Cowboy, It's Cold Outside

by Lori Wilde

  She had to love herself first before she could love anyone else, and that meant healthy boundaries.

  Knowing all that, fully understanding it, she dove with him again, to the bottom of the deep ocean of physical love. Enjoying what she had while she had it. She would not analyze or philosophize or speculate. That stuff was of the mind, noisy and disruptive. Chatter. Clutter.

  Fully, completely, she slipped into her body.

  Let go of everything. Thoughts. Hopes. Dreams. Let go and just experienced being with him in this way. Rolled with it. Flowed.

  And in his embrace she found a perfect peace.

  Chapter 18

  Minor: The minor mode of the tonal system can be identified by the dark, melancholic mood.

  “What’s your opinion on late-night snacks?” Cash asked sometime later.

  “You mean early-morning snacks?”

  “That too.”

  “I’m pro on both.”

  “What’s your position on bringing the snacks into the bedroom?”

  “Right on.”

  He winked. “I knew I could trust you.”

  “Trustworthy guys eat crackers in bed?”

  “Oh, we’re not having crackers. I’ve got leftover pizza in the fridge. I picked it up for lunch while I was waiting on you to get off work.”

  “From Pasta Pappa’s?”

  “None other.”

  “Yay.” She clapped. “Pepperoni?”

  “With black olives.”

  “Yum. Go get it.”

  “I’ll take Fritzi out first.”

  “I love you!” she blurted, and immediately slapped a palm over her mouth. She could feel the weight of her words drop through the air like an anvil.

  Cash froze halfway to the door.

  “I mean for taking the dog out,” she babbled. “I appreciate you taking the dog out. It’s so kind of you to take the dog out. I didn’t mean I love you, love you. It’s just an expression.”

  Oh dear God, shut the hell up, Paige Hyacinth MacGregor.

  Fritzi, apparently hearing his name, pushed open the door with his nose and popped into the room, dragging his leash and wagging his tail.

  “Be right back,” Cash said, clipped the leash to Fritzi’s collar, and practically sprinted from the room.

  Wow.

  Had Paige just told him she loved him?

  Cash shoved a hand through his hair as Fritzi towed him toward the front door. He paused to jam his feet into deck shoes, and then stepped out onto the deck into the bracing slap of cold wind.

  Nah. She’d said it was just a turn of phrase. She didn’t mean she loved him, loved him. Did she?

  Did she love him?

  Cash realized he was smiling. Not just smiling, but grinning as if he were a freaking loon, drunken and dizzy with it.

  Could Paige be in love with him?

  Fritzi trotted in front of him, headed toward that small patch of grass at the top of the metal stairs.

  What should he do? Bring it up? Let it lie? Wait and see what she would do? Burst back into the houseboat and tell her that he was falling in love with her too?

  But what if she wasn’t falling in love with him? What if she had truly meant that she loved the fact he was taking the dog for a walk? That would be egg on his face if he told her he had feelings for her and she had to tell him she didn’t feel the same way.

  He was used to women falling in love with him. It happened all the time. What he was not accustomed to was being the first one to fall. Let’s be honest, he’d not ever felt like this before. This feeling was new and startling, a major revelation. And he finally understood what everyone carried on about when they talked about love.

  But he’d not ever said the words out loud before to a woman. Hell, he didn’t even throw it around casually the way some people did. I love pizza. I love houseboats. I love girls with cinnamon freckles on the bridges of their noses.

  How did he start to wrap his tongue around those three little words? I love you. Why did his chest ice up and his throat spasm at the thought of it?

  Someone moved in the darkness near where his Land Rover was parked.

  Fritzi barked, quick and frantic.

  Figuring it was paparazzi after a picture or a stalker fan after an autograph, Cash picked up the dog, cradled him in the crook of his arm, leash dangling over his hand, and demanded, “Who’s there?”

  A woman stepped from the shadows, the security lamp showcasing her glimmering beauty.

  Simone.

  “Hello, Cash,” she whispered in what Rolling Stone had dubbed her “black velvet” voice.

  Cash gritted his teeth. As far as he was concerned, listening to her was like getting sucked down in quicksand.

  Fritzi growled. He stroked the dog’s head, soothing him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I . . . had to see you.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “I parachuted in,” she said, familiar sarcasm curling her voice. “What do you think, nimrod? I rented a car.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder and he spied a black sedan parked behind the Land Rover.

  “Alone?”

  “This is private.”

  “At four in the morning?”

  “Flying under the radar,” she said. “Last thing I want is for someone to snap a photo of us and it end up a twisted lie on TMZ.”

  “Well, if you hadn’t shown up under cover of darkness at four a.m., this might not look like something they could twist into a lie.”

  “The idea is not to get photographed with you in the first place,” she said.

  “Here’s a thought, leave me the hell alone.”

  “I had to see you.” She moistened her lips. “Before I got married.”

  “Does Snake know you’re here?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “He wouldn’t understand.”

  “That makes two of us, because I don’t understand what you’re doing here either.”

  “How was South America?”

  “You weren’t there, so it was great. Fantastic.”

  “Don’t be bitter.”

  “I’m not bitter. I’m feeling bushwhacked. How did you know where to find me?”

  “Deet.”

  Cash made a mental note to give his manager hell for telling her where he was. “What do you want from me, Simone?”

  “To make amends.”

  “For Snake or busting up the band?”

  Her nostrils flared and she looked as if she were struggling to hold on to her temper. Which was progress. In the past she would have just launched into him, convinced she had a right to express her anger whenever and however it suited her. “I’m not sorry I went with Snake. You couldn’t commit. What was I supposed to do? Wait around on you forever?”

  “You could have left me before you crawled into his bed.” It was a circuitous argument. He didn’t know what he was getting into again. “But never mind. Who cares? That was a year ago. Question is, why are you here now? Why are we having this conversation at four a.m. on an empty dock in the middle of nowhere in forty degree weather?”

  “Aren’t you listening? I already told you, to avoid the paparazzi by doing the unexpected.”

  “Mission accomplished. What do you want?”

  “One,” she said. “I wanted to invite you to the wedding.”

  “Most people fill out those little white cards and mail them . . . what are they called? Oh yeah, wedding invitations.”

  “Smart-ass as always, I see. Peru didn’t knock that out of you.”

  “Leopards. Spots.” He shrugged.

  “So you’ll come to the wedding?” She looked hopeful.

  Cash snorted. Hard.

  “Should I mark you down as a maybe?” She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.

  “Ha. Good one. What else do you want?”

  “Two, there’s some old history we need to clear up before I can move forward with the wedding.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  �
��Look, do we have to do this out here in the cold? Could you invite me in, please?”

  He glanced over his shoulder to look at the houseboat, saw Christmas lights twinkling through the window. Thought of Paige in bed waiting for him to return with Fritzi and the pizza. “Now’s not a good time.”

  Simone shifted her gaze from him to the houseboat. “Oh,” she said. “You have company.”

  “I do.”

  “Can I meet her?”

  “No, you may not.”

  “Her dog?” Simone nodded at Fritzi.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Don’t tell me you finally got a pet. The man who could not commit to anyone or anything has a dog?”

  “It’s not my dog.”

  Fritzi growled at Simone again.

  A light came on behind them and Cash knew without turning around again that it was Paige. A door hinge creaked in the night, followed by a tentative, “Cash?”

  “Ooh,” Simone said, straightening and fluffing her hair. “The girlfriend. Do I get to meet her?”

  “I already said no. Be on your way.” He moved to block her from heading toward the houseboat, still holding on to Fritzi, who was eyeing Simone as if he wouldn’t mind taking a chunk out of her.

  The sound of footsteps vibrated up the wooden dock. “Cash?”

  He sighed, turned to see Paige standing behind him, wearing one of his T-shirts emblazoned with “The Truthful Desperadoes,” and her denim jacket thrown over it, cowboy boots, and nothing else. Her hair was mused, her mascara smeared, and she was shivering.

  “What are you . . . ?” Paige stopped. Her brow furrowed and she tilted her head.

  Cash stepped aside so she could see Simone standing there.

  “Oh . . . uh . . . well.” Paige slid her palms down her sides, embarrassment and insecurity flaring in her eyes. “You have company. I didn’t know.”

  Damn Simone for putting him in this position. Cash hated that he was the cause of Paige feeling anything but strong and brave and self-confident. “She was just leaving.”

  Simone breezed past him, a perfectly manicured hand outstretched. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Simone, and you are . . .”

  Paige looked thunderstruck, took Simone’s hand, and pumped it like she was trying to siphon lotion from a dispensing bottle. “I’m Paige.”

  Simone fluttered her eyes at Cash. “She’s adorable. Where on earth did you find her? One of those wholesome 1950s sitcoms?”

  Paige dropped Simone’s hand, yanked her spine up tall, and jutted out her chin. “What’s wrong with wholesome?”

  “Nothing.” Simone smiled her aren’t-I-beautiful smile. “Nothing at all. It’s just that Cash has never much gone in for wholesome.”

  “Well,” Paige said tartly. “First time for everything.”

  He watched her eyes dart as if adding up complicated calculations in her head. Was she about to tell Simone to shove it where the sun didn’t shine? He wouldn’t blame her if she did.

  “I’m freezing.” Paige folded her arms over her chest. “And I imagine you are too. Cash, why don’t you give Fritzi to me, and you take Simone inside to finish your conversation?”

  “Yes,” Simone said, her tone dry as vermouth. “Why don’t you take me inside, Cash?”

  Cradling Fritzi in her arms, Paige turned and clomped off. She was pretty damn adorable wearing those boots. Cash’s heart turned to mush watching that fanny walk away. But she did not head in the direction of his houseboat.

  “Hey,” he called. “Where are you going?”

  “Home,” she said. “I’ll leave you and your friend to it.”

  “Gotta tell you,” Simone said as he escorted her up the gangplank. “I thought she’d never leave.”

  Cash scowled and closed the door behind them. He craned his head to peer out the window at Paige’s houseboat. A light was on in the living room, but she had the window blinds tightly drawn.

  “Quit dwelling on Pollyanna for half a second. Eyes on me, please.”

  He sighed. “Why are you really here, Simone?”

  “Don’t get me wrong. I like her, very girl next door, and spunky too. I get why it’s playtime for Cash, but do you think it’s fair?”

  “Do I think what is fair?” He forked his fingers through his hair, wondering how quickly he could get Simone out of here so he could go check on Paige.

  “The way you’re leading her on.”

  “Who says I’m leading her on?”

  Simone gave him “the look.” The one she whipped out whenever she was pissed off at him. The look that said he was a total idiot. “She’s sweet and traditional. A real Suzy Homemaker. And you, my friend, are allergic to commitment.”

  “This isn’t serious. We’re just having fun.”

  “You might be just having fun, but that girl is smitten.”

  “How do you know?” he asked.

  “Pull-ease. Should I buy you a Seeing Eye dog?”

  Suddenly, the image of Paige sitting in the middle of the bed, eyes shining happily as she declared, “I love you,” popped into his head.

  Simone had a point.

  “Kindest thing to do is break it off now before she’s in over her head.”

  Hell, he was in pretty deep too. But Cash didn’t want to think about that too hard. Not right now. Not with Simone. “Just tell me what you want.”

  “I have something for you.” She fiddled with the button on her coat.

  “If you take off that coat, and you’re naked underneath, I’m throwing you out on your ear.”

  “Good grief, the ego! No wonder I left. I’m not trying to seduce you. I’m marrying Snake in just a few weeks.”

  “You cheated on me with him. You’re not above trying to cheat on him with me.”

  “Believe it or not,” Simone said, “I came here to make amends.”

  “Or not,” he said.

  “Don’t be flippant. I’ll be right back.” She went outside and returned a few minutes later carrying a brand-new guitar case.

  “You’re giving me a guitar? Why are you giving me a guitar? I have six of them.”

  “Open the case and find out.”

  He sank down on the couch, set the guitar case on the floor, leaned over to flip open the clasp. Opened the lid.

  Caught his breath.

  There lay Lorena, the Gibson his mother had given him when she died on Christmas Eve. The guitar he’d named after her. The guitar he’d believed had been stolen from a recording session. The same session where’d he caught Snake and Simone kissing in the hallway and he’d stormed off.

  He slipped the Gibson from the case, settled it on his lap, stroked a few chords, felt a strange sadness slide over him.

  Heat pushed into his body, followed by an icy coldness. He looked over at Simone. “You took Lorena?”

  She shrugged, squirmed a little under the glare of his stare. “I brought her back.”

  “You let me think someone had stolen her.”

  “I’m not proud of myself.”

  “You cheated on me and broke up the band. Why did you have to take Lorena too?” He clutched the neck of the guitar, saw in his mind’s eye his mother playing this guitar, smiling, her body moving in time to the music, eyes closed. She’d looked happy when she played. Free. It was the only time she was at peace.

  Simone flipped one shoulder forward, trying to look casual, nonchalant, but she didn’t quite pull it off. Tension plucked at the corners of her mouth and she kept brushing back hair that had not fallen into her face. “I took Lorena because I wanted something to remember you by.”

  “Be honest. You just wanted to twist the knife. You were angry because I wouldn’t ask you to marry me.”

  “Maybe I was.”

  “We weren’t good for each other.”

  “I know that now.” She chuffed, sounded defensive, and rubbed her palms over her upper arms.

  “My God, woman, do you know what losing this guitar did to me? You killed my creativity for an entire y
ear.”

  “It’s just a guitar, Cash. It doesn’t have magical powers to grant musical talent or success.”

  “It was my mother’s guitar.”

  “Who, by the way, never had a drop of success in her life,” she said.

  “Because of me,” he said staunchly, feeling his jaw tighten. “If my mother hadn’t fallen in love with my father and gotten pregnant trying to hang on to him, she could have been a huge star.”

  “Could she have?” Simone challenged. “Really?”

  “Are you trash talking my dead mother?”

  “I’m saying she twisted your head up right good. You believe what she told you about not being able to have love and a big successful music career. That’s something she made up in her head and you bought into.”

  He plucked the guitar strings, eking out the first few notes of “Stone Free.” Simone’s words burned the corners of his mind, singeing the memory of his mother.

  “It’s probably a good thing you didn’t try to hang on to me,” Simone said. “It broke my heart at the time, but in retrospect, we weren’t a good fit.”

  He paused, stopped strumming, and met her eyes. “I cared about you, Sim.”

  “But you never loved me, did you?”

  Cash thought of his feelings for Simone. Compared them to how he felt about Paige. It was the difference between monochrome and Technicolor. Between a minor fall and a major lift. Between a lone ukulele strummed on a street corner and the New York symphony.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “No need to apologize.” Regret filled her tissue-paper smile. “I knew it all along.” She bit her bottom lip, shook her head as if waking from a dream. “Anyway, I had to get Lorena back to you before I could fully move on. I hope she brings you all the success in the world, Cash. I truly do.”

  “Thank you, Simone.” He set the Gibson down on the sofa, stood up.

  “We had some good times, didn’t we?”

  “We did.”

  “You’re not coming to the wedding, are you?”

  He shook his head. “It’s for the best if I stay away.”

  “I guess this is good-bye, then.”

  He crossed the room, gave her a hug. “I wish you and Snake a rich and happy life.”