by Karen Rock
“So, I look like an alien?”
Sierra’s deep blue eyes twinkled. “No. Amy Pond’s a human—and pretty, like you.”
Jewel fanned her face as more customers shoved through the door. The stench of body odor, spilled beer and crushed peanuts wove in the humid air. “Quit saying that or I’ll start believing it.” When they’d gotten ready, Sierra had showered Jewel with so many compliments she’d worried her swollen head might send her airborne. Sierra had even conned Jewel into a facial mask guaranteed to turn her skin to porcelain.
If porcelain had freckles...
Just her luck Heath had walked in before they’d washed off the green goo. When he’d drawled he preferred her freckles, he’d rendered her speechless and blushing like a schoolgirl. Her teeth gnashed at the downright embarrassing effect he had on her. Luckily, Sierra had mistaken her speechlessness for hurt and rushed to assure Jewel Heath was just acting like a typical, irritating big brother and not to mind him...only Jewel couldn’t stop “minding” him. He was getting under her skin, burrowing into her thoughts and coming dangerously close to her heart. Not a brother-sister type of feeling at all.
“You should feel pretty. Look.” Sierra nodded to the bar. “That cowboy has his eye on you.”
Jewel glanced at a leering bearded man wearing an enormous cowboy hat and a leather trench coat over fringed chaps. He waggled overgrown eyebrows at her and raised his beer mug. When he guzzled the brew, foam striped the furry animal masquerading as a mustache on his upper lip. “I think he’s either an alien or Sasquatch.”
Sierra’s cheeks bulged as she fought to swallow a mouthful of pop. “Don’t make me laugh when I’m drinking!” she sputtered after she set the glass down on the table behind them.
“Then don’t set me up with a Klingon.”
Sierra wagged a finger. “And you said you didn’t watch TV. Nice Star Trek reference, by the way.”
“I watched The Wrath of Khan in a drive-in once.”
Over Sierra’s shoulder, an old-time popcorn maker exploded to life when a server flipped the switch, the salted, buttered kernels popping harder than a Fourth of July finale. “Wish the Sunset Drive-in hadn’t shut down.”
“Heard some new owners are reopening it soon.”
Sierra clapped her hands. “We should go.”
Jewel nodded to the man at the bar. “I’ve got my date...”
Sierra snorted. “You might need to bring a cattle prod.”
“Or a phaser.” Jewel gave an approaching group of staggering men the stink-eye until they swerved away to play darts.
“If things get weird you could always say, ‘Beam me up, Scotty’ and—” Sierra stopped and made a face. “That was too far, right?”
Jewel chuckled. “We crossed the line way further back than that.”
“Look. Heath!” Sierra started to drag Jewel to the hall by the restrooms, then stopped short. “Now what’s she doing here?”
Jewel flickered Heath a quick glance, then frowned at the sight of Kelsey, clad in a white one-shouldered minidress and gold jewelry more fitting for a cotillion than a honky-tonk. Her loyal henchman, Lara, sipped a glass of white wine beside her. “Heath said she never comes to his gigs,” Jewel said, trying and failing to keep the disappointment from her voice.
“This must be her first time...and she looks uncomfortable.” As they watched, Kelsey seemed to fold into herself, her shoulders curving forward, her gold bracelets sliding as she clasped her hands in front of her. Lara’s disapproving expression suggested she smelled something bad.
“He didn’t mention it when he invited me.” A sinkhole opened in Jewel’s chest, carrying her heart down with it. She stopped fussing with the strings closing the front of her pretty shirt. Stupid her for reading too much into Heath’s invitation. Even dumber was letting down her guard around him. Again.
“He invited you?”
Jewel fidgeted under Sierra’s assessing stare. “It didn’t mean anything.”
“Of course not,” Sierra said slowly, sounding unconvinced and the tiniest bit amused. The Little Big Town tune ended, and the babbling voices and clinking glasses grew louder.
“There’s nothing going on between Heath and me,” Jewel insisted, then felt twice as dumb for sounding defensive. And guilty. Okay. Fine. Maybe something was going on...but clearly only on her side, more fool her.
“You’re dating Khan anyway, right?” Sierra teased, and Jewel grinned back, thankful she’d let the topic drop.
One nice thing about the Lovelands, they never pried, except for Heath. Jewel frowned. She was discovering a lot of good about her family’s old archrivals—the Lovelands were devoted to one another and cared about their land and its animals as much as her own. They’d been talking nonstop about Emma’s upcoming birthday party as if it were the event of the year. They treated one another, and especially the children, with the kind of devotion she’d give her own offspring.
She lost herself in the pleasant thought, then tamped it down. Mothering was not in this prickly cowgirl’s future.
A drumroll announced the start of the set, and Heath pulled loose of Kelsey’s grip to jog onstage. Outlaw Cowboys’ bass player, Clint, pounded a twangy beat and Heath grabbed the mic. Feminine howls of appreciation rose. In a fitted collared shirt, rolled up to his elbows to reveal strong forearms, and Wranglers hugging his long, muscular legs, Heath Loveland snatched the air from her lungs. Her chest burned as his full lips parted to sing the group’s opening song.
Every other noise receded save his bass voice. While his fingers flew over his electric guitar, he infused every note with emotion and meaning. He was gorgeous. Magnetic. A star. In that moment, he stopped being her nuisance of a cattle drive partner, her family’s arch rival and became the man she’d been dreaming of and thinking about nonstop.
It took her until the chorus to realize he sang a Prince song he’d rearranged into a driving country tune. The gravel of his voice added another dimension to it, an alluring one dancing along her spine and making her shiver.
His sapphire eyes locked on Jewel’s and he sang about wanting a kiss.
Her lungs quit right along with her heart. Was he singing to her? Singing about kissing her? Ever since he’d cornered her about whether she’d ever done it—she hadn’t—her overactive imagination conjured Heath as her first lip-lock, no matter how wrong the thought.
“Hey, Kelsey!” Sierra’s shout dragged Jewel from her trance.
“Hey.” Kelsey inclined her head. “May I?” At Sierra’s nod, Kelsey wedged herself between them, followed by Lara, who forced Jewel to step back. The artful pile of Kelsey’s blond hair now partially obstructed her view. Great. Awesome. Just what she’d come to see.
Then again, what had she seen? Surely Heath wasn’t singing to her about a kiss. He must have been looking at Kelsey when she’d come up behind Jewel and Sierra.
Had to be.
To think otherwise was dangerous.
Kelsey’s appearance at Silver Spurs proved she cared about Heath. Stupid Jewel for thinking the couple might not be suited, that Heath would do better with someone else like...
Like who?
Her?
Crazy. But somehow, somewhere the thought had taken root recently. She needed to stop it before she made a fool of herself and lost focus on becoming Cade Ranch’s range boss. If she kept the Loveland herd intact, despite dangerous weather and challenging terrain, she’d leave little doubt she was better than Justin. He had plenty of help and Crystal River access.
“How’s everyone doing tonight?” Heath shouted when Outlaw Cowboys ended their first set. Jewel hooted along with the appreciative audience in response.
“You don’t have to scream like heathens,” Lara griped.
“Woo-hoo!” hollered Sierra directly in Lara’s ear. “Heath!”
Kelsey summoned a
weak smile. “I think I need earplugs.”
“Not the best way to hear a band,” Jewel sighed, exasperated at Kelsey and Lara’s complaining. Why come at all?
“I’m here to check in on Timmy Logan’s fund drive.” Kelsey nodded her chin to a manned table selling Solo cups for unlimited beer to fund a local boy’s bone marrow transplant. “And for Heath, not his music.”
“Same difference,” Jewel insisted. How could Kelsey separate the two?
Heath was music...it seemed as much a part of him as the blood in his veins and the oxygen in his lungs.
When Outlaw Cowboys swung into an original song about the home that could have broken a child, but built the adult instead, Jewel lost herself in Heath’s music again. He was undeniably talented. His good looks aside, some intangible quality connected him to others, especially Jewel. He sang with the same emotion crowding her heart, his lyrics telling the story of her life, as if he understood her—or some mysterious part she sensed more than she knew.
Her throat ached as he sang about the troubled childhoods that made you, not broke you, the hard lessons you learned, the mistakes you’d never repeat. Jewel’s father had dismissed her. Would she be as strong now if not for his rejection? She’d come through the fire transformed into forged steel as Heath’s lyrics promised. Nothing would bend her again, she vowed, singing along hoarsely. The powerful song deserved a spot on the radio—the Country Music Awards even. She believed in Heath’s music. Why didn’t he—or Kelsey?
“So? What’d you think of our boy?” asked Clint a couple hours later when he and the group joined Jewel, Kelsey, Lara and Sierra at the mostly cleared out bar.
“He’s very talented,” Jewel said, speaking directly to Heath. His eyes widened and bored into hers.
Kelsey pecked Heath’s cheek, then recoiled. “You’re so sweaty. Can we leave now? The fund drive’s finished.”
“Where’s the fire?” Remmy, the group’s drummer, signaled for some drinks, passed the bartender their Solo cups, then leaned a shoulder against one of its wooden pillars. “This is the first time you’ve seen the show.”
“You liked it?” Heath ducked his head, and his eyes flitted to Jewel.
“Of course.” Kelsey stepped in front of Jewel. “I’m glad I came out to support you.”
“You came for the fund-raiser.” An edge entered his voice. “I didn’t see you smile once.”
“The show rocked.” Jewel angled around Kelsey, not about to be sidelined by her. “You should have a recording contract.”
“That’s what we’ve been telling him.” Clint passed out the beer and sipped foam spilling over his Solo cup’s brim. “He should be taking advantage of his opportunity in—” He cut off when Heath shot him a hard look and shook his head.
Jewel’s gaze swung between Heath and Clint. Was Heath passing up an opportunity to pursue his music career? It’d be criminal if he did.
“You guys gonna help pick up the place?” called Silver Spurs’s owner.
Clint grumbled. “Are we the talent or the cleanup crew?”
“As long as we’re getting paid, who cares?” Remmy grabbed a bucket of suds and Clint and Heath followed behind him to bus the tables along with the waitstaff.
“What’d Clint mean about an opportunity?” Jewel collected the empty Solo cups littering the bar top.
Sierra sprayed a citrus-scented cleaning fluid over the surface. “He hasn’t mentioned anything. My family operates on a need-to-know basis.”
“Has he mentioned it to you?” Jewel eyed Kelsey. How much did Heath confide in her?
“That’s between me and my soon-to-be husband.” Kelsey toyed with her engagement ring.
“If you’re getting married, when’s the date?” Jewel challenged, hiding her disappointment at Kelsey’s pronouncement. She’d known Heath would marry his longtime fiancée, but to hear it in concrete terms hit her with blunt force.
Was she jealous?
“We’re getting closer to setting one.” A defensive note entered Kelsey’s voice. “Not that I’m worried. I know how Heath feels about me. If I sensed I wasn’t wanted, I’d leave.”
“Like how you came to your senses and excused yourself at the Flower Gala committee meeting,” interjected Lara. “We all have our lane. Yours is the off-road kind.”
Kelsey nodded sympathetically. “Not everyone’s cut out for society.”
Jewel stepped forward so fast Lara and Kelsey scrambled backward and clutched the seats behind them to keep from tumbling on their designer butts.
“Get this straight,” Jewel growled. “My opinion matters, as you’ll find out at the next Flower Gala meeting.”
And with that, she stalked from the bar. Sierra hurried after her, calling, “Stop.” Only Jewel wasn’t going to stop.
Or let others intimidate her again.
Maybe she viewed the Cade Ranch range boss position the wrong way. It’d give her power and shield her...but she’d be tougher still if she tapped into that strength on her own, wherever she went, in any situation. Even a Flower Gala meeting.
Wasn’t it about time she tried?
CHAPTER EIGHT
JEWEL COUGHED, EYES WATERING, as she groped for baking pans in the smoke-filled oven, glared down at the blackened cake tops, then stomped to the garbage. Another disastrous attempt. She’d never baked so much as a batch of Rice Krispies treats—were they baked?—let alone a princess fairy cake...no pressure. With a muttered oath, she dumped the ruined contents in the trash. What if she let Emma down? With Daryl out searching for Emma’s MIA mother and party guests arriving in just three hours, Jewel had offered to put on the party rather than let a dejected Daryl cancel it.
And she’d been regretting the impulsive gesture ever since. If her pride hadn’t gotten in the way, she would have—should have—begged the local bakery to fit it in their schedule today.
Fast strides carried her to the sink, where she tossed in the pans, ripped off her oven mitts and flicked on the faucet. Her elbows jerked as she scrubbed with warm sudsy water, then dropped them with a clattering bang on the countertop to dry.
“What’d those pans ever do to you?” Heath sauntered into the kitchen and sat on a stool. With his cheek resting in his palm, his elbow planted on the counter, he looked half-asleep, his dark hair rumpled, his marine-blue eyes hazy and warm and doing all kinds of strange things to her sudden, staccato-beating heart.
“I think they’re trying to kill me.” She grabbed a dish towel and swirled it over the cake pans. “Or at least send me to a burn unit.”
Heath chuckled softly, linked his fingers overhead and stretched. Jewel’s breath caught at the glimpse of flat, toned stomach revealed by his rising shirt. “And why are you here, baking, on your day off? I thought you’d be home.”
“LeAnne went out last night with the girls and didn’t come home. Daryl’s out looking for her.” The shouts of the children, playing on the tire swing outside, filtered through the window screens.
“She’s been doing that a lot lately.” Heath frowned. “Did Daryl say anything more?”
“He planned on canceling Emma’s birthday party.” Jewel greased the pans, added a pinch of flour like her mother did, and tapped the sides of the pan, shaking the powder over the butter layer. “I offered to help so he could keep searching.”
“By burning down the house?” Heath ambled over to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup. The warm appreciation in his eyes belied his teasing tone.
“I probably would have woken you in time to get out.” Jewel grabbed some eggs and cracked them on the side of a mixing bowl.
Heath’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “Probably?”
“Can’t lose my sparring partner.” Jewel beat the eggs until they turned yellow and foamy, then added a teaspoon of vanilla.
“You’d miss me?” Heath set down his coffee
, eyed the cookbook cake recipe and measured flour into another bowl.
Jewel unwrapped a couple of butter sticks. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Sir Please-a-Lot.”
Heath’s dark hair swished across his forehead as he angled his head to eye her. “Sir Please-a-Lot?”
“It’s catchy, right?” Jewel grinned, full-out, as she dumped the butter in a plastic container and set it in the microwave to melt.
If getting under Heath’s skin was wrong, then she didn’t want to be right. The legendary tight-lipped Loveland self-control wasn’t easy to crack, but she loved a challenge and the glimpses of intense emotion Heath occasionally revealed. The timer dinged, and she grabbed the melted butter.
“Something, anyway,” Heath grumbled, using a fork to stir baking soda and salt into the flour mixture. White puffs rose.
“You don’t have to help.” Jewel poured the butter into the mixing bowl and added sugar. “It’s your day off, too.” She raised her voice over the whirring blades as she swirled them through the mixture, combining ingredients.
“How much do you know about throwing fairy princess–themed birthday parties?” Heath pointed to the glittering pink decorations covering the kitchen table.
Jewel slowed the mixer and reached for the beaten eggs. “I didn’t know much about girlie stuff, even when I was a little girl. I always just wanted to be one of the boys.”
“Not all girls are the same.” Heath’s shoulder brushed hers as he added flour to the batter in between pours of egg.
“I’m not the feminine type.” Her voice grew husky, her skin tingling in awareness at the feel of Heath’s muscular biceps against her bare arms. “Not like Kelsey.”
Heath tapped the last of the flour mixture into the batter bowl. “That’s not a bad thing.”
Jewel’s eyes lifted to his. “No?”
“No.” The sincerity in his voice, the heat spiraling in his eyes as he gazed down at her, softened her joints. Her lungs heaved to drag in more air. What was Heath saying? Did he think she was as good as Kelsey?