Cowboy in the Making

by Julie Benson

  “I’m sure you could show me a thing or two, but right now I’m working. I can’t let my boss down,” Jamie said, a tight smile on his face.

  “Better cut Carla off, Mick, before she rushes the stage,” someone else called out.

  “Poor Jamie. Carla’s in rare form tonight,” Avery said. “Do you know when Jamie got into town? Have you two talked?”

  “He got here yesterday,” Emma said. “I picked him up at the airport when Mick wasn’t feeling well.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “There’s nothing to tell.” Except Jamie looked so incredible holding this toddler at the airport yesterday my biological clock started ticking again, and then this afternoon he was so sweet when he came to make sure I was okay. A girl could get used to a guy doing stuff like that.

  No way was she sharing that info.

  “You two dated for a while, didn’t you?”

  Emma nodded. “That summer after graduation, but it wasn’t any big deal.”

  She glanced at the stage. Jamie shifted his stance from foot to foot, his movements stiff and awkward. Even dressed in jeans and the hunter-green Halligan’s T-shirt, he looked out of place. She shook her head when she noticed his shoes. For goodness sake, the man was wearing tennis shoes. That had to be a first for this stage. How had Mick ever let him out of the house with those on?

  “No big deal? That’s not what I remember about you and Jamie. You two went everywhere together. You said he was a good kisser,” Avery said, a big know-it-all-best-friend grin on her face.

  Good enough to make my toes curl. Thanks for reminding me. That was the last thing she needed to remember right now. Emma rolled her eyes. “I don’t remember that conversation, and even if it were true, what does it matter? Jamie and I aren’t teenagers anymore. We’ve changed a lot since then.”

  “I bet kissing’s not the only thing he’s good at,” Stacy said, her dreamy gaze locked on Jamie.

  “Get a grip, you two. You’re both married, and the way you’re looking at him is embarrassing.”

  “We’re not the only one giving him the eye.” Avery nodded toward the crowd around them.

  “I know. So is every female in the place.”

  “Including you,” Stacy added.

  “Let it go.” Emma didn’t dare deny the statement, she wasn’t that accomplished a liar.

  “You’re awfully touchy about this subject. Are you sure nothing happened between you two when you picked him up at the airport?”

  Something happened between us today, and it left me more scared than I’ve been in a long time. “What’s with the third degree?”

  “Have you thought about starting things up with him?” Avery asked, a huge silly grin on her face.

  “Now I get it. This is payback for our night here when Reed first got back in town, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not much fun being in the hot seat, is it?” Avery said. “I’ve got to say an interrogation is more enjoyable from this side.”

  “Sounds like a good story. Share,” Stacy coaxed.

  “Just replay this conversation, but change the names to Avery and Reed,” Emma said. Hoping her friends would get the message she was done with this particular topic, Emma turned her attention to Jamie.

  “Key up one of those songs Gene had on earlier,” he said to his grandfather who stood offstage.

  “‘Always on My Mind’ coming up,” Mick replied.

  How could Mick do this to his grandson? Jamie’s awkwardness reached out to Emma. Talk about looking like a broom handle had been tied to his back. The man was a classically trained musician. Someone should rescue him. She pushed back her chair.

  Then Jamie cleared his throat and turned to Mick. “Toss me your hat.”

  The tan cowboy hat spun through the air. Jamie caught it by the brim and put it on. Cheers and whistles sounded from the audience. “That’s better.”

  It certainly was. Now, if he had on a good pair of Ariat boots he’d be close to perfect.

  “Now I’m feeling more at home,” Jamie said as the music started. He closed his eyes for a minute and started singing.

  While he stumbled over the words, the strength of his tenor voice filled the room. His stiffness faded and his features relaxed. Emma sat there as if her butt had been nailed to the chair, unable to do anything but stare, and she wasn’t easy to impress. Why wasn’t he singing professionally? Not sharing a magnificent singing voice like his was criminal. Even struggling with the words, he possessed an assurance. He commanded the room, but there was also something in the way he moved. A healthy dose of confidence mixed with grace and a whole lot of sensuality.

  Be still my heart.

  The song ended and the bar erupted in applause, but she still couldn’t move.

  Someone shook her arm, pulling her out of her haze. “Emma, come back to earth.” When she turned, Avery leaned closer, an I-know-what-you’ve-been-thinking-about smirk on her face. “And you might want to close your mouth. If you don’t, you’re going to start drooling. Not that I blame you. That man is certainly drool-worthy.”

  “It has nothing to do with how he looks.” Emma ignored the urge to duck under the table in case the Lord sent a lightning bolt to strike her down for her blatant lie. “I couldn’t help but admire his voice. It’s incredible.”

  Avery’s bright laugh swirled around her. “And you really think I’m going to believe that’s all it was?”

  “I’m going to ignore that comment.”

  “Because you can’t deny it.”

  “Now it’s your turn,” Jamie said to the crowd, thankfully drowning out the brewing second inquisition Avery was gearing up to start. “Who wants to come up and sing next?”

  Before he finished the question, Shay Edwards bounced past Emma’s table and practically vaulted onto the stage. Quite a feat considering her jeans were so tight they had to be cutting off circulation to her legs. When Jamie tried to hand her the microphone and leave, Shay grabbed his arm and plastered herself against him. If the woman got any closer she’d be on top of him. “Sing a duet with me, Jamie.”

  When he started to protest Shay struck a pose and pouted. “Please? Come on, cowboy. You were so awesome. I’d love to sing with you. We could make beautiful music together.”

  Brother. Did the woman think that ridiculous pretty-girl routine actually worked with men? Emma grimaced. Of course Shay did, because usually all the stacked blonde had to do was stick out her double Ds and wet her lips, and men trampled each other to do her bidding.

  “Poor Jamie. The night just keeps getting worse. Now Shay’s got her sights on him,” Avery said.

  “Poor us, is more like it. Obviously you don’t remember how she sings. A cat screeching because its tail got caught under a rocking chair sounds better than she does.” Emma shook her head. “If she gets any closer to him, we’ll all get an entirely different kind of show.”

  The crowd joined in shouting for Jamie to sing again. He tried to wiggle free of Shay’s grasp, but instead of letting go she held on like a puppy with a brand-new toy.

  “Mick, cue up ‘Let’s Make Love’ by Faith Hill and Tim McGraw.” Shay leaned back on her heels, her ample chest practically shoved in Jamie’s face as she looked the man up one side and down the other.

  Emma nearly choked on her sip of beer. Could the woman be any more obvious? She might as well ask him to get a room.

  When Shay and Jamie started singing, Avery leaned closer to Emma. “I thought you were kidding about how bad her voice was. The dogs howling in the shelter are more in tune than she is. Not that the men around here seem to notice.”

  “Her voice isn’t the asset they’re concentrating on.” Emma winced as Shay hit another clinker. “With the way she’s bouncing around up there, it’s a wonder she hasn’t popped right ou
t of that low-cut sweater.”

  “She does like to put everything on display, doesn’t she? Her bra must be industrial strength.”

  Unlike most of the men in Halligan’s, Jamie looked less than pleased with Shay’s display. He kept trying to slide away from her, only to have her follow him.

  “Emma, I can’t take any more of that caterwauling,” Mick said when he appeared beside her. “You’ve got to go onstage to rescue Jamie before we either go deaf from listening to that harebrained female or she gets us raided.”

  “Don’t tell me your grandson can’t handle a woman?” she said.

  “Come on, Em,” Avery added. “I think it would be cool to hear you two sing together. Consider it your good deed for the day.”

  “That was fun. Let’s do another,” Shay said the moment the song ended, her voice all bright and airy.

  “We need to give someone else a chance. Who else wants to sing?” Jamie pleaded, a look of desperation crossing his features when he glanced in Emma’s direction.

  How could she ignore that lost-puppy look after what he’d done for her this afternoon?

  “Jamie, sing something else,” Cathy Hughes, one of Halligan’s waitresses, said as she served another round of drinks to a stage-side table.

  “I’ll sing as long as you sing with me, Jamie,” Doreen Stone called out, a dreamy look her husband, Joshua, wouldn’t appreciate plastered on her face.

  “Help me out, Emma,” Mick pleaded, as a heated discussion flared up between Shay and Doreen about who should perform with Jamie. “I’m afraid they’re going to go at each other or start tearing at Jamie. I’ve never seen the women here act like this before. It’s downright scary.”

  “Okay. I’ll do it.” She turned to Mick. “But you have to get Shay off the stage. I’m not fighting that battle.”

  “I think you could take her,” Avery teased.

  “My money would be on you, too, but I’ll handle Shay,” Mick said. “I don’t want any trouble.”

  Once she and Mick made their way to the stage, Emma picked up a mic and waited nearby while he pried Shay’s hand off Jamie’s arm. “It’s my place, and I want to hear Emma and Jamie sing ‘Jackson.’ I think they’ll do June and Johnny proud.” Then he practically dragged Shay off the stage.

  When Emma joined Jamie, he smiled. A simple thing. No big deal, and yet her heart fluttered. With his voice, looks and that smile, he would drive women crazy.

  Don’t let him get to you. You’ve sworn off musicians, remember?

  Jamie put the mic behind his back and leaned toward her. His warm breath fanned against her skin, sending little ripples of delight through her. “Thanks for being part of the rescue posse. The way she was pawing me, I was worried she was going to slip a five in my pants any minute.”

  His comment made her think of the movie Magic Mike. Bad idea. The image of Jamie dressed in Matthew McConaughey’s getup of tight jeans, leather vest and cowboy hat in that movie flashed in her mind. Emma swallowed hard and sweat trickled between her breasts.

  Jamie Westland would make one fine-looking cowboy.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  She stared at him and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She was ready for any number of things, none of which were appropriate for the stage. “Excuse me?”

  “Are you ready for Mick to cue up the music?”

  All she could do was nod. When the familiar tune filled the room she relaxed. Now in her element, she glanced at the crowd and slipped into performance mode. When she and Jamie started singing, her body moved to the music. Their voices melded. His presence beside her felt comfortable, and yet not. By the time they reached the first chorus, she knew she’d made a big mistake agreeing to sing with Jamie.

  Big? More like monumental. Or catastrophic.

  Because all Emma could think about was how she hadn’t felt this connected to anyone in a long time, and that was not a good thing.

  Chapter Five

  Mick stared at his grandson on the stage with Emma and felt as if he was looking at a younger version of himself. He may not have been a part of Jamie’s life for eighteen years, but no doubt about it, the bloodline ran true.

  Listening to Jamie sing, Mick knew his grandson could still have a performing career in music. If he wanted to. Jamie could have the choices he’d never had. The sparks between his grandson and Emma lit up the place. If things got any hotter he’d have to turn up the air-conditioning.

  If he hadn’t known these two belonged together before, he sure as hell would now. There was a chemistry between Jamie and Emma that couldn’t be manufactured and everyone in the room knew it. They had that rare something that some couples just had. Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash. George Jones and Tammy Wynette. Faith Hill and Tim McGraw.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Mick spotted Cody, one of his busboys, and called him over. Whenever the teenager got a break, he was always showing Mick funny videos he found on the internet. “You can take videos on that phone of yours, can’t you?”

  “I’d never take any videos here at work. Did someone say I did?” the gangly redhead said, fear making his voice crack.

  “Don’t worry. You’re not in trouble,” Mick rushed to reassure the teen who’d nearly started shaking in his boots. “I want you to video Emma and Jamie onstage and post it on that video site you’re always talking about.”

  “YouTube?”

  “That’s the one. You keep that thing running the whole time they’re onstage or until your battery runs out.”

  “You sure? It’s crazy busy in here. Cathy will have my head if I don’t clear her tables.”

  “I’ll take care of busing the tables.”

  “Okay, you’re the boss.” Cody handed Mick his tub of dishes and headed toward the stage, cell phone in hand.

  Mick smiled. If he was right about Emma and Jamie, once people saw the video they’d start clamoring to see the pair onstage again. Emma wouldn’t be able to resist that. Once he got them working together, then they’d realize they could be good together off the stage, as well. His plan was coming right along.

  * * *

  JAMIE WASN’T SURE he’d ever felt this alive. While things had started out rocky with him stumbling over the words, now that he’d gotten into the song he felt at home onstage. Of course having Emma beside him helped.

  Confident, dynamic and sexy as hell, she made a man come alive just by being in the same room. She was like a lightning bug on a dark summer night—all bright energy, flitting all over the place, shining on everyone and everything and just as hard to contain.

  Emma’s voice flowed through and around him. Her green eyes sparkled with excitement and drew him in. He glanced at the screen to check the lyrics, then he leaned toward her, smiling as he sang about how he’d teach the women in Jackson a thing or two. Then she took over the song taunting about how she’d be dancing on a pony keg and he’d be a hound with his tail tucked between his legs.

  Her eyes flashed with amusement, and he could see her doing just what she said—dancing and sending him on a merry chase. He laughed and wondered when he’d had this much fun. The fact that he couldn’t remember left him oddly disturbed.

  A minute later when the song ended the thunderous applause and exuberant hoots broke the connection between them. He’d been completely lost in Emma and the song. He stood there staring at the crowd, shocked both at their reaction and his. Definitely not the restrained approval he was accustomed to receiving from symphony patrons.

  His chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing. His body hummed in a way it hadn’t in years.

  Someone in the crowd shouted for him and Emma to sing another song. He turned to the woman beside him. Her smile taunted him. “What do you say? Should we give ’em what they want?”

  “Why not?” Her ski
n glistening from exertion, her eyes twinkled like emeralds when she grinned. Then she slowly looked him up and down from head to toe, and damned if he didn’t feel himself blush. “The question is, city boy, can you keep up with this cowgirl?”

  “I can take anything you dish out.”

  The crowd oohed at his challenge. Jamie froze. He’d forgotten about the mic in his hand and that everyone could hear their exchange. This woman could make him forgot his own name.

  “Then let’s see what you’ve got, city boy. Mick, cue up another song.”

  More cheers came from the audience.

  He and Emma sang five more songs before Mick joined them. “As great as it’s been having Jamie and Emma up here, the band’s arrived.” When some of the crowd started to grumble, Mick added, “I think these two need to come back real soon and sing again. What do you think?”

  More cheers and whistles came from the crowd as he and Emma left the stage, and Jamie realized he wasn’t ready to let her go. He wanted to hang on to this energy, to how she made him feel, as though he could storm the castle and come away the victor. “Let me buy you a drink.”

  “I could use a big glass of ice water.”

  “Wow, you’re a cheap date.”

  The joy he’d seen in her eyes on the stage died, and the bond between them evaporated, leaving her looking at him as if he was the gum stuck to the bottom of her boots. Maybe it was the date comment. That dented his ego. He rushed to salvage his pride. “There’s no reason for you to get all out of joint. I’m not hitting on you. My mom raised me better than that. Let me get you that water. I don’t know about you, but I just sweated off five pounds on the stage.”

  Great way to impress a girl. Tell her you’re hot, sweaty and smelly. You’re still on that great roll from this afternoon, buddy.

  “People don’t realize how much water weight performers lose onstage. Lead the way.”