Dream a Little Dream

by Melinda Curtis

  Relationship details? Darcy had practically sworn him to secrecy when it came to where he was staying. Jason struggled to swallow the bite of tuna fish stuck in his throat. “I’m not getting personal or dramatic.”

  “I can be dramatic.” Iggy tilted his cowboy hat rakishly. “Ask any woman who’s dated me.”

  Ken leaned forward. “Thank you for volunteering, Ignacio. We’ll bring in one of your exes for the next installment.”

  “But…but…” Iggy sat back and nearly fell off the bench backward. “No. It’s got to be Darcy. She and Jason…Their story has some juicy details.”

  Shaking his head, Jason washed his tuna fish down with water. He needed a clear voice to argue against this.

  “For obvious reasons, we need a special segment just for Darcy and the golden boy here.” Ken picked at his salad, thankfully not voicing what the obvious reason was—their marriage. “No. It’s got to be you at first, Ignacio. You’re going to be the star of the next segment.”

  “That’s Mr. King to you.” Iggy frowned. “I’ll only agree to this if you agree to my terms. When we get sponsors, you have to represent me.”

  Ken gave Iggy a hard look that made Jason’s partner squirm.

  “Representation is putting the cart before the horse.” Jason hoped, anyway. He was still banking on the video to be a failure. “You’ve forgotten one thing.”

  “What’s that?” Iggy blinked.

  “You have to find one of your ex-girlfriends who’s willing to go on camera.” Ken smirked, clearly enjoying putting Iggy on the spot.

  “Oh.”

  A fancy little red sports car sped by with the top down. Barbara Hadley, who considered herself the first lady of the town, sat behind the wheel, laughing, her shoulder-length blond hair flying behind her.

  “Best head on over to Prestige Salon.” Jason tried really hard not to smile. “You know that’s where Barb’s headed. If you hurry, you can ask her to be on the show before her next customer shows up.”

  “We’re not exactly on friendly terms anymore,” Iggy admitted, chewing the inside of his cheek.

  “Are you on friendly terms with any of your exes?” Ken asked sharply.

  Iggy shrugged. “I think I’m on record as admitting I’m not into long-term relationships. It’s a position that runs counter to what most women are looking for in a man.”

  “I’ll take care of getting this Barb woman to participate.” Since he’d arrived in town, Ken had been tossing out promises like shills passed out leaflets on the Vegas strip. The agent was usually true to his word but he’d never met the town’s queen bee. “If this venture pans out, Mr. King, I’ll represent you. Now make yourself scarce so I can talk business with the client whose earnings currently pay my bills.”

  Iggy gave a mock salute and ambled off, walking like he was on top of the world.

  Jason and Ken ate in silence for a few minutes. The lunch crowd dwindled, returning to the courthouse. The day was clear and bright, as sunny as the town’s name. The breeze. The rustling pines. After being inside George’s house and being privy to his secrets, the day was a literal breath of fresh air. Jason wanted to bring that feeling to Darcy.

  “Checked in with our protégé, Mark, this morning.” Ken cleaned out the last of his salad. “He’s practically retired. What is it about these kids that makes them quit?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. A couple thousand pounds of hurt?” Bull riding was about compartmentalizing fear and suppressing the flight instinct, all while operating at peak physical performance. “I believed in him. Poor guy.”

  But you didn’t train him. You mentored him with tips and words of encouragement.

  Jason frowned, refusing to take criticism from a figment of his imagination. He shifted on the bench, causing a nerve to send a white-hot bolt down his leg.

  “You think you let Mark down?” Disapproval etched Ken’s features. “I think he may not have had what it takes in the first place. Riding a bull never brought him back to center the way it does you.”

  “You think bulls bang some sense into this hard head?”

  “Yeah.” Ken stared at Jason as if trying to read his mind. “I’m not going to sugarcoat this. I’m worried about you and that leg of yours.”

  “By the time I win Darcy back, I’ll be fine.”

  Ken didn’t look convinced.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll hook up with the circuit in June and you can make that mortgage payment due on your fancy apartment in New York City.” Jason polished off the last of his sandwich.

  “You’re at a turning point.” Ken slid farther away from Jason on the bench and turned to face him. His khakis and polo shirt were crisp and new, unlike Jason’s faded blue jeans and worn gray checkered button-down. “Have you ever wondered if this so-called nerve damage might be your body trying to tell you it’s time to retire?”

  “Like it’s all in my head? Not a chance.” The physical pain was too severe to be a figment of his imagination. “You know why I’m here. What’s at stake for me personally. But rodeo…Rodeo is my life.” The bright lights. The clang of the bull’s bell. The unending motion. The accolades. “Rodeo is who I am.”

  Rodeo is a young man’s game. You can’t play God forever.

  Clam up, George.

  “Jason, rodeo is who you are until it’s not anymore.” Ken nodded sagely, seemingly on the same page as George. Despite being Jason’s age, his agent wasn’t one of the best in the rodeo business for nothing. He’d probably seen and handled every situation and emotion from his clients. “Do you honestly think you’ll be riding bulls ten years from now?”

  “No.” Jason scowled. “But I want to be in the kind of shape where I could. If I wanted.”

  “And yet you haven’t given any thought to life after the limelight.” When Jason began to protest, Ken held up a hand. “If you’re going to linger in Sunshine, use that time for more than just winning back your one true love.”

  “Without rodeo, I’ll be like everyone else.” Like Iggy, whose glory days had been in high school. Heck, most folks in town thought he and Iggy were interchangeable already—two cowboys who refused to settle down, preferring to chase a good time. Jason gritted his teeth.

  “And what happens to your image, the one I sell to America, when you and Darcy get back together?” Ken held up his cell phone screen so Jason could see it. He’d brought up Jason’s website and was scrolling through picture after picture. “Look at Jason Petrie’s smug mug with all those babes. Every man wants to be him. Every woman wants to be with him.”

  “That’s not who I am.” That man was more like Iggy.

  “Listen to what I’m saying.” Ken put his phone facedown on the table. “I want you to be happy. Making money for me, but happy. But in order to do that, I need you to think about what’s going to make you happy besides winning Darcy back. Because if you retire without a promotion plan, all the offers I field for you are going to be like dandruff shampoo and hemorrhoid cream.”

  Jason laughed, and it was almost as if George were laughing along with him…er, at him.

  Ken sat back, surprised for once. “This amuses you?”

  “You have plenty of time to plan for my post-riding career.” Jason pounded his fist on the picnic table when what he wanted to do was pound his aching thigh. “Because I’m not retiring.”

  Ken stared at Jason too long. “I know what’s good for you. Trust me to fix the tangled threads of your life.” He gathered his trash. “As long as you take care of the other loose end.”

  Jason didn’t have to ask what the loose end was.

  Ken meant Darcy.

  * * *

  Darcy and Stogey came home to pots of flowers gracing the front porch and lining the portico. The porch light outside the kitchen door was new and came on as Darcy parked the car.

  They entered a warm kitchen. Chili simmered on the stove and the aroma of cornbread filled the air.

  For a moment, she expected Pearl to march into the room dem
anding Darcy eat while it was hot. For a moment, something tickled her intuition. The house felt different.

  She set her purse and keys on the counter and hung up her judge’s robe as if it were her jacket.

  “Perfect timing.” Jason emerged from the sunroom carrying a beer. He set his on the counter and got a cold one for her out of the fridge. “Dinner is ready, or it can wait until you enjoy your evening cocktail.”

  She accepted the beer because who wouldn’t need a drink after presiding over a case argued between her stepsons?

  “Tough day at the office?” Jason set Stogey’s food on the floor. “You need a hot shower? A foot rub?” He stared at her feet in those clunky heels and for whatever reason, he didn’t look at them with disgust.

  And she didn’t even have nail polish on!

  “The flowers outside are nice.” Darcy took a generous swig of beer while her overworked brain began registering things. The role reversal, for one. She was usually the one who greeted Jason with an adult beverage, a tempting proposition, and a hot meal. While she pondered that surprise, she gestured toward the dining room with her beer. “Why is it so light in there?”

  “Oh. Pearl and I opened all the windows today. You know, aired things out. Spring cleaning or whatever they call it.” Jason stood leaning against the counter, looking too casual, too innocent. “And I replaced a bunch of light bulbs.”

  “You and Pearl?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She liked Jason like this—dimples popping in and out, him trying to keep a secret. But the part about Pearl…“You’re joking, right?”

  Someone rapped on the kitchen door. Without waiting to be told to come in, Bitsy burst into the room. She spotted Jason and threw herself into his arms. “Thank you.”

  Darcy raised her brows and her beer, toasting whatever Jason had done to undo Bitsy. Perhaps he’d cured her of the Rupert-induced twitch.

  “Mama turned a corner today.” Bitsy stepped out of Jason’s arms and then launched herself at Darcy, giving her a big hug. “She may have gotten her groove back.”

  It sounded like Jason choked back a laugh. Darcy couldn’t tell because he turned his back on them and stirred the chili. “Do you want to stay for dinner? I made plenty.”

  “No. I had barley soup with Mama.” Bitsy released Darcy with a small laugh and went to stand in the doorway to the dining room. “Will you look at that? The place isn’t so gloomy with all that natural light streaming through the windows. Even Mama commented on it.” Bitsy spun, clasping her hands together and facing Darcy as if waiting for her cue to burst into song. “I’ve decided I need a little makeover. Would you like to go shopping with me this Saturday?”

  Yes!

  She longed for the old Darcy’s wardrobe. Or a pair of four-inch heels. She set her beer down on the counter and forced herself to say, “I can’t.” She may have made headway winning over her staff but she had a long way to go with Rupert and Oliver. They continued to be displeased with her by-the-book performance. Dressing like Mrs. George Harper was her best defense.

  “What Darcy means is she can’t shop Saturday morning.” Jason had turned. He’d picked up his beer and was working those dimple-popping smiles. “I’m taking her to visit her mother. But she can meet you at the mall in the afternoon. Shopping always lifts her spirits. And then you can drive her back.”

  Darcy stared at Jason without really seeing his dimples, the gleam to his blond hair, or the warmth in his blue eyes. The same feeling that had swept over her last night rolled back in like fog along the coast. This man knew her. He remembered her mother’s birthday. He remembered that she got maudlin after visiting her in prison. A man like that…A woman didn’t just throw him away to reach for a career. No. A man like that deserved a woman who loved him just as deeply. Who was as good a barometer of his moods as he was of hers.

  Darcy’s gaze dropped to her sensible shoes. She hated them. She hated them worse than Avery hated them. And the reality was she wasn’t a bulletproof judge with her hair in a bun and those clunky shoes on her feet.

  The fashion choices of Mrs. George Harper were eroding Darcy’s confidence. She needed to find a happy medium between the woman she’d been in her twenties and the woman who was Sunshine’s judge.

  If only she knew where to start.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It wasn’t unusual for the Widows Club board to meet more frequently during spring, their peak season of fund-raising events. In the next few weeks, they were hosting a bachelor auction, a bake sale, and a fashion show.

  Bitsy found the board at Shaw’s sharing a platter of loaded nachos and a pitcher of iced tea. “May I join you?”

  “Don’t act like you aren’t one of us,” Mims said gently, bumping Edith with her elbow.

  “You’ve been on the board longer than I have,” Edith said with a sigh.

  “But…I resigned.” And Clarice wasn’t moving over to make room for her at the table.

  “You didn’t formally resign.” Clarice wiped her fingers and then shoved over to make room for Bitsy on the seat. She tossed her gray braids over the shoulders of her purple tie-dyed T-shirt. “If you don’t submit your resignation in writing, the board can’t pass a motion to accept your resignation.” She grinned. “I’m a stickler for rules. I should know if you’re on the board or not.”

  Bitsy sat stiffly, holding her black tweed purse in her lap. “Still, I’m distracted by thoughts of romance. I shouldn’t be. I’m too old, too dated.”

  “You shouldn’t be human?” Mims asked ever so gently. “You shouldn’t be lonely or have your breath caught by someone you find attractive? Even if it doesn’t work out?”

  “If that were the case, I wouldn’t be on the board at all.” Edith passed Bitsy a small plate. “Love has no expiration date.”

  Clarice poured Bitsy a glass of tea. “What was it Edith said the other day? We’re widows, but we’re not dead.” She chuckled.

  “But…” Bitsy floundered. “You ordered and made sure there was a plate and a cup for me. I didn’t even know I was coming.”

  “We wanted you to feel welcome if you did.” Mims turned the platter of nachos so that Bitsy could take some from an untouched portion of the plate.

  “I love you,” Bitsy said tearfully. “I love you all.”

  They ate nachos and drank tea while they talked strategy about helping Jason and Darcy patch things up.

  Rupert entered and took a seat where he could see her, cuing the Duran Duran soundtrack in her head. Before Noah took his drink order, Jason’s agent joined him.

  Bitsy nodded toward the pair. “He’d be a moneymaker at the bachelor auction.” Meaning Ken.

  “They both would,” Mims said matter-of-factly. “And there’s nothing from keeping a board member from bidding on one of them.”

  Nothing but a lack of courage.

  * * *

  “How did you make this happen? Barbara Hadley is Sunshine’s resident diva.” Jason walked toward the yarn shop with his agent, rolling cramped shoulders. He’d spent the morning replacing some rusty rain gutters at Darcy’s house.

  “I can move corporate mountains and stubborn bull riders to my will.” Ken walked and answered email without tripping over his own two feet. “What’s one small-town prima donna?”

  “You must have Mafia roots I don’t know about.”

  “Japanese yakuza? No. Everything I learned about crisis management I learned from my grandmother.”

  “She must have been a force of nature.”

  “She still is,” Ken said without looking up from his screen. “How’s it going with Darcy?”

  “Good.” It had been days since Jason had taken Pearl to dance at the cemetery. Since that time, he’d played the role of dedicated house-husband to Darcy, except without spousal privileges. Still, he wouldn’t trade his time with her at the house for anything. Darcy lifted his spirits the same way he seemed to be lifting hers.

  George made a sound of reluctant approval
in Jason’s head.

  Ken lowered his phone and touched Jason’s arm, bringing him to a halt on the sidewalk. “What would you do if a doctor told you no more bull riding?”

  Had his shoulders been sore? They weren’t now as he threw them back. “I’d tell him I know my body and what it’s capable of.”

  Ken tucked his cell phone in his back pocket. “Even if there was an increased risk of serious injury?”

  “More serious than a compound leg fracture?” Jason crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Possibly,” Ken allowed. “Men die from bull riding every year.”

  “Your point?” Jason planted his boots more firmly on the pavement. “And do not say it’s time for the retirement talk.”

  Ken rolled his eyes. And he wasn’t an eye-roll type of guy. “See? This is the problem with professional athletes. They’ve been driving themselves to their physical limits for so long that they don’t know when to quit and smell the roses.”

  Your agent wants to put you out to pasture.

  “Shut up, George.”

  Ken’s brows drew together. “Who’s George?”

  Before Jason could reply, his mother opened the yarn shop door and waved them inside. “How are my boys doing?” Although it was spring, Mom greeted them with fine-gauge scarves, which she wrapped around their necks like leis in a Hawaiian greeting. Red for Ken. Blue for Jason. “Are you staying out of trouble?”

  “Always.” Jason hugged his mother and veered to the back room and the wall of yarn. He headed toward his spot, eager to get this video session and talk of career ends over with.

  “Clarice.” Ken placed his scarf around her neck. “Everything ready? This is our second shot. We won’t get many more.”

  “Thankfully,” Jason mumbled, greeting Iggy and Edith before taking his place smushed against the nursery-colored yarn.

  The bell over the front door rang.

  “Barbara, I haven’t seen you in forever,” Jason’s mother said sweetly from the other side of the curtain. “Have you taken up knitting?”

  “No.” The chill in Barb’s answer said it more plainly than words: she was unhappy joining the little people. “I’ve lost my senses and accepted an invitation to participate in this…thing.”