Counterfeit Cowboy (13 page)

****

“Aw, Shel, it’s my birthday. The guys are meeting at the Seaview Bar & Grill in town to celebrate. You can’t be that mad about what Jordan and I were doing this morning not to let me go. Anyhow…” and here he proceeded more carefully. “You two seemed to be hitting it off pretty good a little later.”

Shelby had arrived back at the farm at suppertime to find Travis waiting for her in the kitchen with the request.

“What you saw was one very big mistake on my part, and I’ll thank you to forget it.” She hung her purse on its peg and crossed the kitchen.

“Yeah, okay. Guess it’s your business. After all
you’re
both over twenty-one.” The last came out with a hint of sarcasm. “So what do you say?”

“I assume, since you’ll be legal drinking age, you and the guys will be tossing back a few brews?” She faced him, hands on her hips.
Just what I need, more confrontation
. “How do you intend to get home?”

“I’m the designated driver.” Jordan stepped into the kitchen wearing new jeans and a green chambray shirt. Fresh from a shower, he was enough to take a girl’s breath away. “See, I’m all cleaned up for the party.”

“Really?” She looked him up and down, emotions she’d rather deny bubbling to the surface; emotions heated to a point of no return by that kiss and Michelle Latton’s words.
He is one gorgeous creature. And a charming one. And…

“Yeah, really.” He broke in on her thoughts and met her gaze with that resolve-melting grin.

“You’re prepared to spend the evening with a bunch of rowdy twenty-somethings and not drink?” Shelby looked at him doubtfully.

“No problem.” He went to the sink and poured himself a glass of water. “I never was much of a drinking man, in spite of some of the songs I sing. I’ve spent enough evenings in a room full of people enjoying a bunch of cold ones without touching a drop to know I can handle the situation. Travis deserves a good time. Look at what he’s done with Midnight Black. Admit it. No one can manage that stallion like he does.”

“Okay, okay.” Shelby threw up her hands. “Travis, just remember, being old enough to drink doesn’t mean you have to do it all in one night.”

“Sure.” He planted a kiss on her cheek. “Come on, Jake. Let’s roll. The guys are waiting.” He did a crazy little dance out of the kitchen, letting the screen bang behind him. “Yahoo!” he yelled as he headed toward Jordan’s battered pickup.

“Take good care of him.” Shelby stopped Jordan with a hand on his arm. “He’s just a kid, even if he is six feet tall and has shoulders out to there.”

“Don’t worry. The guys in my band are all about his age. I know how to handle them.” He looked down at her restraining hand, paused, then swooped forward to plant a quick kiss on her cheek. “Enjoy your evening. We’ll be home around midnight.”

He headed out to the truck before she could respond. As they drove away, both waving back at her, she put a hand to her cheek. A pleasant heat spread out from their point of contact and slid slowly down her body. She gave herself a shake.
Don’t be crazy, Shelby Masters.
He’s Jordan Brooks, country music superstar…a counterfeit cowboy.

But the feeling persisted as she turned toward the living room and an evening alone watching television. It increased each time Michelle’s mocking words echoed in her mind.

****

The rattling of the old truck woke her. Struggling up on an elbow, she squinted at the luminous dials on the bedside clock radio. Two a.m. Well, what had she expected? It was Travis’s twenty-first birthday. Then she realized the truck hadn’t stopped at the house but had continued until… She estimated it was at Jordan’s cabin.

Struggling out of bed, she wrapped her floor-length robe around her and shoved her feet into moccasins. By the time she got out of the house, lights were burning in the cabin, and through the uncurtained windows she could see Jordan moving about inside.

“Shelby?” As she reached the truck, he came out and stopped abruptly as he saw her. “What are you doing down here?” He spoke softly, almost in a whisper.

“Just checking to see if you guys are okay.” She moved closer to him. Although she could smell smoke and other bar scents, she didn’t detect any alcohol on his breath.

“We’re fine. Well, sort of.” He glanced back in the shaft of light emanating from the cabin’s screen door and held a finger to his lips. “Travis is going to wake up with a big head and a churning belly. That’s why I decided we’d better bunk out here.”

“He’s asleep…already?” She softened her tone and started toward the door, but he caught her arm.

“He was asleep the minute I loaded him into the truck. When we got home, I pulled off his boots and laid him on the bed. He only grunted. Now I’d better get him undressed and under the covers. I need a few hours of sleep, too. I think I’m going to have a lot more barn work than usual tomorrow. And by the way, sorry about this morning. I know you don’t want Travis encouraged with his music, but after I heard him play… Man, the kid’s got talent.”

“And so do a lot of others his age who are languishing in a Nashville street hoping a fairy godmother like Ann Wise will come along.”

“There I have to admit you’re right. A lot of what success is amounts to promotion and a great agent. But I can do both for Travis. He won’t be starting from scratch.”

“Look, Jordan, I know you mean well, but I understand how broken dreams feel, and I won’t expose him to that kind of pain.”

“I can’t believe all your dreams were destroyed.” He leaned back against the old truck, crossed his arms on his chest, and met her gaze steadily. “This farm, your practice—weren’t they a big part of your long-term dreams? None of us stay in the spotlight of youth forever. We get a chance and either make it or don’t make it, then move on. Athletes, performers, and the like generally have a limited time in the spotlight. It’s the long-term plan that makes a life, but it shouldn’t be lived with regrets of what might have been. If Travis did make it big in country music, I’m sure he’d want to come back here to fulfill his life ambitions. I know I do.”

“Are you telling me you’re fed up with being a superstar?”

“That’s what I’m telling you. But sometimes you get trapped into something. Something you can’t abandon.”

“Maybe. We’ll see. For now, thanks for looking after my little brother tonight. I don’t approve of Travis getting drunk, but he did deserve to celebrate his birthday with his friends in whatever manner he chose as long as it hurt no one. Well, with the exception of himself, tomorrow morning.”

“No problem. Now suppose you head on back to bed. Breakfast at six?”

“Breakfast at six.” She smiled up at him and suddenly found herself melting into those deep blue eyes.

For a moment they stood gazing into each other’s eyes. A slice of moon and starry sky lighted the moment. From the brook beyond the barn, frogs harmonized. Somewhere an owl hooted. A soft, salty breeze drifted in off the bay. Shelby’s breath caught in her throat.

Then Jordan broke the spell.

“Well.” He rubbed his palms on his jeans. “Better get the kid to bed.”

“Yes, you’d better. And thanks again.” She turned and headed back to the farmhouse, her heartbeat pounding at the back of her throat.

Damn! What am I doing? I just passed up a perfect chance to seduce the man and get one up on Michelle.

But as she entered the house and headed upstairs to her bed, she knew why she hadn’t taken advantage of the romantic moment outside the cabin. Forming a relationship shouldn’t be a competition. It had to come from the heart, at least the kind she was looking for.

Chapter Eleven

Damn, damn, damn!
Jordan Brooks swore silently as he watched her go. She was one terrific woman, and here he stood, trapped, with four kids in his custody, a recording contract, and a movie deal that wouldn’t allow him any other kind of serious relationship. If it weren’t for Annie Wise and her conniving… The kiss that morning had only worsened the situation. Now he definitely wanted her, with a passion that was all but overwhelming him.

Chaffing with repressed desires, he watched until Shelby was safely inside the house, then re-entered the cabin to pull shirt and jeans off her brother.

****

“Well, that blows it!” Shelby punched out on her cell and shoved it into her pocket.

“Blows what?” Jordan came out of the stall he’d been mucking and leaned on his pitchfork.

“Kirby Nelson is coming this morning to see Black. With Travis sleeping off a hangover, there’s no way that stallion is going to behave.”

“Kirby Nelson, the baseball player?
The
Kirby Nelson?” The pitchfork loosened in his grip. “Ah, man!”

“I guess.” She dropped dejectedly into a chair. “I don’t follow any other sports but equestrian. He’s looking for a stud to breed his daughter’s prize mare. He wants a foal that can keep his only child winning in the show ring. But without Travis to handle him, Black will act the very devil.” She pulled out the phone. “I’m going to ask him to come some other time.”

“Hold on.” Jordan stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Kirby Nelson is a busy man. He’ll probably be in this area for only a day, two at most. If you tell him he can’t come today, he’ll probably never get back here. He’s your first celebrity client, isn’t he?”

“Aside from you, yes.”

“So you can’t miss an opportunity for the free advertising you’ll get by breeding a mare belonging to a baseball superstar like Kirby Nelson.”

“So what do you suggest? Are
you
going to saddle up twelve hundred pounds of raw horsepower with an attitude and try to impress the man with your skill?”

“Maybe.”

“Now you’re talking crazy.” She shrugged him off and again reached for the phone. Again he stopped her.

“Look, I know I can’t ride like Travis, but I can sing the songs that keep the big guy under control. At least let’s give it a try.”

“You mean you’d be willing to risk riding Black?” She stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Sure. I may be a counterfeit cowboy, but Kirby Nelson doesn’t know it. And you said yourself I’m coming along well. Come on, Shelby. It’s worth a try.”

****

“I’ll be lovin’ you forever,” Jordan sang as he led the saddled stallion into the indoor arena. Shelby had insisted she’d only allow him to attempt to ride Midnight Black in its relative safety.

Wish those damn butterflies in my belly would light somewhere. I have to do a good job for her. She’s counting on me. Well, here goes nothing.

He put his foot in the left stirrup, sang a bit louder as the big horse moved restlessly, then swung himself up and into the saddle. Black snorted, shook his bridle, and pawed the soft earth.

God help me, I must either be crazy or..
.
I’m probably going to be killed.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Shelby replace the bar across the entrance and settle her hands on her hips. She looked as calm as a mountain lake. She apparently had faith in him and what his music could do. Beside her stood Kirby Nelson and his horse trainer, Johnny Branch. Breathing a silent prayer and continuing to sing, Jordan adjusted his bottom in the saddle and walked the animal around the perimeter.

“Nice-looking stud.” The ballplayer crossed his arms on his broad chest and grinned. “And, hey, your stable hand isn’t a bad singer. Adds a nice touch to this little show.”

“His mother was a Roy Rogers fan.” She shrugged. “He’s got a fixation on singing cowboys. Get him into a trot, Jake,” she called.

Okay, here goes. Life or death. In the saddle or flying through the air.

Jordan touched his heels lightly to the stallion’s sides. Black threw up his head, making the bridle jingle.
Sweet Jesus
. Jordan sang louder and the horse settled into a trot.

“Very nice. Now let’s see a lope.” Johnny Branch made the request.

“Lope him, Jake,” she called.

Is that my life flashing in front of me? Well, it’s been a pretty good one…

Jordan sang louder as he touched his heels to Black’s sides. This time the change of gait went so smoothly he barely noticed the transition.

Thank you, God. Now if you can just keep me in the saddle for a few more minutes…

“Lookin’ good.” Johnny Branch shoved back his baseball cap, scratched his red-haired head, and grinned. “Bring him in and unsaddle him. I’d like to take a good look at his conformation.”

****

“That went well.” Jordan stood beside Shelby as she waved good-bye to the two satisfied occupants of the Lincoln Town Car heading back toward the highway. “Signed up, did they?”

“They’ll be bringing the mare as soon as she’s finished on the show circuit.” She squinted up at him in the sunlight. “Thanks to you.”

“Ah, shucks, ’tweren’t nothin’, Miss Shelby.” He pulled off Travis’s Stetson that he’d borrowed for the occasion and grinned. “An animal with the Black’s fair to middlin’ taste in music is pure joy, and that’s a sure enough fact.”

“Cut that out.” She couldn’t help chuckling. “I only agreed to coach you in riding, not listen to some convoluted notion of a country twang.”

“Fine. Now how about a beer? This fake cowboy is dry as a tick on a hound dog in the desert.”

****

They were heading for the house when the red convertible careened off the highway and revved down the drive in a cloud of dust. Its driver bypassed the house and bulleted on toward them. She braked to a swirling halt a few yards in front of them, cut the engine, and sat grinning smugly at them from behind her Foster Grants.

“Hey, Shelby.” Michelle Latton shoved long dark hair back over her shoulder. “I hear you got your horse back. Thought I’d drop by for the apology you owe me.”

“Okay, Michelle, I deserved that.” Shelby faced her squarely. “I’m sorry I accused you of taking Black. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get lunch for Jake and Travis.”

“You go right ahead.” Removing her sunglasses, she swung out of the convertible and sashayed over to Jordan, twirling the glasses between manicured fingers. “
Jordan
and I will take a little tour of your stables. We have a few things to talk about.”

“Jake is a hired hand. He has work to do that doesn’t include guided tours of an area you already know.”