Enchanted by the Rodeo Queen--A Clean Romance

by Melinda Curtis

  She leaned close and whispered to the back of his neck, “You’re a horrible Bo-coach.”

  Jonah jerked and slapped his palm to the back of his neck, as if swatting a mosquito.

  “What was that?” Bo asked.

  “Nothing. I...” Without the aid of her redheaded Bo-whisperer, a sweaty-palmed Emily returned her attention to the man seated across from her. She had to go it alone. “I like to make sure there are fresh eggs for the family in the fridge every morning.” And she was a light sleeper. One rooster crow and she was awake. “Are you...moving into the bunkhouse?” Em’s brain whirled through the personal implications of the Texan moving to the Bucking Bull—ironing her grubbies, flat-ironing her hair, fixing her makeup...er, actually putting on makeup and then fixing it throughout the day to ensure she was polished 24/7.

  She did groan this time.

  In the scheme of things, Mr. Bodilicious was becoming more inconvenient than Jonah!

  “I hadn’t really thought about it.” Bo reached for a small container of jam and applied it sparingly to his toast. “Although the mattress was a nice change, I like to get up early and start working since I don’t have much help and the days are getting warmer.”

  Emily was getting warmer. Heated. Along the band of her fancy bra. Beneath her armpits. Up her neck. Her internal thermostat seemed unsure if she was freezing with fear or needing to warm muscles for a quick escape from this potentially mortifying situation. She prodded Jonah in the back before pressing on. “I can bring the boys out to the lake to swim this afternoon and lend you a hand with the camp.” Having been raised on a ranch, she knew her way around a toolbox.

  Bo shook his head vigorously. “I know you’ve got a lot of work to do on your spread. I don’t want to impose.”

  “It wouldn’t be—”

  Mr. Bodilicious glanced at her directly, dark eyebrows raised in challenge as if to say, “Don’t lie to me. It would be an imposition to abandon your chores on the Bucking Bull.”

  Em held her breath. Was she reading Bo’s mind now? Or at least projecting what he might be thinking? Could a date without Jonah tagging along be far behind?

  She swallowed back her nerves and resisted the impulse to grab hold of her top button and air herself out. “The camp is Shane’s pet project and he’s almost family. Plus, Davey’s going to benefit. I’ll make time to help.”

  “That’s neighborly of you.” Mr. Bodilicious gave her a half smile, as if he knew she couldn’t handle full wattage.

  She couldn’t, of course. She might pass out if he beamed at her. Which might work to her advantage because then he’d come to her rescue...as he dragged her limp body from beneath the table. Her Bo-coach was supposed to prevent disasters like that. She nudged Jonah once more.

  He glanced at her over his shoulder and whispered, “Don’t faint.”

  What a help he was. She rolled her eyes.

  Egbert pulled up a chair and smoothed his whiskers so he could drink coffee without staining his Santa beard.

  Jonah explained about Letty and presented the theories that she could have been a beloved wife or a scorned wife or a woman of ill repute. If he hadn’t been infringing on her Bo-time, she’d have respected his dedication to his work.

  “What do you think?” Jonah asked Egbert.

  “I vote married and scorned,” Bo said without looking up as he continued to demolish his food. He’d be done soon and off to begin framing cabin walls.

  “You don’t have a vote,” Jonah told Bo in an uncharacteristically ill-tempered tone of voice. “You’re not the expert on Mike Moody, Bo. Go on, Egbert.”

  “Well, I... I’m not sure which explanation might be the right one.” Egbert sipped his coffee. “I might need a bit more caffeine to think this through. Takes a while for this old brain to get up to speed, especially in the morning.”

  Jonah barely paused to let the old man think. “You know how Old Jeb’s ledger recorded purchases? Do you remember if he bought a gravestone marker? Or do you know who the local gravestone maker was?”

  Egbert stroked his white whiskers. “Back then, the folks who could afford them ordered headstones from the quarry in Ketchum. It was closest.”

  “Would the quarry have records?” With a sigh that seemed to anticipate a negative answer, Jonah tucked his feet beneath the table and began taking over more of the booth. His elbows extended. He set his feet wider. Even his shoulders seemed to unfurl. “Forget I asked. Why would a quarry keep records that far back?”

  “I don’t know why it’s a big deal, Jonah.” Having inhaled his breakfast, Bo pushed his large, empty plate away and dug out his wallet.

  Mr. Bodilicious was leaving?

  They hadn’t even gotten their food yet! Emily put her hand on Jonah’s knee and gave it a gentle shake.

  Jonah looked at his leg and then at her.

  Emily fought against the mesmerizing power of his gaze. Those blue eyes weren’t going to distract her this morning. She curled her fingers around his knee and shook it again.

  Bo put some bills on the table. “Jonah can get lost in his head sometimes, researching too much when he should be writing.”

  Without looking at his cousin, Jonah made the shooing motion at him with one hand. “You stick to your wheelhouse and I’ll stick to mine.”

  Jonah was encouraging Bo to leave?

  Bo stuffed his wallet back in his pocket. “I suppose this means you aren’t helping me frame this morning.”

  Trapped in the corner, Emily released Jonah’s knee, grabbed hold of his arm and mouthed, “What about me?”

  “Don’t panic,” Jonah whispered.

  “I am not panicking,” she whispered back, truly hot and panicking. “I’m angry.”

  “What are you two whispering about?” Bo grinned at Emily, full wattage.

  All that beauty... Emily’s mouth hung open and went dry. Her anger evaporated.

  A car backfired as it pulled out of the parking lot. Egbert announced to no one in particular that he was planning an excursion to see Letty’s tombstone. Franny entered with Shane and they found seats across the diner.

  All around her, people were moving, making plans. And as was typical, Emily was standing still, overthinking, not reaching for what she wanted.

  “Tell him we were talking about carrot cake,” Jonah whispered.

  Talk to Whoa Bo about cake? She couldn’t. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. And oh, gosh. Emily was fangirling. Another minute under that grin and she’d melt, sliding to the floor like room temperature cream cheese.

  Bo arched one beautiful brow.

  Emily slid an inch.

  Scowling, Jonah grabbed her arm, holding her in place. “We’re arguing about Mike Moody.”

  “Do tell.” Bo stood, still grinning. He wasn’t leaving without an answer. “Seriously, do tell.”

  Jonah pinched Em’s arm.

  “Ow.” Emily swatted Jonah and then held up a hand, blocking out Bo’s perfectly chiseled face. True to form, she could speak when not looking into the sun. “He’s right. My nephew Charlie thinks Letty was Mike Moody’s horse. I think the headstone marks where Mike hid more gold. I’m so fascinated, I could talk about Mike Moody forever.” Or sink beneath the diner table.

  This was horrible. She risked a glance at her Texas crush.

  Bo was no longer grinning like he had a secret. He was looking at Emily like she had a cold and he was a germaphobe. He patted Egbert on the back. “The topic of Letty will split households and divide friends. I’m out.” With a nod, Bo headed toward the door.

  “He’s right. I need a refill before I weigh in on Letty.” Egbert ambled over to the coffeepot.

  “Congratulations,” Jonah said, obviously fighting a grin. “You’ve just turned off Bo and made Egbert’s head explode. Treasure beneath the headstone? Where’d that come fr
om?”

  “I don’t do well on the fly.” Emily swatted Jonah again. “You promised to help me.”

  “Bo is just a guy,” Jonah stated matter-of-factly. “You can’t hope to have a future with him if you can’t look him in the eye.”

  Emily glared at Jonah, looking him in the eye. Something she hadn’t been able to do with Bo. And then the meaning of his words sank in.

  “Oh, of all the luck.” She swatted Jonah’s arm again without glancing away. “You’re right.”

  “As usual,” Jonah said in his most superior voice, no longer trying to hide his grin.

  Emily wanted to laugh because she’d practically made a fool of herself over a man she could never have. Whereas she wanted to stare into Jonah’s eyes and laugh and laugh...

  Except...

  Em sobered, stopped by a thought.

  One singular, unexpected thought.

  She might be falling for the wrong man.

  CHAPTER NINE

  EXTERIOR. OUTSIDE MIKE’S HIDEOUT. Merciless Mike Moody finishes leveling the marker that hides his gold.

  “WHAT A DISASTER.” Jonah stopped grinning and rubbed his forehead. If Emily’s theory spread, everyone would come from miles around to dig beneath Letty’s headstone.

  “I’ll say.” Next to him, Emily jabbed him with her elbow. She’d been prodding him a lot this morning. “Bo either thinks I’m painfully shy or...”

  “He doesn’t think about you in the way you want.” Which was perplexing given his interest in Emily last night.

  “Exactly.” Emily pushed him with her hands this time. “Shove over. I need coffee and Ivy’s busy making our breakfast.”

  He let her out of the booth and slid back in while she went to the large community coffeepot set up on a side table. Egbert finished filling his mug and took it over to greet Shane and Franny.

  “We need to regroup,” Jonah told Em.

  “No.” Emily’s shoulders were slumped. Her tone taut. “I’m going to look for a cowboy elsewhere.”

  “You’re giving up?” She didn’t seem the type. “You don’t give up on your dreams when the going gets tough. You might whine a little, but give up? No.”

  She doctored her coffee, shaking her head. “Landing a man like your cousin isn’t a dream. It’s a fantasy.”

  “I assure you that Bo’s heart is attainable. Don’t give up on your dream so easily.”

  “Like you know anything about chasing dreams. As a Monroe, all you had to do was ask for something and it probably appeared.”

  “Not true. I’m chasing my dreams.” Jonah tilted his head back until it rested on the top of the bench seat and stared at a crack in the ceiling. “Every year growing up, my family threw a party for the Emmy Awards because television was our bread and butter. Every year, we were in the running to win.” Because his father submitted entries in every category to which he was allowed. “We didn’t make a big deal of the Academy Awards.” Monroe Studios produced low-budget children’s and teenage fare. Popcorn flicks. “But I watched the Oscars anyway, dreaming that someday I’d be on that stage. That someday I’d be holding a statue and everyone would know I had talent, especially my parents. That’s my dream.” Too bad his father thought it was a fantasy.

  Emily came to stand at the edge of the booth, cradling her coffee mug in both hands. “Didn’t you work as a scriptwriter in Hollywood?”

  He nodded. “Employed and managed by my father.”

  “If you were paid, someone had to realize you had talent.”

  “Not necessarily. I haven’t won any award.”

  “But you’re closer to your dreams than I am.” Emily’s cheeks had a rosy hue that brought out the rich brown in her eyes. She’d straightened her hair. It fell in a natural wave over her shoulders. She arched a brow as if daring him to continue to bemoan the achievements of his career so far.

  “Maybe, but...” Jonah sat up. “My father, who fired me, thinks I’m a hack. A rom-com, sit-com writer who shouldn’t stretch to be anything more. But my grandfather would say no one should tell you what your dreams should be. So, go ahead, Ms. Rodeo Queen, and dream.”

  “As I understand it, your dad fired you as a condition of his inheritance. I’m discounting his opinion.” She set down her coffee on the white Formica, sending the liquid sloshing over the lip of her cup. “The fact that you’ve had your words spoken in television and in movies means you’re on your way to those awards you cherish.” She stacked Bo’s plates and silverware, tossing his used napkin on top before transferring his dirty dishes to the next table over. “You think you’re not qualified to write the tale of Mike Moody because you can’t decide how to tell Mike’s story? Or is it because of your father?”

  “Yes.” He let the one word answer both questions. “You think what happened this morning with Bo means you don’t have a chance with him?”

  “Yes.” Her brown eyes flashed.

  A part of Jonah was glad. But a part of him wanted her to be happy, deal or no deal.

  The Ritters entered the diner, herding in a troop of boys, including the Clark kids. The group headed for the larger tables at the back.

  Little Adam stopped to hug Em’s leg. “We’re having our pancake party here because Miz Ritter ran out of milk and pancake batter.” He skipped off to join his friends.

  “Let’s hit the pause button,” Jonah said. “Just because I’m not be the best Bo-coach, doesn’t mean—”

  “I invoke the third condition of our agreement.” Emily sat down across from him. “You aren’t being up front with me. You know I don’t stand a chance with Bo. Our deal is off.”

  “Let’s not be hasty. You have a shot. I can—”

  “I’m going to be leaving town soon anyway.” The disappointment in her eyes was cooling, shifting to resignation. She slid into the booth and brought her coffee mug to her lips. “I have a lot to do and not a lot of time to waste on bodalicious dudes.”

  Jonah sat back. “What about turning thirty? What about your ticking clock?” What about me?

  Strike that.

  He wasn’t part of her dreams or her fantasies, nor should he be. Jonah wanted her to be happy living her own dream.

  “Time has a way of marching on.” She sipped her coffee, dropping her gaze to the empty tabletop. “Which is good. I should move on so I don’t get distracted by the wrong things.”

  Jonah had to assume that Bo was the wrong thing in her example, which would have been fine—excellent, even—if it hadn’t meant an end to their agreement.

  Ivy brought their food and then scooped up the money Bo had left as well as the plates Emily had deposited. “Can I get either of you anything else?”

  “I think we can make do.” Emily sighed.

  “Aunty Em...” Adam skidded up next to them. He was just tall enough to rest his chin on the table and smart enough to smile like an angel. “Can I have a piece of bacon? Please?”

  Emily turned her plate so he could pick his piece.

  The little bugger chose two, leaving Emily none. He scampered back to his place with the birthday party.

  “Ah.” Charlie scurried over. His brown hair had been properly combed when he got into the truck earlier. Now it was wild and out of place, as if he’d thrust his hands through it. “Adam stole all your bacon.” He picked up half her English muffin, took a bite and then asked, “Can I have this, Aunty Em?”

  She nodded, reaching for the other half, which she held out to Davey when he showed up.

  “I guess you’re having eggs for breakfast.” Jonah sipped his tea, gauging her expression to see if she was upset.

  She wasn’t. She seemed...happy.

  Ivy hurried out of the kitchen carrying a plate with another English muffin. She set it near Emily and gave the Clark children a stay-away stare.

  “I guess I’m having eggs and a muff
in.” Emily smiled for the first time since they’d entered the diner, but it was a conditional smile, an I-always-come-last-but-that’s-okay smile.

  Emily shouldn’t be used to last place. Someone should be spoiling this generous, warm-hearted woman. It was a mystery why no one hadn’t applied for the role already.

  Jonah sipped more tea, registering the chatter about Letty and Mike Moody circulating the diner. “Hey, I know things didn’t work out this morning as planned.” He ignored her put-upon sigh. “But can you take me along the stagecoach road this afternoon?”

  Her expression didn’t change. “The pursuit of your dream continues.”

  “Yes. My intuition tells me there’s something good here.” He stirred his yogurt. “It’s my head that keeps telling me it’s a mess.”

  Emily considered Jonah more carefully than she’d considered which flavor of ice cream to buy several days ago. “My grandfather used to say sometimes you have to follow your gut.”

  “Mine, too.” Jonah nodded.

  “They were friends.” Emily still seemed to be taking in his expression; hers was a closed-off one. “I suppose they’d have shared a lot of similar words of wisdom.”

  “I suppose they’d have helped each other out from time to time.” Other than on their quest to find Merciless Mike Moody’s stolen gold. “We could do that, too.” He could continue to push her agenda with Bo and push his fascination with her aside.

  Emily nodded. “I suppose we could. But I can’t take you today.” She pushed her eggs around her plate. “Tina’s coming over to practice. Perhaps tomorrow...”

  Jonah readily agreed.

  Though he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something out of kilter in her mood, something he’d missed, something that might come back later to bite him in his crisp new blue jeans.

  * * *

  “HOW WAS YOUR breakfast date?” Granny Gertie glanced up from her knitting when Emily returned from breakfast. She closed her music box, halting the strains of “You Are My Sunshine.”