The Maverick's Return

by Marie Ferrarella

  “I wasn’t offering you a place to stay,” she said. She meant to be funny, but it came out sounding defensive.

  “No? Too bad, because I just realized that Zane is probably crashing at my sister’s. Ethan and Chelsea are newlyweds. You were my last hope to save me from being a third wheel.”

  He winked at her and she wasn’t altogether convinced that he was kidding.

  “Yeah, well, I have two words for you—Celebration Inn. I’m sure they have a vacancy. But wait. Have you not even been to the cabin yet? Otherwise you’d know if the electricity was turned on.”

  “Just rolled into town and saw your car.”

  He smiled at her, holding her gaze for a few beats too long as she realized that he’d stopped to see her first, before his family, before getting settled in.

  “It’s good to see you, Juju.” He shifted from one foot to another. “If you’re free, want to go grab a beer?”

  Yes.

  She shook her head. “It’s eleven thirty, Jude. And don’t tell me it’s five o’clock somewhere. If I drink now, I won’t get anything done today.”

  He nodded. “Fair enough. How about a cup of coffee then?”

  * * *

  Whoever said you can’t go home again didn’t know what the hell they were talking about, Jude thought as he opened the door to the Redbird Diner for Juliette. The place hadn’t changed a bit. Same red vinyl booths and light gray Formica tables. The bar that separated the grill from the dining room was done in the same red-and-gray color scheme it had always sported. Large framed posters of the food offerings—burgers, fried chicken, tuna melts, French fries, sodas and shakes, coffee and pie—lined the walls, and on top of each table, small jukeboxes waited for diners to choose their own music at the same bargain price they’d charged for as far back as he could remember—a nickel a song.

  An old Johnny Cash standard filled the diner, which was uncharacteristically empty except for them and a busboy he didn’t recognize cleaning a table.

  The homey smell of the food made his stomach rumble. He realized it had been a while since he’d eaten. He’d been so eager to get back to Celebration, he hadn’t bothered to stop and eat.

  The sameness of it all warmed him in a way he hadn’t expected. It must have been at least nine years since he’d been here. There’d been no time to stop in at the diner when he’d come back for Ethan and Chelsea’s wedding.

  The last time he’d been home before that had been for his mom’s funeral.

  His dad had died from injuries in a drunk driving accident ten months before his mom had passed. His dad had been the careless drunk. The wreck had left his mom in a wheelchair and she’d never fully recovered.

  Jude had been there to bury his mother, but he hadn’t bothered to come for his old man’s funeral.

  He had no idea why he was letting the old drunk haunt him now. They hadn’t gotten along. During their last bad blowup, he’d punched Jude in the face and had sent him packing. Jude hadn’t pressed charges because his mother had begged him not to. It was the first time the old man had ever turned violent. That was the only reason Jude hadn’t taken it to the sheriff. But even though he hadn’t involved the law, he had left town, not giving them a chance to talk it out or make amends.

  Jude hadn’t kidded himself. He’d deserved his father’s anger. He just hadn’t expected the black eye.

  There was nothing he could do about it now. So, he blinked away the thought and put his hand on the small of Juliette’s back as they walked to the booth in the back corner and seated themselves in the very same place they had spent many hours when they were in high school. Being here with her felt like stepping back in time. The diner was virtually unchanged and Juliette looked almost exactly the same as she had all those years ago—only better, if that was possible. His gaze swept over her face, taking her in. Her olive skin had the same healthy tanned glow. Her long dark silky hair hung loose around her shoulders, tempting him to reach out and touch it. And he could still get lost in those sky blue eyes that were intently watching him watch her. Yeah, definitely better. She was even more beautiful now than she used to be back then. It was a more seasoned beauty—a confidence that suggested she was comfortable in her own skin.

  Time had definitely been good to her.

  He smiled at the thought.

  “What?” she asked, picking up the menu but not opening it.

  He shook his head, dismissing her question.

  “From my vantage point,” she said, “that looked like a whole lot more than nothing.”

  This was definitely the same Juliette—the one who never let him get away with anything.

  “I was just thinking,” he said, “it’s good to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you, too.” She sounded a little shy.

  He rubbed his nail over a piece of worn duct tape that appeared to be covering a rip in the booth’s red vinyl seat. The sensation grounded him, bringing him back to something that was hard and real and a little rough around the edges after standing the test of time. He identified with that. There was something both comforting and disquieting about finding himself in this diorama of the past.

  How had they let so much time go by without speaking? The quick answer was that they were both stubborn. They’d both had their fragile teenage pride hurt. They’d gone off on different life paths and blinked and here they were again—all these years later. Jude was tempted to ask her to tell him everything—everything he’d missed, everything she’d grown to be. He had no idea if she was even dating anyone. For all he knew, she might be head over heels for someone else—she might not have even given him a second thought during the time that they’d been apart.

  When they’d reconnected at Ethan and Chelsea’s wedding, he’d stayed in Celebration less than twenty-four hours. It was all he could spare from the circuit—but even with the limited interaction, it was enough time to realize that he and Juliette still had chemistry. Even after all these years.

  That revelation was one of the driving forces behind his decision to come home after the concussion and back injury that had knocked him out of the running for the professional bull riding finals. He was doing better, but sometimes he woke up with blinding headaches and his body hurt like he was one hundred years old. Still, he wasn’t going to tell her that. He was too young to complain about his aches and pains that no one wanted to hear about, anyway.

  “So, tell me everything,” Juliette said. Those blue eyes of hers sparkled and made his mind go temporarily blank.

  “Everything?” he asked. “That’s a tall order.”

  “Everything. Just start from the beginning.”

  The beginning? As in when he’d proposed and she’d turned him down? Or did she want him to skip ahead to the part where he’d gotten engaged to somebody else and Juliette had vowed to never speak to him again. She’d done a pretty good job of keeping that promise, until he’d seen her at the wedding.

  And now here they were. At least they were talking. He toyed with the corner of the plastic laminated menu. “Everything is a lot of ground to cover. We could be here for a while.”

  He hadn’t realized what a loaded statement that was until he saw her brow arch ever so slightly and the faint smile that turned up the outer corners of that gorgeous mouth. What he would give to know what was going on in her mind at that moment.

  He mustered his best smile. “Judging by the look on your face, you don’t have plans this afternoon?”

  “That remains to be seen,” Juliette quipped. “Start talking and we’ll see.”

  Her sassy mouth was one of the things he’d loved best about her. Well, that and about a million other things that were coming back to him one by one.

  Funny, over the past ten years he’d attracted a certain type of woman who had been happy to let him call the shots and set the
pace. Juliette had always held her own with him and he’d forgotten how damn attractive that was. He was just about to ask her if she was seeing anyone when she spoke first.

  “How about starting with why you’re home, and at the beginning of October. The season isn’t over. Shouldn’t you be off at some competition showing a bull who is boss?”

  Oh, that.

  “One of the reasons I’m home is because someone’s interested in buying my land,” he said. “I’ve had an offer on it.”

  She leaned forward. “You’re thinking about selling your part of the Campbell ranch?”

  He nodded, but before he could say anything else, Dottie Wilde, who had worked at the Redbird Diner for as far back as Jude could remember, walked up with her order pad and a broad smile plastered across her face.

  “Well, if it isn’t Jude Campbell, as I live and breathe. Honey, is that really you?”

  He flashed his best smile and winked. “Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Wilde. It’s me.”

  She leaned in and gave him a hug.

  “When did you get home, honey?”

  “About an hour ago.”

  She put her hand on her heart. “Oh, my stars, I am honored to be your first stop back in the old neighborhood.”

  His gaze snagged Juliette’s. “If I’m completely honest, the Redbird is my second stop.”

  Mrs. Wilde turned her smile on Juliette. “Well, silly me. Of course you’d go see your girl first. It just warms my heart to see you kids together again. Just like old times. Makes me feel young again.”

  He looked at Juliette, who wasn’t looking at him. She had politely smiled at Dottie and then had taken a keen interest in the menu, reminding him that even though they were talking and she had agreed to have coffee with him, even though that undeniable chemistry still pulsed between them, a chasm the size of the Grand Canyon still separated them.

  He looked back at Dottie, who was making a show of brushing away happy tears, but she shook off her reverie and beamed at them.

  “Look at me,” she said. “Aren’t I a sight? I’m a bundle of emotions today. What’ll you have? It’s all on the house. Anything you want. It’s not every day we have a professional bull riding celebrity wander in here. You’re our very own hometown hero and that calls for a celebration.”

  They ordered coffee and a piece of blueberry pie to share. The Redbird Diner had always had good pie.

  After Dottie left to round up the food, Juliette said, “Well, Cowboy, aren’t you something. I guess it pays to be a hometown hero. In all the years I’ve been coming here, I’ve never gotten free food from Dottie Wilde.”

  He shrugged. “Her offer is nice. But totally unexpected. I’ll leave her a big tip.”

  All this hometown hero talk made him uncomfortable.

  He’d won the PBR world championship last year. But this current season, he’d done nothing but struggle and battle one injury after another. Last year, before he’d won the big prize, all his hard work had paid off and his plans had come to fruition. Everything had snapped into place. Since then, it seemed as if every force was working against him. At twenty-eight, he was one of the senior members of the circuit. He’d worked damn hard to get there, but this year, it seemed like his reflexes weren’t as quick to respond; sometimes his instincts seemed to lag behind. Talk had been that his head just wasn’t in the game. The truth was his body just didn’t seem to bounce back the way it had leading up to his win.

  Because of all the setbacks, he was out of the running for the big money this season. He’d come back to Celebration to sort it all out. To figure out if he was up for one more good run or if he should quit before he suffered permanent damage like the doctors had warned.

  His agent insisted that the doctors had to be overly cautious to avoid liability. He kept reminding Jude that a lot of guys got right back on the bulls after getting hurt. When Jude had hesitated, he reminded him that because of his age and injuries the clock on his career was ticking and he needed to make hay while the sun was shining. The subtext to that, of course, was that the sun hadn’t been smiling down on him much this year.

  The chime on the door sounded and three girls who looked like they were high school age entered the diner and settled in the booth next to the one he and Juliette occupied. One of them was in Jude’s line of sight and she smiled at him. He smiled back, just being polite.

  “You’re not really going to sell your property, are you?” Juliette asked, a frown knitting her brows.

  When their parents had died, he, Ethan and their sister, Lucy, had each inherited equally valued parcels of land. Ethan’s was smaller, but had the stables from which he ran his horse-breeding business. Several decades ago, his family’s ranch had been one of the most successful in the area, but they’d run into financial hardship when alcoholism had gotten the best of Donovan Campbell. For a while it appeared that Ethan might fall down the same slippery slope after his parents’ deaths and the end of his first marriage, but after some soul searching and sheer determination, he’d pulled himself up from rock bottom and had set the Triple C Ranch back on the road to profitability.

  Lucy had the parcel where their grandparents’ old house and barn stood. She’d spent a lot of time there as a child, so it seemed only right that that portion of the property would be hers. She’d moved into the house and had worked hard to turn her dream into a reality when she’d transformed the old abandoned barn into the Campbell Wedding Barn, one of the South’s premier boutique venues.

  The land Jude had inherited was on the outer edge of the property. It was mostly wide-open pasture, but it did contain two structures, an old cabin near a lake and a bungalow, that the late mother of Lucy’s fiancé, Zane Phillips, had rented for decades before her passing. The rent Dorothy Phillips had paid had helped cut the cost of maintaining the property and lifted the burden of property taxes. Now the place was sitting vacant, and without the rental income, Jude was concerned about the place becoming a financial drain—especially since this year’s earnings paled in comparison to last year’s.

  Sure, he was all about family legacy—in theory—but the bottom line of his budget and slowly shrinking bank account made the opportunity to unload the property seem attractive.

  “I don’t know if I’m going to sell,” he said. “That’s what I came home to figure out.”

  “Excuse me?” The girl who had smiled at him a moment ago was standing next to their table. “Are you Jude Campbell?”

  He sent a look to Juliette that he hoped said, Sorry about this.

  “That would be me,” he said.

  “I’m a huge fan. In fact, I bought this shirt because it’s a Copenhagen On-Off Shirt.”

  Copenhagen was the sportswear manufacturer who sponsored him. The On-Off Shirt had materialized after a particularly rough ride his championship year. After going ten seconds on a mean bull, the beast not only bucked him off, but charged after him. Jude narrowly sidestepped the animal, but not before one of the bull’s horns caught the edge of his shirt, ripping it off and leaving him to run for his life bare-chested.

  The best ride of Jude’s life had been overshadowed by a bull stripping off his shirt. A video clip had gone viral and the graphic of him, naked from the waist up, had turned into a sensation that inspired his own line of shirts, the On-Off Shirt.

  As far as he was concerned, they were just plain old shirts. They weren’t breakaway style, they didn’t go on and off any easier than a regular run-of-the-mill T-shirt, but fans—old and new—had scooped them up like they were gold. At least for a little while. As of late, thanks to a combination of the public’s fickle attention span and his lackluster performance this season, sales were on the downturn. His agent, Bob Bornfield, was desperately trying to renegotiate the terms of the endorsement contract.

  One element on which Jude wouldn’t budge was the part that obligate
d Copenhagen to donate 10 percent of net sales to a charity that benefited at-risk teens.

  Then again, 10 percent of nothing equaled nothing.

  “Would you sign it for me? My name is Shari.” She brandished a black permanent marker. Her blond hair was slicked back into a tight, high ponytail, and she wore hoop earrings the size of doughnuts and a ton of makeup. It looked like she’d used the marker to line her eyes.

  “Sure,” Jude said.

  “Right here.” Shari touched the top of her left breast and leaned in, giving Jude all access. “S-H-A-R-I,” she spelled as she tapped her breast.

  Jude blanched. This girl was much too young to be suggesting what it seemed like she was. He glanced at Juliette, who was busy fishing coins out of a small purse she’d pulled from her handbag.

  This was awkward.

  Jude would be lying if he didn’t admit that things like this happened frequently when he was on the road. Except usually the women were, well, women. Not teenage girls.

  In the context of a rodeo, it seemed like part of the job—part of the show. He’d flirt, they’d flirt back, he’d sign autographs—yes, sometimes bare midriffs and cleavage—and make small talk with various degrees of innuendo. It was all in fun and part of the free-spirited cowboy image he’d cultivated: Jude Campbell, the face—and bare chest—of the Copenhagen On-Off Shirt. Most of the time the women would move along. And sure he had the occasional groupie hang around until everyone had gone. Occasionally things happened. But he was single. Completely unencumbered. The road could be a lonely place. But he always practiced safe sex. Always.

  Sitting here with Juliette while this girl thrust her breast in his face was just...straight-up wrong. It felt disrespectful and sleazy.

  He leaned back, away from the girl. Then he pointed to the cuff of the long-sleeved T-shirt. “I’ll sign it here.”

  “No, really, here is better.” She tapped her breast again.

  “No, really. This is better.” He tapped the sleeve with the marker.

  Looking a little disappointed, she took a step back and offered him the inside cuff.