All for a Cowboy

by Jeannie Watt

  Liv, who was happily married.

  Was she jealous?

  Hell, yes.

  Shae brought the glass to her lips, coughing as she inhaled the fumes at just the wrong moment. She wrinkled her nose, scowling as the doorbell rang.

  What? What now? No doubt someone had just hit and totaled her new car where it was parked on the street. Fully expecting to see either a neighbor or her stepmother, she peered through the peephole to see Mel standing there, still wearing her work clothes.

  Shae unlatched the door and pulled it open. Mel shoved her hands in her jacket pockets, shifting her weight uncomfortably.

  Silently Shae stepped back, allowing her to come in. Once the door was closed, Mel turned toward her. “I heard the wedding is off.”

  “Yep.”

  “Were you going to tell me?”

  “I was, but then the bad thing happened and I figured Wallace would pass word along,” Shae said, going to sit on the sofa. Mel stayed where she was.

  “He did,” she agreed. She nodded at the bottle with the full shot glass sitting next to it on the coffee table. “I see you’re coping.”

  “Just numbing the pain for a while. Getting fired came as kind of a shock.”

  “Really.”

  Since Shae had thought this to be a sympathy visit, Mel’s flat tone surprised her. “Did you know?” she asked candidly.

  “That Wallace was letting you go? No. But I understand why it happened.”

  Shae studied Mel for a moment, more than a little surprised at the answer. They’d known each other forever, and even though they were polar opposites in many ways, their friendship had remained strong since the first grade. There’d been times when they’d gone their own ways, lived their own lives without a lot of contact, but Shae knew she could count on Mel. Or she had. “Why can you understand it?” Shae asked.

  “Because you were living and breathing that wedding. And when Montana Skies signed on for the photo essay, you spent the majority of your time in another world that had nothing to do with the job. Even when you were there, you weren’t there.”

  “I did my job,” Shae protested.

  “You went through the motions. Gerald and Risa were forever clearing up loose threads you left.”

  “They’re my assistants.” And if there was one thing Shae was good at, it was delegating.

  “You weren’t doing your part.”

  “Well,” Shae said briskly as she got back to her feet. “Thank you so much for stopping by. I feel better now.”

  “I’m not here to bury the knife deeper,” Mel said bluntly.

  Shae wrinkled her forehead. “Then why does it feel so much like that’s exactly what’s happening?”

  Mel sighed. “Pretending you were fired for a bogus reason might make you feel better tonight, but it won’t help in the long run.” She nodded at the bottle. “Are you willing to share, or do you need the whole thing?”

  “I’ll let you have a little,” Shae said, getting to her feet and walking into the kitchen. With altitude the tequila had more of an effect. She turned around.

  “Maybe you’d better have that shot,” she said pointing at the glass she’d left on the coffee table. Getting drunk out of her mind sounded good in theory, but was the aftermath worth it? Wasn’t she dealing with enough aftermath as it was? “If you’re not afraid of loser germs.”

  Mel smirked at her as she reached for the shot and sipped at it. Mel always had been a sipper, very much like Liv, while Shae was a tosser. She liked to have the whole thing. Now.

  “Have you told Whitney and Bree and Heather—”

  “No,” Shae called from the kitchen, stopping Mel before she could name all seven bridesmaids. She turned on the faucet, filled a glass, thought about what she wanted to say. A moment later she walked back to the doorway, took a sip of water and faced the truth. “I don’t think they’re that anxious to hear from me.” She’d run them hard for over a year. As the plans had escalated, so had their duties, and she had been sensing some rebellion close to the end. Besides that, there was the embarrassment factor. Dumped and fired.

  Shae gave a sniff, feeling the ridiculous tears starting to surface. She was not going to fall apart. Not again. “How’d Risa’s presentation go?” she asked as she came to sit beside Mel, who’d barely made a dent in the tequila shot.

  “Not so well,” Mel said. “Miranda was there, and you know the effect she has on people.”

  “I know the effect she’s had on me,” Shae said darkly. Hearing that Risa had crashed and burned wasn’t as satisfying as it should have been. “And do you know what really fries me? I admired her. I thought that she was a tough, capable businesswoman.” She’d actually thought they were two of a kind, confident go-getters who said what they thought, went after what they wanted.

  “I think she still is, Shae.”

  Shae hated hearing that. Hated thinking that she’d screwed herself here. Much better to feel the victim...except that Shae never embraced that sort of role. She changed things that needed to be changed until she was happy with them.

  How was she going to change this?

  “So you’re saying I lost my own job,” she finally said.

  “It was like wedding planning possessed you.”

  “Planning a wedding is time-consuming and stressful,” Shae said, once again eyeing the tequila bottle.

  “I understand, but it was...” Mel made an odd face. “You were...” She shifted her position on the sofa, turning toward Shae with a frown knitting her forehead. “It was like everything had to be beyond perfect—bigger and better than any wedding anyone had ever seen.”

  “There’s a problem there?”

  “There is if you let the need to be the best rule your life.”

  “I like things to be...nice.”

  “Over-the-top nice.” Mel exhaled and settled back against the cushions. “I’m just trying to point out what got you into this trouble. And until the wedding plans began, you poured that energy into the job, which was why Miranda loved you. And Gerald and Risa hated you.”

  “Gee. Thanks so much.”

  “You know it’s true,” Mel said. “And you know it doesn’t bother you that they resent you.”

  “Touché.”

  “Do you have any leads for jobs?”

  “I’ve only been fired for a matter of hours.”

  “Are you telling me you don’t already have a plan?”

  “I have a list of firms to cold-call,” Shae admitted before sipping the water again. “I’ve posted my résumé on the job-search sites.” Her mouth tilted down at the corners. “I want my old job back. I liked it. And Mel, I was ten months away from being vested in retirement. Ten months!”

  Mel reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “If you need a reference, I can give you one.”

  “Meaning Wallace won’t?”

  “I don’t know. Depends on Miranda.”

  “Yeah.” Shae pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment. She’d get past this. Mel finally finished off the shot and set the glass on the table.

  “I have a study session. Are you going to be all right here? Because I can cancel and stay.”

  “Don’t do that,” Shae said. She would have liked the company, but she was beginning to think some alone time wouldn’t be bad, either. She’d had enough hard truths for one night.

  Mel picked up her purse, then gestured to the tequila bottle. “Maybe you should do yourself a favor after I leave...pour the rest of that bottle down the sink.”

  Shae flashed her friend a frown. Damned if she was pouring good tequila down the sink. Shae picked up the bottle, putting the stopper back in and pressing it down hard before handing it to Mel. “If it makes you feel better, take custody. I really need to be alone.”


  “Are you sure?”

  “No. I want you to stay and tell me about how I had my head up my ass for months.”

  Mel smiled. “Call if you need me?”

  Shae closed her eyes. Mel was the best friend she’d ever had. And the most sensible. Maybe this was the time to tell her that her head had been where the sun didn’t shine, while she was still reeling from shock. That way it didn’t ruin yet another day. “I’ll call,” she said. “Will you be available to answer? I know how you are when you study.”

  “I’ll leave the phone on.” She gave Shae a quick hug. “Call.”

  “I will.”

  Once Mel’s footsteps faded into the distance, the apartment was too quiet. So quiet that the lack of sound seemed to press in on her. Where were the noisy neighbors when she needed them?

  The phone rang then, the vibration making it dance on the glass coffee table. Shae glanced at the number. Vivian calling for the second time since hearing Shae’s most recent bad news. Shae wanted to ignore the call, but if she did, her stepmother would be there knocking on the door, probably with her father in tow.

  The phone rang again. One more ring and it would go to voice mail....

  Taking a deep breath and suddenly regretting the lack of readily available tequila, Shae picked up the phone, forced a smile and said hello. Her father’s voice, heavy with concern, answered her.

  “Shae, honey. We’re in Missoula and Vivian wants to stop by, if it’s not too late.”

  In Missoula? At this hour?

  “Dad, I’d love to see you,” Shae said. There was no way she could turn them away after they’d obviously driven in from their home a good hour away.

  “We’re right outside. I thought it might be too late, but we passed Mel as we turned into the cul-de-sac.”

  “Come on in,” Shae said, picking up the shot glass and carrying to the dishwasher, where she popped it in out of sight. “See you in a few.”

  She hung up, raced into the bathroom and quickly gargled some mouthwash. If Vivian thought she was drowning her sorrows, no telling what steps she’d take. Seconds later the doorbell rang.

  Vivian hovered for a moment, then said, “I can’t help it,” and threw her arms around Shae. “I’m so sorry, sweetie.”

  Shae tried to smile as she gently eased out of Vivian’s embrace and then hugged her father.

  “I called around,” her father said. “Checked with some buddies to see if they’ve heard of any openings. No luck yet, but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time.”

  “The problem is the real-estate market,” Vivian lamented, taking Shae’s hand and leading her to the sofa.

  “I know,” Shae replied gamely.

  “Of course, we’ll help you with the bills until you get back on your feet,” her father said. Shae started to say thank you, but he held up a hand. “No arguments.”

  “I appreciate that,” Shae said. The bills were her big concern at the moment. She’d charged an entire trousseau and had yet to see the final damages. And then there were the living expenses, which were going to catch up with her soon, since she’d been living paycheck to paycheck, spending every dime she had, as well as several dimes she didn’t have, on the wedding. “I’ll pay you back, of course.”

  “Of course,” Vivian said, shooting a glance toward her husband that Shae couldn’t quite interpret. “Whenever you can.”

  Her father sat down on the sofa, pulling a list out of his jacket pocket. “Here are the guys I contacted for you. You should check back in with them periodically. Several of them owe me favors. The ones without check marks are people I couldn’t get hold of.”

  Shae stared down at the list, a bit overwhelmed. Her parents were in full rescue mode, and even though a small voice inside her protested, it was soon overpowered by logic and necessity. These were her parents. This was what they did, and Shae wasn’t about to stop them.

  CHAPTER TWO

  JORDAN MADE IT as far as Wisconsin before trouble struck in the form of a faulty alternator. Since it was impossible to travel without headlights, he’d stopped in the first town he’d hit at dusk. On a Saturday evening. When no garages were open, or even due to be open, until Monday.

  The first night he’d slept in his car in a campground, putting the seat down to open up the cargo space and make just enough room for him to almost stretch out. The second night he thought, Screw it, and rented the cheapest motel room he could find, smuggled Clyde in and settled for the night. Less than three hours later he woke up fighting, his breath coming in short, painful gasps, his body covered with sweat.

  Shoving the tangled sheets aside, Jordan stumbled out of bed, his head swimming as he regained his feet.

  Whoa, shit.

  Jordan wiped the sweat off first his forehead and then his upper lip with what was left of his now-healed hand, feeling the unwelcome scrape of overly dry skin across his damp face. He paced to the window and stopped, staring at the brown plaid drapes. Clyde shadowed his movement, keeping a distance away, as if not wanting to crowd him.

  The dog understood.

  Jordan tried to clear his throat, found it impossible on the first try. He hadn’t cried out. Usually he woke up yelling, but not this time. This time he’d felt as if he was drowning. Suffocating as water filled his lungs.

  What the hell?

  He turned away from the window, scrubbing both hands over his face. It’d been months since he’d had a nightmare, months since he’d cautiously weaned himself off the prazosin, which had been prescribed to help him deal with the symptoms of post-traumatic stress and had stopped the dreams cold.

  There was no point in going back to bed, so Jordan slumped down into the uncomfortable armchair next to the window and stared into space until Clyde jumped up into his lap.

  The dream had to be stress related. The alternator. The trip home. Having no means of support except for his disability check. All of his instincts were still urging him to go back to Montana. He needed to go home.

  But since his dad was dead, what was he going home to?

  The question had niggled at him more than once on the drive and he had no answer to it. Maybe it was because the High Camp, the remote ranch he and his dad had co-owned, was one of the few places where he’d felt a modicum of peace after Miranda had come into his life; it was the one thing she hadn’t poisoned. Not that she hadn’t tried. When he’d proposed to Becky Christopher just before he’d gone into the service, Miranda was the one who’d suggested that he and his father create a formal lease, so that Hank could continue to farm the land if something happened to Jordan and Becky inherited. She’d referred to Jordan’s possible demise so often that he’d gone overseas with the distinct feeling that Miranda hoped something did happen to him.

  Well, Miranda had gotten her wish shortly after Becky had called it quits—and he was still suspicious about Miranda’s influence with his former fiancée. Something bad had happened to Jordan, but he hadn’t died. His father had, so now he owned the place outright and there wasn’t one freaking thing she could do about it.

  It took three days to get the alternator repaired, then Jordan made it as far as North Dakota before finally pulling off the highway and following the frontage road until he found a gravel lane leading off into the hills. He followed it for a ways, then pulled off. Clyde woke up as he slowed to a stop and they both stepped outside to pee before once again making themselves as comfortable as possible in the Subaru. Jordan debated before reaching for the bottle of pills in his jacket pocket. He’d hate himself in the morning when he couldn’t wake up, but he’d hate himself more if he woke up in a cold sweat gasping for air in an hour or two. He’d wait until he got home, then wean himself off the pills once again.

  * * *

  SHAE CLOSED HER apartment door and let her designer bag drop to the floor with a thud. Would
it have killed any of the people she’d cold-called to give her a smidgen of encouragement?

  Apparently so, because even the people she knew well—come to think of it, especially the people she knew well—had been pretty damned blunt about the possibility of employment. True, her firm had been unique, combining real estate and guest-ranch management together, but as far as she could see, that gave her experience in two fields, which should have doubled the job opportunities. Not so. Three days of looking and not much hope. Meanwhile, bills for things she’d forgotten buying had started trickling in. She needed to find a job before the trickle became a flood.

  The way people had reacted to her cold calls, even the ones on her father’s list, made her wonder if word of why she’d been let go had spread through the small real-estate community. Had Miranda blackballed her?

  And if so, why? It wasn’t as though she’d done anything heinous.

  Shae reached into the fridge to pull out her last bottle of chardonnay. She’d just started working on the cork when a knock sounded on her door.

  Opportunity, perhaps?

  Her mouth twisted as she pulled the cork before abandoning the bottle and crossing the living room to look through the peephole. Her younger brother, Brant, stood on the other side.

  Shae opened the door and without hesitation walked into her brother’s arms, hugging him close. His arms closed around her and for a moment they just stood. The last time Shae could remember him hugging her was when she’d lost the Miss Rodeo Montana crown by one and a half points. She’d needed moral support then and she needed it now.

  “How was Texas?” she asked as she eased out of his embrace.

  “Flat and humid, but I won some money.” He pulled off his hat as he walked into her apartment. “I hear you’ve had some life changes since Liv’s wedding.”

  Shae nodded as she closed the door behind him. “Want a beer?” she asked.