Rock Hard Cowboy

by Christina Hovland

  He used the trick he always used when he didn’t like the way the conversation was going—he mimicked her expression. “And the best you could come up with is Mactuck?”

  She sighed heavily. “It’s very catchy. The press is already eating it up.”

  “Why does she get to be first? What about Tuckenzie.” Okay, that sounded stupid even to his ears.

  “No,” Jessica said, deadpan.

  He scraped a hand over the shadow of a beard he’d neglected to trim ever since Kenzie had faceplanted in his lap. Her crew had hustled her out of that club faster than he could process what had happened.

  He couldn’t sleep, had wanted to check on her. But checking would lead to feeling things. Feeling things would lead to doing things. Doing things would lead to him not following through on his retirement plan.

  That couldn’t happen. He needed out, before he became permanently entrenched in the façade of who he’d become in this place.

  “She’s on board with all of this?” The king of the rag magazines had quoted Tucker questioning her ability to play a character with any depth. It wasn’t true—they’d twisted Tucker’s words like they all did so well. But he hadn’t corrected them, hadn’t issued a statement that they’d messed up.

  Because it was best if Kenzie just believed he was an asshole. It made keeping his distance a lot easier.

  Still, the whole thing didn’t sit well with him. It also didn’t matter; an actress with the filmography of Mackenzie Bennett didn’t care what he thought.

  “Her camp already got her approval.” He’d known when he started working with Jessica she was the best in the business.

  “She knows you’re officially retired,” Jessica continued. “That you were on your way out. That her—what happened—put a serious wrench in your plans. And that now you need to fix it, as a team.”

  A light knock sounded from the conference room door.

  The door slid open and Jessica’s administrative assistant poked her head in. “Ms. Bennett and her manager are here.”

  “Hold up.” Tucker held up a finger. “She’s here?”

  His skin started to flush in a way that was not okay. He was a lot of things—a musician who couldn’t make music, a ranch owner who was never there, a cowboy playing the role of a rock star. He refused to be a star-crossed lover who started to sweat whenever a particular actress showed up.

  “We’re ready.” Jessica pulled a chair out for Tucker. He crossed his arms. He’d stand. Thank you.

  Jessica scowled in his direction.

  And there she was. Kenzie. On the screen, she was larger than life. She took on whatever role she was playing so thoroughly, for years audiences had tripped over their feet to pay the box office fee. In person, she sucked all the air from the room—no need to announce her presence.

  Or maybe that was just the reaction Tucker had to her.

  “Tucker.” She nodded to him, her usually kind-to-everyone eyes holding a frosty edge. Like one of those strawberry milkshakes from The Drive-In back home. Cold, smooth, and—sweet fuck, what the hell was he thinking?

  “Mac”—he cleared whatever the hell had gotten stuck in his throat—“kenzie.”

  She slid onto one of the conference room chairs and flicked a glance to the Christmas tree in the corner. The frost melted, just a little.

  Jessica’s staff had gone all out with the tree. Huge-ass ornaments hung from oversized branches, the you’re-screwed twinkle lights still flashed, and a buttload of wrapped boxes he’d bet his guitar were empty had been piled underneath. This was Hollywood after all—if there was one thing you could count on, it was that things were fake.

  “Are you okay?” He focused on Kenzie. “From the fall?”

  She glanced away. Unable—or unwilling—to meet his gaze.

  Kenzie’s manager shook her head and smacked a file folder on the table. “I’m Leah. Ms. Bennett is fine. We’re not discussing the event at the nightclub.”

  “Of course. Everything is prepared. We’re excited you’ve agreed to work with us.” Jessica slid the contract toward Leah.

  Standard confidentiality and all the other legal bullshit a pretend Hollywood relationship entailed.

  “Perfect. We’ll take a look and get it signed.” Leah tucked the contract into the file folder.

  “So...” Jessica went to sit, apparently changing her mind when Tucker didn’t follow. At the moment, only Kenzie sat.

  Fuck it.

  He pulled out a chair, flipped it around and straddled it. “I’ve got a question.”

  Jessica glared a don’t-mess-this-up stare in his direction.

  “We all know what’s in this deal for me. What’s in it for you?”

  2

  Chapter Two

  Eleven Days Before Christmas

  What was in it for her?

  The headlines after her face-down tackle of Tucker’s crotch said it all.

  “Mackenzie Bennett on a Bender.”

  “Kenzie: Too Drunk to Dance?”

  Her personal life was a paparazzi disaster splashed to hell and back across all mediums, from podcasts to national grocery store checkout-stand magazines. That would be enough to warrant a Hail Mary pass as Tucker’s date du jour, but more than that, her professional life tilted on the precipice of obscurity. Even though she’d barely tipped the scales at thirty, by Hollywood’s standards she was practically elderly. Toss in a couple of box office flops, and things were bad. When she showed up to a few red-carpet events nestled into the great Tucker McKay’s side? Well, for a little while she would be relevant again.

  So, what was in it for her?

  “I’m a very giving person, and I understand you are in need of some assistance. I’m here to offer that assistance.” That sounded so much better than the reality of the situation.

  A little Hollywood-style filtering was all she needed to not sound like a pity case.

  A slow grin spread across his lips. “You’re phenomenal at bullshit.”

  Indeed, she was. Three of the highest industry award nominations—one win—said the same thing.

  “Is that your way of saying I’m a decent actress?” She tilted her head to the side.

  His smile faltered. His eyes went dark. He cleared his throat.

  “Let’s get to the details.” His manager and the lead on his PR team piped in… What was her name? Jane. No. Janet. No. Jessica. Yes, Jessica.

  “You can cut to the contract. I’m good with touching over clothes, kisses on the cheek, hand holding. That’s it.” Kenzie could be firm when she needed to be.

  “No kissing on the mouth?” Jessica squinted at her.

  The negotiations on these things were always a bitch.

  Kenzie crossed her legs and then uncrossed them. “Do I have to?”

  “It’s more convincing that way.”

  Kissing Tucker wouldn’t be a challenge. Fine. “No tongue.”

  “Done.” Tucker smacked the table. His cheeks held only the slightest tint of pink to reveal his discomfort with the negotiations.

  He was obviously not an actor. He should learn to control that.

  “Jessica? Leah? Mind giving Mackenzie and me five minutes alone to go over specifics?” he asked.

  Leah glanced to Kenzie for confirmation.

  She nodded. There were a few things she’d like to say to Tucker, anyway.

  “I’ll wait in the hallway.” Leah headed for the door, Jessica right behind her.

  Tucker unfolded himself, so his full height dominated the room, and he caught the door for them, holding it wide like the gentleman he was not.

  The heavy latch clicked closed. He leaned against it, staring at the carpet for two beats.

  She waited him out.

  His gaze raised to her. Oh damn. This was the Tucker she’d started to fall for, the Tucker she seemed to be powerless against. “I’m sorry.”

  Wait. “What?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry. The magazine said I thought your movie was shi
t. I don’t. I didn’t.”

  “You didn’t hate every bit of it while thinking I’m a—How did they word it?” She ticked her head toward the window and stared him down. “An actress who would best serve the world by selling fancy toasters on television at two a.m.?”

  He filled his lungs with air and released it. Shook his head. Scratched at the bridge of his nose with the pad of his index finger. “No. I didn’t say that.”

  “Their quote from you was oddly specific.” She stood, pressing the palms of her hands onto the glass-topped conference table.

  He kicked off from the door and strutted toward her. His cowboy boots weren’t the polished kind. They were the worn in kind. The real kind. The sexy kind.

  Ack.

  She didn’t need to be noticing the little things about him. This was a short-term deal they’d struck, there was no reason to care about his boots.

  He rubbed at the side of his neck. “They twisted what I said.”

  The blood pressure she’d worked so hard to control over the past few days pulsed fast in her veins. “What exactly did you say about toasters? I’d like to know, given that I was included in the mix.”

  “Look, kissing movies aren’t exactly my thing.”

  “Yeah? You’re more of an exploding things kind of guy?” Sarcasm wasn’t her forte, but she could make it happen on occasion.

  He was close enough that she could see his pupils dilate. “I’m more of an I-don’t-like-watching-the-girl-I’ve-got-a-thing-for-kiss-another-dickhead-on-a-magnified-screen kind of guy. That’s why I told them the movie wasn’t something I enjoyed. Where they got the toaster thing, I don’t fucking know. Where do they get half their material?”

  She paused. He felt a little of what she felt for him? “You have a thing for me?”

  The look he gave her made her squirm.

  “Because you like me?” she pushed.

  “Mackenzie.”

  She wasn’t letting this slide. Somewhere, deep down, she needed to know the way she’d felt wasn’t so one-sided. “You like me?”

  “Yeah.”

  They stared at each other a solid six seconds. Neither of them moved.

  This couldn’t go anywhere. The energy between them was intense, but she couldn’t give him the power to hurt her again. Life was better without the reality of feelings. Keeping things on the surface meant it didn’t matter when people said hurtful things.

  “I do, Mackenzie.”

  She didn’t break the invisible thread tying them together.

  She had two choices in this scenario, and she leaned strongly toward the one in which she didn’t open herself up again to betrayal. This business was all about taking care of number one. That was the game.

  “That’s too bad, but I accept your apology.” She stood and sauntered her best saunter toward the freedom of outside-of-this-room, then cast a quick glance over her shoulder. “Oh. Call me Kenzie. It’s more believable that way.”

  Always Watch Out for Number One. That was her motto.

  That and Never Get Too Close to the Guy Who Has the Power to Break Your Heart.

  3

  Chapter Three

  Seven Days Before Christmas

  “You ready?” Tucker asked. They were attending the premier of some race car movie.

  Kenzie was all Hollywood glitter today for their first red-carpet appearance. Her red hair had been curled and pinned so it managed to both be up and down at the same time. Even her dress sparkled. She looked stunning. “Absolutely.”

  He couldn’t help but wonder what lay under all the glitter. All the shine. All the expected. She had a bite to her, that was for certain. His admission in the office and her subsequent dismissal was proof of that. Still, it didn’t fit. She was a fantastic actress, but he’d caught a glimpse of something when he’d admitted his feelings for her. What? Well, who knew? In the moment, he’d thought it was reciprocation. She’d promptly blown that theory to hell.

  Tucker angled himself so he could exit the limousine when they came to a stop. He’d go first, assist Kenzie and block the paps’ view while she adjusted her dress. Take her arm. Smile and wave. Shake some hands as they passed the bleachers erected for the occasion.

  Then the kiss.

  Fuck. The kiss. Lips and all that shit.

  The kiss would announce they were red-carpet official as a couple. Something Jessica had ensured brewed in the headlines over the past week.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to kiss Kenzie. She was, after all, Mackenzie Bennett. So, yeah, on a primal level a lip-lock wouldn’t suck. He just preferred not to tangle with a woman who so actively disliked him.

  It was a personal choice.

  “Should we have a secret abort-the-mission code?” he asked.

  She raised an eyebrow at him like an expert. “Why would we need that?”

  “In case we run into an ex on the red carpet? Get a reporter who asks too many questions? Decide we’d rather go have sushi?”

  She shrugged, fidgeting with some of the silver rhinestones decorating her dress. “Once we step out of this car, pretty sure we’ll pass the point of no return.”

  “Still, a word or a gesture might be good to let each other know we’re in over our head.”

  “What do you propose we use?” They were creeping up to their spot. Not much time to decide at this point.

  His phone rang in his pocket. He’d set it to silent—with one exception.

  “Mom,” he said, ducking his head slightly to the side.

  “That nice reporter lady came by today.”

  Sonofabitch.

  The paparazzi were always there. Partially because they wanted a good Tucker story, but mostly because his mother invited them in for her famous meatloaf. She loved the company, and they were more than willing to shoot the shit with her.

  He growled inside. “I told you not to invite them inside.”

  “Psh. I didn’t talk about you, no need to worry.” He did worry, because he’d learned early on in his career that his mother, bless her soft heart, opened her mouth to reporters far too often. He made certain not to share any information about the sticky side of his career. Like the game of bait-the-paparazzi he was entangled in with Kenzie.

  “They said you’re seeing that Mackenzie Bennett.” Her statement was entirely too innocent.

  He hadn’t mentioned the Kenzie situation to his mother. The last time she’d caught wind he was dating a movie star, she’d nearly flown out to Los Angeles to stalk his for-the-camera fake girlfriend.

  “I’m headed to an event,” he dodged. “I’ll have to call you back when it’s over.”

  “Oh, is she there? Right now? With you?” He could picture her perfectly. Sitting at the worn wooden kitchen table—she always sat there when she felt chatty and picked up the phone—the cell phone he and his siblings insisted she use pressed against her ear.

  She was always “dressed to shoes,” as she put it. Always ready for company—even if that company was a wild pack of reporters. “It’s just nice to have visitors,” she always said.

  He called bullshit. She reveled in the attention.

  His father? Not so much.

  “Mom.” A quick glance to Kenzie and his breath caught.

  She’d clearly heard the whole thing, a wry smile tickling the corners of her mouth.

  “You’re bringing her home for Christmas, right?”

  No, she wasn’t coming home with him for Christmas.

  First, because this whole thing was for show. And second, because his mother would be whipping out the baby bathtub photos before Tucker had a chance to pour a glass of spiced rum with his father.

  “Everything okay?” Kenzie stage-whispered to him.

  “Oh my God. That’s her.” His mother’s squee was deafening. “She’s right there. Tell her I loved her in Wedding Confidential. It’s my favorite movie. Tell her I’ll fix up the guest room for her when she comes to visit.”

  “I’m not doing this.” He scowled
out the window, the limousine creeping toward their destination in the line of other limousines.

  “Well, she can’t stay at your ranch. Not after what they said about her face in your lap. They’ll twist it all around. Hand her the phone, sweetie,” his mother prodded.

  No way in hell.

  “We’re here. I’ll have to call you back, Mom.”

  “She’ll love Colorado. It’s just like in that Puppy Love movie from a few years back. She was in it with that Gerald…oh, what’s his name?”

  “Hello, Mrs. McKay,” Kenzie hollered from over his shoulder.

  Dammit. Now he’d never hear the end of it.

  “Bye, Mom.” He clicked the phone off.

  “Your mom seems sweet.” Kenzie peered at him from beneath a sheet of long eyelashes.

  “Sweet like a bobcat.” He shook down the cuff of his white button-up shirt his stylist insisted he wear. God, he looked forward to dressing himself again. The lure of retirement was stronger and stronger.

  The limo came to a stop at the beginning of the red carpet.

  Kenzie fluffed her already perfect hair. A slight shift and the side of her gown parted at her thigh. All the saliva in his mouth disappeared. He swallowed sandpaper and glanced away.

  He should think of something other than the milky skin of Kenzie’s thigh.

  Cattle.

  He had cattle back home on his ranch in Colorado. Loads of cattle. If there was one thing that was not sexy in the least, it was doing a mental inventory of the heifers he knew by heart.

  Less than eight days and he’d be back on the ranch. Back in a world where life made a helluva lot more sense than life under the spotlight of a concert stage and life on a red carpet pretending to be someone he wasn’t.

  His heart thumped against the wall of his chest.

  Kenzie slipped her hand into his and squeezed. A little signal between the two of them. Like they were the real deal.

  4

  Chapter Four

  Kenzie had her disinterested-yet-interested, charming-yet-aloof, red-carpet walk down to an art.