Pumpkins, Cowboys & Guitars

by Patti Ann Colt

  “Hi.” He looked her up and down. The act would have thrilled her, but his expression was blank, like he had himself under careful control. “Can I come in?”

  She stepped back, swearing at her hopes and dreams and school girl behavior. “Sure. Just taking down the tree. The needles are starting to come off. Would you like some coffee?”

  “Let me take that out to the curb for you.” He lifted the tree as if it weighed nothing at all.

  She opened the door wide and watched while he muscled the tree down the porch stairs and the sidewalk, tossing it at the curb. He came back up the walk, dusting off his hands.

  “Thanks. Come on in the kitchen. You can wash your hands.” She shut the door behind him and led the way to the kitchen, absolutely hating how formal she was being. She was on the edge of desperate to jump him for a kiss.

  He went right to the sink and washed his hands, reminding her that he knew her place as well as she did. She swallowed hard against every wayward emotion clogging her throat. He dried his hands and walked to her.

  He bent and tenderly kissed her lips. “I’m sorry about Carlee. I’m sorry about this whole mess.”

  She melted. “Not your fault.”

  He kissed her again and released her. He walked to the kitchen cabinet and got a coffee mug. “That’s not the way my daughter sees it. Everything I do is wrong. Everything her mother is doing is right. I don’t quite know how that follows because it’s a first, but that’s how she sees it.”

  He poured the coffee and closed his eyes to breathe in the aroma. He looked tired and frustrated. She walked to his side and leaned against the counter next to him, reaching down to thread her fingers through his free hand. “She feels threatened. I suppose this is the first time she’s recognized her dad might be a man with a life of his own, not just her dad.”

  He looked down at her, obviously thinking about what she said. “I’m sorry she was such a brat on Christmas.”

  “Well, I should apologize, too. She asked me point blank if we’d slept together. I told her the truth.”

  He rolled his shoulders and his neck. “Kind of hard not to tell her the truth with what happened. That’s not the problem. Denise is the problem. That rehab story in the tabloids didn’t help.”

  She looked up at him, waiting for him to express the censure that was in his eyes. “I don’t have any control over those things, you know that.”

  He rolled his shoulders again. “I know. But it’s hard for Carlee. She doesn’t understand fact and lies. She threw all your other boyfriends in my face last night. Spouting nonsense based on what she’d read. It’s hurtful, Leia.”

  She felt the sigh that escaped all the way to her core. “I know. I can’t stop it, though. And for the record, I dated Derek Cobb for a year. I haven’t dated anyone else. I’ve had escorts to events, people Cale wanted me to be seen with and a busy music life. That’s it.”

  Zach put his mug on the counter and rubbed his forehead. “It’s got me thinking, though. How in the world do I protect her if this thing between us gets out and hits the tabloids? How do I protect my family and this town, for that matter?”

  Leia’s throat closed. Pain washed over her, rising to a lump in her throat. It was an honest question, one she wished wasn’t necessary, one she wished he bypassed to say he loved her and would do anything to be with her, and yet those words weren’t forthcoming.

  She cleared her throat, dropped his hand and stepped away from him. “I live my life, Zach. I try to keep under their radar, but most of the time how they spin what happens to sell newspapers has nothing to do with my feelings or reality. I’m sorry. I wish it was different. It’s one of those double-edged swords to this profession.”

  Silence.

  She turned to gaze at him, watched the emotion flashing across his face like a summer storm. “I have to go. I need to spend some time with Carlee.”

  Miserable and aching inside, she could only nod. “Sure. I get it.”

  He stepped to her and put a finger under her chin, lifting her eyes to his. “I have to think about this.”

  She pressed her lips together, desperate to not cry in front of him. “What do you want from me, Zach?”

  “I’m not sure.” He stared at her like the answer was buried in the soul of her eyes.

  I love you. Tell me you feel the same. Tell me you want to work this through. Tell me we have a future.

  The stiffness in his shoulders and the closed expression on his face told her she wasn’t going to hear any of that. That he didn’t even utter any words of comfort had her heart shattering.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  She pasted on a brave smile and nodded. The door closed behind him, trapping her in the silence of the comfort of her home, not seeing anything she could do to drive herself away from the destruction of this crossroads.

  She was a superstar.

  No matter what she did, continued on this path or retired, she would always garner a certain amount of public eye. She couldn’t change that now, but if she lost Zach over it…she couldn’t face that.

  Couldn’t face that bleak future.

  A tear ran down her cheek and she swiped it away. Then, she let mad takeover. Needing an outlet for the anger and frustration, she went up to the spare room she planned to convert to a studio in the spring, plugged in her electric guitar and let it rip.

  She was who she was. He’d known, and unless he’d had sex with the superstar, he’d made love to the woman she was. There were ways around the media hype, but was there a way to get Zach to give her his heart?

  Zach paused on the porch and stared out at the Christmas lights, just beginning to twinkle against the darkness.

  What the hell was he doing? Down deep in his heart he wanted her, but still felt strongly that he couldn’t have her. She’d built her life somewhere else and in the long run, he’d lose.

  Opportunities came along, people left. Life rolled and it didn’t particular give a crap who it rolled over. He’d promised himself long ago that he wasn’t going to get flattened again. Deep down he stifled the need, the rightness to being with her.

  It risked too much.

  When she walked away, and she would, she couldn’t take what was left of his heart if he didn’t let her. The town, his family, Carlee needed him. He wouldn’t risk being a shell of a man, going through the motions as he had for years.

  His body clenched, disagreeing. That insidious stupid voice in the back of his head stabbed him.

  Leia needs you, too.

  But did she really? She could snap her fingers and anyone would be there to help her. He couldn’t ignore the other half of him that was chanting “protect yourself.”

  Hard rock music pounded through the door. Zach turned back to look, but willed himself to walk down the steps. Denise’s rental car pulled up in the driveway just as he crossed the street.

  She got out of the car and saw him.

  He walked over to meet her. “Dinner was an hour ago. Bit late to be picking Carlee up, isn’t it?”

  “I’m leaving. A big story I’ve been working on is ready to break. I have to be there.”

  “Of course you do.” He didn’t even try to bite back the sarcasm.

  She huffed and slammed the car door. “This is my life, Zach. I have a responsibility to my employer. When he says go, I go. It isn’t any different than your job and being gone for half of Christmas day.”

  Zach’s temper flashed. “It’s completely different. That job protects the town Carlee lives in and I come home at night. You disappear for months.”

  They’d planned to go to Denver tomorrow so Denise could see the ski school Carlee planned to go to. She’d be enormously hurt if Denise left now.

  “You had plans with her. She won’t understand.”

  “She’ll have to. This is important.” She brushed passed him and moved to the back door. She didn’t wait for him to catch up, but started inside.

  “It always is.” He was talki
ng to himself, of course.

  He looked back across the street and wondered, not for the first time, when Leia would do the same thing.

  Or would she?

  The damn thing was he didn’t know. He walked slowly up the driveway, struggling against anger at Denise, a mile-wide ache for Leia, and the need to not hurt Carlee as Denise was doing right this minute. He didn’t know whether it was his expectation that Leia would leave or her celebrity schedule that would force the split.

  He wanted one more night, but cursed himself for it. One night wouldn’t be enough. One night had been enough to fuel feelings that were better off buried under ten feet of snow and frozen forever.

  He went in the back door. He took his time putting his coat and hat on the hook, unloading his weapon and putting it in the safe and entering the kitchen. Denise could take the first salvo from Carlee before he had to clean up the damage.

  Beau came around the corner, just as he opened the fridge. “Are you kidding me? She’s leaving?”

  Zach took the cap off the milk and took a slug from the plastic carton. He shrugged. “So she says.”

  “I made all the arrangements for her to see the school.” Beau strode to the island and glared at him.

  “I know, Beau.” He capped the milk and shoved it back in the fridge. “We’ll still go. Where are they?”

  “Upstairs in her room. I eavesdropped. Carlee’s not happy.”

  Zach pulled out a chair, sat at the table and unlaced and removed his boots. “She shouldn’t be. One of these days Denise will learn she can’t keep letting her down like this.”

  He left Beau fuming in the kitchen and padded in stocking feet up the stairs to Carlee’s room.

  “You’ll just have to understand, Carlee. I have a job where what I do is important.”

  Denise’s voice grated on his ears. She tended to get shrill when she was pissed and upset.

  “Dad has an important job. Lives depend on what he does. I researched your job. Lots of people do it. Someone else could go.”

  Zach silently applauded Carlee’s arguments. He paused in the doorway and took in Carlee, sitting on her bed with mad tears coming down her face.

  “That’s not true. I’ve been working on this story for some time. I’m the expert. They need me.”

  Carlee dashed the tears from her cheeks. “You were supposed to go with us.”

  “I know. I’ll call. You can tell me all about it.” Denise stood, center of the room, hands on her hips. The least she could have done was hugged their daughter.

  Carlee saw him in the doorway and launched out of bed. “She’s leaving, Dad.”

  He pulled her into his arms, rocking her side to side. “I know, hon.”

  He looked over Carlee’s head and could see the resentment simmering in Denise’s eyes. Resentment for what, he had no clue.

  “I have to leave, Carlee. Come give me a hug.”

  Carlee jerked out of his arms. “No.” She flounced past him and slammed into the bathroom.

  Denise sighed. “Zach, go make her…”

  “No.” He stepped out of the doorway. “Just go. There isn’t anything you can say to her that will make this better, Denise. You can’t keep reneging on your commitments to her. But I’ve said that before and it doesn’t matter.”

  “Like you’re the perfect father.” She jerked past him to leave.

  He took her arm to stop her. “I don’t have to be perfect. I just have to be here. Don’t come again, Denise. I’m tired of Carlee being hurt.”

  Denise gave his hand a pointed glare. “She’s my daughter. I have rights.”

  He released her arm, sorry he touched her. “She’s old enough to have a say with a judge. I won’t force her to see you anymore. She should be the most important thing.”

  “Like she is against your drunk rocker. She got sent off with Beau so you could get laid. Don’t make out like you’re any better than I am.”

  Zach clamped down on his back teeth and took a deep breath through his nose. “Goodbye.”

  He kept himself to one word to keep a virtual tirade from erupting from his mouth, but damn he could taste the words on his lips and wanted to utter them in the worst way.

  But it wouldn’t solve a thing. He followed her to the top of the stairs and watched her flounce down the stairs.

  “This isn’t over, Zach. But I don’t have time to discuss it.”

  She brushed past Beau, who was eavesdropping in the kitchen doorway. The door slammed, reverberating through the house.

  He rolled his eyes and glanced back at the bathroom door. “I get left with an angry daughter who has her own issues with me. Great, just great.”

  He walked part way down the stairs and sat. Beau walked partway up and sat a couple steps below him. “Maybe you should just be honest with Carlee about Leia.”

  “I’d love to, except I don’t know what to be honest about. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing or how she fits or even if she does.”

  Beau gave a sigh. “A guy would have to be pretty sure about what his priorities were and how he felt to take on the mess that’s Leia’s life. You know that, right? Media eats guys like you for breakfast, especially when you can’t even come up with a succinct explanation for your daughter.”

  “Don’t think I don’t know that.”

  “We were shielded from Fiona’s fame pretty well. Ryder waded into it with his smarts and his lawyer mouth, by choice. Wyatt uses his understanding of Fiona’s career and his damn fabulous way with food to withstand his rising fame. You and I, buddy. We fade into the background by choice.”

  “I’m the sheriff of this county with a responsibility to its residents not to make it a Mecca for Hollywood gossip if I can help it. I have Carlee to protect, too. Leia aside, Denise is in the spotlight more often than not also. Do you think I don’t wonder about repercussions from her line of work, terrorists and whackos out for revenge? Should I add another dimension to that by adding the fan adulation, gossip and jet-setting lifestyle that Leia represents to this mix?”

  “It depends.” Beau shifted on the stairs.

  “On what?”

  “Whether you love her or not.”

  Everything in Zach curled into a tight ball of emotion. Love? Yeah, he had feelings. She’d crept into his heart somewhere along the journey from arrest to illness.

  Beau stood. “If you have to think about it that hard, then you don’t.”

  A protest formed on his lips, but he stifled it. Years protecting his feelings from just exactly this made him stay silent when he wanted to defend his actions.

  They’d made love. She wasn’t the flavor of the week. He wanted to wake with her every day, take care of her when she didn’t have the good sense to take care of herself, and wanted to know that she was there with a listening ear for his problems with Denise, with this job, with Carlee. Yet everything inside him shriveled at taking that final step to commitment, by admitting his love to Beau.

  He shrugged. “Good luck explaining to Carlee.” He stepped back down the stairs and took his jacket off the newel post. “I’ll pick you both up tomorrow at nine.”

  “Nine?” His mind stumbled off the Leia subject, trying to catch up with the thread.

  “The ski school? Don’t tell me you’re going to renege, too?” Beau’s face flushed and he looked ready to launch into a tirade.

  He held up his hands to placate his brother. “No, we’re going. Nine. We’ll be ready.”

  Beau gave him a skeptical look. “She needs something to latch onto, Zach, or she’s going to rocket into uncontrollable. She’s good enough at skiing, she should get to see how far that can take her.”

  He nodded, boggled by the fact that his little girl was growing up. “I agree.” He had no choice. Carlee had enough problems without her father not supporting her in a quest. If skiing was her thing, then so be it.

  He rose from the steps. “Thanks, Beau.”

  “For what?”

  “For always being
there for her. I appreciate it.”

  Beau smiled, then zipped his coat. “She’s my niece and I love her. Go talk to her.” He disappeared through the kitchen.

  Zach looked up the stairs, wondering how long she’d sit in the bathroom. He rose, tiredness making him groan. In the last seventy-two hours, he’d slept about eight. Sometimes he weighed the cost of his job and this was one of them, although it did put a roof over their head and would keep Carlee in skis for the future.

  He knocked on the bathroom door. “Carlee?” The sheriff in him wanted to order her to open the door and listen, but that approach hadn’t worked so well for him in the past, so he took a deep breath and reached for reasonable.

  “What?” She called through the door, still sounding mad and upset. At least she answered him.

  “Let’s talk, honey. I’ll make us some hot chocolate and meet you at the kitchen table?”

  She didn’t answer. But the door clicked open. The first thing he saw was her splotched face. Anger, guilt and remorse clutched at him.

  “Okay.” She wiped her nose with a ragged tissue.

  “I’ll go get the drinks started.” He left her there, struggling against letting her proceed on this in her own way and her own time. He padded back down the stairs to the kitchen and by the time he had the milk warmed and was adding the cocoa, Carlee joined him in the kitchen with robe and slippers. She slipped into a seat. He opened the fridge and took out the can of whipped topping, sure he could feel Aunt Fiona cringing because it wasn’t “real” cream.

  “Why does Mom always have to do that?” He looked over. She was tracing a pattern along the grain of the wood.

  He walked to the table and set the hot chocolate on the table, then sat across from her. “She’s driven, Carlee. Some would say it’s her calling, her passion. She’s so focused, she can’t really see anything else. So she justifies these things, hoping you’ll understand.”

  “So her job is more important than I am?”

  “Her job is a part of her identity, what she thinks makes her who she is. The fact that she’s letting you down doesn’t come into it. I wish I could explain it better.” He took a sip of the hot drink and realized Fiona was right about the cream.