by Karen Rock
Pleased.
The word struck Heath in the pit of the stomach, like a rock from a sling. His whole life had been about pleasing others.
Heath set down his half-finished coffee and stood. “I appreciate the offer, sir, but I won’t change who I am.”
“Just your sound.” Mr. Parsons waved a dismissive hand. “When we first tried out one of our top female recording artists, cats in heat were less pitchy.”
“My sound is who I am,” Heath said mildly, hoping that the sudden lurch of his heart didn’t show. “Thank you. I’ll show myself out.”
A knock shook the door’s wooden panels and a tall, well-built man with stubbled cheeks, spiky, highlighted blond hair and hazel eyes strode inside. He wore skinny jeans, a loose sweater and trendy sneakers that looked too young for him. “How can I help?”
“Convince this young man not to walk away from the greatest opportunity in his life, one he’ll regret, Jim.”
Jim Estes frowned. “I’ve listened to your demo. If we expand your upper register, get rid of that twang and add in some falsetto, we—”
Falsetto? The word had false right in it... Heath cut off Jim with a headshake. “I’m not interested.”
Jim peered at Parsons, eyes wide. “Is he for real?”
Parsons scratched his bald patch. “Unfortunately for us, he’s too real.”
“He’s got talent.” Jim rubbed a knuckle hard across his lips and glanced at Heath. “You’re one heck of a songwriter.”
Heath tipped his head. “Appreciated.”
“We need those songs.” Jim paced. “At least half a dozen of our singers would sound great on them.”
Parsons strode around his desk. “You’re right.” He drew a deep breath and seemed to relax a bit. “It’s a shame to waste those looks, but how about becoming one of our songwriters?”
Heath felt a rushing in his ears, together with a peculiar sense of detachment that sometimes came from a draft of Daryl’s moonshine after a long day in the saddle. “Meaning you’ll buy some of my songs?”
Parsons clapped him on the back. “I want all of them, and first crack at the next ones you write and the ones after that, if you’ll sign a contract with us.”
Heath suddenly forgot how to breathe. He worked his tongue in an effort to regain enough saliva to speak and noted the names of famous songwriters on Freedom Records’ platinum discs, too. He didn’t need to be on stage, didn’t need the attention, the adulation, for a creative outlet. Stardom wasn’t his dream, after all; Jewel was. He could write songs anywhere, and he’d rather do it by her side. Where better to compose music than in his hometown beside his muse?
His love.
Parsons’s cheeks puffed as he released a long stream of air at Heath’s silence. “And I’ll also let you sit in on the recording sessions. You can do backup vocals and instrumentations on the songs you choose,” he added, then turned to Jim. “Keith drives a hard bargain.”
“I accept,” Heath said, achieving speech. Euphoria burst inside him. Flash bang. He pumped Parsons’s hand, strode to the door and paused. “And the name’s Heath. Spell it right on the contract, now.”
He nearly chuckled at Jim Este’s and Parsons’s shocked expressions. No more appeasing others. Not even music industry titans. His fast strides carried him down the hall and out into the rainy fall morning. The pavement was dark with wet and the air thick with the scent of woodsmoke. Heath settled his hat firmly, bending his head into the wind.
Rain was falling in a downpour now, crashing through the canopy of the tree-lined street, their trunks streaked from it. They arched over him, a vibrant tunnel of colors, urging him onward, making him feel as if it anything was possible at the rainbow’s end. Happiness, success, even love. His breathing was ragged and fast, his heart thumping, his boots splashing through puddles, never moving fast enough.
With every step he was soaked some more, but with every step he cared less. This was a baptism. A rebirth. He rounded a bend in the sidewalk and headed onto the Cumberland River bridge. He wiped the rain from his face, felt his sodden clothing cling coldly to him, impervious. Leaning over the railing, he watched the water swirl, driving in one direction.
He knew the direction he needed to go in, too.
West.
To Jewel...
If she’d still have him.
She valued her independence, and he’d never want her to lose it.
As for him, he couldn’t live without her. Not anymore. Not ever again. It was what he wanted; what pleased him was Jewel.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“HAVE TO SAY, the new fall feeding system isn’t bad.”
“Not bad?” Jewel cast James a sideways glance and assessed him to be tantalizingly out of range for a much-needed shoulder jab. She contented herself with an exasperated huff. It plumed the November air with white as she fastened her heavy overcoat’s top button against the growing chill. “It’s Thanksgiving and we’ve barely touched our hay because of the winter forage planting and the new fencing and padlock system I installed.”
“We installed,” James grumbled, with his typical mix of superiority and amusement.
“On my orders.”
James grunted something indiscriminate, which Jewel chose to interpret as, “You’re the best range boss ever.” They watched closely as the fenced-in area’s Batt-Latch opened with a clang. Snow flurries cascaded from the gray sky and swirled around the grazing cattle. They picked up their heads at the sound Jewel had trained them to recognize and hustled through the now-open gate toward the thicker forage on the other side of the fence.
“They’re learning,” Jewel observed with pride. As soon as the last longhorn left the old grazing area for the next cell, the gate shut behind it to prevent any from returning.
“I am, too.” James blew on his bare fingers, then pulled gloves from his pocket and shoved his hands inside them. “Never heard of this mob thing before, but it’s working.”
“It’s mob grazing.” When Jewel shook her head, a shower of white flew from her hat brim. “Rotation, rest and better distribution of manure reinvigorates the soil. It improves forage quantity and quality and provides drought resistance.”
James nodded, his cheeks stained red from the cold wind. He edged closer. “It’s saving us time and money.”
“More importantly,” Jewel cut in, “it’s less stress on the cattle, which improves the quality of the herd.”
James slung an arm around Jewel and pulled her tight to his side. “You’ve done well, sis. Now let’s get some turkey.”
For some reason, his praise brought tears to her eyes. Not happy ones, but shameful, weak salty wetness that splashed down her freezing cheeks.
“Hey. What’s this about?” James caught her in a tight hug. Her hat tipped back and fell to the ground. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” The instant she shoved at his brick wall of a chest, he released her. She whirled and furiously wiped her eyes. Her feelings kept bouncing back and forth between pride at her hard-won accomplishments and loss at what she’d given up achieving them.
Heath.
A family.
Love.
“It isn’t nothing. I haven’t seen you cry since—since Jesse passed.” James strode around to face her, then followed in every direction she spun until she quit and glared up at him.
“I didn’t cry then, and I’m not crying now.”
James brushed his thumbs over her damp lashes. “Then how about ‘your eyes are leaking’?”
She half sobbed, half laughed. “Just forget it.”
“The heck I will. I thought you’d be happy as range boss.”
She sniffled. “I am,” then she burst into humiliating tears again.
James slung his arms around her again, alternating, “Shhhhhhh” with “It’s going to be okay”
as he brushed back the damp strands clinging to her cheeks.
When her eyes dried up and her body stopped its shameful convulsing, she sagged in his arms. What was the point of trying to be tough when your traitorous heart gave you away every time? You couldn’t fight nature. Especially the human kind.
“Is it Heath?”
She stiffened and jerked away at James’s question. “W-why would you say that?”
“Because you love him. You’ve never missed one of his shows and you defend him as hard as you defend anyone you love.”
“I don’t...” She groaned when she caught her brother’s knowing look. “James. How do I make it stop?”
He chuckled, long and deep. “You can’t. Trust me on that.”
“Then how do I stand it? I’ve got everything I ever wanted, but I’m miserable.”
“Everything but Heath.”
She nodded glumly. She missed Heath like crazy, although she was happy to hear he was gigging in Nashville, chasing a recording contract. He wanted music and, despite wanting to prove herself as range boss, all she’d really proved was she was miserable alone. There was no better place to heal a broken heart than on the back of a horse, some said, a theory she’d just disproven. “I never thought I’d need a man to be happy.”
“You don’t.” James kept his voice neutral, soft, like he was trying to calm a fussing child. But she wasn’t a child, as James was well aware. “You need Heath.”
She swooped down, grabbed her hat and jammed it on her head again. “Well, I can’t have him.”
“Why not?” James vaulted into the saddle and wheeled his stallion around as she did the same. They trotted down the trail home in the intensifying storm. Snowflakes rained down from the heavy-bellied clouds now, rushing toward her, never-ending, uncountable. Too many thoughts swirled through her brain, endless and confusing as the snowflakes.
“I’m not the fiancée type.” Jewel straightened her slouch, despite the weight of her emotions, and rode straight-backed and strong. “He’s going to be a country star who needs a glammed-up gal on his arm. That’s not the kind of world cowgirls like me are a part of.”
“Who told you that?”
Jewel reached forward and brushed some of the gathering snow from Bear’s mane. “Let’s face it. I’ve never been good at the girlie stuff.”
James swayed easily in the saddle and shrugged. “Who cares?”
“Pa did! I embarrassed him so much he could hardly look at me because of my ragged nails and tangled hair.” Her fingers curled inside her gloves. “All he ever saw was you boys.”
James snorted a little; his breath purled white in the winter air. “He loved you best.”
“No, he didn’t.” The old hurt was still intense, tasting like bitter grapes in the back of her mouth. “He didn’t even ask for me when he was dying.”
“Yes, he did.”
Jewel stiffened, and Bear’s gait faltered, sensing the tension flowing from her hands through the reins. “He didn’t. He called in each of you boys and spoke to you last.”
“Almost right.” James tugged his bandanna to cover the tip of his pink nose against the bitter wind. His next words were muffled, and Jewel strained to hear them. “He asked me to send you in next. Said he was saving the best for last.”
Jewel swallowed back the feelings in her throat and tried to speak. With an unsteady inhale, she drew the freezing air deep into her lungs. Her voice was low, barely a whisper, when she finally responded. “Is that what he called me? The best?”
James’s eyes clung to hers briefly. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” The emotion swelled again, and her thoughts were so loud, so insistent, that she pressed a trembling hand to her forehead so they wouldn’t escape. “I thought he just forgot me.”
Their horses forged on at a trot, their heads wreathed in white steam from their panting breaths.
“I’m the one who forgot.” James ducked his head. “Pa started having trouble breathing, and I ran to get Ma. It slipped my mind because—because...”
“He passed away,” Jewel finished for him, marveling, her feelings careering among anger, grief and wonder. All this time, she’d been furious with her father, when he’d asked for her after all. She had been worthy to him. She’d mattered.
Just over the next ridgeline a trail of chimney smoke rose, signaling they neared their ranch house.
“We were trying not to think about losing Pa since we were right in the middle of the season and couldn’t stop driving the cattle.” James’s head lifted, and he blew out a long white breath over his slipping bandanna. “I must have pushed those last moments with him out of my mind... I’m sorry, Jewel.” He transferred his reins to his right hand and reached for hers. “Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” The last of her defensive anger chilled, leaving her cold. She squeezed his fingers awkwardly through their thick gloves, then let go. “It’s not your fault. I could have insisted on seeing him instead of waiting my turn. Deep down, I didn’t think he’d care.”
“He cared. Pa wasn’t one for showing emotion, but he loved you.”
The new thought turned in Jewel’s mind, spinning faster and faster until she grew slightly light-headed. “I should have checked to see if he asked for me.”
“I should have remembered,” James insisted.
“But the thing is, I was too proud to let you see how much it hurt me, to show you how I felt. If I’d opened up, you would have remembered, and I wouldn’t have spent all these years feeling like I wasn’t good enough.”
“You’re more than good enough. Like I said before. You’re the best range boss. Ever.”
Despite the somber moment, she laughed. So, she had heard James right earlier. James joined in, and their guffaws filled the stable once they reached it and began untacking the horses. They worked side by side in silence, each alone with their thoughts. When she finished, she stroked Bear’s silky nose and breathed in the sweet, familiar molasses scent of his feed. She’d been around horses and cattle all her life and took pride in her skill and knowledge. In a way, though, they’d allowed her to avoid people, people she’d assumed would judge her harshly without giving them a chance. The Flower Gala committee, Heath, and James’s revelations proved how wrong she’d been.
“What are you going to do about Heath?” James asked once they trudged up the small slope to the ranch house. It glowed like a pearl in the swirling snow. Their feet slipped and slid beneath them. Pickups lined the drive since this year’s first ever Cade-Loveland Thanksgiving was being held at Cade Ranch. A new tradition...
She walked toward her home, heedless of the clinging snow, her heated blood in tumult. She was thankful for her amazing blended family, but she wanted more. A family of her own. “What can I do? We’re miles apart,” she finally responded. “I wish he could have come home for Thanksgiving.” According to Boyd, he had last-minute work and wasn’t sure if he’d make it home in time.
“Are you going to hang around like you did for Pa, waiting to see if he’ll ask for you?”
“I can’t just leave my job.”
James shrugged. “The cattle are in the last grazing cell. After this, we’ll put them in the winter pasture and then it’s just hay feeding. We can spare you for a few months.”
Her heart faltered. “But—but what if he doesn’t want me?”
“Then he’s an idiot and I’ll kill him,” James said, infusing a deadly promise in the last part of that statement.
“Over my dead body,” Jewel rejoined, just as fierce.
Nothing was more important to her than Heath, even her pride. Being vulnerable didn’t equal weakness. She could still be strong and access her softer side.
Of course, she’d already figured those facts out, or she thought she had. Apparently, she had about as much self-awareness as
James did about his controlling ways. Maybe less. She groaned. Definitely less.
She should have fully revealed her feelings to Heath and insisted they remain a couple, even long-distance. She’d let her insecurities undermine her happiness—a mistake she would not repeat.
“I’m actually more afraid of you than Heath,” James confided with a chuckle.
“You should be,” Jewel growled, giving him the shoulder jab he’d earned earlier. When they burst inside the house, the din of voices momentarily quieted.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” Ma called, wiping her hands on the turkey-patterned apron matching her burnt-orange dress. She hurried to give both Jewel and James hugs. She beamed up at them, her eyes shining though her glasses. “You need to get out of those coats and boots. You’re wet and freezing.”
As she hung James’s coat, her face whitened. She grabbed hold of the windowsill and swayed slightly.
“Ma?” Jewel anxiously studied the droplets of perspiration appearing on her mother’s brow. James caught her firmly around the waist, steadying her. Since her trip overseas, she tired easier than usual. At first, she’d blamed it on jet lag, but the fatigue never seemed to go away.
“I’m fine.” Ma waved them both off and hastily gulped the water Boyd rushed to offer her. “I don’t know what you’re all fussing about.” A timer shrilled in the kitchen. “Oh, now look. There’s goes the pies, and I forgot to put the pie shields on them. The crusts will be black!”
Jewel sniffed the air but was unable to detect any telltale scent of burned pastry above the waft of roasted turkey, coffee and buttery mashed potatoes drifting from the kitchen. As Ma hustled away, Jewel, James and Boyd swapped concerned looks. “Has she seen the doctor yet?” she asked Boyd.
“She’s fighting me on it.” The skin around Boyd’s mouth tightened. “Thinks seeing a doctor will make her sick.”
“She’s always been stubborn.” Jewel hung her coat on a peg.
“I see where you get it from.” Boyd gave Jewel a one-armed hug. “She promised she’d go in for a checkup after the holiday as long as I won’t worry.”