She examined his hand. “You’ve cracked the skin in a few places. Drawn some blood.”
“As they say, you can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.”
“I know.” She kissed the pad of each finger. “I just wish you didn’t have to suffer to get your mojo back.”
“Part of the deal.”
With a little hum of sympathy, she stroked his bristly cheek. “And in a perfect world, we’d go upstairs and I’d make you forget all about your sore fingers. But I came looking for you because—”
“You have to go home and feed Jimi. I figured.”
She slid off his lap. “If I can hog your bathroom again for a few minutes, that would be great.”
“Sure thing, but let me grab my shaving stuff out of there. I can shave down here while you’re getting ready.”
“You still want to come with me?”
“Absolutely.”
“All righty, then.” She flashed him a smile and bounced up the stairs.
Grabbing his guitar and phone, he followed at a slower pace. The words and the tune for her song had taken up permanent residence in his head, taunting him with possibilities. He’d love to check his app to see what he’d done with the lyrics before he’d fallen asleep. No time.
He walked into his apartment to discover she’d made the bed. He laid his guitar on it but stuck his phone in his back pocket in case he had a moment to check that app. While she pulled things out of her canvas bag, he gathered up the rest of his clothes, his shaving gear and his toothbrush.
She stood, her arms full of her stuff. “I thought I’d leave my guitar and tip jar in your office for the day if that’s all right.”
“Fine with me.” He liked knowing something of hers would stay here. “Meet you downstairs.”
“I won’t be long.”
He clattered down the steps and carried everything into the men’s room. While he shaved, he listened to what he had so far. Not too bad. He put down the razor, made a few notes and went back to shaving.
Wait. He liked new better than blue in that last line. Quickly finishing his shave, he grabbed the phone and made more notes, humming and tapping out the rhythm with his foot. He had an idea for the third stanza and sketched that out. Definitely needed his guitar, though. If he—
“Bryce? You in there?”
Yikes. He’d managed a shave and nothing else. “Be right out!” He brushed his teeth in record time, dressed in seconds and clapped his hat on before snatching up his phone and hurrying to meet her. “You look great.” He’d always loved faded denim and soft plaid shirts.
“Old jeans, old shirt. Sunday stay-at-home outfit.”
“Nice.” And didn’t he just want to stay at home with her today? But he had to get back here and finish closing out the register before any employees showed up.
She glanced at the phone. “Is everything okay?”
“Sure is. Why?”
“I’m not used to seeing you carrying your phone around.”
“I have a recording app on it.”
“A recording app?” Her eyes widened. “You’re writing a song! Oh, Bryce, that makes me so happy.”
“You look happy.” He gazed into her smiling eyes. “And tempting as hell. We need to get out of here.” He paused to glance around. “And we will as soon as I remember where I left my keys.”
“Right here.” She handed them over.
“Huh. How do you happen to have my keys?”
“You tossed them to me last night. I was in a hurry to get upstairs and change into my nightgown.”
“Good thing you have your head screwed on straight. I’m apparently one beer short of a six-pack.” The urge to kiss her was growing stronger by the second so he turned and started toward the front door.
“Ah, but you’re writing a song.” She waited while he unlocked it. “Creative people are supposed to be absent-minded. It’s endearing.”
“You might think so until you’ve had to put up with it for years.” He held the door for her. “I’ve been told my absent-mindedness can be extremely annoying.”
“By Charity, right?”
“How did you know?”
“Because I’ve met your whole family. They might tease you, but I can’t imagine any of them saying something so hurtful.”
“Charity could be right, though.” He locked up and turned around. “I’m sure I neglected her when I was deep in writing mode. I disappear into my own world.”
“Neglected.” She held his gaze. “Her word, I assume?”
“Well, yes, but if I wasn’t paying attention to her, that’s neglect, isn’t it?”
“Is that Charity talking or you talking?”
“Hm.”
“If I can get Ray’s comments out of my head, I’ll bet you can ditch Charity’s.” She stood on tiptoe, dipped under his hat and brushed a kiss on his cheek. “Meet you at my house. I’ll be in the kitchen singing.”
He followed her over and this time he didn’t have to talk himself into going. He was nuts about the house and Jimi had become an interesting challenge. Nicole was…indefinable, which meant this song would struggle to be born. But he’d get it out.
In the meantime, he might need to look at whether he was still letting Charity’s opinions guide his actions. He’d told his mom he was over her, but if he was replaying her critical remarks…yeah, not good.
Charity had expected a lot of him, but he’d expected a lot of himself in respect to her. Writing songs had become a bone of contention because he could easily lose track of time. When she’d accuse him of ignoring her, he couldn’t do anything but apologize because that was exactly what he’d done.
With Nicole, music was a source of joy. For now, anyway. No point in looking too far into the future. There were a lot of unknowns.
Like before, he gave her a few minutes to get the cat situated with breakfast. Her singing reached him before he opened the door. The woman could project. Smiling, he stepped into the house and his shoulders relaxed. He could never sit on the antique furniture but he liked looking at it, especially with rainbows splashed everywhere. The trappings of an earlier era calmed him.
Nicole was going with Dolly Parton’s Here You Come Again, so he joined in as he walked back to the kitchen. She sat by the crack in the door, legs stretched out in front of her. Jimi didn’t let out a peep.
Taking his position on the other side of the small opening, he mirrored her position and stretched out his legs. He set his hat brim side up beside him so he could lean his head against the wall while he sang. The soft meow from the other side of the door was so faint he almost missed it.
Nicole didn’t, though. Reaching out, she slowly rolled the door open another three inches, singing all the while.
He did, too, although it was more of a trick because a black nose and whiskers had just appeared and that made breathing difficult.
Jimi’s entire head appeared next. He was a fluffy cat.
The song ended and Nicole moved smoothly into Dolly’s I Will Always Love You. She didn’t move, but she looked over at Bryce and lifted her eyebrows.
He stayed very still and did the same.
Jimi turned his head and focused his emerald eyes on Bryce.
Nicole changed Dolly’s lyrics. “And you, oo-oo, should clo-ose, your ey-ee-eys.”
His pulse raced, but he did it. Talk about putting trust in someone’s advice. She’d told him Jimi was capable of attacking. A guy couldn’t get much more vulnerable than sitting here defenseless with his eyes closed. And singing.
When Jimi began sniffing his arm, he swallowed and kept singing. The cat walked across his lap with slow, deliberate steps. Then he sniffed his other arm. Then…nothing.
Nicole’s singing became a strange combination of singing and laughing.
Okay, enough. Time to see what that cat was up to that was so damned funny. He kept singing as he opened his eyes and glanced to his right, where Jimi might logically be. He was there, all right. Sit
ting in the Stetson. It was a tight fit, but he’d managed it.
Bryce turned his head toward Nicole, who was red-faced with laughter as she struggled to keep going with the song.
Eventually she gave up. “I can’t sing.” She gasped for breath. “I’m too busy laughing.”
“I noticed.”
“Let’s just stay here for a little while and see what happens.”
“It’s happening. We have a Dr. Seuss moment going on.”
“I know.” She giggled. “I hope it’s not your best hat.”
“Because now it belongs to Jimi?”
“No, I’ll get it back for you. I know how possessive cowboys are about their hats. I’ll have it cleaned. It never occurred to me that he’d—” She clapped her hand over her mouth to smother more giggles.
Well, the hat was a decent one, but not his favorite. In the grand scheme of things, the hat wasn’t nearly as important as the potential breakthrough with Jimi.
He looked over at the cat, who was watching him. “Nice to meet you, Jimi.”
“Blink,” Nicole said.
“What?”
“Blink your eyes at him. It’s a signal that you’re not threatening.”
“Is there some pattern I should use?”
“No. Just normal blinks. Don’t go batting your eyes at him.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.” But he tried a blink, and to his amazement the cat blinked back. He did it again and got the same response.
Then Jimi revved up his motor.
“Nicole, he’s purring.”
“I hear him.” She sniffed.
He glanced over and caught her wiping her eyes. Keeping the movement slow, he extended his hand toward her.
She took it and squeezed. “Thank you. This means the world to me.”
Oh, yeah, Jimi could have the hat.
Chapter Sixteen
What a miracle. Jimi seemed to have accepted Bryce as part of his inner circle. Nicole hadn’t expected such immediate results. He settled deeper into the crown of the hat, rested his chin on the brim and closed his eyes for a nap. Moving cautiously, she got up and started a pot of coffee. Soon afterward Bryce stood, too. Jimi didn’t stir.
“He can’t be comfortable.” Bryce gazed at the cat stuffed into the small space.
“He’s not as big as he looks. With his fur compressed, he can fit. It’s a little tight, but some cats like snug quarters.” She opened the refrigerator. “What are you hungry for?”
“You might want to rephrase that.”
She glanced over her shoulder. The heat in his gaze could defrost the refrigerator. One look like that and she was to the boiling point, too. “It’s not a good idea.”
“It’s a very good idea.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “But I don’t want to get in trouble with Jimi.”
“He might be okay, but—”
“No, you’re right. Let’s take it slow and eat breakfast like we did yesterday. Just eggs and bacon would be great. Maybe some toast. I’ll help.”
“And bonus, we don’t have to sing while we fix it.” She pulled what she needed from the refrigerator.
“I liked doing that.” He began cracking eggs into the bowl she handed him.
“We can sing if you want.”
“Nah. Jimi’s sleeping.”
“He’s not like a baby. We don’t have to be super quiet.”
“Maybe not, but I’m not willing to take the chance.”
“I guess you didn’t have any cats around the ranch.”
“Nope.” He whisked the eggs. “Mom rescued a couple of puppies when I was little. They died about a year apart when I was in high school. It was tough on all of us and Mom decided to hold off on dogs for a while. She’s still holding off, I guess. Now she has chickens.” He melted butter in a frying pan.
“I heard about those.” She laid strips of bacon in her cast iron frying pan. “She mentioned bringing me some eggs when she came for her next appointment.”
“She tried to give me some the other day but I didn’t take them. You should, though.” He poured the eggs into the pan and pulled a wooden spoon out of a crock on the stove. “You actually cook whereas I don’t.”
“Then I must be hallucinating. I could swear that’s you making scrambled eggs.”
“It’s not that I can’t cook. But I live above a restaurant so why bother? And I almost never eat breakfast.”
“Guess I messed up your routine, huh?”
“Yeah.” He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her against his hip. “I hate it, too.”
She looked up at him. “Then let me mess it up some more. Come back here with me tonight after my gig. Let’s test the waters.”
“Think Jimi can handle it?”
“I don’t know, but I’d like to try. I’ll wear your shirt around the house again today.”
“And if I come back here, you don’t have to leave him alone all night?”
“Exactly. I just thought of something else that might help. He’s crazy about the catnip mice they sell at the feed store. If I buy him a couple of fresh ones today and save them until we—”
“Shh. He might be listening.”
That made her smile. “He might. Sometimes I think he understands more words than I’d expect.”
“Just so he can’t read minds.” He gave her hip a squeeze. “Okay, it’s a deal. I’ll follow you home tonight. We’ll test the waters.” Leaning down, he kissed her.
She turned into him, craving more. He gave her more, deepening the kiss and pulling her hips tight against his. Nothing between them but soft denim. She would have burned breakfast, but he called a halt.
Releasing her, he took the frying pan off the burner. “Some chicken put a lot of effort into these eggs. We’re not going to ruin them.”
Struggling for breath, she rescued the bacon from incineration. “I hate to waste food, too. But now you’re the one with his head screwed on straight.”
“If at least one of us fits in that category, we should be fine.”
As she dished the food, she checked on the cat. “And with all that heavy breathing going on, Jimi didn’t move a muscle.”
He poured them each some coffee. “Just so you know, I’m leaving the hat.”
“Oh, no, Bryce. Jimi doesn’t have to have the hat.” She set both plates on the table and added silverware and napkins. “Leaving the shirt here yesterday morning has been a huge help. I guarantee your scent registered on Jimi’s radar when you walked in the door.”
“Let’s see what happens.” He held her chair for her. “If Jimi has climbed out of it by the time I’m ready to leave this morning, I’ll take it back. If not, he can have it.”
“That’s crazy. It’s a perfectly good hat.”
He took the chair next to her at the round oak table. “It’s not crazy if sleeping in it mellows him out and reinforces that the guy who wears it isn’t a threat. I don’t want him to be a problem tonight. I’d gladly donate my hat to that cause.”
“When you put it that way…”
He laughed. “I thought you’d see the light.”
She picked up her fork. “Mostly I just see you.” And a fine specimen he was, too. She liked the way he looked in his hat, but she loved being able to admire the sheen of his hair and the way it curled slightly at his nape. Which brought up something she’d forgotten. “Mandy asked me yesterday if I would hogtie you and drag you into the salon for a haircut before the wedding.”
“I’ve been anticipating that. You don’t have to hogtie me. I’ll go willingly, especially if you’ll be the one doing it.”
“I don’t have to be. You can choose any of the—”
“Why would I choose someone else when I can have you?”
“Maybe there’s somebody in the salon you trust more, someone you’re used to. I’ve only been here a few months so I’m sure you know the others better.”
“I’ve known them longer but not better. After what we’ve shared in
the past forty-eight hours I’d say we know each other pretty damn well, don’t you?”
“That…” She paused to clear the lust from her throat. “That has no bearing on whether I can give you a decent haircut.”
“Okay, but my mom, Aunt Jo and Mandy look great. I’m in good hands.”
“Then I’d be honored to cut your hair.” She hesitated. “But we don’t have to schedule a salon visit. I could cut it here.”
“But I want to pay.”
“It’ll be more fun here.”
“No doubt, but you still deserve—”
“I’m not going to take your money.”
“Then I’ll find a different kind of compensation.”
Heat shot through her and she squirmed in her chair. “Bryce McGavin, you’re too sexy for your own good.”
“Right backatcha, Nicole Williams.” He picked up his empty plate and coffee mug. “Which is why I’m taking off before we have S-E-X.” He rinsed his dishes. “I figure Jimi can’t spell.”
“Not yet, anyway.” She stood and glanced over at the cat. “Out like a light.”
“Then the hat stays. Better not walk me to the door. Judging from the look in your eyes, you’re ready to grab me and I’m too weak to resist.”
She laughed. “Get out of here, cowboy.”
“I’m going.” He backed out of the kitchen. “Want to give me that haircut tonight?”
“Love to.”
“See you at six.”
She held his gaze. “Bye.”
He groaned. “Damn, you’re potent.” Turning, he walked away, his long strides taking him quickly out the door.
For the first time since Jimi had gone to sleep in the hat, he stirred. Poking his head up, he looked around, made a soft, throaty sound and settled back down. His eyes drifted closed.
Nicole took a deep breath. Jimi’s intolerance had bothered her more than she’d wanted to admit. Aunt Henrietta might have been fine living mostly in isolation, but she wasn’t. She wanted people in this house. Bryce was an excellent start.
Hours later, she rode the wave of appreciation pouring from the customers at the Guzzling Grizzly. Adrenaline pumped through her, fueled by the audience response and hot glances from the tall cowboy behind the bar. He wore a satin shirt tonight, and he wore it well. Not many men could pull off fire-engine red, but Bryce had the shoulders and the pecs for it.
A Cowboy's Heart (The McGavin Brothers Book 4) Page 13
