Cowboy in the Making

by Julie Benson

  “With my mom’s death and all that’s happened over the past two years, I’m not sure I’m strong enough to take my life being shaken up. I couldn’t even take it being stirred right now.” She chuckled at her lame joke, but the sound came out nervous, almost fragile.

  “Then forget about Jamie singing at the fund-raiser. Sure, money’s tight at the shelter. When isn’t it?” Avery said, executing an abrupt about-face. “But it’s not like when we needed to buy the land last year. We’ll be fine. You backed me up when I bent the rules about Jess volunteering without an adult because I couldn’t face Reed. Now I’m returning the favor.”

  Tears stung Emma’s eyes. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to regain control as she stumbled into the bathroom for a tissue. “If I were the perfect employee I’d say I’ll suck it up, take one for the team and let Jamie play with us because it’s best for the shelter.”

  “So you’ll have to settle for being nearly perfect.”

  “Thanks.” She caught sight of herself in the vanity mirror. Who was that woman staring back at her? The one with the wide, haunted eyes who looked as if she was scared of her own shadow. No one she recognized, that’s for sure.

  That’d be the day, and no way would she let the shelter lose out on money because she was scared of being attracted to a man.

  Sometimes fighting against something was worse than giving in. She’d learned that one year when she’d given up carbs for Lent. The cravings had just about driven her crazy. That’s when she learned moderation was the key to almost everything in life. This situation with Jamie wouldn’t get the best of her. The key was control and moderate doses. “I’ve changed my mind about having Jamie sing. If you want him to do a couple of numbers, the band will back him up, but I want it duly noted that my status has changed from nearly perfect to perfect employee.”

  “Done. I owe you one.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  After her conversation with Avery, Emma worked on returning emails from prospective volunteers, but messages started popping up on her personal Facebook page. Was Jamie single? Could she introduce them?

  She closed her personal page and continued working on shelter business. That worked for five minutes until her phone started dinging with text messages from friends and acquaintances asking the same questions. Lord, you’d think Jamie was the last single man in a four-state area from the feeding frenzy he’d created.

  Deciding to put a stop to the nonsense, she pulled up her Facebook page and posted a statement on her wall. I have two jobs. Running a dating service isn’t one of them. If that changes, I’ll let everyone know.

  She chewed on her lip for a minute thinking about the video of her and Jamie on YouTube, and she started wondering what he was like onstage with the Philharmonic. Out of curiosity she entered his name on Google. When the results popped up she clicked on a link of him playing a solo. A minute later all she could think was that she was an idiot to have scoffed at Henry’s suggestion.

  Jamie’s musical ability made Molly look like a middle schooler who’d picked up the violin a month ago. And she’d had the nerve to tell him just because he had the skill to play the notes didn’t mean he could make music. With his talent, merely playing the notes would outshine anyone she’d auditioned. Anyone she could hope to find.

  She’d never seriously considered asking Jamie because she’d been too busy running from what she felt for him, but now that she stepped back and analyzed the situation, the idea of him joining the band had merit. She’d been searching for something or someone to grab people’s attention and set her band apart. Molly’s fiddle playing helped, but not as much as she’d hoped. Between Jamie’s charisma and his talent, could he be the answer?

  While Emma had struggled to create a presence on social media, Jamie had accomplished more for Maroon Peak Pass in one day than she had with all her efforts, and the more buzz they had going into the state fair, the better their chances that Phillip Brandise would have them on his radar before they played a note.

  But working with Jamie? If only he hadn’t made her go all weak in the knees and warm and tingly everywhere else. Talk about a job-related hazard.

  She opened a new document on her computer and listed the pros and cons of working with Jamie. The first thing she wrote under the con column was that to get him to even listen to her offer after the way she’d acted would mean letting go of her pride. Major groveling involved. She stared at what she’d typed and underlined major. Halfway through her list she realized the best thing for the band was to ask Jamie to join them, but maybe Luke and Grayson would feel differently. After all, she hadn’t been thinking all that clearly since she’d picked Jamie up at the airport.

  Hoping she was wrong about him and the band, she fired off an email with the link to his solo and the pros and cons of her idea—sans the her having to grovel part—to Luke and Grayson for their opinion. Maybe they’d respond saying she’d lost her mind and no way could a classical musician make the transition to country music. Then she could let go of the idea and if anyone brought the subject up again, she could say she and the band had discussed the issue. Case closed.

  Five minutes later both Luke and Grayson had responded saying they thought asking Jamie was a great idea.

  Now what?

  * * *

  SUNDAY NIGHT WHEN the restlessness hit, Jamie set out for a walk. When the hike through the mountains failed to burn off his agitation, he headed for the barn to muck out a few stalls.

  How had he let Emma get under his skin so many ways last night? Lack of self-control. Loneliness. Insanity. Take your pick.

  He scooped up a forkful of hay and dumped it into the bin on the far wall of the stall. Bits of straw floated around him, eventually landing on his running shoes. The shoes worked great for jogging through the city, but weren’t so hot for ranch work. He should think about investing in a good pair of boots, but he’d held off. He kept telling himself he wouldn’t be around that long. Or at least he hoped not. There was something about investing in work boots that made him feel as though he was admitting his situation wouldn’t change, that his hand wouldn’t improve. Right now he preferred to think of being in Colorado as a vacation, as a distraction from the problems in his life.

  And that’s what Emma was. One powerful distraction.

  He retrieved more hay and scattered it around the stall. He wished he could see in a crystal ball and know if all his hand needed was hard work and time. Until he figured that out, he was in limbo. As if he’d been cut adrift and was floating through life wherever the current took him.

  When his cell phone rang, he glanced at his watch, smiled and leaned the pitch fork against the barn wall. Eight on Sunday night. His parents were right on time with their weekly call.

  “How are things going in Colorado?” his dad asked.

  “Getting away has cleared my head.” Too bad it’s now as empty as a ski resort in summer.

  For the next few minutes they discussed his dad’s job and how work was going for his mom at the accounting firm. He got the latest news about his sisters, discovering Kate was up for a promotion with 3M.

  “I think Wade is going to propose to Rachel soon,” his mom said. “Maybe we’ll be having a wedding in the spring.”

  Yup, his sisters had all their ducks in a row. Their lives neatly falling into place. Yet another way he and his siblings differed.

  “So, you’ve been working around the ranch and at the restaurant?” his mother asked, obviously trolling for information.

  He told them about getting roped into singing karaoke when the band was late. “It turned out to be a lot of fun. Emma, that girl I dated a couple of times that one summer, sang with me. We were pretty good together.”

  In more ways than just onstage.

  “I’m glad you’re getting out and socializing. It’s funny that
you mentioned karaoke. You used to love singing,” his mother said. “Remember how much you enjoyed singing in the church choir?”

  “For a while there we weren’t sure whether you’d focus on the violin or singing,” his dad added.

  He’d forgotten about the children’s choir he’d been in when he was in elementary school. He’d wanted to take choir in middle school, but couldn’t fit it, orchestra and his core classes into his schedule. He’d been forced to choose, but there’d been no real choice. All his teachers agreed that while his singing was good, he was a gifted violinist.

  He hadn’t considered singing anywhere but the shower since then. Until last night. First Mick mentioned him playing country music. Then Henry suggested he join Emma’s band and now his parents mentioned how much he once loved singing. Maybe fate was trying to tell him something.

  “I never understood why schools make kids choose between choir and instruments in middle school,” his father said. “Those kids who want to have a career in music should be able to do both.”

  “I say you should quit worrying about the future so much right now. Have some fun. Life has a way of working out if we give it time.” His mother’s soothing voice flowed over him. For a pencil-pushing number cruncher, she had a knack for knowing just what to say.

  “You’ll figure things out. We have faith in you,” his father said. “We’ll support you no matter what you decide to do. All we want is for you to be happy.”

  He’d hit the lottery when they’d chosen him, he thought as he ended the call and shoved his cell phone into his back pocket. He was about to head back to the house when he heard Trixie rustling around in her stall. Sensing that something was off, he decided to check on her. When he opened the stall door, the horse swung her head and turned her rear toward him, blocking the entrance. “What’s bothering you, girl?”

  A couple of Mick’s horses leaned toward being high-strung, but not Trixie. The chestnut loved everyone. Of all the horses on the ranch, Trixie was his favorite. Something about her gentle spirit mixed with her curious nature and her calm strength tugged at him. But right now she was definitely out of sorts. Ears back, she moved her head up and down as if nodding. One of the first things Mick had taught him was how to recognize when a horse sent out don’t-come-any-closer signals, and Trixie was saying that loud and clear.

  Time to tread easy. The most laid-back animals often created the biggest storms when they got upset.

  Kind of like a certain woman he’d irritated at Halligan’s.

  He still couldn’t figure out what had happened with Emma. They’d been great together onstage, teasing and joking. Playing off each other, sometimes in such a sensual dance he’d forgotten they were in public. But the minute the music had ended, things changed. Emma had almost shut down before his eyes. At least until Henry had suggested he join her band. That comment sure lit a fire under her, and if the truth be told, some of what she’d said stirred him up pretty good, too.

  They’d both let their tempers get the best of them.

  He was just about to head out of the stall when a weak, squeaky noise came from the far corner. “What’s over there, girl, and why won’t you let me see?” He managed to peer around the horse at the hay pile. There he spotted a small bundle of white-and-tan fur. When the animal wiggled he realized it was a puppy. A very young one that needed its mother.

  “So that’s what you’re protecting.” Not sure what else to do, he pulled out his cell phone and called Mick. “I found a pup in Trixie’s stall. One too young to be on its own. Do you know who it might belong to or where we could find its mother?”

  “I don’t know of anyone around here that had a pregnant dog or one that had puppies recently. The mom’s probably a stray and the one you found got separated from her and the rest of the litter.”

  “We can’t just leave it here. From the way it’s crying it’s either hungry or hurt.”

  “Bring the pup to the house. I’ll call Emma. She works at the animal shelter. She’ll know what to do.”

  “Trixie won’t let me anywhere near it.”

  “Then Emma will have to come out here and help us get the poor thing.”

  Chapter Seven

  Standing in his living room, Mick smiled so big he thought he might bust. He couldn’t have planned this better.

  Most of the day he’d been racking his brain to figure out how to fix things between Emma and Jamie. Now the perfect solution had dropped into his lap, or rather crawled into his barn.

  “We don’t need to bother Emma,” Jamie said. “You and I can get the pup out and drop it off at the shelter.”

  Sure, they could, but that wouldn’t get his matchmaking plans back on track.

  “I don’t feel comfortable handling this. Better safe than sorry, I say. Emma deals with stuff like this at the shelter all the time,” Mick said with confidence even though he had no idea how many rescue situations Emma dealt with since she was the volunteer coordinator. Hopefully Jamie wouldn’t think of that.

  “Okay, you’re the boss.”

  Mick smiled again as he ended the conversation with Jamie and called Emma. This would work. When she came to help with the pup he’d make himself scarce, forcing her and Jamie to work together. Taking care of the dog would give them a chance to get to know each other. It would give them something other than music to talk about.

  “Jamie and I need some help with a pup we found in the barn,” he said when she answered.

  “The shelter’s closed, but I’ll meet you there to accept the puppy.”

  “The problem is the dog’s in Trixie’s stall, and she won’t let us near it.”

  “I’ll relay the information to Avery and have her call you. She’ll know what to do. Since she’s the vet, she handles these calls. That way if the animal needs immediate medical attention she can take care of it.”

  Damn. He should’ve thought about that problem before he called. He scrambled to think of a reason to get Emma to come out with Avery, but couldn’t come up with anything on the fly. “Will you call me back after you talk to her?”

  That would at least buy him some time.

  * * *

  EMMA SAT ON her couch and realized she’d actually be glad when her weekend ended and she could return to work. Maybe then she could forget about Jamie Westland.

  At least the issue with the puppy would be Avery’s problem. Or so she thought, but by the third ring when Avery hadn’t picked up, Emma started getting nervous. After the fourth ring, Avery’s voice mail kicked in, forcing her to leave a message about the situation. Then she waited.

  Where was Avery and why wasn’t her phone on? That wasn’t like her. After ten minutes when she hadn’t heard, Emma started thinking she needed to go out to the ranch. If the puppy was as young as Mick said, it could quickly become dehydrated without nursing. Then if it was flea infested, which was highly likely if it was a stray, it could be anemic and worm-riddled. Combine all those conditions and the situation could turn dire for a young puppy surprisingly fast.

  After ten on Sunday night and now she was dealing with an orphaned puppy. That she could handle, but this wasn’t a simple drop-off. Unwilling to put the puppy at risk, she snatched her cell phone off the coffee table and called Mick. “I had to leave a message for Avery. Are you sure you can’t get to the puppy?”

  Please say you’ve gotten it out of the stall.

  “I really think we need another person. That way Jamie and I can deal with Trixie while you get the pup. Otherwise I’m worried the little fella will get hurt. Jamie said it looks like it’s just starting to walk and who knows how long it’s been since the pup’s eaten.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  As she drove across town toward Mick’s ranch, she told herself she’d stay a few minutes. Tops. That’s all this little task should take. After
all, Mick had a solid plan. He and Jamie would calm the horse while she scooted around to scoop up the puppy. No problem. Then she’d get back in her car and head for the shelter before they finished thanking her.

  Confident that she could handle the situation, Emma’s thoughts turned to dealing with seeing Jamie again. She prided herself on being pretty easygoing. She understood people, cut them slack and didn’t let them get to her. That was part of what made her a good volunteer coordinator. But she couldn’t figure Jamie out. He was such an odd combination. Distant and formal one minute, and then—she paused—hot, steamy and sexy as hell the next.

  Well, there wouldn’t be any of that tonight. As far as she was concerned he was just another person who needed help with a stray animal. She dealt with this on a daily basis, but to make sure nothing went wrong, she’d avoid the hot-button topics—politics, religion and, in her case, music. And if he threw her any of those turn-a-woman-to-warm-goo looks like he had on the stage, she’d just close her eyes.

  By the time she reached Mick’s ranch, she had a smile plastered on her face and an I-can-handle-this mantra running through her head. She took two calming breaths and tugged open the barn door. The hinges squeaked, announcing her arrival.

  The familiar smells of her childhood—hay, dust and horses—swirled around her as she followed the low rumble of male voices until she located Jamie and Mick. She rounded the corner and froze. All her confidence rushed out of her, along with her breath, when she spotted Jamie. Nothing made a handsome man look quite the way a good pair of jeans did, and Jamie was no exception.

  Remember, he’s just another person with an orphaned animal. Granted, a better-looking one than most, but he’s just another person who needs help.

  He nodded in her direction. “Thanks for coming.”

  “We sure do appreciate it,” Mick said when she reached them. Then he patted Jamie on the back. “I’m sure you two can handle this, so I’ll head back to the house.”