Gertrude snorts. “Like that will ever happen. I’d say our TJ’s body puts even Ryan Reynolds’s to shame.” Which is saying a lot given she has his picture next to her bed.
“If you’d like,” Violet says, “I can give you a shirtless photo of TJ from the photo shoot I’m doing for the show.”
“Oh, Violet.” Gertrude practically claps her hands in glee. “You always were one of my favorite students.”
“I thought I was your only favorite student.” Austin steps up to the table. He’s wearing his sheriff uniform, so he must be on a break and here to witness my humiliation.
Grinning, he bends down and kisses Gertrude’s cheek. She giggles and blushes like a sixteen-year-old who is crushing on the starting quarterback.
“And whose shirtless photo are we talking about?” Austin asks.
“TJ’s, of course,” Gertrude not-so-helpfully points out.
“From the reality show.” And in case he hasn’t noticed them, I indicate to the TV crew setting up the lighting equipment.
“Violet’s taking the photos,” Gertrude once more not-so-helpfully points out—and I calculate the odds of getting in trouble if I duct tape her mouth shut.
But then I remind myself, What’s the big deal? Austin has no idea about my fantasies that star his sister. Do you think I’d be standing here if he did? That’s right—I would be six-feet underground.
Of course, that applies to any guy who thinks about Violet that way.
“Are you going to take a picture of me shirtless, young lady?” Andrew asks Violet, then laughs a deep, rough sound.
Violet smiles my favorite grin and pats Andrew’s hand. “If you would like me to, Mr. O’Henry.”
Austin leans down and exchanges words with his sister, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. She replies and points to the nearby hallway entrance. He nods and parks his ass on the chair across from her and next to where I’m sitting.
“Hey, less talking and more singing,” a man, from a few tables over, grumbles loudly. He gestures at me with the cupcake in his hand.
“He hasn’t started singing yet.” Gertrude’s voice is equally loud and has a singsong tone to it. I almost expect her to add “Na-na-na-na-na,” as if they are five-year-olds on a playground.
“Then it’s about time he does,” the man shoots back. “I’m not growing any younger.”
“No, just grouchier.” Tilly winks at me, then reaches for a cupcake on the plate in the middle of our table. A thick swirl of green frosting and a woodland critter sits on top of her cake. “I so do love Cora Lee’s cupcakes. Especially her cute little marzipan animals.”
Violet stands and moves away from the table. This is my chance to talk to her. Alone.
And hell if I’m missing out on that.
She heads toward the hallway she indicated to a moment ago. I leave my seat and easily catch up to her, placing my hand on her arm to stop her.
She turns around and I smile. “Hey, I really want to know what’s been going on in your life since you moved away,” I say, giving her arm a light squeeze. “When are we gonna have a chance to catch up?” So far, we haven’t been able to. We’re never alone. And when I finally get some space from the TV crew, Violet isn’t around. She’s gone back to Grandma Meg’s house.
Violet smiles at me. “I would like that too. I’ve just been really busy. But there is something I should probably tell you. Something Granny and Austin have kept quiet—”
“All right, TJ,” Camilla says through the microphone, interrupting Violet. “We’re ready for you.”
I indicate for her to give me a minute. “What do you want to tell me?” I ask Violet.
She glances toward the hallway. “You know what? It can wait. Camilla can’t.” She doesn’t give me a chance to tell her that I don’t give a damn what Camilla wants. She hurries off.
With a grunt, I walk to my guitar case next to the stool in the middle of the floor, remove my guitar, and make myself comfortable on the seat.
With all eyes and camera lenses on me, I strum the opening bars of an upbeat country song and begin singing. It used to be my grandmother’s favorite.
Not once during the song do I look at the video camera. I’m not doing this for the reality show. I’m doing it for Grandma Meg and her friends. Violet returns to her seat halfway through the song.
After I’m finished singing it, I sing a few more country classics I know my audience will enjoy. Then, without realizing what I’m doing, I start singing a song I haven’t sung in thirteen years.
The last time I sang it was while Violet had been recovering from the flu. She was tired and had asked me to sing. So I did. I sang a popular ballad that she loved. It was a song about taking a chance on love when circumstances were against it.
Even though I have the urge to look at her, I close my eyes so Austin doesn’t get the wrong idea.
With my eyes still closed, I visualize in my head that I’m singing directly to her and only her. I visualize her smiling my favorite smile. And I visualize her running the tip of her tongue along her lower lip as she watches me.
Which might explain why my voice turns husky at the beginning of the song and remains that way for its entirety.
The final bars of the song fade to a mess of clapping and hoots and whistles.
I reopen my eyes and quickly glance at Violet to see what she thought of the song. She’s chewing her lip, her telltale sign that she’s contemplating something. But since it could be about anything, I mentally shrug it off and return my guitar to the case.
A childish giggle comes from the hallway. A moment later, a senior in a motorized wheelchair comes speeding into the room. On his lap is a toddler with short, messy brown hair and a familiar grin.
“And the winner of the Kentucky Derby is Deacon on Sir Apple Pie,” Arnold says in a fake announcer voice and cheers. The little boy also cheers and raises his arms in the air.
The pair comes to a stop next to Grandma Meg. She helps the toddler off Arnold’s lap.
The boy walks over to Violet and lifts his arms. “Mommy! Up!”
Holy. Shit.
Without missing a beat, the woman I’ve been inappropriately fantasizing about hoists the boy up and hugs him.
What else have Austin and Grandma Meg kept me in the dark about without even a sliver of a hint?
“You’ve got a great boy, Violet. He’s going to grow up to do amazing things.” Arnold holds out his hand and helps the toddler bump fists.
“I agree, but that’s ’cause he has an amazing mother.” Grandma Meg beams at her granddaughter, but Violet is too busy talking to her son to notice.
“Hey, Deacon,” Austin says in his friendly sheriff voice. The same voice he uses with kids because he doesn’t want them to grow up afraid of cops—unless they’ve done something wrong. “Aren’t you going to say hi to your uncle Austin?”
Deacon grins and squirms on his mom’s lap. She whispers something to him and lowers him to the floor.
As soon as his feet touch the ground, he toddles over to his uncle. The ex-SEAL, who easily intimidates most people without even trying, scoops up his nephew and parks him on his lap.
I can feel my eyebrow slide up. “So?”
Austin looks over the boy’s head, his expression that of a cop, not giving away anything. “So—what?”
Now that the show is over, some of the seniors have vacated their seats to participate in other activities. I sit on the empty chair next to him.
“When did you become an uncle, and why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”
And why doesn’t Grandma Meg have pictures of her great-grandson all over the house? Hell, why doesn’t she have even just one on display? The Grandma Meg I know would.
Or maybe she does, but they’re in her bedroom. It’s not like I’ve ever gone in there.
“Because Violet asked Granny and me not to say anything, and I have to respect my sister’s wishes.”
Ha—I bet that isn’t entirely
true. I bet if Violet decided to have wild sex with me, Austin wouldn’t be okay with that.
I open my mouth to ask another question.
Austin cuts me off at the pass. “Whatever she wants you to know, she’ll be the one to tell you, not me.” But from his tone, it’s clear he doesn’t think she’ll tell me anything when it comes to her son. It’s also clear Austin’s lips are sealed shut with extra strength superglue.
That’s one thing I appreciate about him: he’s loyal.
Without looking obvious about it, I check for an engagement or wedding ring on Violet’s finger. Just like I did yesterday when she showed up at the ranch.
Her finger is still bare.
Camilla joins us and sits on an empty seat between me and Grandma Meg. “TJ, you failed to mention on the application just how talented you are.”
“I’m always telling him that he should sing more,” Grandma Meg says. “But he never believes me when I gush about how amazing he sounds.”
“I take it you know TJ well, then?” Camilla’s expression reminds me of a lioness on a nature show…right before she charges at her prey.
Grandma Meg smiles proudly at me, revealing her not-so-pearly-white teeth. “I sure do. I’ve known him since he and Austin here were little kids. I’ve always considered him to be one of my own grandsons. Him and his brothers.”
“Cookie?” the little boy asks, still on Austin’s lap. He points to the plate with the chocolate chip cookies that I recognize as Grandma Meg’s recipe.
“I don’t blame you for wanting one,” I tell him. “Grandma Meg bakes the best cookies in the entire universe. Do you know what the universe is?”
The boy shakes his head so fast, I’m surprised his head doesn’t fall off and roll across the tile floor.
“It’s a very big place.” I stretch my arms out to the side. “So they must be awesome cookies. By the way, Deacon, I’m TJ. Your mommy and Uncle Austin’s friend. Nice to meet you.”
Deacon bounces on Austin’s lap. “Horsie!”
“You like horses?”
He bounces again. “Horsie!”
“I take it that’s a yes.”
“He’s never seen a real horse before,” Violet says. “But there are pictures of them in one of his favorite books.”
“Would you like to meet some horses?” I ask him. “Your mom can bring you to the ranch and I’ll introduce you to my horse, Thor.” And then your mom can explain why I didn’t even know about you until now.
I mean, why the big secret?
Deacon nods, his baby teeth all revealed in a smile.
“Do you have any kids?” Grandma Meg asks Camilla, who is studying the little boy like he’s a science experiment gone wrong.
“Kids aren’t my thing. My career is more important. Kids would only get in the way.” She turns to me. “Which I believe is pretty much what you stated on the application.”
Grandma Meg shakes her head, looking both amused and disapproving. “You say that now, TJ. But you just wait. You’ll change your mind.”
Right. After what happened with my ex-girlfriend, I swore never to make that mistake again. So unless I randomly get some woman pregnant—which isn’t likely given I practice safe sex—I’m not planning to have kids.
But despite this, I would never have said on the form that I don’t want kids because they only get in the way.
Of course if I’d had my way, the form would never have been filled out to begin with.
“Hey, Craig.” Violet’s tone is mother-wolf-fang sharp. “You aren’t allowed to shoot footage with my son in it.”
He lowers the video camera. “Sorry.”
If that’s what it takes to get a break from the camera, I might have to recruit Deacon. Wherever I go, Deacon goes.
Especially if Violet is part of the package.
Sexy fantasy or not.
7
“We got great footage yesterday of TJ singing to the seniors,” Camilla says the next morning. The world outside the kitchen window is still dark. “That’s bound to melt viewers’ hearts. So today we need to focus on what makes TJ hot.”
Camilla is definitely a morning person—although that might have to do with the two cups of coffee she has consumed since getting up an hour ago.
Which is more than I can say for the two cameramen who are supposed to follow me around. They look ready to crawl back into bed—right after they nail Camilla on the side of her head with their own coffee mugs.
The remaining members of the TV crew haven’t staggered into the house yet. They’re still at the hotel.
Or they were.
They’re supposed to be on their way since my day starts regardless of when they show up.
It’s five thirty a.m. and we’re sitting at the kitchen table, eating the bacon and scrambled eggs I cooked.
Well, my brothers, the two cameramen, and I are consuming the eggs and bacon. Camilla is eating a container of yogurt and granola.
Violet hasn’t arrived yet.
But that doesn’t mean I didn’t dream about her last night. Naked. On my bed. Tied to the headboard with a bandana. Knees apart. My head between her legs.
And because of that, I woke up with the worst case of morning wood. It took a long cold shower to deal with it—and that was only after my hand took care of the job.
I swallow hard, pushing down the memory of the dream before my cock can advertise it to everyone in the room.
I’m sorting the last of the dirty dishes in the dishwasher when the front doorbell chimes. Noah disappears from the kitchen and returns with Violet.
Asgard migrates over to her. Even without seeing his face, I know he’s giving her puppy dog eyes. It’s his special superpower.
Violet kneels next to him. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing? Like a big bear.”
“The big bear is hoping you brought him some bacon since he didn’t get to steal ours.”
She laughs and throws her arms around the big goofball of a dog.
And damned if a shot of jealousy doesn’t pulsate through my veins. At least he doesn’t have to worry about Austin kicking his ass into Wyoming. Kicking his ass for touching Violet.
As if sensing the emotions I have no right feeling, Asgard gives me one of his big doggy grins.
I mentally flip him the finger.
“I think you have a new fan, Violet,” Noah says on a chuckle.
Camilla noticeably shudders. She’s no longer eyeing Asgard as though he were a two-headed monster, but she still gives my dog a wide berth.
The same goes for Loki, my cat.
The feeling is mutual, but that’s nothing new. The only use Loki has for humans is when they feed him.
The devil himself strolls into the kitchen as if lording over his peasants. He makes a beeline for Asgard, ready to begin his daily ritual of tormenting the dog.
But at the last moment, he changes course. He struts over to Violet, rubs against her leg, and releases a rumbling meow.
She scratches him behind the ear, eliciting the purr of a tractor engine. “Yes, Loki, you’re the sweetest kitty ever. If I could bring you home with me to LA, I would.”
Loki meows again, which I loosely translate as, “Great, let me get my stuff now.”
It’s hard to believe those two only met yesterday. You’d think they were lifelong buddies.
“I take it you’re not a fan of small animals.” Craig, the cameraman, is referring to Loki’s size. My cat is what some people would refer to as big-boned—but he’s not fat. He just looks that way because of his chubby face. It’s part of his breed.
All right, I’ll admit it—he is a little chunky. Not quite the image of a Norse god.
“I love British shorthairs,” Violet says, now standing. “They’re so cute and cuddly.”
I nod, more so to appear like I’m listening than what I’m really doing: appreciating how hot she looks in her clothes. Although I can guarantee she’s equally spectacular out of them.
As if
you’ll ever find out.
She’s wearing cowboy boots and slim-fitting jeans that hug her never-ending legs just right. A white tank top peeks through the opening of her light blue plaid shirt. The shirt is unbuttoned to just below her breasts, the hem loose against the mouthwatering swell of her hips.
Like yesterday, she’s the complete opposite of Camilla. But at least this time, the producer is wearing jeans. Designer jeans. And this time she’s wearing boots—just not cowboy boots. The black suede reaches to a couple of inches above her knees, and the heels are taller than Violet’s. She also has on a wraparound cardigan in a southwestern theme.
Most guys would think she’s incredibly sexy. I’m not one of them. Violet wins it for me double hands down.
And not just because I’m a horny bastard when it comes to her.
She’s the full deal and more.
A slap on my back snaps me from my thoughts. “Okay, time to get to work,” Jake says, “Or posing for the camera. Not quite sure what you’re doing today.” The last part he says directly to me.
This time I do physically flip him the finger. He knows I’m doing this to benefit the ranch. I’m taking one for the team. He could be a little more supportive—like, for starters, begging to take over the role of the cowboy desperately hoping to find true love on reality TV.
Noah and Jake leave to do their morning chores. Today it’s my turn to clean the stables.
Asgard trots alongside me as Violet, Camilla, the crew, and I head to the barn. A sliver of pink sits low in the distance as twilight makes its presence known. But as beautiful as the sky is, it’s nothing compared to the brunette beside me.
Camilla oohs and ahhs at the view. Violet pauses. Before I can blink, she has her camera on the tripod and is capturing shot after shot of the slow-coming sunrise. Everyone except me watches the pink deepen to red, lighting the thin strip of clouds along the horizon.
Instead, I watch Violet’s excitedly thoughtful expression.
And damned if a thrilled tremor doesn’t go through me.
Cowboy Most Wanted Page 5
