RHONDA LEE CARVER
A New Year’s Cowboy
2015 Rhonda Lee Carver
Copyright 2015 Rhonda Lee Carver
All rights reserved
A New Year’s Cowboy
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without permission from the author, Rhonda Lee Carver—except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages written in a review. For information, please contact Rhonda Lee Carver @ [email protected].
This work is fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue in this work are from the author’s imagination and creation. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, dead or alive, is completely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Front Matter
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Back Matter
PROLOGUE
“MORNING, MOMMA.”
Charlie felt a feather-like stroke across her cheek. She fluttered her eyes open and a bright light made her blink. It took her a moment to adjust from the darkness. Lifting herself up on elbow, she focused on the vision before her. “Sunny?”
“It’s Christmas, momma.” The little girl giggled and turned in a circle, her arms held out wide like a bird ready to take flight.
Blinking, Charlie attempted to wrap her brain around what she was seeing.
Slipping from bed, she laughed while watching her daughter happily dance around the room, her feet gracefully gliding over the floor. “Yes, it’s Christmas, my love.”
Sunny suddenly stopped, her green eyes so pale they were almost transparent, and she tiptoed to Charlie. “I brought you something,” she whispered.
“You’ve finally come to take me home with you?”
The child’s harmonious giggle matched that of a magical harp. “Silly, mommy. You know you belong here.”
Charlie took a step backward, her stomach twisting. The backs of her knees struck the edge of the bed and she dropped. “I-I don’t want to stay. I want to be with you.” Tears misted her eyes.
“One day we will play lots.” Sunny cupped Charlie’s cheeks. Her small, delicate hands warmed Charlie unlike anything she’d ever felt. She inhaled deeply, taking in her child’s scent, filling her lungs with innocence. “I have a present for you.”
Reaching out to touch her daughter’s angelic face, her fingers slipped through the vision. “Stay. Don’t go. That’s the present I want.”
“Time to wake up and you’ll see. The drawing, mommy. Remember the drawing…”
Charlie jerked awake, covered in sweat, her hair clinging to her cheeks and her lungs aching. She jumped out of bed, her bare feet hitting the floor with a loud thump. “Sunny? Where are you?” She searched under the bed, in the closet, racing down the hallway frantically to check every room, but found only emptiness as every time before when she’d had a dream about her daughter. It had seemed so real…
Going back into her bedroom, she swiped at the tears falling to her cheeks and she saw the picture laying in the middle of the planked floor—the drawing she kept on her nightstand. She bent and picked it up, staring down at the colorful drawing Sunny had given to her on Christmas five years ago…the last holiday they would share together. The last time she’d see her daughter’s infectious smile, her bright eyes, and watch her dance.
Charlie traced the uneven lines of the crayon stick figures of her and Sunny. They were holding hands with large, colorful flowers in their hair. Yogi, their shaggy-haired dog, had his tongue sticking out and his ears perked. The tall man standing in the background by the house always confused, and bewildered, Charlie. She’d never seen him before and appeared he had black birds surrounding his head. When she’d asked Sunny who he was, she’d answered, “Snowman.”
Placing the picture in the top drawer of her nightstand, Charlie dressed, brushed her hair and downstairs she found her father, Brent, in the kitchen making pancakes. “Hey, what’s the pleasure?”
Brent waved the spatula in the air as a greeting. “It’s Christmas morning.” He flipped a pancake on the griddle.
She poured herself a cup of coffee in her favorite mug, added creamer, and sat down at the table. “Just like any other morning. I should head over to the diner.” Yogi nuzzled up next to her feet and she scratched him behind the ear.
He placed a plate of pancakes covered in syrup in front of her. “No, it’s not like ‘any other morning’. There’s a reason for the season. And don’t bother with opening the diner. It’s Christmas and the weather is calling for snowfall. No one will be around.”
“I wasn’t thinking of opening, just going through the inventory and deep cleaning while we’re closed for the day.” She cut into the fluffy pancake and popped it into her mouth. She wasn’t hungry, but she couldn’t disappoint her dad. Although she was an adult, he still felt it was his responsibility to watch over her like she was a child again.
He sat down across from her. “You’re always cleaning. Today, take a break. You deserve it.”
She shrugged. “I like keeping busy.”
“You work too much. You haven’ been sleeping well. The dark circles are back.”
Laying her fork down, she sipped her coffee, then got up. “I’m heading over. If you need anything, call me.” She kissed him on the forehead and started for the door, calling for Yogi to follow.
“I’m sorry, Charlie. If I said something—”
“No, you didn’t.” She turned and gave him a forced smile. “You know today isn’t easy for me and I’m best alone. I’ll be back later. I promise.”
Being alone had become normal to her.
CHAPTER ONE
STORM RICH DECIDED this was a very bad idea.
The window fogged up and he could barely see ten feet ahead of him. It didn’t look like the snow was going to let up any time soon. At least traffic wasn’t congested on the highway. He had that to be grateful for that. It was Christmas. Most people were indoors, enjoying the holiday with family and friends. Eating ham, turkey, and all of the fixins. Opening presents, laughing, and making a mental list of what gifts they’d re-gift. Those were the things normal people did on the holidays. Not him, nope. He was hauling ass across Tennessee, slowly making his way to Ohio for a show.
Turning the defroster on, a puff of cool air burst through the vents, clearing the window some. Visibility still sucked through the blanket of snow. He turned the heat on high and hoped his truck stayed firm to the road.
“Turn right at the next exit. Stay on Route 772 for fifty-three miles,” the GPS voice said.
Storm grimaced. He’d entered the quickest route into the system, but he wasn’t sure leaving the highway was the best choice. At least on the stretch of road he didn’t have to worry about curves. Hell, he hadn’t even seen another vehicle since fifty miles back. He scrubbed his jaw and tugged at his goatee. If the faster route knocked off some driving time, he was all for taking a different way. He was starting to feel the effects of lack of sleep and weak coffee from the last gas station.
After turning onto the
exit, the big tires on the rental truck slushed through the snow, steady on, the engine purring as he slowly stepped on the gas pedal. It had been a long time since he’d been behind the wheel of anything, but the high-end truck with its soft-as-a-baby’s-skin leather seats and modern interior features made Storm want one of his own. When would he have a chance to drive it? Probably never.
When will I have the opportunity to be normal? Probably never.
The customer service rep at the shop guaranteed the four-wheel drive would get through anything and everything. Storm was relying on that promise since he had commitments—ever-present responsibilities.
The snow storm had shut down all flights up and down the Midwest for the evening, which had thrown him for a loop. He would have been in a hotel in Columbus, Ohio by now, enjoying a steak and taters, maybe a beer or two, resting up for the country music gala if Mother Nature hadn’t decided a white Christmas was in order. He guessed he was the only one complaining. When he’d left Stoutsville late that afternoon, kids were out on sleds, families were building snowmen. Everyone was acting as if they had no place to be but smack-dab in the middle of winter fun. Maybe he was the only one who had somewhere to be. If he didn’t make it on time his manager was likely to keel over in anger. Storm didn’t want to deal with Max—especially didn’t want to let the other man know that the flight had been canceled. He’d warned Storm that it was too risky to take off during a busy time of year for a funeral. Pfft!
He turned the radio on and switched through stations until he came to a hit country song. The fresh out of high school star’s angelic voice flowed from the speakers. She sung about college parties and first kisses, reminding Storm that he wasn’t a spring chicken anymore. He could count at least ten new bright and upcoming stars blazing their way onto the country music scene, all as hopeful and naïve as he was when he sold his first album. They could handle long tours with no sleep and saw everything in rainbows and sprinkles.
Hell, he wasn’t old, not at thirty-eight, but he could hear the hands of time ticking in the back of his skull. He’d lost something lately though—not in his music, but in his heart. Never been married, no kids, and a track record of short and meaningless relationships, he didn’t have many memories that didn’t include the stage.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he gave his head a quick shake. Things were looking murky—plain and simple. Maybe it was high time he started thinking of the legacy he wanted to leave behind when the good Lord came calling. The death of his Uncle Ned had Storm thinking…pondering.
Last week, Ned was found in his favorite chair in front of the TV. He’d left this world peacefully, just how he’d lived his life. He had attended church every Sunday and believed death was a natural progression until the reward of heaven. He often spoke of how he looked forward to seeing his wife, Judith, again. Fifty years of marriage had only strengthened their love for each other. Storm smiled at the thought. Here lately he’d been wondering if true love was out there for him. He wanted to believe anything was possible—to think someone would want him for something outside of the glitz and the glamour of his guitar.
Three loud beeps interrupted the song. Another weather update.
“Six to seven inches of snow expected in the following counties…”
Storm searched his brain. What county was he in?
“A level three snow alert is in place for these counties. All public roadways are closed to the general public. Only police, medical, and emergency vehicles should be on roadways. Motorists can be fined or arrested if found driving on public roads in a non-emergency situation.”
“Ah, shit!” He pounded his palm against the steering wheel. He could see the headlines in the paper now, “Storm Rich arrested for traveling on unsafe roads.” Better than the headlines three years ago, “Storm Rich arrested for disorderly conduct after finding girlfriend with fellow country star, Reef Weathers.” He loved how the media distorted his life at their pleasure. Sure, he’d been arrested, charges later dropped, but what was written in print couldn’t be unseen. What the media didn’t entertain the public with was how he’d walked into his apartment and found Cecilia, his on-again off-again girlfriend, in his bed with Weathers. Storm had simply helped the other man out of the door and into the hall.
Sure, Storm guessed he’d gone over the line when he followed Weathers into the lobby and punched him in the jaw. Sometimes a man couldn’t back down.
Now Storm understood why Cecilia always wanted him to call or text first if he was coming home early.
He’d always been a patient man, never one to resort to violence, but that particular day, he’d forgotten his ethics and let loose. Fans had been torn between their love for the two stars, Storm and Weathers. While he had talked to newspaper, magazine, anything in black and white, Storm had taken a different approach. He’d stayed silent. Max had predicted that it would leave fans cold, thinking Storm was the bad guy, but he’d never found a use in trash-talk.
Good riddance to the past.
How did he get himself into these unfortunate predicaments?
As if to prove how stupid it was for him to be out on the roads, the snow came down harder. The road was completely covered and slick. He slowed the truck and wiped the inside of the window, worrying his bottom lip in frustration. He needed a place to pull off until the weather passed, but he couldn’t see anything but white. Damn country road!
“Damn you, GPS!” He punched the power button with his middle finger.
His cell phone vibrated from the holder on the dashboard and the screen lit up. He sighed and shook his head. Max. Now was not the time to talk to him. Hell, would there ever be a good time? The vibration finally stopped, but three seconds later, it started again. Storm realized the man would keep calling until he got an answer. Pushing talk, Storm prepared himself for an unleashing of curse words.
“Shit! Where the hell are you?” Max’s tone rattled the line.
“Nice to hear your voice, buddy. You sound jubilant this evening.” Storm smiled. Max left himself wide open for egging.
“Tracking your ass. You didn’t think it was important to tell me that your flight was canceled?”
Storm thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “What could you do, Max? Your magical reach doesn’t quite extend to Mother Nature. It wasn’t just my flight, but all flights.”
“I told you not to go! I warned you this would happen, but did you listen? Of course not. No one ever listens to a voice of reason.”
“Relax, man. I’ve got this covered,” Storm said. A loud groan tickled his ear.
“Just tell me you’re at the airport waiting for the airlines to open again.”
“We have a slight problem.” Storm shifted in the leather seat and tugged on the seatbelt that suddenly felt like it constructed his lungs.
There was a long pause. “A problem?”
“I rented a vehicle and I’m driving to Ohio. It’s snowing like a son-of-a-gun.”
“What?” The word was a cross between a growl and a groan. “Where the hell are you?” he said it with more conviction this time.
“No clue. Hang on a sec.” He pushed the button on the GPS and the screen came alive. “Not good. The GPS has no signal.”
“You have media interviews first thing in the morning.”
“Who cares about the media? I don’t feel like pretending that I give a shit what the parasites write about me.”
“These ‘parasites’ help sell your albums. Even more importantly, the gala event is tomorrow, Storm. Freaking tomorrow! You’re up for an award. Imagine what people will think if you’re not there to accept it? Another pounding of rumors is the last thing you need.”
“Relax and have a cigar. I’ve got this covered.” Storm resisted the urge to laugh at his manager’s uptight attitude. Over the years, Storm had gotten used to Max’s bark. His goal was always on target, but his delivery needed work. “I’ve been told this truck will get me through anything.” Why did those words sud
denly sound senseless? Nothing was safe on ice. But he had to keep it together for his manager’s sake.
“You know what’s hilarious? You’re driving yourself. If you’d called me, I could have had a car pick you up and bring you here.”
“Maybe I wanted to drive myself. Why is that so shocking?” Storm didn’t like the doubt in the man’s words.
“You haven’t driven yourself since you hit number one. The perks of being a star, my friend. And with that in mind, you can’t miss the New Year’s Eve show, buddy. Tickets are sold out and we have a star line-up. You cancel your act and your career won’t bounce back.”
Storm clenched his jaw. He wished he had a nickel for every time he heard that threat. “That warning doesn’t work like it used to, Max. At least come up with something better, more creative.”
Max’s humorless chuckle spun through Storm as cold as the winter outside. “Looks like we’re both lacking in creativity these days.”
“Creativity or inspiration?” Storm didn’t need to deny the obvious. “We’re both getting worn down.”
“I warned you not to leave this close to an event.”
Storm scrubbed his jaw. “I guess I should have told my uncle this wasn’t the right time to kick the bucket because it conflicted with my schedule.” He squeezed the steering wheel tighter until his knuckles ached. A sour taste filled his throat.
“You know what I mean, Storm. Once upon a time you understood how these things worked.”
“Ned helped raise me and I wouldn’t have missed it. That’s how families work, Max. Have you forgotten that concept? You have a brother and sister. When was the last time you paid them a visit? Even called to say hello?”
“I’ve called. Back when you did that concert in Texas. The one that sold out in twenty minutes.”
Storm sniffed loudly. “That was five years ago.”
“Has it really been that long? Time flies. Just get here, Storm.”
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