Cowboy in the Making

by Julie Benson

  “That’s why it was great seeing the other side of the story. The Sandbergs showed me the joy in adoption. You have, too.”

  Lord, she and Jamie had gotten maudlin tonight. Needing to turn the conversation to a topic lighter than a semitruck, she said, “The band’s rehearsing tomorrow night. If you want, you could join us to run through a few songs for the Pet Walk concert.” She nibbled on her lower lip for a minute, trying to decide if she should plunge ahead. What the hell. Why not? “I’ve been thinking about Henry’s suggestion that you should replace Molly in the band.”

  She paused, hoping he’d jump in with a quick “sure, I’d like to do that” and save her from having to ask. When she sneaked a peek at him, he leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Nope, he had no intention of making this easy for her.

  “I might have been a little hasty dismissing the idea. At the bar the other night you sounded like you might be open to the possibility.” Another quick peek. Nothing. He sat there as stiff and still as the Rocky Mountains. “I’ve spoken with Luke and Grayson, my bass player and drummer. They think the suggestion has merit. I watched a video of you on YouTube playing with the symphony. You’re incredible.”

  His smile and the light in his eyes disappeared. She didn’t know what she’d done, but she’d somehow hurt him.

  “Before you go any further, I have to tell you something. I hurt my hand a few months ago. I had surgery to repair the tendon damage, but I’ve had dexterity problems since then.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “The Philharmonic let me go.”

  Her vow to remain detached hit the floor and shattered as she gazed into his anguish-filled eyes. She knew all too well what it felt like to be dumped. To see the dreams she’d worked so hard to achieve splinter before her eyes like delicate crystal on cement, and to feel the helplessness of being unable to stop the destruction.

  It sucked big-time, no matter what the cause.

  “I’ve been there, for a different reason, but there’s nothing I can say that would make you feel better or doesn’t sound lame.”

  “You’re the first person that’s been honest. Everyone else thinks they can fix it, wants to offer me career counseling or thinks I’m on the verge of suicide.”

  She nodded. “It gets old.”

  “You got that right. I came here to get away from all the well-meaning advice. I have a whole new understanding of the phrase ‘killing someone with kindness.’” He flashed a weak smile, but what got to her was the trust shining in his eyes. “Mick’s the only one who knows.”

  Until you.

  Warning bells clanged in her head, drowning out everything else. She didn’t want to share confidences with him.

  Too late. Even before now. Don’t you remember what you shared earlier in the barn?

  Okay, so she didn’t want to share any more confidences with him. Doing that made it too difficult to keep things light and easy with a guy.

  “What are your plans—” She couldn’t bring herself to finish her question. If you can’t return to the symphony.

  “You mean if I can’t play well enough for the symphony?”

  She nodded.

  This was scary. They’d started finishing each other’s sentences.

  “The hell if I know. I was lousy at everything but music and math in school, but doing anything mathwise would mean going back to college and starting over. Who am I kidding? No matter what else I do, I’ll be starting over.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The hard work around the ranch and at the bar has strengthened my hand, but I don’t know if it’ll ever improve enough for me to return to the symphony.”

  For the first time since she’d picked him up at the airport, weariness lined his face. That and something deeper. Fear? He’s scared because he doesn’t know what to do with his life.

  She thought about listing all the options people had mentioned to her when she’d come home the last time. He could teach in the school system and privately. He could write music, but she remembered how all of those suggestions had left her feeling—hollow. And Jamie craved the performing as she did. It was part of him.

  “I miss playing music.” His words tore at her heart.

  She really should tell him to forget about playing with the band. She should say they could rehearse the songs for him to sing at the fund-raiser and leave things there. That was the common-sense decision, but she knew what he was going through, how it felt to try to recover from a setback like this. How overpowering the fear of losing the dream he’d built his life around could be.

  But if he couldn’t play well enough for the Philharmonic, what were the chances he could handle their music?

  Come on, you don’t need Charlie Daniels on the fiddle. Give Jamie a chance.

  How many guys did she know who would’ve tossed their pride aside by coming clean even though it was the decent thing to do?

  “If you want to try playing with the band and see how things go, I’m willing to give it a shot. Why don’t you bring your fiddle tomorrow?”

  So much for common sense.

  “I’d like that. Now, how about having dinner with me after rehearsal?”

  Sirens clanged in her head again. Red lights flashed. “I don’t date musicians.”

  “Any particular reason why?”

  “They’re self-centered and about as reliable as a fortune-teller.”

  “That’s an awfully broad brush you’re using there.”

  “I’m just going on past experience.”

  “Some men might see what you said as a challenge to prove you wrong.”

  Determination darkened his eyes to the color of strong coffee, and she knew he was on the verge of being one of those guys. She froze, unable to catch her breath. For the briefest second she thought about what it would be like to have a man like Jamie want her. A good, solid man. An honest man.

  Consuming, but a true give-and-take. That’s what it would be like. Jamie could so easily throw her life out of whack.

  When he leaned closer, everything else faded away. His presence overwhelmed her more than it had in the barn, but in an oh-so-good, I-feel-like-a-woman way. Heat flashed through her as if she was made of October grass, scorching her, leaving her aching, and he hadn’t even touched her.

  She stared into his eyes and realized he had the longest eyelashes she’d ever seen. That wasn’t fair when he was already so handsome. His eyes had always mesmerized her. Even at nineteen there had been something in his gaze, a look that said he understood things most guys his age failed to.

  Sitting here with Jamie in the dim light from the old lamp perched on the scratched end table, she wanted to believe he was different, even though common sense said the odds were lousy. She should move away from him. Say something. Break the spell. She knew what she should do, but she couldn’t force her body to move. Truth be told, she didn’t want to.

  He reached out and cupped her face. His thumb brushed over her lips and she resisted the urge to run her tongue over his skin and taste him.

  Then his lips covered hers.

  Chapter Nine

  Emma melted into Jamie, letting his strong presence shut out everything else but the heat racing through her. His lips, warm and inviting, teased hers. Her hands clung to his shoulders, needing his solid strength as awareness rippled through her. She’d missed this. Being held by a man. Connecting with a human being on this intimate level.

  Her tongue slipped between his lips to tease his. His strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her even closer. Her hands fisted in his shirt, holding on to him as though he was her only anchor as the emotions, passion and need crashed over her.

  “Whoever he was, he must’ve been a real dick to put that much hurt in your eyes. We’re not all cut from the same cloth. Let me prove I’
m not like him.”

  Reality kicked her hard in the teeth. She went to pull away from him, and realized she was on his lap, practically straddling him. How had that happened? She’d been so far gone and she hadn’t even realized. With as much dignity as she could muster with the evidence of his desire pressing against her hip, she slipped off his lap and slid away from him.

  She wanted to give Jamie a chance. Wanted to believe he could be different. That he was someone who’d put her first. He looked and sounded so sincere, but how could she trust her instincts when she’d been wrong before? Dogs and horses were good judges of character, but she couldn’t tell a good man from a hole in the ground.

  No more. She’d learned her lesson. She jumped off the couch, grabbed her purse and clutched it to her chest like a shield. “You know what to do.”

  He flashed her a you-bet-I-do smile.

  Her heart tripped. Boy, did he know what to do. He’d demonstrated that emphatically. She cleared her throat. “You know what to do for the puppy tonight. Drop him off when we open tomorrow morning at ten.”

  Then she ran for the front door without looking back.

  Once in her car, she locked the doors and leaned her forehead against the steering wheel. Her heart beat out a staccato tempo while her body coursed with need. Since coming home she’d worked so hard to control her emotions, to keep from letting anything get to her. She’d decided no more relying on her heart to make decisions. That’s where she’d gone wrong so many times in her life. A heart that had been broken couldn’t be trusted. She’d rely on her head and her gut instead.

  Nothing would sidetrack her this time. Not when she had her life back on course, a plan in place and her goal in sight. She’d get the band ready for the state fair competition, win said contest, impress Phillip Brandise in the consultation audition and land a recording contract.

  Kissing Jamie was nowhere in her plans.

  Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times, and I should be locked up for my own protection.

  * * *

  MONDAY MORNING EMMA walked into the shelter thankful that her weekend was over. Talk about a mess. But now she could focus on work. She intended to forget about Jamie, his soul-searching eyes and his melt-her-panties kisses.

  Her plan lasted for all of twenty minutes. Right up until the volunteers and the rest of the shelter staff arrived. After that a constant parade of people tromped through her office to bombard her with questions.

  What was Jamie like? How long was he staying in town? Did he have a girlfriend back East? Was he as wonderful as he seemed from the way he acted onstage? Could she introduce them? After an hour of endless questions and listening to every female in the place between the age of sixteen and eighty ooh and aah over Jamie, Emma reached the limit of her patience.

  “And my nightmare weekend has followed me into the office,” Emma said when she sought refuge in Avery’s office. After closing the door behind her, she plopped into the chair in front of her friend’s desk. “I know this is a small town, but you’d think someone else must have done something over the weekend that people could gossip about. How about I pay you to create a scandal or do something foolish? Nothing major, mind you. Just give everyone something other than Jamie Westland to talk about. By the way, if our volunteers are any indication, what you’ve done to publicize him singing at the Pet Walk concert is working. And to make matters worse, Shirley’s here today. She’s a wonderful volunteer and a generous donor, but she’s about to drive me completely insane pumping me for information about Jamie, who she swears is the perfect man for Shay because they have singing in common. If you don’t do something to get everyone to quit hounding me about him, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

  Emma paused, realizing she was out of breath. When the silence continued, she glanced at Avery, who sat behind her desk, hands splayed across the smooth wooden surface, a glazed look in her eyes. “Say something, Avery.”

  “I’m just trying to figure out who you are and what you’ve done with my calm, levelheaded, never-loses-patience friend.”

  “Okay. So I’ve gone off the deep end a little.” At Avery’s raised eyebrow, Emma said, “Okay, so I’ve gone off the deep end a lot, but help me out. Let me hide out here until Shirley’s shift is over.”

  “This isn’t about what’s going on here at the shelter. You can handle everyone’s questions and comments about Jamie with a smart quip or a clever change of subject. What’s really bothering you? Did something happen last night between you two?”

  “What makes you think anything—” Emma rubbed her throbbing temples. “Forget it. Even at my best I couldn’t pull off that lie, and I’m not anywhere near my best. He kissed me, but that’s not the worst part. I kissed him back.”

  I nearly crawled into his hip pocket.

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “I liked it. Way too much.”

  “I’m still waiting for the problem part.”

  “Now is the worst time for me to get involved with someone, and I’m such a lousy judge of character when it comes to guys. Remember Clint? The guy who replaced me in my previous band two weeks after I came home to take care of Mom, even though he promised he wouldn’t?”

  Of course that’s not what he’d told her. Instead every time she’d talked with him, he’d said he couldn’t wait for her to come back. He missed her. The band wasn’t the same without her.

  He’d told her what she’d wanted to hear.

  “Then there’s the fact that my relationships have a way of breaking up my bands. Do I really need to go on?”

  “As my mother would say, quit borrowing trouble. If you want my advice, I say have some fun and don’t worry about the future so much.”

  “Borrowing trouble? I think trouble has camped out on my front step.”

  * * *

  JAMIE DROVE ACROSS town to the Estes Park animal shelter, the puppy he’d started calling Trooper curled up asleep in the carrier on the passenger seat. Last night with Emma had been eye-opening in a whole lot of ways.

  He’d shared things with her he’d never told anyone. Never really wanted to. When he’d talked about his family, she’d understood how he’d felt both a part of and somehow separate from everyone else.

  Then she’d surprised him by asking him to play in the band.

  Everything had been perfect until he kissed her.

  Damn the guy who’d made her so skittish. When he’d held her and her fingers teased the sensitive spot behind his ear as he kissed her, he’d forgotten everything, his hand and whether or not he’d ever play like he once had. About what he’d do with his life if he couldn’t return to the symphony. All he’d thought about was Emma and how she made him feel. As though there was more to life than music and his career. As though he belonged. With her. How he wanted to spend time with her.

  Time. How long would he be here? He hadn’t given much thought to it. He flexed his hand. In the short time he’d been here, the physical work around the ranch and at the restaurant combined with his exercises seemed to be helping his hand, bolstering his hope that his life could return to normal.

  But what about Emma? Was it fair to her to start a relationship when he wouldn’t be sticking around? He shook himself mentally. Talk about jumping the gun. All they’d done was share a kiss. Granted, one that had nearly melted his socks, but it was just one.

  As he pulled into the shelter parking lot, he told himself he was being silly. How long he intended to stay didn’t make any difference, especially since he hadn’t made a secret of the fact that he planned on returning to New York. Plus, when did anyone get a guarantee on how much time they had together?

  Dating was always a crapshoot.

  Confident now that he had sorted things out, he parked Mick’s truck, picked up the carrier and headed for
the front door. Unlike last night, when he entered the shelter lobby today the place hummed with activity. Meows and barking echoed through the small space. The sound of ringing phones and the buzz of printers floated through the air, mixing with snippets of conversation.

  The pretty blonde with big brown eyes behind the desk greeted him with a huge smile. “Hi, Jamie. I’m Callie. You were fantastic at Halligan’s Friday night. I was there with some friends. I can’t wait to hear you sing again at the shelter benefit. I’ve already got my ticket. Maybe I’ll camp out so I can be in the front row.”

  “Take a breath, girl, before the man’s ear falls off from all that chatter,” said an older gray-haired woman dressed in a T-shirt with the phrase Love Me, Love My Cat across her ample bosom. Then she introduced herself as Shirley. “I might have to come hear you sing myself. You’ve been the big talk around town.”

  He flashed a smile in Shirley’s direction as he placed the pet carrier on the counter. The fact that people were paying good money to hear him sing unsettled him more than he expected. Singing karaoke was one thing, but a paid performance? Despite what Emma and Avery said, he hadn’t really believed anyone would buy tickets because of him. Maybe he should’ve thought the offer through more before he’d said yes. “Thanks for buying a ticket. I’m glad I can help out the shelter.”

  “Are you taking song requests?” Callie asked, batting her eyes at him. She was pretty enough and curvy in all the right places, but her predatory gleam left him feeling like the mouse just before the cat pounced on him.

  “I haven’t even thought about it, but that’s not a bad idea.” Especially considering he didn’t have a clue what songs would be good for his voice and something the audience wanted to hear.

  “You’re the spitting image of Mick when he was younger, except for the hairstyle,” Shirley said. “Now I understand why you’ve been all my granddaughter Shay can talk about. You’re one fine-looking fella.”

  Her comment caught him off guard. He tried not to show it, but knew he’d failed. Lord, he hadn’t felt this awkward around women since he was thirteen. “I’m looking for Emma.”