Cowboy in the Making

by Julie Benson

  But Jamie had been different. When they’d been together he’d made her feel as though she mattered, because he’d focused solely on her. They’d gone out for pizza and caught a couple of movies that summer. Nothing major, because they’d both known he’d be returning to Juilliard in the fall. Well, except for some heavy necking. What would’ve happened between them if he hadn’t been returning to New York? If their plans hadn’t been so different? Would she still have gotten back together with Tucker? She shook her head. What good did wondering do? It wasn’t as if she could change the past.

  “You could have asked me that on the phone, Grandpa. If you had, it would’ve saved me a trip over here, and I could’ve had breakfast.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you hadn’t eaten?” Her grandfather strode to the refrigerator and grabbed what she recognized as the ingredients for her favorite breakfast—an omelet with spinach, mushrooms and Roma tomatoes.

  “Feeding me won’t get you what you want. I can’t pick Jamie up at the airport. I’ve got a volunteer orientation and training all day.”

  “That’s not a problem. His flight doesn’t get in until eight tonight,” Grandpa G said as he threw together her omelet and poured the egg mixture into a hot pan.

  So much for the convenient excuse. “Can’t Jamie rent a car?”

  “He’s from New York City. Who knows if he can drive?”

  There were people in the U.S. who couldn’t drive? Really? She found that hard to believe. She thought about the summer she and Jamie had dated. “Wait a minute. I remember him driving Mick’s truck on a couple of our dates.”

  “Oh, well. Hmm. I forgot about that.” Her grandfather shuffled back and forth, his brows furrowed together in thought as he concentrated on the pan in front of him. Then he plated her omelet and handed the mouthwatering goodness to her along with a fork. “Of course, that was before he spent all those years in the Big Apple. Who knows if he still has a valid driver’s license?”

  “You can’t be serious.” She scooped up a bite of her omelet. The fluffy concoction melted in her mouth. No matter how many times she tried, hers never turned out like Grandpa G’s, but she wouldn’t let his wonderful cooking sway her.

  “All I know is that Mick asked me to ask you to pick up Jamie at the airport, and that’s what I’m doing. I don’t know why you’re being so difficult.”

  She was being difficult? She didn’t know what alien had taken over her grandfather’s body, but there was no reasoning with him today. “With as much family as we have in town there has to be someone else who can pick him up.”

  Grandpa G placed the knife on the cutting board, turned and stared at her. He waved his hand around the kitchen. “Does it look like I have time to call around to find someone else to do this for me?”

  Line cooks, dishwashers and everyone else in the kitchen froze, turned and stared with their mouths hanging open in disbelief at her grandfather’s sharp tone.

  Now she knew something was wrong. Either that or he’d taken cranky pills along with his vitamins this morning. In her entire life she never remembered him raising his voice to anyone. She stepped around the counter and placed her hand on his arm. “What’s really going on?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, and when he met her gaze, weariness filled his usually bright eyes. “I’m nervous about handling everything around here with Mick out today.”

  Things were growing stranger by the minute. Her grandfather routinely managed the restaurant when Mick was gone without breaking a sweat. He’d once told her that after a tour in Vietnam, he’d handled the worst life had to throw at him and nothing else could ever come close.

  “Are you sure that’s all that’s bothering you?”

  “Emma Jean, with a J, unlike my name, Gene with a G, Donovan. Do this little favor for me. Pick Jamie up at the airport. Then I won’t have to worry about it.”

  How could she say no to that, especially after he’d pulled out the big guns by making her favorite breakfast and using her full name, emphasizing the fact that she’d been named after him? The question was why was this so important? Instinct told her she wasn’t getting the whole story.

  “I’ll make a deal,” she conceded. “I’ll call around. If I can’t find someone else to pick Jamie up, I will.”

  Her grandfather yanked the towel off his apron and swiped the cloth almost frantically across the counter, clearing away the remnants of mushrooms and spinach he’d chopped for her omelet. “You promise you’ll pick Jamie up if no one else can?”

  She nodded, and his rigid stance relaxed. “I heard about Molly quitting the band. Are you having any luck finding a replacement?”

  The abrupt change in conversation left her a little dizzy. While he supported her musical career more than most of her family, she could count the number of times on one hand her grandfather had asked about the business side of things. “I’ve got some possibilities, but I’ve been so busy with my day job I haven’t had time to contact anyone.”

  Luke, her bass player, had offered to make the calls, but Emma had gently nixed the suggestion. She’d put Maroon Peak Pass together. She managed their engagements, wrote their music and created their arrangements of other artists’ songs. No way was anyone being scheduled to audition without her screening him first.

  “You know Jamie’s a fiddle player,” her grandfather said. “What about asking him to play with you?”

  “There’s a big difference between playing in a country band and performing with a symphony. Asking Jamie to join Maroon Peak Pass would be like asking a soccer player to all of a sudden play football.” As if Jamie would be interested anyway. Had her grandfather lost his mind?

  “Soccer players often become kickers in football.”

  Vitamins. Check. Cranky pills. Check. Add taking crazy pills to the list.

  “I was just throwing the idea out there.”

  “That’s something to consider.” But only if it was between canceling the band’s upcoming engagements, asking Jamie or recruiting someone from the high school orchestra.

  * * *

  LATER THAT NIGHT Emma arrived at the Denver airport only to discover Jamie’s flight had been delayed by bad weather. She’d tried to find someone else to pick him up, but she should’ve known how that plan would turn out and saved the time she’d wasted. Why was it whenever she needed help everyone in her family had a ready excuse? Brandon had to work at the fire station, but he was the only one with a valid reason. Everyone else either had plans like getting together with friends, or worse, they hadn’t bothered to return her call.

  At least she’d brought her tablet so she could work while she waited. As she sat in the unyielding chairs in the baggage claim area, she put out word on social media about the band’s situation. That done, she contacted the electric fiddle players she’d thought of, managing to coerce two to audition. She called the people Luke and Grayson, their drummer, had recommended, screened them and set up auditions for a couple, despite the fact that none of the candidates seemed overly promising. The kids in the high school orchestra were looking better all the time. Lord, desperation was ugly.

  The grind of the baggage claim broke into her thoughts, and she gazed at the monitor above the carousel, noting Jamie’s flight had arrived.

  She scanned the rush of passengers streaming into the baggage claim area. Picking Jamie out of the crowd would have been easy even if he hadn’t been carrying the violin case. In the years since she’d seen him, his resemblance to Mick had become more pronounced. Same whiskey-colored straight hair, strong jaw, stark cheekbones and five-o’clock shadow. Normally she didn’t like the scruffy look on men, but on Jamie, it worked. Very well.

  His long, lean build had filled out and his shoulders were broader now. He’d changed from a teenager to a man. When he moved toward her, her pulse jumped and the tiniest warm glow spread
through her. For a city boy, he sure had Mick’s Western swagger down. Who’d have guessed that was genetic?

  As she approached, his gaze zeroed in on her with an intensity that left her almost weak. She didn’t know what had happened in the years since she’d seen him, but something had because it showed in his eyes. Good looks she could ignore because a pretty face could disguise a multitude of flaws, but eyes like Jamie’s? That was tougher to resist. She’d always been a sucker for soulful eyes.

  Too bad he had such a big strike against him—being a musician. Otherwise it might be fun getting reacquainted because he was one fine-looking man. But Emma knew better than to press her luck. For Jamie Westland, as far as she was concerned, one strike and he was out.

  Chapter Three

  “Emma? Right?” Jamie said, his deep brown eyes filled with curiosity when she reached him. “What’re you doing here? Are you meeting someone?”

  “Mick didn’t tell you I was picking you up? He wasn’t feeling well,” she said, trying to ignore her bruised feminine ego. While they hadn’t seen each other in years, how could he not remember her? They weren’t exactly strangers. Not that anyone would know from his reaction to seeing her today.

  No woman wanted to realize she’d been so forgettable a guy she’d dated couldn’t even remember her name.

  “He might have left me a message, but I forgot to turn my phone back on.” Jamie reached into his back pocket and pulled out his cell.

  “I guess you’re not one of those people who are constantly attached to the thing, then, huh?”

  “Sometimes it’s nice to unplug and really get away.” Heaviness tinged his voice and she wondered if something more than a simple vacation brought him to Estes Park. She shoved aside her curiosity. He was a nice guy, but considering what she had going on in her life she needed a man like she needed a two-string guitar that was out of tune.

  “Sure enough. I’ve got a missed call from Mick and have a voice mail,” he said once he turned on his phone and glanced at the screen. After he listened to the message he said, “He probably called while I was in the air.”

  The grumble of the baggage conveyor belt and the conversations of family and friends reuniting swirled around them, making her more aware of the awkwardness between them.

  “You didn’t have to drive all the way here to pick me up. I could’ve rented a car.”

  She laughed. “You should’ve heard the conversation I had with my grandfather about that. He wondered if you had a valid driver’s license. When I reminded him that you knew how to drive, he wondered if you’d forgotten since you live in New York City.”

  No reaction to her reference to their past relationship. Ouch.

  “He said that? Is this the same man who could recall every memory from the time he was three with uncanny clarity? That grandfather?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Not sure what else to say, they both turned their attention to the suitcases traveling past them. She wished his bags would hurry up and arrive. The next thing they’d be talking about was the weather.

  “I’m sorry my flight was late. Storms rolled in just before we were scheduled to leave. Lots of lightning and driving rain.”

  She wanted to groan at his comment. If things between them remained this strained, it was going to be a long ride to Estes Park. Maybe he was tired from the flight and would fall asleep in the car. That would be better than talking about the weather for an hour and a half.

  They both stared straight ahead as black bags of various sizes filed past their view, the only distinguishing feature being the luggage tags. Then, out of nowhere, a toddler in denim shorts, a Grandma Loves Me Because I’m Cute T-shirt and light-up tennis shoes zoomed past them, heading for the carousel.

  “Hey, little man, where are you going?” Jamie scooped up the boy, who immediately tried to wiggle free as he pointed to the parade of luggage. “I know that looks like fun, but I want you to keep all your fingers. Now, where’s your mom?”

  While she’d been thinking someone should make sure the child didn’t get into trouble, Jamie had acted. Emma couldn’t help but stare as the exhaustion that had lined his face and filled his voice disappeared. A huge smile lit up his features and his eyes sparkled with affection as he held the toddler.

  A memory of a night years ago in Nashville when Tucker had arrived to pick her up after her shift at the diner flashed in her mind. A vacationing family with two unruly young children had been seated in her section. When she’d told him she couldn’t leave until they left, Tucker said he’d wait outside and mumbled something about how parents shouldn’t take their kids in public if they couldn’t control them.

  Definitely a different attitude from the man filling her vision now. Jamie looked so comfortable and at ease. She thought about how he’d stepped in with this child. He’d always been the kind of man who did what needed to be done without a lot of fanfare, without having to be asked. He just took care of things and those around him.

  As she watched the pair, the boy grabbed Jamie’s nose. Eyes alight with mischief, Jamie said, “Beep.” The child’s eyes widened at the sound. He released Jamie’s nose, only to grab it again. “Beep.”

  Both males erupted into giggles, and Emma’s heart tightened. Her biological clock, the one she’d have sworn possessed a dead battery, kicked into gear, making her ache. First Jamie’s soulful eyes and now this. She’d have to watch her step with this guy. He could make a woman forget everything but him and the life they could have together.

  “Cayden? Where are you?” A woman’s panicked voice cut through Emma’s thoughts.

  “He’s over here,” she called out to the slender woman who was frantically scanning the area.

  “There’s your mom now,” Jamie said.

  “Momma?” Cayden responded as he squirmed in Jamie’s arms.

  “I’m hanging on to you. Who knows what trouble you’ll get into if I set you free. I’m not sure the world’s ready for that.”

  “He really could’ve gotten hurt if you hadn’t corralled him,” Emma said.

  “I was a lot like this guy when I was young. Sometimes I had more curiosity than common sense.” He peered down at the boy in his arms. “Pal, you’re gonna have to work on curbing that before it gets you into major trouble.”

  “You’re right about that,” Cayden’s mother said when she reached them. She tucked stray strands of hair that had come loose from her sloppy ponytail behind her ear before she took her son from Jamie and introduced herself. She then hugged the boy so tight he squealed in protest. “I can’t thank you enough for snagging him. My friend was supposed to meet us, but she must be running late. We’ve been in New York visiting my parents. I turned around to grab my suitcase and Cayden was gone. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

  “Glad I could help, Dana,” Jamie said.

  “Do you need a ride? Are you sure your friend’s coming?” Emma asked.

  Before Dana could answer, her cell phone pinged. “I bet that’s her now.” She dug through the diaper bag, located her phone and checked her texts. After discovering her friend was waiting outside the airport, she thanked Jamie again, and then before she left, she leaned over to whisper in Emma’s ear. “He’s going to make a great father. Don’t let him get away. There aren’t a lot like him left these days.”

  Even if Emma was looking for someone to spend the rest of her life with, she wouldn’t chose a musician. They were too temperamental and the business was too demanding. Making it and staying anywhere close to the top took everything a person had to give and still the business wanted more. Two people with those kinds of pressures couldn’t maintain a relationship.

  Too bad because unless he’d changed a lot, Dana was right. Jamie still looked like one of the good guys.

  * * *

  EMMA DONOVAN. JAMIE h
ad almost stopped cold when he saw her in the baggage claim at the airport. How he’d managed to act nonchalant, even going so far as to pretend he didn’t remember her name, he didn’t know. Especially when his heart had been banging against his ribs like cymbals during a John Philip Sousa march.

  Slender, yet curvy enough to fill a man’s hands, she’d filled out in all the right ways and looked even better than she had in high school. With her long black hair and shining green eyes, Emma sure could get his pulse going. He remembered her all too well...and the fact that he’d been more interested in her than she’d been in him when they’d dated. She’d been seventeen and he nineteen. When he’d heard she’d broken up with her boyfriend, he’d jumped at the chance to ask her out. They’d gone out a few times, and then she’d ended things with him. Emma had taught him a valuable lesson: never be the first guy a woman dates after breaking up with her boyfriend. In this case, being number one was not what a guy wanted.

  “When did you move back to town?” he asked in a lame attempt at conversation as they made their way to the parking lot and her car.

  “It’s been almost two years.”

  “Mick said you were in Nashville singing with a band, and that things were going well. What brought you back?”

  “This and that.” She unlocked the doors and got in her car. The door closed with a quiet thud behind her. “How about you? What brings you to Estes Park?”

  Her short comment, combined with how she gripped the steering wheel so tight her fingers whitened, sent a message even a guy with the social skills of a Neanderthal could read. He’d touched on a sore subject.

  “Doesn’t the Philharmonic have a tour coming up? Mick’s been telling anyone who would listen all about it. I’m surprised you could get away.”