll talk to her.” His tone dropped as if this ongoing problem was a sore point.

  My gaze drifted between the two of them. Of course, they knew each other. Hopeful, Colorado was a small enough town news would travel fast. And I suspected Betty might be the center of gossip.

  She’d already given me two important details: his name which tightened the lasso he’d unknowingly tossed around my heart, and him having a daughter old enough to sneak out which had me whipping the lasso off and casting it aside. A stiff reminder I had taken the job to straighten my life out, not complicate it.

  Betty pulled my items across the scanner slowly while Brandt continued, “You better keep an eye on this one. She was having a hell of a time with her shop
ping cart.”

  “Did you get the one with the bum wheel?” she asked.

  "No, ma'am. I…bumped into it." Now I was doing the ma'am thing. Maybe it would help me fit in.

  “I ain’t no ma’am.” She pointed to her name tag. “Betty.”

  “Sorry.” My effort not to be presumptuous and use her first name didn’t win any points. But seriously, wasn’t she a ma’am?

  She fussed with opening my reusable bag and loaded it while asking, “You going to tell me your name, or do I have to guess?”

  “Sorry, it’s Melody.” I raised my voice hoping Brandt was listening.

  “No need to be sorry. Guess that makes you the new music teacher.”

  Brandt coughed as if clearing his throat and I had half a mind to turn around and inform him I was very talented, no need to judge by my actions in the last couple of minutes. I also didn’t need to start making enemies. I ignored him.

  “Sor—” I smiled and ran my credit card. “Yes, I’m here for the semester while the regular teacher’s on maternity leave.”

  Betty motioned between Brandt and me. “You two already hooked up?”

  Mortification shot through me. Were my feelings that obvious?

  “She’s not with me,” Brandt blurted and his cheeks blushed as much as mine seemed to.

  “Hmm, then why were you two making eyes at each other?”

  Card approved flashed on the screen. I shoved my card back in my wallet, grabbed my bag, and rushed for the door.

  I made a mental note about Betty’s perceptiveness as I walked home. The fresh air invigorated me. Mountain air. The closest I’d ever come to this amount of freshness was the mountain air scented candles that didn’t do it justice.

  I’d never lived anywhere cold before and was shocked that a couple of layers were enough to keep me warm as long as I kept moving and wasn’t going to be outside long. Or maybe it was the heat Brandt sent through my body. I didn’t need the hoodie but left it on.

  Small town life was going to be interesting. A trip to the grocery store hadn’t been high on my list of difficult activities, but I was mentally rearranging the list as I walked the couple of blocks to my house.

  ***

  I’d passed the Hopeful Scoops ice cream shop on the way home and noticed their banner advertising hot chocolate. It sounded way better than sitting home alone or setting up my classroom. My boxes of teaching supplies and choir related posters weren’t going anywhere, and I was thankful I’d bought the items before moving because the nearest real store was practically a thirty-minute drive.

  After putting my scant selection of groceries away, I headed to Hopeful Scoops. A bubbly teen girl greeted me as I entered, “Hello, don’t forget it’s Singing Saturday.”

  She had my interest. Singing was my thing. I hadn’t done well socializing at the grocery store, maybe this was my chance to redeem myself. If I didn’t, my semester as the high school choir teacher was going to be painful. “What’s Singing Saturday?”

  “Sing something and you get thirty percent off one item.” She had a sweet rural innocence.

  “Anything?”

  She motioned behind her. “Anything on the menu.”

  “I mean, sing anything I want?”

  Her face lit up. How many people took her up on the deal?

  I glanced at the couple of people enjoying their treats. Had they sung? What if this was a joke on the newbie? Unlikely. And a discount was welcomed while I tried to live on a budget. I went for it, cleared my throat, and belted out Take me Home, Country Roads, my absolute favorite song, and it seemed oddly appropriate for a country town even if it was the wrong state.

  Her eyes widened and I quieted my voice, contemplating stopping but she joined in. We sang a couple of verses but wrapped it up when the bells alerted us to a large group of customers entering. Applause rejuvenated my soul. Not just for me though, the girl’s talent intrigued me,

  “Where'd you learn to sing like that?” the teen asked.

  “Eastman. It’s what I do for a living. I should ask the same of you, that’s quite a voice.” A classroom full of kids like her would be a dream.

  “I like singing.” Her words trailed off. She took my order and prepared my hot chocolate. “Are you a professional? Should I know who you are?”

  I laughed at the compliment. “No, but I’ve lived off my voice the last two years. I’m Melody, the…”

  My train of thought got stampeded by Brandt's low voice. "What's going on out there? I heard singing." He stepped out of the backroom and my heart raced.

  “Hey, Dad, just a customer taking advantage of my Singing Saturday discount.”

  She’d said Dad. Betty had mentioned Brandt’s daughter. Crap. How small was this town? And why had my thoughts immediately gone to naughty uses of spray whip in the grocery store. I’d misjudged that purchase.

  He stopped in his tracks and stared at me, his jaw clenching before he spoke, “Was that you?”

  “Isn’t she amazing? She deserves fifty percent off.” The girl handed me the cup of cocoa.

  “Even better. It’s on the house,” Brandt said.

  “You doing freebies today, Brandt?” a guy behind me asked but it sounded more like a heckle.

  “If you can sing like her.”

  “It’s not her singing you’re giving the discount for.” The group of guys cracked up.

  Brandt blushed but didn’t refute their claim. The little bit of color I could see over his beard was hot as hell. Was that why he grew a beard, so he could hide his blush which apparently he got often.

  But seriously, they shouldn’t make jokes like that in front of his daughter, or me. No political correctness in Smallville. I sipped the cocoa to relieve the sudden dryness in my mouth.

  The girl wouldn’t take my money so I stuck it in the tip jar and headed for the door. “Thank you.”

  “Come back next Saturday with a new song,” she said.

  “Sure thing.”

  She’d started helping the next group but Brandt’s eyes were on me, making my insides flutter as I exited. Even if my assessment that he wasn’t married was correct, I didn’t need to play house with a potential student’s dad.

  Chapter 2

  Melody

  Without the ambient city light, darkness set on early and hard. I snuggled up by my front window and watched the park across the street. A handful of lamp posts illuminated patches of the town center.

  The fire I’d learned to build in the safety of the fireplace added flickering light and intermittent pops and crackles to my lonely evening.

  Staring into the bottom of my empty cup of hot chocolate, the second one of the day, I decided if all I did was sit alone drinking cocoa, I’d end up fat before the semester ended. Bundling in my warmest coat and gloves, I braved the evening for a walk. The stark temperature drop after sunset amazed me. It would be a short walk.

  The saying that a town rolled up its sidewalks after dark had always cracked me up, but the joke was on me since I'd moved to a town that did. A few cars drove past, and a few people walked their dogs, but there was a serenity I'd never experienced in the city. Too much of it and I might lose my mind, but once school started, I'd likely look forward to the calm.

  The crisp air with no hint of pollution energized me as I circled the park and a few blocks through the neighborhood. The millions of stars spotting the black sky caught my attention but I couldn’t fully appreciate it while I walked because the roads weren’t in the best shape.

  Back at the park, I sat on the slide at the playground and leaned back, taking time to admire the stars. The Milky Way was a white mass stretching against the dark blanket. The stars were more numerous and brighter than I’d ever seen. I could get used to that.

  A beam of headlights flashed through the darkness as truck pulled up and a man in a cowboy hat got out. I couldn’t make out much more than that. The swagger of his walk stirred my woman parts. Maybe boots forced guys to walk like that. It reminded me
of the way Brandt walked through the grocery store in his spurs. I swallowed and looked away. This was going to be an interesting year.

  A shooting star caught my attention. I’d seen a couple growing up in Houston but nothing that bright. I made a wish to get through the semester without losing my self-respect amongst the cowboys… unless I found the right one. Great, a wish with a disclaimer.

  Curious to see if my wish had taken effect, I returned my gaze to the cowboy. Nope. The things that swagger made me want to do would put me in danger of appearing to have no self-respect.

  He stopped at the wishing well in the center of the park, paused, kissed something, and tossed it in. Probably a coin. Giddiness washed over me. A grown man making a wish in the town well. Sweet. I didn’t think men did those things. What would he wish for? A faster car? Or would it be a faster horse?

  The realtor had proudly mentioned the well having magical properties but I figured it was nothing more than gossip. Watching a local seek help from the well filled me with wonder. Had anyone recorded the well’s success rate?

  Silliness, like me wishing on a shooting star.

  How creepy was it I was invading his private moment? I stood, deciding I should go back home, but the well might end up being cheap entertainment. I could make up songs about the different people who made wishes. Other than getting used to living on a budget and creating a savings for myself, I anticipated a few lessons would stick with me from my stint in rural America.

  A car rounded the corner and its headlights blinded me for a second as it passed.

  “Melody?” Brandt’s unforgettable voice called from the wishing well, curious and happy.

  Shit. Had I seen Brandt make a wish? He was handsome, owned the ice cream shop, had a talented daughter, and had the townsfolk looking out for him if I could judge by Betty’s comment. What more could he want? There was only one piece missing from the puzzle. A wife.

  Note to self. Brandt was one cowboy who might have a different reason to hang on for more than eight seconds. Check him off. No husband desired, plus the whole probable school conflict.