Authors: Roxy Boroughs
“I suppose some women might find him attractive,” Emily replied, wiping away a bead of perspiration that had popped up on her brow, sweat that had less to do with running and more to do with Houston.
“Some women? How about you? You were practically drooling over him.”
“I was not!” As soon as she said the words, Emily knew she’d overplayed them. Her vehement denial betrayed her feelings more than mere words ever could. She may as well have agreed with the evaluation. The smug look Jackie wore only reinforced the fact that her friend knew the truth, too.
“Then it must have been the pasta that had you in raptures.”
Emily stuck her chin up high. “It was. In fact, I think I’ll go back there for lunch today and order it again.”
“That’s what I mean, Em. You need to live a little, try new things. Look at my situation. My boss announced yesterday she’s leaving the theater company to take up an artistic directorship position in Vancouver.
Emily slowed her pace to match Jackie’s. Chatting aside, there was another reason for her friend’s deceleration. Heading straight for them was a leashed four-legged animal, a Border collie cross, by the looks of it. What was more obvious was the fact that the creature was being led by a man.
“So here I am,” Jackie went on. “I just switched jobs, I’m beginning to get used to working for her, and in a couple of months she’ll be gone and I’ll have to start all over again with someone new.”
Emily tried to keep a bounce in her step, even though they’d slowed to a walk. “And you’re stressed about it?”
“Yes, but it’s good stress.”
“There is such a thing?”
“For sure. Change helps you grow, expands your horizons. It may be uncomfortable at the time, but it can lead to great things.” Jackie stopped and gave the dog a quick pat before resuming her stride. “Un-cute,” was her assessment of the animal’s owner once they were out of earshot.
“Maybe you need to expand your horizons and explore un-cute men,” Emily suggested.
Jackie cackled. “That kind of change, I don’t need. Besides, we were talking about you. How’s your resolution coming along?”
Emily thought about the summer dress hanging in her truck and picked up the pace. “Why do you ask?”
Jackie’s smile vanished. “I was just trying to make conversation. I know you were at the stables a couple of times this week and that you were in close quarters with those nasty cowboys.”
“How did you know that?”
Jackie turned and looked at her, the picture of innocence. “Because you told me.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Emily felt her friend’s hand on her arm, then a little tug. Jackie pulled her over to the side of the jogging path, by a cluster of trees. Emily scanned the way ahead, looking for the hottie that had attracted Jackie’s attention. She couldn’t see a dog anywhere, much less a scrumptious male owner.
She looked over at her friend, wondering what led to the current detour, and was surprised to discover an equal look of puzzlement on her pal’s face.
“Man, you’re on edge. I ask you a simple question and you practically bite my head off. Are you okay?”
Emily guzzled in air, while she batted away a pang of guilt. “Of course, I am. I just don’t want to talk about cowboys. It’s ancient history,” she told Jackie, keeping her feet moving by jogging in place.
“I still think you should talk to your mother.”
Emily’s runners kept moving, walking her right back onto the jogging path. “It’s not a good idea, Jackie.” She was not going to have this discussion. How many times had they gone over this territory? And what good would it do? Emily understood animals far better than she’d ever understood people. Herself included.
She sensed Jackie’s presence at her side again, blocking her escape. “Yeah, that’s what you keep saying. But you never say why. Hasn’t it occurred to you that all your problems with men stem from your father?”
Emily sighed. “You’ve been watching Doctor Phil again.”
“You don’t have to be a psychologist to see what is so obvious.”
She knew she wasn’t going to like the answer, but Emily felt compelled to ask the question, anyway. “And what is that?
“Dating cowboys isn’t your problem. It’s what those cowboys represent.”
“What they represent?” Emily hadn’t realized just how loud she’d spoken until a Canada goose waddled up and hissed at her. Don’t get mad at me, she felt like saying to the bird, it’s the woman beside me who’s causing the problem. And that woman kept right on talking.
“You keep going out with men that are like your father. Men who run off and leave you.”
“That’s nonsense. I date cowboys, or at least, I dated them in the past,” Emily corrected herself, “because those were the men I met. That’s it.”
Her final statement, as blunt as it was, had served the purpose. It got Jackie to hold her tongue. For a while. When Jackie spoke again, her voice was hushed, her tone apologetic.
“Still, it wouldn’t hurt to talk to your mother. Aren’t you the least bit curious about your dad?”
Emily reduced her stride, pulled over to the grass and stopped. “Of course I am. But the few times I’ve asked her about him, she closed down.”
“Maybe you need to build up to it more.”
“No, Jackie. You weren’t there. You didn’t see her face.” But Emily had. The look of hurt and embarrassment was embedded in her memory. “Anytime I get close to the topic, she turns away and starts puttering in the kitchen. It’s become this big issue that we can’t talk about.”
Jackie looped her arm around Emily's shoulders. “Oh, Em, I’m sorry. The two of you were always so close. You used to talk about everything.”
“Yeah.” Emily blinked to ward off the tears that threatened to surface.
“Hey, you can still talk to me,” Jackie whispered, giving her a squeeze.
She squeezed back. “Thanks, Jacks.”
It would have been a perfect Hallmark ending, if Jackie hadn’t started to sing
You've Got a Friend.
The country twang her friend added to the vocals certainly didn’t help the rendition. It was so corny it was funny, and Emily’s tears of sadness turned into tears of laughter as she joined in.
* * *
“On top of ol’ Smokey...”
Brandon sat astride his faithful horse, belting out the familiar song. He was starting to feel like a real cowboy. What did it matter that Smokey was the animal that all the children rode? Who cared that Sam had described the noble steed as a mere pet? To Brandon, he was the greatest thing since the invention of the combustion engine.
He admitted the day might have something to do with his exceptionally good mood. It was Friday, the day he was going to take Emily on a real date.
If she showed up.
She hadn’t exactly said yes, the last time he saw her. But then she hadn’t exactly said no, either. He’d stopped her before she could say much of anything, with a kiss that he’d felt right down to the heels of his cowboy boots.
He’d been in plays where he’d had to kiss his leading lady with passionate abandonment, and never felt so much as a twinge below his belt line. With Emily, everything was different. He responded to her with the intensity of a stallion during mating season. She felt so right in his arms, the way her breasts caressed his chest, the way her hips moved against his. Kissing her was the most erotic experience he’d ever had, and he’d been fully clothed at the time.
Ever since that lip-locking session in the pond, he’d been rehearsing his confession. In spite of the advice both Sam and his sister had given him, Brandon knew he had to tell Emily the truth. He couldn’t pretend to be Houston Saveloy indefinitely. Not if he wanted a real relationship with her.
If only she wasn’t so stuck on cowboys.
As he maneuvered the horse around, he concentrated on the solution, rather than the problem. It didn’t matter what she thought of his alter ego. He was going to tell her who he really was. As soon as the opportunity presented itself.
He’d test the waters during their date. If he could steer the conversation in the right direction, he could make an opportunity happen. And he’d planned the perfect setting for it. A place where Emily would feel right at home.
Brandon pulled on the reins and brought Smokey to a stop in front of the barn.
“Ya done good,” Sam praised, offering the horse a carrot.
“Yeah, I’m feeling much more comfortable in the saddle.”
Sam squinted up at him. “I’m not talkin’ ‘bout yur ridin’. I’m talkin’ ‘bout yur gettin’ Doctor Em t’ wear a dress.”
Sam tilted his head to the right. Brandon took the hint and looked in the same direction.
There she was, standing alone at the top of the hill, the bottom of her dress swirling gently around her knees.
Brandon urged the horse forward. Damn but she looked good, soft and alluring, her glorious hair cascading down her shoulders in a gentle wave. A grin spread across his face. She’d dressed up for him. The date was on.
“Watch it, son,” Sam called after him. “Watch yur seat. Ya gotta move with the horse, or else yur gonna end up...”
“Uhhhhggggg.” Brandon gave the reins a sharp tug and Smokey came to a screeching halt. The sound of Sam’s feet pounding in the dirt closed in fast.
“Okay, son?”
Brandon winced.
“Thought so. Ya gotta watch yur postin’, boy, or else yull bang yur family’s jewels against the horn o’ the saddle.”
Brandon eased a leg over the horse and dismounted with a grunt. “Yeah, I think I just figured that out.”
Sam chuckled and clapped him on the back. “It’ll pass. Just remember, it don’t matter how purdy yur lady friend is. Yull be no good t’ her if ya damage yurself in that department.”
Brandon nodded and, with as much dignity as he could muster, limped over to his date.
* * *
“Cowboys?” Emily shot Houston a quizzical look as he pulled into a vacant parking spot near the popular, western-style hangout. Was this really the setting he’d planned for their first date?
The cowboy bar was the perfect venue for singles to meet, boasted beautiful scenery in the form of staff and clientele, and claimed to offer
The Most Fun You Can Have With Your Boots On
. But it wasn’t exactly the place to have a leisurely, get-to-know-you chat over a glass of wine. As they walked toward the maroon, stucco building, the sound of music and laughter increased with every step.
Houston slowed. “I didn’t expect it to be this busy.”
Was he kidding? Stampede fever had hit the city and the Greatest Little Show on Earth brought a million plus people through its gates each year. Throughout the annual, ten-day exhibition, Cowboys was Party Central. To accommodate all the extra patrons, the establishment pitched a gigantic tent over the adjacent parking lot, piled bales of hay everywhere and let the fun spill outside.
She and Houston wove their way past the gyrating throng to the main entrance. Ever the gentlemen, he opened the door for her. Emily hesitated for a second then slipped inside. There, with the heavy base beat pounding against the soles of her shoes, she scanned the interior. Through the crowd, she spotted many of her clients and, standing by the corralled-in dance floor, was one of her ex-boyfriends. She led the way to the only empty bistro table she could find, keeping her head down, examining the floor.
As Houston held her chair and waited for her to sit, Emily sneaked another peek at her ex. He looked like he’d just come from a weeklong cattle run—toned, tanned and trolling for women. His jeans were low enough to show off the crack of his butt and tight enough to cut off the blood supply to his brain. He lounged against the railing, bestowing a boyish grin on a passing female. The smile became a leer as he followed the woman’s progress to the ladies’ room.
Emily averted her eyes and sank down in her seat. What had she ever seen in him? And what would Houston think about her poor taste in men if her ex happened to wander by and introduce himself? Would she survive the embarrassment? Emily turned away, popping her elbow onto the table and resting her palm against her forehead, hiding behind her hand.
“Hi, I'm Tina,” a model-perfect waitress informed them, shouting over the top 40 country tune blaring from the speakers. “What would you like to drink?”
The petite beauty wore black cowboy boots, black jeans, and a hardly-there black T-shirt. Bold, white letters blazed across her bust claiming her as a member of
Team Cowboy
. Tina topped off her ensemble with a scarlet Stetson, which stood out like a red traffic light. Though, from her flirtatious smile, Emily guessed the splash of color functioned as a
green light
… for hot blooded men everywhere.
Although the waitresses were all dressed the same, Emily couldn’t shake the notion that she’d seen Tina before. It took her a moment, but she finally placed the woman. This server had made a splash on local news when she’d snagged the attention of a visiting Prince Harry. Seeing Tina in living color, Emily could see why she’d caught the royal’s eye. But Houston barely glanced at the bronzed beauty.
“We need a few more minutes, if you don’t mind.”
The woman winked at him in response. “No problem, cowboy. I’ll be back in a flash.” Tina headed off to her next table, wiggling her derriere in Houston’s direction, though he seemed completely oblivious to her charms.
“Are you okay?” he asked as a remixed Hank Williams complained about someone’s cheatin’ heart.
“Yes. Of course,” Emily replied in her best nonchalant voice. “Why?”
“Because you’re holding your head like you need an aspirin.”
She peeked through her fingers and met Houston’s eyes. This was ridiculous. She couldn’t hide all evening. So what if her ex was here? It was all ancient history between them. If Houston didn’t like the fact that she’d actually managed to date other men (no matter how tenuous their claim to that title) before he arrived on the scene, then it was his problem, not hers.
She slapped her hand against the table and sat upright. As soon as she did, Gord Hogan, who was dancing with a woman half his age, caught her eye and gave her a wave. He nudged a boogying buddy at his side. The guy looked up and nodded in Emily’s direction. She remembered the man. He was another horse owner. She’d helped one of his mares through a difficult birthing in the spring.