One Night with the Cowboy

by Brenda Harlen

  She looked up at him then, amusement dancing in her pretty blue eyes. “You can hold on to me if you’re afraid of falling.”

  They both knew he wasn’t in danger of losing his balance, but he decided to take advantage of the offer, wrapping his free arm around her middle and anchoring her close to his body. Because it felt good to hold her, and because when he was breathing in the scent of her shampoo, he could stop speculating on the origin of all the unfamiliar and less pleasant smells around him.

  He didn’t think he’d ever been in a crowd with so many people. Well, possibly in Vegas. But in Haven, a community event was lucky to draw a crowd of a few hundred people, and even then many of them would be familiar faces—people he’d known his whole life or, if he didn’t know them personally, who knew his father or his grandparents. Either way, no one was really a stranger.

  He wondered if that was one of the things that had appealed to Brie when she decided to move to New York, the ability to be anonymous in a big city where no one knew her family or her personal history. Where she could wipe the slate clean. Where there was no chance of bumping into him at The Trading Post or The Daily Grind. And though he’d eventually come to understand that she’d needed a fresh start, that understanding hadn’t helped him miss her any less.

  The train emerged from underground and the car was flooded with light. He watched the blur of scenery through the window and, after several more minutes had passed, glimpsed the top of a Ferris wheel in the distance.

  “Coney Island?” he guessed, because even someone who’d never been to New York would recognize the attraction that had been depicted in iconic photographs and numerous movies.

  Brie pouted. “I should have made you wear a blindfold.”

  “I’d be happy to act out your fantasies in the bedroom,” he teased. “But no way would I venture out in public—especially in a strange city—with my eyes covered.”

  She rolled hers, even as her cheeks flushed with color. “New York isn’t strange,” she said, a little defensively. “It’s just unfamiliar to you.”

  He glanced around the car, his gaze shifting from a fiftyish woman wearing a red leather miniskirt with fishnet stockings the same electric blue color as her hair, to a bald guy in a torn muscle shirt, his bulging biceps tattooed with the entire Looney Tunes cast, to a couple of teens with so many piercings on their faces he thought their lips might literally be locked together. And those were just some of the people in his direct line of sight.

  “Unfamiliar and a little strange,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Says the guy in the cowboy hat,” she replied dryly.

  The next time the train screeched to a halt, there was a mass exodus of passengers.

  “This is our stop.” She took his hand again and led him off the train, merging with the flow of pedestrians making their way down the stairs to the street.

  * * *

  Brie led Caleb directly to the original Nathan’s restaurant at the corner of Surf and Stillwell Avenues.

  They walked right up to the counter—which she assured him was possible only because it was the off-season and between meal times. Few visitors to the area could resist the lure of Nathan’s, even during the height of the season and in the face of daunting lineups.

  While Caleb was still scanning the offerings on the menu boards, she ordered for him: a bacon cheese dog with a side of fries and a Coke. For herself, cheese fries and a lemonade.

  The smell of grilled meat and onions made his mouth water and stomach growl as he pulled out his wallet to pay the cashier. The kid took his money and gave him change, then moved away from the counter to fill their order.

  A few minutes later, Caleb was carrying a cardboard box toward one of the outdoor tables with an umbrella tilted to offer shade against the late afternoon sun.

  Brie sat down across from him and reached for her drink, taking a long pull through the straw.

  He went straight for the dog. It was possible that his opinion was influenced by his ravenous hunger, but as he chewed the first bite, he acknowledged that it could very well be the best hot dog in New York—or anywhere else.

  “Is it good?” she asked, her pretty blue eyes sparkling with amusement as she watched him take another big bite.

  “It’s good,” he agreed, around a mouthful of meat and bun.

  “Worth the trip? From my place, I mean,” she clarified, as she picked up a plastic fork and poked it into the mound of cheese-covered crinkle-cut fries.

  He nodded and reached for his Coke.

  A gull, circling overhead, swooped down to land on an empty table beside them. The bird cocked its head to the side, a wordless plea. Caleb pulled a French fry out of the paper sleeve and popped it into his mouth.

  The bird squawked, as if in protest, and flapped its wings.

  A couple of friends, drawn by the cry, joined it at the table.

  “Don’t you dare,” Brie warned.

  “I’m not going to feed the birds,” he promised.

  A couple of kids sat down nearby. One of them tossed a fry onto the ground and snickered as the birds attacked it—and one another—in their efforts to win the prize.

  Caleb shifted his attention back to his companion as he sipped his drink.

  An impartial observer might describe Brielle as a classically beautiful blue-eyed blonde, but the generic description failed to note the fineness of her features and the flawlessness of her creamy skin. Aside from the tiny lines that creased the corners of her gorgeous eyes, she didn’t look much older than she’d been when she’d said goodbye to him seven years earlier.

  But she did look different, he realized now. Stronger and more confident than the girl who’d left Haven. And though she had a delicate bone structure, the stubborn tilt of her chin ensured that no one would ever think her fragile. This wasn’t a girl or a woman who needed a man to take care of her, and he found her new strength and independence incredibly appealing.

  “You’re staring at me,” she remarked.

  “I can’t help it,” he said. “You’re still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known.”

  “Look around,” she suggested, as she poked her fork into her fries. “This city is full of beautiful girls.”

  “I’ve got the best view right here,” he assured her.

  “And I thought these fries were cheesy.”

  He laid his hand over his heart. “Ouch.”

  Brie chuckled softly. “Sorry, but I’m not seventeen years old anymore. If you want to make my heart flutter, you’ll have to do better than telling me that my eyes are as clear and blue as the sky behind the Silver Ridge Mountains on a perfect summer day.”

  “I’m not sure there is anything better, because it’s the truth,” he told her. “But I see just a hint of dark shadows beneath your eyes today.”

  “Which proves that I’m an idiot for spending forty dollars on a stick of concealer that obviously doesn’t work any better than a ten-dollar one,” she said lightly.

  “Have you been sleeping okay?” he asked. “Or have memories of our night together in Vegas been keeping you awake?”

  She licked a drop of cheese sauce off the side of her thumb to avoid answering his question. Because the truth was, erotic dreams aside, she’d been sleeping just fine. In fact, she’d been falling into bed by ten o’clock every night, unable to keep her eyes open any longer. When she’d suspected that she was pregnant, seven years earlier, exhaustion had been one of the first signs.

  “Any other symptoms?” he asked. “Nausea?”

  “Being tired isn’t a symptom of anything except the start of a new school year,” she said. “There’s always a lot of extra prep required in the early days.”

  He held her gaze for a long moment, as if he suspected there was more going on than she was admitting. “And you really believe that’s all it is?” he asked.
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  “There’s no reason to think it’s anything more.”

  “Aside from the fact that you’re late,” he reminded her.

  Chapter Eight

  Brie stabbed her fork into her cheesy fries. “Only a few days.”

  If it sounded as though she was repeating herself, it was only because he kept arguing the same point. And if her words gave the impression of a woman in denial, well, that was her happy place right now.

  Caleb nodded as he nibbled on another one of his own fries, and she breathed a silent sigh of relief that he seemed willing to let the subject drop—at least for the moment.

  Affecting a deliberately casual tone, he asked, “Do you come here often?”

  “A couple times a year,” she answered. “Early fall is my favorite time, though—when the summer crowds are gone but the weather’s still warm enough to take off your shoes and walk barefoot in the sand.”

  He glanced at the motionless Wonder Wheel. “I guess the rides and games shut down for the season.”

  “They do, although they run on Saturdays and Sundays until the last weekend in October. After that, it gets really quiet along the boardwalk, but some of the shops and restaurants stay open year-round.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, as if trying to reconcile his memories of the country girl he’d known with the city girl sitting across from him now. “You really like living here, don’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t still be here if I didn’t,” she told him.

  “No regrets about the choices you made?”

  “I don’t imagine anyone goes through life without some regrets,” she said lightly. “But if you’re asking if I’m sorry that I left Haven, then the answer is no, because I know I did what was best for both of us.”

  “I think maybe we should agree to disagree about that,” he suggested.

  “Just because I chose to leave Haven doesn’t mean it was an easy choice to make,” she told him.

  “I know.”

  She pushed aside the remnants of her fries and picked up her lemonade again. “Leaving you was harder,” she confessed.

  “And letting you go was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

  She lifted her gaze to his then. “Yet you never asked me to stay.”

  He shrugged. “You never gave me a chance.”

  “I guess that’s true,” she acknowledged.

  “I only ever wanted you to be happy, Brie.”

  “I am,” she told him.

  “That’s good then,” he said, and gestured to the forgotten fries covered in congealed cheese sauce in front of her. “Are you finished?”

  She sucked the last of her lemonade through the straw, then nodded. “I am now.”

  He collected the garbage and dropped it into a nearby bin. “You want to take your shoes off and walk on the beach?” he asked.

  She did, except that the beach had always been her escape—the place she came to for peace and quiet reflection. And she worried that if she shared that space with Caleb, she wouldn’t ever be able to come here again without thinking of him. And since thinking about Caleb was inexorably linked to missing Caleb, the beach would offer her no solace when he was gone.

  “Let’s stick to the boardwalk today,” she suggested instead.

  They walked down Surf Avenue toward the Thunderbolt, then turned and followed the path of its orange serpentine track toward the famed boardwalk.

  Along the way, she recounted the history of the ride, explaining that the original Thunderbolt had been a wooden coaster and a favorite attraction at Coney Island for decades. The current rendition, made of steel, opened for business in 2014. And yes, she admitted, she and Grace had stood in line that opening weekend to experience it.

  Though the rides were still and the games shuttered, there were plenty of food stands and shops open. There were also a fair number of people around—couples holding hands, moms pushing strollers, joggers kicking up sand, sunbathers soaking up rays. He noticed a few street artists hawking their wares and transient vendors peddling counterfeit designer goods to tourists who either didn’t know better or didn’t care.

  A few blocks down the boardwalk was the Cyclone, a traditional—and rickety—wood coaster ride that had been an area landmark, although not continuously in operation, since 1927. In between were numerous other rides and attractions, including the iconic Wonder Wheel.

  “Lily threw up on that one once,” Brie told him. “Because her date insisted they experience the ride in a swinging car. It was their first and last date.”

  He chuckled at that as she paused to watch an old woman sketching near the aquarium.

  “Some people head straight to Times Square, as if that’s all New York has to offer,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong—you definitely have to see it before you go back—but there’s a lot more to the city than Manhattan. And since Grace first introduced Lily and me to Coney Island, it’s been one of our favorite places to bring visitors.”

  “I’m a little surprised, considering how close the three of you are, that you never told them what happened with us.”

  “Well, they know the whole story now—including our marital status. And speaking of friends,” she said, as her cell phone played a clip from the theme song of the popular television show, “that will be one of them now.”

  He took a few steps away, to give her privacy as she answered the call. He glanced back at the Wonder Wheel and, recalling the story about Lily’s unfortunate date, wondered if Brie had ever been to the park with a man.

  Of course, she’d lived in the city for seven years—it was possible she’d been here with several different men over that period of time. Not that he was going to ask.

  “Is everything okay?” he said instead, when she tucked her phone away again.

  “Yeah. That was just Lily checking in to see if I wanted to meet her and Grace for dinner.”

  “What did you say?”

  “That I had other plans.”

  “Do you?” he asked, only now considering that his unexpected appearance on her doorstep might have disrupted her usual routines.

  “I do,” she confirmed. “I’m going to show an old friend around town.”

  * * *

  They hopped on the subway again and took the train into Manhattan, exiting at Rockefeller Center where they wandered through the Channel Gardens, browsed some of the shops, admired the Prometheus statue, then journeyed to Top of the Rock just in time to watch the sunset.

  From the seventieth-floor open-air roof deck, there was an incredible 360-degree view of the city. But the breeze felt much cooler here than at street level, 850 feet below, and when Brie shivered, Caleb moved closer to shield her from the wind.

  “I’d give you a coat, if I had one,” he told her.

  She smiled up at him. “Always the gentleman.”

  “If that was true, we wouldn’t be where we are right now,” he noted.

  She tipped her head back against his shoulder. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t mean on Top of the Rock?”

  “I’m not trying to push you,” he said. “I just want to know if you’re going to spend the whole weekend dodging the issue.”

  “Probably not,” she said, though not very convincingly.

  “Because I’m not leaving New York until we have an answer to the question I asked earlier today.”

  “I didn’t expect you would,” she acknowledged.

  He nodded. “Now that we’re clear on that, why don’t you lead the way to the infamous Times Square?”

  She did so, grateful for the temporary reprieve.

  “Look at that,” Caleb said, pointing toward a crowd that had gathered. “I’m not the only tourist wearing a cowboy hat.”

  “He’s not a tourist,” she told him. “And he’s not wearing much more than the hat.”
r />   “Huh?”

  Rather than try to explain, she guided him closer so he could see the mostly-naked cowboy posing with his guitar for photos.

  Caleb’s brows lifted. “Is he some kind of celebrity?”

  “He’s famous for being famous,” she told him, laughing at his expression.

  They moved on, continuing to sightsee in and around Times Square until his stomach was growling again. Brie then led the way to an old church with stained-glass windows which was actually a restaurant, where they enjoyed a thin crust pepperoni pizza from a coal-fired brick oven.

  “I know New York is supposed to be the city that doesn’t sleep,” he remarked as they left the eatery. “But I was on a plane at six this morning, so if you could direct me to a hotel near your place, I wouldn’t mind heading back and hitting the sack soon.”

  “You’re asking me now—” she glanced at the time displayed on her Fitbit “—at 11:27 p.m.—to help you find a hotel?”

  “I looked online while I was at the airport, but there were so many choices that I decided to wait and ask you for a recommendation.”

  “At this time of night, I’d recommend you crash on a friend’s sofa.”

  “You don’t think Grace and Lily will mind?”

  She knew they wouldn’t.

  But they’d be intrigued to discover that the handsome cowboy from Vegas had suddenly made an appearance in New York. They’d probably also wonder why, after spending the night with him in Sin City, Brie hadn’t invited him to share her bed again.

  That was something she wondered about herself—especially considering that his proximity stirred her hormones in ways she’d forgotten they could be stirred. For a lot of years, she’d thought there was something wrong with her that she didn’t miss sex. It was only after making love with Caleb in Vegas that she realized she did miss sex—with him.