She's Far From Hollywood

by Jo McNally

  “You know, there are more important things in life than men.” Emily fiddled with her keys, still safely in the ignition. She hadn’t made any firm commitments to getting out of this truck.

  “Name one.”

  Think, Emily, think. “Family, of course.” There was more, but she didn’t work well under pressure.

  Molly scowled. “Fine, but you can’t do the really fun stuff without a man.”

  Spoken from a woman who loved men a bit too much. “What did being man-crazy ever get you?”

  “Don’t start with me. I swear the condom broke. Why won’t you believe me?” Molly slapped the dashboard, reminding Emily of the little girl she’d once been, raising hell wherever she went. The red hair fair warning to anyone crazy enough to tangle.

  The fact that Molly was seven years younger than Emily and already had a child shouldn’t have bothered Emily. Except, sometimes it did. As usual, Molly didn’t appreciate what she had.

  “Let’s not talk about this now.” Emily resisted the urge to pound her head on the steering wheel.

  “You brought it up. You might want to be a mom, but that doesn’t mean every girl wants that.”

  “Who says I want to be a mom?” When Molly got mad she tried to hurt anyone within spitting distance. Pulling the keys out of the ignition, Emily grabbed her purse, opened the door and leapt out of the truck. She needed to blow a little steam off now, thanks to her bratty sister.

  “Well, your biological clock is ticking.” Molly followed.

  “It. Is. Not. Ticking!” Emily could give as good as she got with her sister, even if her blond hair wasn’t the slightest shade of red. Even if she’d always had to look out for the little squirt.

  “You’re twenty-eight. I think it’s started to tick.”

  “Twenty-eight is the new eighteen.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means if fifty is the new forty, and forty is the new thirty, then what the hell do you think the new twenty-eight is?” Emily spoke loud enough some of the patrons hanging outside the entrance turned to stare at them.

  Emily grabbed her sister’s hand and pulled her toward the entrance. “I’m doing this on one condition. All we’re doing is dancing, and then we’re going home. Alone. I don’t go home with anybody, and neither do you.”

  As the big sister, it was Emily’s duty to remember Molly only served up her parade of big hits when she hurt inside. Sooner or later Emily would have to figure out what bug had curled up inside Molly this time and probably help her with it, too. But for now, Denial was a river they would drown in together.

  Opening the door to the Silver Saddle felt a little like opening death’s door. A bit like entering a battlefield without armor. No self-respecting woman would do that, and yet, Emily was here.

  Bertha, the broken mechanical bull, sat in the corner, warning the games were about to begin. From somewhere within, Emily drew a deep breath and placed an imaginary shield on her chest. There. Let someone get through that.

  “Hey, it’s the Parker girls.” Thomas Aguirre sidled up to Molly. Everyone knew he’d had a crush on her since third grade.

  Emily shoved her body between them. “We’re here to dance. And nothing else. Right, Molly?”

  “Right.” Molly may have said what Emily wanted to hear, but her eyes said Open for Business.

  “How about this dance?” Thomas didn’t even wait for a reply as he grabbed Molly’s hand and pulled her onto the dance floor. Molly shoved her purse in Emily’s hands before going far too willingly onto the crowded dance floor.

  Emily had just wandered over to the bar and checked their purses in with the bartender when Jimmy Hopkins, the bar’s owner, appeared at her elbow. “Hey, girl. How about a dance?”

  As luck would have it, Jimmy was a harmless sweetheart. Best of all, he was engaged to one of her oldest friends, Trish. He’d recently taken six months’ worth of dance lessons in preparation for their wedding, and Trish let him dance with any willing girl for the extra practice.

  Maybe she could manage to dance with Jimmy all night. “You got it.”

  Jimmy spun her around the dance floor. Without a doubt, he was the best dancer in the place. Every other guy was shuffling his feet around and grabbing his partner’s ass. This was going to work out better than she could have hoped. No ass-grabbing for Emily.

  “Hey, are you okay, hon?” Jimmy asked between turns.

  “I’m all right.” As long as she didn’t pay attention to the whispers, and with Jimmy it was easy. “I wish everyone would stop talking about me.”

  “They have nothing better to talk about. This year’s been rather lean with scandal.”

  “Henry stopped peeing on the gazebo?” Henry Turner, the town drunk, did his business where and when he wanted. Lately he seemed to favor the gazebo in the town square, and their mayor was up in arms about it. Apparently she wanted a new town resolution against public urination, as if the old one wasn’t good enough.

  “Think he’s moved on to greener pastures, pardon the pun.” Jimmy winked.

  “It would help if you and Trish would finally set a date,” Emily said. “Maybe wedding talk would keep them busy for a while.”

  “Are you kidding? Trish still hasn’t decided on the venue, much less picked a date.”

  “You are going to consider the ranch. Right?” She hadn’t made the decision to add weddings to her family’s event company so her friends could get married somewhere else.

  “It’s up to Trish. But the reception is here.”

  “Perks of owning a bar. Have her give me a call.”

  After three dances, even Jimmy needed a break, but Emily was just getting started. She’d forgotten how much fun Western dancing could be. Fortunately, she had willing partners stepping up. They didn’t want to talk, just dance. One hard look and she’d managed to keep the ass-grabbing off limits, too.

  Dancing turned out to be the right recipe after all, especially since she’d known these guys since grade school. None of the men inspired the slightest amount of desire in her.

  But then she caught a glimpse of him.

  He sat on a stool against the perimeter like he’d been hired to enhance the wall. Dark wavy hair curled slightly at his neckline and, even from a distance, his eyes shone steely blue. The way he gazed at her both piqued her interest and made her want to smack him. His thoughts were so clearly written on his face and in those piercing eyes. He was practically undressing her in front of all these people. And she didn’t even know the man.

  Between stealing long PG-13–rated looks at her and taking sips of his beer, he spoke to Jedd, an old friend of Dylan’s and a regular at the Saddle, except tonight Jedd’s wife, Casey, was nowhere in sight. Emily continued to dance with anyone who asked and occasionally peeked at Hot Guy. He never seemed to take his eyes off her, and it was making her neck sweat.

  “We need to get home soon,” Emily took a moment to say into Molly’s ear as she passed by in Thomas Aguirre’s arms. Not a good sign she’d danced the entire time with one man. She’d keep an eye on that scenario.

  “Sure, whatever you say,” Molly sang out.

  Emily stole another look at Mr. Studley, who now lifted his beer bottle and grimaced in the direction of the band playing Garth Brooks’s “Friends in Low Places.”

  The heat pulsating all the way to the back of her knees had nothing to do with the dancing, and everything to do with that man. It wasn’t like she’d never seen his kind before, the type of man who might as well have yellow police tape draped around him to serve as warning.

  But for twenty-eight years, she’d stayed away from his kind, and she wouldn’t likely end that streak tonight.

  * * *

  SHIT. I KNEW this was a bad idea.

  Stone Mcallister sat nursing his beer a
t a bar someone had the moxie to name the Silver Saddle. Everything in this town had whimsical names like The Hair-Em, and The Drip. It felt like he’d been dropped in the middle of Whoville. And even after he’d avoided this joint for six months, tonight his luck had run out. Jedd, his mechanic, wouldn’t take no for an answer. So now he was stuck staring at the blonde with the wavy hair that seemed to dance as much as she did. Dressed in a short white dress, showing off the best pair of legs he’d seen in years and wearing a pair of blue cowboy boots, she had the attention of every male in the place.

  She tempted the hell out of him. Something he didn’t need.

  What he did need right now was some financial hocus pocus, and sitting here staring at the girl wasn’t going to help.

  She was tearing up the place, dancing with anyone who asked. None of his business. He didn’t plan on staying in town for long. That reason, more than any other, made him wonder if maybe he should introduce himself to the young lady. Women were more trouble than he could handle right now, but if the girl wanted a warm bed for the night, he certainly had one. Jedd brought him another beer though he still wasn’t done with the first one. Stone set the old one aside and grabbed the cold one.

  “Thanks for coming out with me, boss,” Jedd shouted over the live band playing some kind of nonsense song about friends in low places. Another thing he could barely stomach about this place. Country music.

  “Told you not to call me that.”

  “Aw, but if it wasn’t for you taking over the flight school, I’d be out of a job right now.”

  “Not true. You’re a great mechanic and you’d find work, no matter what.” The last thing Stone needed was the pressure of the distinct possibility that if he didn’t fix this mess and fix it soon, Jedd would be out of a job. But he was young. He’d find other work.

  “I don’t know about that. But anyway, I’m not here to talk business. I wanted to give you the good news. I’m going to be a daddy.” Jedd reached across to Stone’s bottle and they clinked together.

  Stone swallowed, in part because the blonde had just passed him on the dance floor, leaving a trail of her sweet scent behind, but mostly because he wondered what Jedd would do with a pregnant wife and no job.

  “Congrats.” He slapped Jedd’s back. Monday Stone would start the ball rolling for Jedd and make a few inquiries. Couldn’t hurt.

  “Are you going to dance? I can’t because Casey would kill me. But don’t let me stop you. I see you eyeing Emily.” Jedd elbowed him.

  “Who?” Emily. Vanilla. Yeah, she smelled like vanilla.

  “Uh, yeah, the blonde you can’t take your eyes off. That’s Emily Parker,” Jedd said with a wink.

  Another thing. People in this town winked too much. He wasn’t interested in Fortune, California, this Peyton Place of towns, but Emily did have his attention. In the next moment, she caught him staring, but rather than look away, he locked gazes with her. She smiled back a little and continued to dance.

  Stone gulped down the ice-cold beer, hoping it would reach his bloodstream and cool him the hell down. “About the flight school. You know we’ve been having problems. I had a buyer for the school lined up, but my sister is causing trouble.”

  “I heard. She wants to sell to that big corporation.” All the blood seemed to drain out of Jedd’s face. “But there’s no chance I could lose my job, right?”

  “No, of course not.” He couldn’t tell Jedd. Not tonight. But if his sister kept it up, Stone was worried his buyer would walk away, afraid to get caught up in a lawsuit.

  “Don’t worry. I have faith you’ll figure it out. If anyone can, you can.” Jedd’s cell phone rang and he whipped it out, checked the caller ID and smiled. “My wife.”

  As Jedd walked outside, Stone wondered why anyone would put their faith in him. And as if he needed to prove the point, Stone took one last swallow of his beer, got up and headed straight for the girl.

  * * *

  HOT GUY MARCHED straight toward her, like a man on a mission. Unfortunately Emily was between dancing partners, as vulnerable as a lamb. One quick glance toward the bar and Jimmy chatted quietly with the head bartender and some of their coworkers.

  A little tingle went down her spine, and Emily drew in a shallow breath. What was Jimmy doing when she needed him? She could just pull up her big-girl panties and deal with it, but she wouldn’t do it alone. Mentally, she picked up a sword to go with the imaginary shield. Yep, she was as ready as she’d ever be. Go ahead and let me have your best shot, Mr. Hunk.

  On second thought...

  Before he reached her side, Emily veered to the right, toward the bar. She’d get Jimmy’s attention one way or another. Pretend Jimmy was her boyfriend and scare this guy off. Even if he didn’t look like he scared easily. It was worth a try, because her imaginary sword’s blade felt a bit dull and the shield a little tarnished.

  But the bar was crowded and loud with couples and singles flirting, drinking and shouting over the band. She waved in Jimmy’s direction. No luck. One would think she could at least get the attention of the bartender working, but she was striking out tonight. Just her luck. She was invisible to everyone but the dangerous guy.

  Emily waved again, two-handed this time. “Doesn’t anyone see me?” she asked no one in particular.

  “I see you,” said Mr. Danger from behind her. Quickly catching the attention of the one female bartender with nothing more than a finger, he pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and set a couple of bills on the bar. “I’ll have a beer and whatever the lady’s having.”

  “I’m not drinking,” Emily sputtered.

  “Then why were you waving your arms around like ground control?”

  “I’m trying to get the attention of my boyfriend over there.” She jutted her chin in Jimmy’s direction.

  He winced. “Don’t look now, but your boyfriend is kissing another woman.”

  “What?” Emily turned.

  Jimmy was in a lip lock with Trish, who must have sneaked in at some point.

  “Oh. Well, that’s disappointing.”

  “I guess he’s just not that into you.” He took a swallow and set his bottle down. Studied her.

  She wilted in two seconds flat. A record. “Fine, he’s not my boyfriend.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Really.”

  “I’m here with my sister. I’m Emily.”

  His navy blue eyes held an intensity which threatened to knock her figurative sword right out of her stone-cold hands. “I know.” He smiled, the naked desire never leaving his steely eyes.

  “If that’s your way of introducing yourself, your momma didn’t teach you right.”

  He blinked but stuck out his hand. “Stone Mcallister.”

  A big hand, warm and rough. “Stone Mcallister, I don’t know what I’ve been doing in your mind, but you should know I’m not that kind of girl.” Defensive Training 101. Make light out of it, joke around. I’ve got this.

  “No, you’re a liar with a fake boyfriend. I get it.” Here came that wicked smile again. It should be made illegal in all fifty states. She fervently wished he’d put it away before somebody got hurt.

  Emily swallowed, suddenly feeling both parched and guilty. “I don’t usually lie, either. But you make me nervous. I’m only here to dance.”

  “And what do you think I’m here to do?” He took another pull of his beer and then set it down.

  Create mayhem with a woman’s body, heart and mind. “I don’t know, but I don’t like the way you’re looking at me. And you don’t look very innocent.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Right. But listen, I prefer to keep my clothes on in front of all these people so if you don’t mind, at least imagine me in a swimsuit.” Mentally she wore full body armor, but let him imagine her in a swimsuit. It had to be better t
han naked.

  “All right, a swimsuit it is. One of those string bikinis.”

  Not exactly what she’d had in mind. “No. Have you ever watched Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman?”

  “Yeah. She’s hot.” He smiled again.

  “Imagine me in a skirt like the one she wears, with one of those high-neck tops that go all the way to the chin.” Emily put her hand under her chin.

  “Still pretty hot.”

  “Anyway, nice meeting you, Mr. Subtle.” Emily turned, but he grabbed her hand.

  “I think you should dance with me.”

  “That’s what you get for thinking.”

  “One dance.” He put his bottle down and pulled her onto the dance floor.

  For the next few minutes, he proved he could dance, strong large hands wrapped around her waist as he stayed in step. Emily danced three dances in a row with him; though, she suspected no one else dared interrupt. A couple of times Ronnie Walter approached as if he would cut in, but Stone’s glare chased him away.

  When the music slowed to “Let Me Down Easy,” Stone pulled her against him. Fast tunes had played all night, which meant his hands only briefly lingered on her waist, but she couldn’t risk a slow song. She should stop the torture of a slow dance now, but she found his rock-hard chest and the way her head fit under his chin too seductive. He smelled like a man. Leather and some kind of light aftershave that didn’t make her dizzy. Not what she had planned for tonight or any night since she’d decided to be done with men.

  “I haven’t seen you here before,” Emily said against his chest as she tried to pretend for one moment she might go home with this guy. Never times infinity to the tenth power. This kind of guy couldn’t be controlled.

  “I haven’t been here before.” His hand lowered to the small of her back, and she might have trembled a little bit.

  “Why not?”

  Here was the problem, because there was a problem with every handsome man from here to Poughkeepsie. Of course he was married, probably with a wife and kid at home. She’d call that strike, one, two and three. If this guy was single, then Emily was the tooth fairy.