Hot for a Cowboy

by Kim Redford

  They could use a clean-up crew and a decorator, but that’d still just touch the surface of the situation. She wasn’t sure how structurally sound the building was anymore because the wood floor creaked, groaned, and undulated underfoot as she walked across it. Maybe Shane knew what he was talking about. The Den might actually be on its last legs. But no, she couldn’t think that way. Where there was a will, there had to be a way.

  She could see Jack through the window on the wall that separated the two rooms. He was talking, gesturing, and throwing out a lot of energy as he talked into the mic to his many listeners. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight, knowing she’d do about anything to keep him on the air. A door near the window led into the soundproof studio, but she’d wait till he took a break before she ventured in there. She knew how much she disliked being disturbed when she was on a roll.

  She walked up to the glass, peeked inside, and was transported back to the days when typewriters were queen. Jack sat at a horseshoe-shaped console with an outdated reel-to-reel tape deck on his left side, a worn-but-top-quality turntable on his right for vinyl, and a technological dinosaur of a control board with toggles and dials in front of him. A boxy cheese-grater-like microphone on a retracting arm was nestled in his left hand as he glanced at notes typed on pages lying on the board in front of him. Not a CD in sight.

  Warmth filled her at the familiar view. She’d sat right in his sagging, coffee-stained office chair many a time over her youth, so she knew just how the turntable would jump if you stepped on the wrong floorboard and how to calm a reverb and tickle better sound out of the system. But it all looked hopelessly old and out-of-date, particularly after she’d been using the best of current electronics. Fortunately, it all appeared to work fine, and that said something for well-made products and DJ ingenuity.

  The large room had space for visiting musicians to play live over the airwaves. At least, that’d happened in the past. She doubted anybody on tour had stopped by Wildcat Bluff in many a year. But she could remember the larger-than-life country singers filling the studio with rich sound in her youth. One time, a rancher even brought his pony into the studio, although she couldn’t remember why now. It’d probably been a promotional stunt.

  She basked in the memories a moment, then noticed the vast tangle of wires that linked all of the equipment together. It was a firefighter’s nightmare. She needed to get the mess sorted soon.

  First up, she must make a list of what was possible, what wasn’t possible, and prioritize. It was a big undertaking, but who better to do it than someone who loved the Wildcat Den?

  Jack glanced up, saw her, and winked, motioning that he’d be on the air for a while longer.

  She waved. She needed Jack’s input. She needed to get her voice back so she could help him. And she needed to figure out what she could do on a nothing budget.

  If she thought about all that had to be done, she’d just go to bed and curl up under a warm quilt. There’d be no confrontation with Shane or worry about her voice or struggle to save the station. But that wasn’t the person she’d been raised to be or the one she’d worked hard to become all her life.

  With that in mind, she picked up her purse and sack of groceries, then quietly shut the front door behind her. She hadn’t had much of a chance to unpack her few things in Uncle Clem’s Quonset hut, so now was a good time.

  She turned left and headed down the path to her new home. As she neared the front porch, she saw someone sitting in the outdoor swing. She’d know the shape of that big cowboy anywhere.

  Shane was already back.

  Chapter 7

  Eden stopped in her tracks, feeling as if time had unwound to those long-ago, heady days when Shane would wait for her to get off the air and come outside. He’d sit in the swing just like he was doing now, as if he had all the time in the world as long as she came to him at the end of it.

  Uncle Clem had attached a deep front porch made of cedar planks across the width of his Quonset hut. He’d added a flat, corrugated-tin roof to protect him from the sun, and changed out the single-entry military door for fancy double French doors painted bright turquoise. He’d hung a turquoise swing on one end of the porch and placed two big cedar rocking chairs on the other end. For more color and comfort, he’d added red cushions to the chairs and the swing. High above it all, he’d attached a large crimson star to the front of the hut, just under the curving roofline, to represent his beloved Lone Star State.

  She smiled fondly at the memory of her uncle sitting on his front porch and watching the world go by from his beautiful view of Wildcat Bluff County. She’d sat with him, as well as with Shane, many an evening to watch birds, fireflies, squirrels, or cattle and buffalo. Home sweet home.

  She and Shane had started out as kids playing together, riding horses, feeding cattle, or simply running across fields for the sheer joy of being alive. As they’d grown older, they’d gotten caught up in that awkward phase when neither of them knew quite what to do with their surging hormones and changing bodies. Still and all, they’d remained friends, even though they’d strayed in different directions, particularly after the death of her parents.

  She didn’t blame Shane for the change in their relationship. She’d been the one who’d pushed it over the edge that midnight when she’d sought him out before she’d left Wildcat Bluff for Hollywood after graduating. Not that he’d resisted her—not for a single moment. Yet that time loomed between them now, as well as Wildcat Spring. She didn’t want to face him on either account, but here he was, big as life and twice as determined, by the look on his face.

  “I see you still like Uncle Clem’s swing.” She used the words as a defense to keep the conversation away from their personal agendas. Even so, she felt her voice catch in her throat, reminding her that she had more healing to do.

  “Come here.” He patted the cushion beside him. “Sit with me like you used to do.”

  She hesitated, not wanting to let renewed friendship sway her upcoming decisions. “That was then. We were friends.”

  “And we aren’t now?” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees as if to make his body appear smaller and less of a threat.

  “Now? Maybe friendly enemies.”

  “Never!” He abruptly stood up, letting the swing gyrate behind him. He strode over to her and didn’t stop till he invaded her personal space. “We’ve been friends all our lives. Are you going to let a little water come between us now that you’re finally back?”

  She had to tilt her head to look into his hazel eyes. What she saw made her uncomfortable. Frustration. Concern. And lust. Just like her, he was obviously still harboring thoughts about that midnight.

  “Friends, right?” He leaned forward, catching her in the dark cocoon of his shadow. “I’ll carry these in for you later.” He plucked the sack of groceries out of her hands and set them on the nearby table.

  She stifled her protest at his take-charge attitude. They had to live not only in the same county but on the same ranch. Still, she wanted him to back up because she couldn’t give ground, not with so much on the line. When he didn’t move or even glance aside, she placed the flat of her palms on his broad chest and pushed. He didn’t budge. He didn’t even look as if he felt her resistance to his nearness. He simply leaned in closer.

  “You’ve got me playing with fire,” he said, drawing out the words in a raw hiss of a whisper.

  She’d heard strong emotion before, but nothing with this sort of intensity that made her want to follow wherever he might lead her. Flashes of Lovers Leap, them sprawled together on top of a quilt in the bed of his pickup, played across her mind like snapshots cascading one atop another until she felt almost overwhelmed by a passion so pure, so deep that it refused to stay in the past. She dug her fingertips deeper into the soft fabric of his cotton shirt even as she knew she should uncurl her fingers and step away.

  “Ou
r fire.” As if those two words explained it all, he gently grasped her hands and slid them from his chest to his neck with an economy of movement that he might have used to gentle a horse. He clasped the small of her back with one large hand while he caught the curve of her neck with the other. And then he lowered his face toward her.

  She felt caught in a pivotal moment as he looked from her eyes to her mouth, then back to her eyes, then her lips again, where he finally lingered, giving her all the time in the world to protest, to resist, to push him away. Still, she couldn’t, not when she was caught in the snare of his hazel gaze, the leather-and-sage scent of his body, and the white-hot heat of his hands cradling her as if she were spun silk.

  When he finally pressed a soft kiss to her lips, he ignited a blazing spark between them and drew her body against his long frame. She thrust her hands into his thick hair, glorying in the softness even as she pulled him closer. Our fire. Oh yes, she felt the sizzle between them as he teased and tormented, licking, sucking, nibbling across her lips until she opened for his deep thrust into her mouth. She returned his kiss with a passion she’d thought long put to rest, buried in the ashes of her marriage, but here and now, every single burning sensation came back as if neither of them had ever left Lovers Leap.

  He groaned deep in his throat as he stroked over her back, then lower, to cup her round butt with his large hands, tugging her tight against him as he pressed his hardness against her.

  She tingled all over, feeling heat give way to chills, then back again, responding to his raging need as he kissed her, pouring more fuel on their escalating flames.

  Suddenly, he tore his mouth away, breathing hard, and looked deep into her eyes. “Let’s take this inside.”

  He might as well have doused her with cold water. She shook her head, abruptly waking up at his words. What was she thinking? Had she forgotten Graham’s perfidy? Shane threatened everything she held dear—perhaps even her own heart. She shouldn’t get anywhere near him.

  He clasped her hand, threading their fingers together as he turned toward the doors to go inside.

  She jerked her hand free and stepped back, shaking her head. “Not a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s because of that midnight, isn’t it? You think we can just pick up where we left off.”

  “No, it’s not that. Well, yeah, I guess it is. Partly.” He ran a palm over his square jaw as if in frustration. “Don’t you get it yet?”

  “I guess not because I seem to lose every sense in my head when I’m near you.”

  “I’ve never known you to lose your head.”

  “If we stay away from each other, we should be okay.”

  “Can’t do it.”

  “Of course you can. I’ll stay here. You’ve got the whole ranch to roam free.”

  He stepped off the porch, so they were face-to-face again. “I’m only going to say this once.”

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what he had to say, because she feared once she did, she’d never be able to forget his words. And every little word that fell from his lips had the possibility of changing her life when she was already dealing with so many changes. She wanted the security of the past, not the uncertainty of the present. She’d built her wall to keep out change. Now he threatened every single brick in it.

  “Eden, we’re meant to be together,” he rasped in a voice that conveyed much deeper emotion than mere words. “It’s always been that way. You ran long and hard, but you came back when the time was right.”

  “Yes, the time was right to come home, but—”

  He gently stroked the side of her face, roaming her features with a tender gaze. “You’re so beautiful, so smart, so strong. You can’t even begin to imagine how dear you are to me.”

  She felt her eyes burn with unshed tears because she hadn’t felt dear to anyone in such a long time. And she hadn’t felt tenderness, either. He made her feel needy and greedy for what he was offering her. How could she resist? And yet, she’d come home to save the station, not reconnect with an old love.

  “It’s just a matter of time.” He rubbed his thumb across her high cheekbone, then lowered his hand to his side, as if giving her space now that he’d said his piece. “You can’t resist me any more than I can resist you.”

  She sighed. “Lovers Leap was just that one time.”

  “We can go now, whenever you want.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know,” he said gently, tenderly, quietly. “But I want to go up there with you again.”

  She smiled, basking in the warm feelings that had lain dormant until now. But Shane had always brought out the best in her.

  He returned her smile, reflecting her warmth in his hazel eyes. “Let’s don’t wait too long since—” he started, but he was interrupted when a pickup horn blasted out “The Eyes of Texas Are upon You,” instead of a regular honk.

  “Who is that?” She whirled around to see who was barreling up the lane toward the Wildcat Den.

  “Morning Glory,” he said. “She had that horn specially installed in her truck down in Dallas.”

  “She’s one of my favorite people. It suits her.” Eden watched as the bright-red pickup came to a quick stop in front of the radio station.

  “Eden!” Morning Glory hollered as she slammed her pickup door behind her. “I heard you were back in town.”

  Shane leaned down. “Midnight on Lovers Leap. Soon.” He grinned, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Just the two of us.”

  Chapter 8

  Shane watched as Morning Glory hurried toward them in a flurry of bright color—long, full, rustling skirts and long, dangling, clanging necklaces. Somehow, she never looked a moment past her glory days as a flower child of the sixties. And she kept that time alive at Morning’s Glory, her store in Old Town, where she made and sold perfumes, creams, bath powder, and anything else that struck her fancy. Tourists particularly loved her wares.

  Eden and MG hugged each other in that special way women of long friendship and deep respect do.

  “Still wearing patchouli, are you?” Eden said, laughing at their old joke.

  “Still got a sensitive nose, do you?” Morning Glory joined her laughter.

  “That’s a strong scent.”

  “Got hooked on it at Woodstock. Well, that and the music and, well, maybe a good-looking guy or two.”

  Eden chuckled harder, shaking her head. “I didn’t know you were at Woodstock.”

  “Oh, I’ve been a few places in my lifetime.” Morning Glory gave a big grin as she motioned toward her vintage pickup with big, colorful flower decals that looked as if they were left over from the sixties.

  A towheaded boy of about twelve stepped down from the passenger side and slowly, reluctantly, trudged over, dragging one ratty-sneakered foot after the other as he made his way toward them. He wore faded blue jeans and a red T-shirt with “KWCB, the Wildcat Den” emblazoned on the front.

  “Eden, Shane, I’d like you to meet Ken Kendrick, my great-nephew.”

  Ken stopped just back of Morning Glory with his head hanging low and gave a loud sigh.

  “Good to meet you.” Shane tossed MG a questioning look. He’d heard her great-nephew was staying with her, but he was surprised she’d brought him to the ranch.

  “Hey, Ken,” Eden said in a soft, friendly voice. “I’m glad to meet you, too.”

  Ken nodded in response but said nothing.

  “Ken’s living with me while his mother goes back to work after a difficult time. Let’s call it a challenging divorce.”

  Ken glanced at Morning Glory, rolled his eyes, and looked back at the ground.

  “He’s in school,” Morning Glory continued, “but it’s—”

  “Lame,” Ken finished for her.

  “So he says,” Morning Glory said. “Our scho
ol system is good, but he had more options in Dallas.”

  “Guess it’s a big change for you,” Shane said, trying to encourage Ken to be more comfortable with them.

  Ken glanced up at Shane, then down again. “Yeah.”

  “Anyway,” Morning Glory continued, “I thought it’d be good for him to get outdoors and work with animals.”

  Ken groaned out loud and scuffed the toe of his sneaker in the dirt.

  “Ken, we discussed this, and you agreed,” Morning Glory said with an impatient lilt in her voice.

  Ken shrugged and continued to dig his toe in the ground.

  “He spends all his time on his cell phone or his laptop when he’s home.” Morning Glory shuddered, as if horrified at the thought. “Outdoors is good, particularly for energetic boys.”

  “Are you saying you want him roping and riding?” Shane asked, trying not to sound as skeptical as he felt about the idea.

  “Yes.” Morning Glory nodded. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’m hoping he could come out to the ranch on Saturdays and after school some days. He could help out and learn a few cowboy ways.”

  “Ken, what do you think about that suggestion?” Shane didn’t want to commit his time and energy to a lost cause. But if the boy was keen on learning about ranch life, then he’d be more than happy to help.

  Ken glanced up, then back down. “I got kicked out of my house in Dallas, so I guess I’ve got to do whatever it takes to stay here.”

  “Your parents didn’t kick you out,” Morning Glory said. “They’re in a transition period in their lives. We all agreed you’d do better with stability at home.”

  “Whatever.” Ken shrugged his shoulders.

  Shane exchanged a glance with Eden. She looked about as convinced as he was that Ken could be made into a cowboy. As he was trying to come up with a diplomatic way out of the situation, he heard the front door of the radio station open and footsteps pound down the steps.

  “Morning Glory, you gorgeous darlin’,” Wildcat Jack called in his deep, melodious voice as he walked quickly toward the group. “Did you come all the way out here to see me and then get waylaid by these insensitive hooligans?”