Steal Me, Cowboy (7 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

I put on my makeup in the mirror the next morning. “
You
belong to Adam Harper. You are wearing
his
jersey,” I said out loud, hoping the cliché would stick. I slipped into a cute yellow sundress with spaghetti straps just before Nell stopped by to pick me up.

“I don’t know how you kids wear street clothes to work,” Nell said. “I’ve been wearing the same uniform since I opened my doors. Well, that’s not true, a long time ago they didn’t even make uniform pants. Just dresses, but now, nobody in this town wears uniforms. Except me.”

“I love your uniform, Nell. It’s so you.”

The day was slow, but better than yesterday. Four silver heads for a total of $44 plus ten bucks in the pickle jar. Three-thirty rolled around and my California lady was thirty minutes late. I sat down in Earline’s chair and prayed she’d show.

“She’ll be back,” Nell said. “I saw the look in her eyes when she left here. She’ll be back.”

But then it was 4:30 and no one but Nell and me were in the shop. The rest of her clientele was probably eating their dinner or getting ready for bed. Even Nell looked worn out although she’d only gabbed and swept up hair all day.

“She’s not going to show, Nell, and you look tired. Why don’t we close early?”

“I’m telling you she’s coming. So we’ll wait,” she said with a little fire left in her. “You haven’t been at this long enough to know. But I do.”

It was just before five. I put my box away and grabbed my purse just as Miss California pushed through the door, looking a mess. Chin quivering, mascara running. “I couldn’t find your card to call. Am I too late?”

“No, honey,” Nell ushered the poor woman to the chair. “What happened to you?”

“They. Made. Me.” She could barely get the words out. “Go. Hiiiiiking.”

So for the first time in the history of Nell’s Cut ‘n Curl, the fine art of foils was performed and the doors stayed open after five o’clock.

Miss California’s name was Audrey and she was from Dana Point, which didn’t mean anything to me, but when she said Orange County, I knew where she was talking about. Audrey didn’t seem anything like the Housewives of Orange County; although she was pretty, she was also super nice. Sure she was probably a little high maintenance, and wasn’t the outdoorsy type, but when I got done with her, her hair looked fabulous.

“Oh, Rainey. It’s beautiful,” she said, worshipping the image in the hand mirror as I twirled the chair around. “My stylist tried to talk me into this, but I’m new with him and just haven’t gotten to that point with him. You know?”

I did know. The best part of my job is when a client embraces the trust that is such a huge part of our relationship. “You look amazing.” Nell didn’t pipe up, and when I turned to ask her opinion, she was passed out in her chair. “Thanks for coming in, Audrey, you made my day.”

And it wasn’t just the money. She’d given me what the silver heads couldn’t give me because they were Nell’s people through and through. While fixing hair might seem like a one-way street when it comes to the giving, I’d missed the love and appreciation my own people always gave me.

Audrey wrote me a check because Nell has never taken credit cards. It took her a couple of tries to get it right since it had been so long since she’d written one. She’d even forgotten she had her checkbook in her great big bag. She put it in the pickle jar and gave me a big hug.

The shop bell over the door rang as Audrey left, waking Nell with a snort. “Everything go all right, sunshine?”

There was fifty-four dollars in the pickle jar from the other clients. I opened Audrey’s check and gasped.

“She stiff you on the tip?”

I turned the check around so Nell could see. $85 plus a $50 tip—only $437.89 to go!

Beck hadn’t slept at all last night. Why had he screwed up the plan? He was going to have a nice dinner, and make Rainey comfortable enough to let down her damn guard. But then he’d watched her eat the tiramisu. That smart mouth savoring the desert he’d created for her. The moment she sucked on the first brûléed slice of banana, he lost his mind and the plan went out the fucking window.

If he wasn’t so stupid, he’d probably be with Rainey tonight, but he wasn’t. He’d worked hard, worked the whole staff ten times harder. All of his employees were angry with him for being such a dick tonight, but it wasn’t like he was going to explain to them that he was falling for a woman who was in love with someone else. Or was she?

He’d watched her while she talked to the asshole, blushing when she lied to him—she wasn’t alone. And she definitely didn’t want to talk about him to Beck.

He took a long draw off of his beer, and looked up at the stars. He’d always thought there wasn’t anything much better than a starry Big Sky night. The moonlight made the lake and the mountains look dreamlike, the night sounds were peaceful. But now he could think of a million things that were better than this view and everything single one of them began and ended with Rainey Brown.

Was it the challenge he loved, to take her away from the asshole? Maybe. A little. And what would he do with her if he had her? Other than the obvious. It was clear Rainey Brown was a handful. Did he really want that? Did he really need that? But he must because he was driving himself fucking crazy, and there was nothing he could do about it.

This wasn’t like him. Beck was a guy who craved control, anybody who runs their own restaurant does. He designed his place, decided everything, the menus, the wine, the staff, when they were open. Everything, right down to the kind of furniture polish they used. And yet he felt helpless. Rainey held all the cards. Rainey was in control and what had she’d wanted? To go back to that fucking dump of a motel.

She’s probably talking to that asshole right now. His phone buzzed and he started to ignore it, but it was Dillon, and Beck hoped he could gain a little
ground or at least know what was going on with Rainey’s car since he hadn’t asked her.

“Dude, I was just at Rooster’s for a beer. Half your people were there complaining about you. What’s up?”

“I don’t know. I just had a bad night; I’ll make it up to them. So what’s up with you?”

“I got tired of listening to them dog cuss you. I’m walking over to The Watering Hole. Wanna go?”

“No. I’d better not. So how are you coming on Rainey’s car?”

“It’s so messed up from the anti-freeze bath the engine took. It’s bad. I don’t think I’ve ever had a car this bad. At least she kept her oil changed, but that hasn’t helped a whole lot.”

“So you gonna get it fixed or not?”

“Yeah, but I can’t cut her any slack on the price. I’d hoped once I got in there I could, but I can’t. I feel so bad because it’s Rainey. So if she gets within a hundred bucks, I’m just going to give it to her.”

The thought of seeing her taillights pulling out of town, felt like a kick in the gut. “Do me a favor, Dillon?”

“Yeah, man. Anything.” Beck heard him push through the door of the bar, and then the crowd noise.

“Don’t spot her the money.”

Dillon didn’t say anything for a minute. “You trying to keep her here, Beck?”

“Something like that.”

“I’d like that too.”

CHAPTER NINE

FRIDAY

God, Beck was as bad as Dillon for wanting to
keep
Rainey. He had to do something to get this woman out of his system. He needed to get laid.

He got dressed, drove into town and pulled in front of the Graff hotel. He went into bar.
Brunette or redhead?
Beck was good with either.

He found her, sitting alone at one of the tables near the entrance. In her come-fuck-me-heels, she was almost as tall as him, legs up to her neck, long dark hair. She watched him watching her for almost an hour and then they both laughed, tired of playing the game.

Before he could walk over her way, she started toward him. Gorgeous, short red dress, killer face. A man could forget a lot of things with that body.

“Hi, I’m Courtney,” she shook his hand.

“Hey Courtney. Where are you from?”

The bartender put another beer in front of him. “From the lady beside you.”

“Seattle,” she said. Beck grinned as she settled onto the stool beside him. “And you?”

“Born and raised here.”

She crossed her long legs and leaned forward. “They’re either busy or understaffed here tonight because you were supposed to have that drink fifteen minutes ago.”

He glanced at his phone and then toasted her. “You like to cut to the chase, Courtney.” Good, Beck did too.

“Exactly. So, what’s your name?”

Beck needed this. But why in the hell was it all of a sudden so hard to stop thinking about everything this woman wasn’t? She wasn’t petite. She wasn’t blonde. She wasn’t Rainey.

“Jim.” And where the hell did Jim come from? “Beck.”

“You want to get out of here, Jim Beck?”

She was facing him, her knees nudged slightly between his legs. This was what he came for; this is what he needed to get Rainey Brown out of his head.

He looked at his phone. No texts. No calls. Why the hell was he doing that? He needed to get his ass to Courtney’s hotel room. Now. He leaned forward, his lips just below her ear, barely touching. “Yeah, let’s go.” He motioned to the bartender to pick up her tab too, then grabbed her hand and headed for the door.

The way she was looking at him said she needed to get laid just as much as he did. He glanced at his phone and then turned all of his attention to her.

Her dark brown eyes studied him, promising him he wouldn’t be disappointed. But he was already disappointed. Who was he kidding? There was no getting Rainey Brown out of his head or his heart.

Before he could say anything, Courtney stopped in front of the elevator and nodded like she’d had an
ah-ha
moment, her smile thin. “Mind if I ask you something, Jim Beck?” He nodded. “You seem slightly distracted. Maybe more than slightly?” She held his hand up. “There’s no ring, but you’re kind of giving off a married vibe. Even if this is just for fun, I’m not that girl.”

The truth was, five days ago he would have had this woman screaming his name by now, his real name. But as much as he tried to make himself want her, he didn’t. “It’s complicated,” he said. How trite could he possibly get? “Yeah, I’m sorry, this was a bad idea.”

He thought she would be mad; if things had been the other way around, he might have been. Instead she let go of his hand and smiled like she’d saved him from himself. “Go home, Jim Beck.”

It was just after two in the morning when Beck started making croissants because that was all he could think of to do. After he got home from the bar, he’d tried to sleep, but was too amped up, his mind racing, trying to think of a way to keep Rainey in Marietta. And the best he could come up with was fucking croissants?

Some plain, some chocolate. He put them in a pastry box, grabbed his car keys, and looked at himself in the foyer mirror before he headed out the door. Without any sleep, he looked like shit, but there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about it.

Now that he had admitted to himself that he had to have Rainey, Beck couldn’t imagine ever
not
feeling this way. But what if she left Marietta? Left him? What if he never saw her again? He’d probably be like one of those pathetic bloodhounds who gets the scent of a person and can’t stop searching until it finds them. Even if it takes forever.

He pulled his hair back in a ponytail and smoothed out his shirt. Oh, hell, he should at least change clothes, but he was running out of time. He sprinted to his closet and was pulling on a clean shirt as he headed to the front door. He stopped in front of the mirror again brushed the flour off of his jeans, grabbed the box, and jumped in the truck.

The back end slid a little on the curves as raced to catch her before she left for work. If he didn’t make it—. He couldn’t let himself think like that.

He parked on the street, blocking the driveway, but he didn’t care. He was almost to the door when she opened it. She looked shocked and maybe a little afraid.

“Hi.” He was breathless, presenting the croissant box like a peace offering. “I wanted to catch you before you left for work, Nell. These are for you.”

“You’re Deb Hartnett’s boy, aren’t you? Beckett.”

Beck didn’t bother to correct her. “Yes ma’am.”

“Is there a reason, you’re blocking my driveway and bringing treats?” her hands were on the bottom of the box. “My God, are these still warm?”

“Yes ma’am. I have a favor to ask.”

Nell took one of the chocolate croissants out of the box and took a bite, closing her eyes. Beck had been a little worried; he hadn’t made them in a while and he didn’t know if they’d be good. The blush on the old woman’s face said they were good enough. “Well, hurry up, you’re making me late for work.”

“You know Rainey’s trying to earn enough money to get her car fixed?”

“Who doesn’t? One of the newspaper guys here in town wants to do a story on her for next week’s Sunday edition. You know how good folks are around here, always pitching in. Rainey doesn’t want to, but I bet if that story were to run, she’d have enough money to pay for her repairs outright, if not ride out of here in a new car. As it stands now, without the story, I think she’ll be close.”

“How close?”

“A hundred. Maybe a hundred and fifty dollars tops.”

“And what about you, Nell? Are you good people?”

“If you’re asking if I’d help Rainey, the answer is yes.”

“Please. Don’t.”

She looked down at the croissants and then at Beck. “You like that girl?”

“Yeah, I do. I don’t want her to leave. Not for good.”

“I’m not sure it’s right
not
to help her, but from the looks of it, you’re better than that baseball player guy. She’s told me a little about him—girl talk you know. Sounds like an asshole to me.”

“So you won’t help her?”

She popped the rest of her croissant in her mouth and then licked her fingers. “Promise me some more of the chocolate ones, and it’s a deal.”

“Thanks, Nell, you’ve got them. As many as you want. For life.”

Each morning the motel clerk swiped my Visa card with the tiny credit limit for the room rental, or I bought a meal, I held my breath. I knew it was close to being maxed out. And every time I even thought about those cute wedges I put on the card before I left Columbia, I wanted to kick myself for buying them.

Nell put the sandwich sign on the sidewalk out front, and I re-counted the money in the pickle jar. After I did the wedding party tomorrow, I’d only need $217.89, and I was hoping for a big tip from the bride’s mama. Audrey promised she’d tell everyone at the fancy hotel where she was staying about me, even the concierge. So, with some walk-ins, there should be more than enough money to pay Dillon.

At one point during the day, all five dryers were going with silver heads. I guess Nell must have told her friends about me, but then it was odd because I heard her on the phone turning customers away. A tourist came in to have her hair braided. She’d chosen one of those intricate waterfall designs that takes forever, but since it wasn’t on the menu, I was able to charge what I would normally had charged—fifty bucks. With the money from the wedding, I’d be about a hundred bucks short. If there was no tip.

Five o’clock rolled around and Nell was ready to go home. I’d hoped she’d keep the shop open for walk-ins but she just gave me a look when I asked if she was sure she was ready to go. I went through the pickle jar for the daily count. “After the wedding tomorrow, I may still be short, Nell. I know you don’t open on Saturdays and Sundays, but would it be okay if I came in after I’m done with the wedding party? Might get a few walk-ins.”

I was sure she would say no, but she didn’t. Just mumbled something about croissants and grabbed her great big pocket book. “Here’s the key. You’ll have to lock up and run the key by before you leave.”

“Well you know I’d come by and hug your neck. Say goodbye.”

My cell buzzed in my skirt pocket. I dug it out hoping it would be Adam. Or Beck.

“Hey Rainey, last night in Marietta, huh?”

“Yeah, Dillon. What are you up to?”

“Wanted to see if you wanted to grab a drink—with me. I’m heading over to Group Therapy, it’s a cool bar. You’d like it.”

I couldn’t afford free bar nuts much less a drink. “Thanks, Dillon, but I’ve got a long day tomorrow. Better not.”

“If you change your mind. Just call me, I’ll come pick you up.”

“Thanks. That’s sweet of you.” I ended the call and checked my phone for the umpteenth time. Nothing, Not even a text from Adam. Or Beck.

When I was at work, I tried hard not to think of Beck, but it seemed my thoughts always came back to him. When Nell and I were sitting at our stations, waiting for customers, and chatting, I watched for his car or his truck. And let me tell you there are a lot of white trucks in Marietta, Montana.

I had just fallen asleep when my cell phone rang. Beck. I shouldn’t have answered it. “Hey.”

“So what are you doing your last night in town?”

“Let’s see, I took a bath for an hour. Painted my toenails a different color. What about you?”

“I thought about you all day.”

“Beck, I’m leaving tomorrow.”