A Cowboy for Lynne: Cameron Family Saga

by Shirley Larson

  Damn, she doesn‘t even recognize me. How in hell am I going to play this?

  I liked his smile better than the way he‘d been looking at me before. Hastily, I said, “Don’t let me interrupt your work.”

  “I’m done here.” I guess I’ll have to play this as if we’ve never met.

  He hesitated for an instant, an awkward little pause as if he wasn‘t quite sure what to say. Which seemed strange. With his presence and charisma, I doubted if there was very much in this world that could disconcert him. When I didn‘t say anything either, he stuck out his hand. “Jackson Rutledge. Jake to my friends. And chance-met strangers who are interested in historic buildings.” He smiled, and that upturn of his lips made lines form on the sides of his cheeks. He was just very…male. And appealing. And familiar. Did I know him from somewhere?

  “Lynne Cameron. As in the Cameron Brothers, Inc.” I thought I just as well get that out in the open as soon as possible.

  “Ah,” he said. I took his hand and it was warm and hard and I felt the faint rasp of a callous against my palm. He was a working man, for sure. With the hard body and the single-minded focus that went with it. He said, “Want to take a look inside?”

  Oh, yeah, I wanted to see inside. But…I‘d be alone with him in a dark building. “Is it…okay?”

  That gleam in his eye told me I had might have more to worry about than rotting floor boards. “As long as you stick with me. There are some dangerous areas in there.” He undid the buckle on his tool belt and let it slip down to the top of his tool chest.

  Was that a double entendre or was it just that my mind kept floating in that direction even though I ordered myself very sternly to keep this impersonal? He turned around to open the door and carry his tools inside, and even though I ordered my eyes to stay above his waist, I couldn’t help looking at that stretch of denim over his muscled rear end. He was lovely from every angle.

  To make my discomfort notch up several degrees, he turned around and flashed a smile at me as he said, “You’ll have to forgive the mess. Some hot shot company from New York is coming down to start renovation next week. Oh, wait. I guess that would be your brothers‘ hot shot company, wouldn‘t it?”

  “I guess.” It amused me to hear my brothers’ company labeled as “hot shot.” No one but the family knew what Hunter, Alex, and Justin had gone through hell to get where they are. “Are you a handyman for the theater?”

  “I help out here from time to time.”

  That was an evasive answer at best. If he wasn’t really attached to the theater, why was he working on the door?

  He went on, “Your brothers won the contract because they came in at a much lower price the other companies did. I guess it’s their practice to do that when they are dealing with a non-profit.”

  “Sounds like my brothers. I don’t know much about their business but I do know they are adamant about adhering to good business practices.”

  “I did some research. They are a reputable company, one of the best. Very honest. Ready for the grand tour?”

  “Absolutely.” I was interested in what my brothers would be dealing with in this renovation. I knew nothing about their day to day business, so it wasn’t surprising that I had no idea they favored non-profits.

  Inside, it was musty, fusty, and dark. Mildew, mice droppings and fly excrement seemed to be the major ingredients of this smelly stew. A crumpled popcorn bag lay scrunched in the corner. To top it off, a cockroach scuttled in front of me. I nearly screamed, but before I had a chance to react, it disappeared under the woodwork.

  “I did warn you,” Jake said. “Cockroaches are a fact of life in Florida, but we try not to live with them if we can avoid it. But termites and cockroaches love old buildings like this. We have extermination and tenting planned for next week. The little critters will be either dead or running for their lives.” He gestured toward an open doorway which I knew must lead to the auditorium.

  “Will you be helping here at the theater?”

  He did that half smile of his. “No, I…work on a ranch fulltime. I was just here to fix the door as a favor to Max, who‘s on the board. We had some break ins and the door was compromised. He wanted to make sure it was safe for the new producer.”

  I wondered if he knew I was under consideration for the job. I didn’t know whether I should tell him or not. Still, if he was just a ranch hand, why would he care that he was giving one of the candidates a sneak preview of the theater?

  But when I followed Jake into the auditorium, magic happened. I felt the laughter, the sorrow, the drama of almost a hundred years of people who’d come here hungry for the excitement good entertainment can give. Everything was covered with neglect, a gold leaf border with two cherubs blackened with age, a ragged blue stage curtain hanging in shreds, seats with tattered covers. The theater was like a woman who’d fallen on hard times with her ragged clothes, but carried herself with dignity just the same. I fell completely in love. Eagerly, I climbed the little staircase that led to the stage, hardly aware of Jake following me. But when we crossed the wooden boards I heard the sound of my heels and Jake’s boots echoing across the seats. Whoever had built this building knew something about sound. Bordering the front of the stage were the insets for the old footlights. I imagined ladies in frilly costumes doing the Can-can, stand-up comics fighting to stand in those footlights telling lame jokes about the horse who walked into the bar and the bartender asks him why the long face, dog acts and juggling acts…I looked at the empty seats, imagining them full of people, people who’d laugh and cry and feel.

  “Just then, you looked exactly like you did when you played Amneris.”

  “You saw me in Aida?”

  His mouth quirked. “We do occasionally get out of Florida. I took my sister, who’s absolutely nuts about musical theater to see Aida a few weeks ago.”

  “Then you knew who I was.”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  Holy hell. Of course I knew who she was. Since it was obvious she didn’t remember me, I certainly didn’t want to remind her of our first encounter. I could hardly believe it when I straightened up outside the theater and there she was in front of me, all huge blue eyes and her brown hair tied back in a ponytail.

  Hunter Cameron had been kind enough to give me a call and thank him for alerting him to Lynne’s situation. Hunter had assured me that Lynne had a very competent bodyguard watching over her. He’d also cautioned me not to believe anything I read about Lynne in the tabloids, that she was a victim of a smear campaign that was pretty thorough.

  I had thought about her every day since that night I’d stood outside the theater in New York and fended off her demented admirer. Now, it seemed surreal that she was standing so close to me in this decrepit monstrosity of a theater, slim as a reed in her white summer dress, her hair tied back in a ponytail, exposing that beautiful long neck of hers. Shadows lurked in the corner of the theater at this time of day, but it seemed as if all the light in the theater coalesced on her. If there were a thousand people on stage, I wouldn’t have been able to look at anyone else. I said, “What do you think of the theater?”

  She turned to me, giving me a million watt smile. “A minute ago I would have said it was a tear down. Now, standing on this stage, I feel as if the laughter from all those vaudeville performances still lingers in these walls. This stage gives me an uncontrollable urge to recite Shakespeare.”

  “Sounds appropriate.” And away she went into that world that performers seem to be able to inhabit at the drop of a hat.

  “A dear happiness to women: they else would be troubled by a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humor for that.” I thought of Richard and completed Beatrice’s speech with fervor. “I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.”

  My ranch hand strolled around me as if examining me, his boots echoing on the stage deck and then, looking directly at me, he recited, “God keep your ladyship still in that mind!
So some gentleman or other shall ‘scape a predestinate scratched face.”

  I shouldn’t have been stunned, but I was. Completely. He watched me with those dark eyes gleaming, knowing exactly what I was thinking, that I was wondering how a cowhand could possibly know a line from Shakespeare’s play Much Ado About Nothing and be able to recite Benedick‘s speech from memory.

  I lifted my chin, and I delivered the next line, a total insult, right to his face. “Scratching could not make it worse, an twere such a face as yours.”

  He answered me in that deep, lovely voice. “Well you are a rare parrot-teacher.”

  I was about at the end of what I could remember. “A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.”

  He answered, “I would my horse had the speed of your tongue and so good a continuer. But keep your way, i, God’s name I have done.”

  In my normal voice I said, “And I’m done. That’s all I can remember.”

  “Good, because I’m at the limit of my recall. I haven‘t said those words since high school.”

  I folded my arms across my chest. If I thought he had a gorgeous face and a body to match, he really had me now. A man who could quote Shakespeare off the top of his head? A rare parrot bird indeed. And with such lovely plumage. “So? How did you come to be in a Shakespearian play in high school? The other boys must have laughed you out of the locker room.”

  “My girlfriend dragged me into it. They didn’t have enough guys in their drama club. And as for my buddies, well, there were a couple of memorable fist fights in the aforesaid locker room. They took exception to my tights. Good thing I had brothers to stand with me.”

  “You have a big family?”

  “Three brothers, two sisters.”

  “I have just the three brothers, the ones who run the business. They are all married now and I have a niece and a nephew. Cutest kids on earth.”

  “I tried it once. Marriage. Didn’t work out.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” I couldn’t imagine any woman in her right mind letting this man go.

  “Don’t be. It was for the best. All she wanted was my money. So I gave her some and was glad to see the back of her.”

  I couldn’t believe how candid he was being. By now we’d wandered over to a solitary bench and sat down next to each other our knees not quite touching.

  “You?” he asked.

  “Me, what?” He was close to me, not close enough to touch, but close enough for me to be acutely aware of him.

  “Married?”

  I took a breath and prepared to give him my pat answer. “No. It’s extremely hard to maintain any kind of relationship when you’re in the theater. Your hours are crazy, your life is crazy.”

  “So. Why are you here?”

  “What do you mean, why am I here?”

  “Why aren’t you in New York, trying out for another show?”

  Oddly enough, the darkened theater seemed to close us into an intimate space. I wanted to confide in him. I didn’t know him, didn’t know if he was the kind of man who would tell my story to the first tabloid that paid him enough money. Yet I couldn’t imagine him doing that. There was a straightforwardness about him that spoke to my heart. After all, hadn’t he just shared the unhappy story of his wife?

  “I left because I had a dedicated stalker. I got tricked into having lunch alone with him once, and he decided he was going to own me, even though he was married. I’m tall and I’ve played touch football with brothers who showed me self-defense moves. Mostly I intimidate men. I wasn’t afraid. I didn’t think he could hurt me. Little did I know. He made my life miserable. I had to complete the last two weeks of the show with a body guard my brother Hunter provided. Whenever I went into the theater, Richard was there. When I performed, he sat in his seat in the fourth row. When I came out of the theater to go home, he was there, leaning against the back wall. My body guard prevented him from getting close to me. But it was…unnerving. No. Make that terrifying.” I could feel shivers on my skin, thinking about it.

  “I am so sorry.”

  “Like any other woman, I dreamed I would one day find a man who adored me, who wanted to possess me and be with me all the time. Then I discover a man like that and he‘s too old, married and insane. Crazy isn‘t it? What‘s the old saying? Be careful what you wish for?”

  “You are not to blame.” He leaned forward and before I knew what he was doing, he brushed his warm mouth over my cheek. I could smell him, the honest sweat, the dust, the smell of good aftershave. And I wanted more. I wanted to melt into him, to feel his acceptance of what had been the biggest mistake of my life. But I pulled away. I didn’t know him, not really.

  He cleared his throat, and if I had to guess, I would have said he was as surprised as I was about this…feeling between us.

  “Are you parked on the street or in the lot?” His voice was cool, as if he too was pulling back from the intimacy we’d shared. He was, in his subtle way, telling me it was time to go.

  “On the street,” I said. I headed toward the little stairs. There was no railing. Jake jumped to the floor ahead of me and held out his hand. I took it, thinking how warm and strong it felt. At the bottom of the stairs, he kept my hand in his. “You’ll be safe here, Lynne.”

  I started to say, but I don‘t know if I‘m staying, when he used our joined hands to pull me to him and brushed his lips lightly on mine. It was over almost before it began. Immediately he stepped back and said, “I apologize. I think having seen you on the stage makes me feel I know you better than I really do.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong. It was a…friendly kiss, nothing more and I took it as such. No harm done.”

  I’m not sure, but I think my explanation wasn’t pleasing to him. Maybe he didn’t want me to explain away his kiss so lightly. Maybe he was torn, like I was. Wanting more, knowing it was too soon. I don’t think his seeing me on the stage had generated this feeling between us. I think it was because…it just was. It was that inexplicable thing that drew a man and a woman together that even Shakespeare couldn’t explain.

  He released my hand and without a word, put his palm on my back to guide me up the aisle. I could feel that warmth through my clothes down to the end of my spine.

  “I’ll see you to your car.”

  When I was installed under the wheel, I rolled down the window. “Mr. Rutledge…Jake. If I don‘t get the position, I probably won‘t see you again.”

  “Won’t you?” He thumped the roof of the car as if he were telling a stagecoach to leave. I did the only thing I could do. I pulled out of the parking place and headed back to my hotel, realizing that though I had said goodbye, he hadn’t.

  The cherubs

  “Michael, Michael. Did you see, did you hear?”

  Michael flicked dust off the ribbon strung across his chest. He was a bit disgruntled. “I‘m not deaf or blind.”

  “Shakespeare, Michael,” Sarah said excitedly. “They recited Shakespeare on our stage. It's been ages since I've heard any Shakespeare.”

  “The woman was very good. The guy was a bit hammy.”

  “Hammy?” Sarah sighed. “He was gorgeous.”

  “Sarah. Control yourself.”

  “What do you think I’m going to do? Fly down and kiss him?”

  “I'm sure you'd like to.”

  “Oh, don't be silly. You know that’s not possible.”

  “Sometimes I wonder. I remember when we spent those years floating above that awful movie screen. You thought Paul Newman was 'dreamy'.”

  “I admire talent, that's all.”

  “Huh. Is that what you call it?”

  Sarah sighed. “It would be lovely to have real live people acting on our stage again.”

  Michael crossed his arms over his chest. “I for one like things just as they are.”

  “You like living in this dirt and neglect?”

  “I like having the theater to myself.”

  “I think that
’s about to change, Michael. And you'd better get used to it,” she said huffily and turned her face away from him.

  Michael sighed in resignation. Under his breath, he muttered, “Cherub women are really a pain in the ass.”

  Lynne

  I lay in bed, trying to forget that evocative brush of his lips. So wonderfully tender, so considerate, so…undemanding. I wondered what Jake would be like if he were demanding…demanding that I undress, demanding that I lie down, demanding that I lie still while he tasted me, demanding I take him into my body…

  Whoa. Way too graphic. Get a grip, woman. Who knew this was such a hot and steamy state that it conjured up wild sex in your head at the drop of a hat and contained cowboys who could recite Shakespeare? And who knew I’d recover from my experience with Richard so thoroughly that this man I barely knew seemed…safe?

  I had a good imagination, but I never could have imagined that man. But it was too good to be true, it had to be. He wasn’t for me, no matter how perfect he was. He and I lived in different worlds. He might recite the bard’s words, but I bet that his world as a ranch hand consisted of mending fences and cutting out calves and castrating them. I read a book once about ranching and I didn’t eat steak for a week afterwards.

  The interview was next morning, in surprisingly enough, a church meeting room that was near the theater. I’d dressed in my most business- like gray suit and was glad I had taken the trouble when the first woman I saw on the interviewing panel was also dressed in a suit. At first glance, I thought it was probably a standard collection of the rich and famous of this Florida county. But there, seated smack dab in the middle of the table was Jake Rutledge dressed in a white shirt open at the throat and a beige suit coat that looked like it belonged to a bespoke suit from Savile Row. No handyman this. I shopped occasionally with my brothers and I could have told you the price of that jacket within five dollars.

  Rattled down to my toes, I had to call on all my acting expertise to walk calmly to the table and begin handing out copies of my resume to the board members. As I did so, they introduced themselves. “I’m Marion Harding,” said the smartly dressed woman on the end. “I’m pleased to meet you,” I replied. A fiftyish man with graying hair told me his name was Max Dhiel. “Glad to have you here, Ms. Cameron,” he said. I damped down my anger behind a cool mask as I handed the sheet to Jake. I waited for him to acknowledge we’d met. “Ms. Cameron,” he said which gave nothing away. I shot a laser look at him and said in my coolest voice, “And you are?”