Enchanted by the Rodeo Queen--A Clean Romance

by Melinda Curtis

  His lips thinned.

  “She accepted your proposal and then...” Emily blinked. Something didn’t add up.

  “I feel like I’ve gone to Madam Mysterio’s Palm Reading Solarium,” he murmured. “If you get any messages from Letty or Mike Moody, can you let me know?”

  “You pushed her away, right into the waiting arms of Bo.” Emily drew her hand back as if Razzy’s reins were electrified. “But...why?”

  Razzy chose that moment to stomp his disapproval.

  Jonah patted the horse and then heeled Razzy forward. “You should go into scriptwriting, Madam Mysterio.”

  “Me?” The tenor of this conversation was all wrong, like the gait of a horse pulling up lame. Emily’s fingers tightened on the reins. It would be easy to wheel around and gallop home. But home to what? To lie in her bed later and stare at the ceiling, wondering why he’d pushed Aria away?

  Wondering if he’d push me away if he ever admitted he was as attracted to me as I am to him?

  Just because she was attracted to Jonah and intrigued by him didn’t mean she was going to fall in love with him. City fella, vinegar, Arabians. “Answer one question for me and then I’ll make sure to point out the section of trail I’ve always been told was where Mike robbed the stage.”

  “That’s a bargain no man in his right mind would agree to.” But he spared her a quick glance.

  He wants me to ask.

  One question? Emily should’ve said five!

  She could ask something inconsequential like “Did you enjoy that kiss?” He’d roll his eyes.

  She wouldn’t ask, “Where is Aria now?” Because if she wasn’t with Bo, who cared?

  Which left her with “Did you call the wedding off? Or did you maneuver her into doing it?”

  Jonah’s chin worked and he wouldn’t look at her. The sure signs of a man unwilling to admit a shameful secret. He’d let Aria think she was to blame for a doomed engagement. Hadn’t he told her Aria confessed to being in love with both men?

  “That’s not very nice,” Emily told Jonah. “You’re the one who got cold feet. You told me your heart wasn’t broken.”

  “You know nothing, Madam Mysterio.”

  I’m right.

  Emily didn’t know whether to shout in triumph or retreat to reconsider what this meant in the long run.

  There is no long run between Jonah and me.

  Suddenly, Emily didn’t want to ride on the trail and make conjectures about Letty and Mike Moody. She wanted answers. And he did, too. “Where do you go when you want to research something?” She adjusted her cowboy hat more firmly on her head.

  “The internet.” Jonah shrugged. “No-brainer.”

  “You go to the library.” Emily smirked.

  “Why?” He sat back in the saddle, curiosity in his blue eyes.

  “Because historical documents aren’t always scanned.” Emily couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of this before. “Libraries have the resources to store diaries and ledgers, but not the resources to scan them into electronic files—hence them not being on the internet. You want to find clues about what Letty meant to Mike Moody? Let’s go look at some microfilm of newspaper accounts and old birth certificates.”

  “Color me doubtful. I could never figure out how to find anything that was physically stored in the library.”

  Emily was certain he was just being cranky because he hadn’t thought of it. “You’ll change your tune.” She heeled Deadly forward, eager to show Jonah the section of trail Mike Moody was rumored to have used. “Besides, you’ll agree to go.”

  Jonah kept pace with her. “Why?”

  She snuck a glance at his classic profile. “How often does a woman ask if you want to go for a ride?”

  He didn’t laugh.

  But he didn’t argue, either.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “I HAVEN’T BEEN inside a library since college,” Jonah admitted, holding open the door of the Ketchum Community Library for Emily. They’d finished their ride and headed to the nearby town. Despite his resolve to remain skeptical, he was getting excited. “And even then, it was only because they had meeting rooms for students.”

  “I didn’t go to college,” Emily said briskly. She hadn’t said much to him on the ride back to the Bucking Bull or during the hour-long drive to the larger nearby town. He was grateful for the silence. He didn’t want to ruin the memory of that kiss by examining it any more than she already had.

  Grandpa Harlan used to say that every man should have three things on his bucket list—learn how to drive a stick shift, revel in the achievement of an impossible dream and share a kiss with a pretty girl in the rain.

  It hadn’t been raining, but Grandpa Harlan’s intent was clear—kiss a pretty girl somewhere unexpected.

  Or just be kissed unexpectedly.

  Jonah sucked in a careful breath and followed Emily to the librarian’s desk. A young woman with curly black hair hung up the telephone, glanced at them and smiled.

  Emily leaned an elbow on the tall counter. “Jonah Monroe, scriptwriter, meet Abigail Winters, librarian.”

  Jonah smelled a trap. “Hi, Abigail Winters, librarian. How do you know Emily Clark, rodeo queen?”

  “We went to school together.” Abigail had the kind of smile that said she loved her job and a small, sparkly engagement ring that said the world was her oyster. “How’ve you been, Em?”

  “Good.” Emily reached down to admire Abigail’s ring. “Can’t complain.”

  She can’t complain because she’d been thoroughly kissing a man—this man.

  Jonah dutifully leaned forward to admire the librarian’s sparkler. “You used to live in Second Chance?”

  “Born and raised,” Abigail said, still smiling.

  “That’s slick.” Jonah fixed Emily with a stern look. “You have inside information about libraries and historical records.”

  “And you’re lucky I do.” Emily stuck her nose in the air. “Someone’s got to watch out for the greater good of your script.”

  Jonah liked Emily. A lot. He liked her wit and her savvy and the sun-kissed highlights in her brown hair. And if he was honest with himself—which he wasn’t prone to be with others—he’d admit he liked kissing her. He liked it too much. His grandfather’s bucket list was filled, and yet it felt as if he hadn’t accomplished anything where she was concerned.

  Emily explained to Abigail about Mike Moody and the unsolved puzzle that was Letty. “We’re interested in any articles about his robberies and any records you have—birth, burial site, family, marriages, children.”

  “You’re going to have to let me down gently if they were married.” Jonah ran a hand through his hair. “Or had kids.”

  EXTERIOR. THE STAGE ROAD. Mike Moody and his sons—none of them older than twelve—hide in the woods, eating hardtack made by Letty.

  There was a story idea. Just not the one that would prove to Jonah’s father once and for all that he wasn’t a hack.

  “Kids is your breaking point?” Emily waited a beat before turning to Abigail. “Whatever. We want to know how Mr. Moody came to be in Idaho.” She shot Jonah a look, her left eyebrow raised. “Maybe he was so good at robbery and killing because he was trained to be a scout or something? Second Chance was the location of a cavalry post.” Emily gave Abigail the year Mike Moody was killed.

  Abigail scribbled all that and their contact information down. “I need to do some preliminary searches, but I think I know where to look first. Can you guys go to lunch or grab a coffee?”

  “Lunch is fine.” Emily didn’t wait for Jonah to agree. She started walking toward the door.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Jonah caught her arm. “I said if we were ever near a mall or a clothing store, that I’d help you pick out some Bo-appropriate clothes.” Who was he kidding? He wanted to see Emily in s
omething other than jeans and a pearly-snapped button-down. Jonah was preparing his own bucket list, one that involved seeing Emily in a pretty dress, one that made her feel special.

  “But—”

  “Nope. No buts. It’s you and me and a rack of clothes.” He marched her toward the door.

  “I can’t wait to see what you choose. Not.” Em sounded like she was rolling her eyes.

  He didn’t slow down to check. “Don’t judge. I got the purple blouse with no ruffles right, didn’t I?” The one from her closet for Tina to wear in competition.

  “I hate it when you speak in truths.” She let him drag her out to the parking lot.

  Jonah found a promising boutique on his phone and navigated them there. Emily parked the ranch truck on the street. Keeping a safe distance between each other, they walked down a quaint shopping district housed in the old part of town.

  “Hi.” Jonah greeted the middle-aged store clerk as he shut the door behind Emily, making sure she didn’t run away. “I want this fine young cowgirl to try on something she’d never choose for herself, something she’ll fall in love with.” Love. The word unsettled him so much, he plucked a black bra from where it was hanging on a nearby rack. “Here. Try this.”

  “Hey-hey. No.” Emily tried to snatch the undergarment, but he kept it out of reach. “Bras weren’t in my contract.”

  “They should have been.” Much as he loved teasing Emily, he couldn’t look at her right now. He handed the garment to the grinning sales clerk.

  “The right look starts from the ground up,” the sales clerk tittered, ecstatic to serve them in her otherwise customer-empty store. “If you’ll just wait in the dressing room, honey, I’ll bring you some ensembles to try.”

  “Do I really have to?” Emily’s gaze darted everywhere.

  “Give it a chance. Maybe it’ll be fun.” Jonah could tell by the way she didn’t argue that she was curious about a different style of clothes.

  In short order, Jonah and the store clerk had some outfits picked out, ones that Emily would never choose for herself.

  “Bring her this outfit last.” He laid the items across the counter.

  A few minutes later, Emily stomped out of the dressing room carrying the white stilettos she was supposed to have on her bare feet. “Where would I ever wear this?” She held out her arms and turned around in a yellow sequined cocktail dress, the hem of which landed just above her knees. She looked stunning.

  Instead of answering her question, Jonah pointed to the shoes.

  “Why?”

  “Because I need to be able to judge if it’s Bo-worthy.”

  Because I’d selfishly like to see for myself.

  Emily huffed but bent to slip on the shoes. “Don’t ask me to walk in them. I don’t walk in stilts.” She straightened, blushing. “Well?”

  “You should be at a swanky bar having drinks.” His lips felt stiff and his words sounded wooden. He shouldn’t be sitting here, staring at her. He should go back to the library and wait for Abigail’s results. Alone.

  “Did you just say swanky? No one says swanky.” Emily turned to look at herself in the mirror, eyes widening. “I have a waist.”

  “And I have a large vocabulary,” Jonah said thickly, wanting to kiss her again. “Expect me to use words like swanky and glamorous.”

  “This isn’t me.” Emily slid out of the heels and slowly returned to the dressing room, looking lost.

  “I told you before, everyone has different facets of their personality.” Jonah liked Emily in that dress. “That could be Emily’s only-on-New-Year’s-Eve-at-a-swanky-bar dress.”

  “No.” Her voice was muffled from the dressing room. “It would only sit at the back of my closet.”

  “With that leather evening gown?” The one she’d won the rodeo queen competition in? He wouldn’t let that happen.

  When next Emily emerged, she wore a pair of loose-fitting black trousers that fell to her black platform heels and a cream-colored silk blouse that draped elegantly at her waist. She walked on the thick-soled heels like she was traversing a ship’s deck at high seas. “Well?” She turned to admire herself in the mirror. And this time it was definitely pleasure in her eyes.

  Jonah was sure there was pleasure in his. “That’s more you.” Casual sophistication. “I can see you wearing that to a white-tablecloth restaurant.”

  “Which we don’t have in Second Chance.” But Emily didn’t turn her back on her reflection or stomp back to the dressing room.

  “You never know when a chance at a decent meal might come up.” He’d seen an advertisement for a five-star restaurant pop up on his phone on the drive over.

  “I never have the opportunity to eat foofoo food.” Emily disappeared inside the dressing room once more. A few minutes later she twirled out in a burgundy dress with a tulip skirt. She was succumbing to the attraction of her repressed feminine side. “I love it, but again, I don’t have any place to wear it.”

  “You could wear it at home. No man would complain.” Certainly not him. “Besides, I can tell you when you’d wear it. It’s a date dress. Didn’t I pick out heels for that?”

  “I don’t do heels.” Emily tossed her hair.

  “You can’t wear cowboy boots with that dress,” Jonah countered.

  “Try these.” The sales clerk produced a pair of suede beige booties. “Booties are all the rage with dresses nowadays. So comfortable and so chic.”

  “Love,” was all Emily said when she caught a glimpse of herself with the booties on. “I mean, these are just like my pink boots.”

  “Not at all.” Jonah was quick to disagree.

  Finally, the clerk gave Em the ensemble Jonah had picked out for her to try on last.

  The rodeo queen emerged with a big smile on her face and that familiar strut to her walk. He’d chosen slim-fitting jeans, a simple yellow blouse that she’d tucked into the waistband and a pair of black suede half boots. It was a city take on a cowgirl look.

  INTERIOR. QUIRKY CLOTHING STORE IN A HIGH COUNTRY RESORT TOWN. MONTAGE. Jonah watches Emily trying on clothes the likes of which she’d never worn before. We see him falling in love with her by the changing expressions on his face.

  Jonah frowned and rubbed his temples, trying to hit the mental delete key on the way Em’s smile broke through his cynicism, the way each breath when she was near made the world more vivid, the way his heart pounded in his chest when she kissed him. Soft, tender, warm emotions. He wasn’t falling in love. That was his storytelling brain creating a linkage from what had been happening and what should happen next in a rom-com. Was this déjà vu? A repeat of what had happened while he was dating Aria? With her, he’d been distracted by his need to win and by his storytelling brain making mental notes about what a great romance was playing out before his very eyes. Then he’d proposed, and everything had gotten worse.

  Don’t make the same mistake twice.

  Don’t do that to Emily.

  “Now this...this I could wear anywhere.” Emily adjusted the shoulders of her blouse with gentle hands in a way that belied the strength she used to control unruly ranch animals. “Not that I’m going to buy anything. These clothes are so impractical.”

  “Sold.” Jonah stood and caught the clerk’s eye. “That outfit, head to toe, the burgundy dress and those suede booties.”

  “I can’t let you...” Emily froze, seemingly torn between her love for the clothes and possibly her pocketbook, which she hadn’t brought. He’d seen her tuck her driver’s license and a ranch credit card in the glove box. “I’m going to pay for everything. I’ll reimburse Franny.”

  He was determined she wouldn’t pay. But she gave him the all-or-nothing ultimatum and won that battle, choosing the purple dress and the last outfit she’d tried on.

  While her purchases were bagged, Abigail rang Emily’s cell, asking if they�
��d be willing to pay for copies of some of the documents she’d discovered. Of course Jonah said yes. They hurried back to the library.

  Abigail was bubbling with excitement when they returned. “Check out what I found.” She led them to a small conference room and closed the door behind them. “Merciless Mike Moody wasn’t a cowboy. He was a tailor.”

  Worst news ever.

  Jonah rubbed his temples.

  “He was originally from Philadelphia. He arrived in the territory about three years before his death.” Abigail handed them a copy of his birth certificate and a list of parties traveling in a wagon train. “He wore a nice suit and tie during his robberies, along with a burlap bag over his head with eyeholes cut into it, but some witnesses thought he might have worn glasses underneath.” She handed them a copy of an article in the Boise newspaper that had a sketch of the bandit wearing the bag, along with details about a few of his robberies. “At first, they called him the Dandy Robber.”

  A dandy? Jonah released a mournful sound. This was worse than Mike being married or a father.

  Emily patted his arm. “Mike can still be merciless and wear a suit.”

  Not in my mind.

  “Now, Letty...” Abigail stared at a sheet of paper without revealing it to them. “This was a surprise. Her last name was Moody.”

  “You’re crushing all my hopes and dreams,” Jonah murmured.

  Abigail turned the paper around, revealing a birth certificate. “She was his older sister.”

  “What?” Jonah sucked in a breath.

  “You can work with this.” Emily grinned. “Older siblings are so bossy, don’t you think?”

  “I’d prefer he was an only child, raised in an orphanage.” Jonah washed a hand over his face.

  “It gets better. I promise.” The librarian chuckled. “There is mention of a small man covering Mike during robberies, hiding in the trees with a shotgun. His backup is never named but was said to be the sharpshooter, the one who did the killing.”