The Cowboy Songwriter's Fake Marriage

by Lucy McConnell

  Her phone rang, and she lifted her head to look at it on the coffee table. Her eyes darkened, and she pushed up. “I need to take this.” She practically ran into the next room, holding her phone to her chest without answering.

  Xavier sat up and checked Cody’s blankets. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but he caught phrases like trial date and testify in court that caught his attention.

  She came back in a moment later, her face drawn.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.” She stopped, leaning over the back of the couch to brush her hand across Cody’s forehead. Her hair fell forward, and her eyes were bright with love for his son.

  The world stopped turning, and all he could do was stare.

  She glanced up at him, her eyes warming into another kind of love—one he recognized fully. It spoke to his soul, and he knew without a doubt that he didn’t just like Emily—he loved her. Had since before his parents came. It just took him a while to recognize it.

  “I think we should talk …” He had so much he needed to say, wanted her to know.

  “I’m exhausted.” She climbed under the quilt, the air mattress squeaking. “Maybe tomorrow.” She turned her back to him and settled in.

  Xavier flopped onto the floor, deflated. Glancing around at the crumpled tissues and medicine bottles, he chided himself for thinking this was the right time to tell Emily he loved her. No woman wanted confessions of the heart when the guy hadn’t showered in 24 hours and their sick kid coughed in the background.

  Idiot!

  He punched his pillow and turned onto his side. He obviously needed sleep. If only the beautiful woman lying three feet away wasn’t keeping him awake.

  20

  Emily

  Antibiotics were the bomb! Four days after finding Cody face down in his cereal, the kid was back to following Emily around the house like a shadow. An adorable shadow. Her attachment to him had tripled after nursing him through the valley of the shadow of strep. He took a long nap that morning but was a bundle of energy that wanted to help in the kitchen that afternoon. It wouldn’t last, but she’d take as many smiles as she could get.

  She cast a furtive glance at the messy living room. There were blankets and pillows everywhere, books left open, and empty boxes of tissues. She shook her head at the number of diet soda cans lined up on the coffee table. Her mom had always said there would be nights when she’d turn to God and caffeine to get her through—she’d had two in a row.

  Her sleep cycle wasn’t helped by having a hunk of a man breathing deeply within touching distance all night long. Xavier was even more handsome in his sleep, if that was even possible. The worry lines faded away and he was just him. She shouldn’t have stared, but the opportunity was there, and she was totally in love with this father who kissed like a Marvel hero and had such a good heart it made her weak in the knees.

  Funny, but in all her daydreams of being a mother, she’d not factored in a father. She pictured curling up with children and a good book, but their imaginary dad was out of the picture. It was like she’d thought being a wife and being a mother were two separate things. Now, she couldn’t imagine parenting without Xavier.

  Besides the bond that had formed between them as they’d traded off taking care of Cody, there was an underlying passion waiting to be explored. She wasn’t sure she dared tap on the door for fear the fire inside would consume her.

  “Are we making scones?” asked Cody as he climbed onto the barstool after washing his hands.

  She shook herself out of her head. The less time she spent staring at that door, the better. Doors were meant to be opened, and she knew it. Better to step away from temptation. “Yes. Scones.” She pulled an apron out of the drawer and glanced around for her diabetic cookbook. Before Cody had gotten sick, she’d made almond and coconut flour scone dough and put it in the fridge to proof. Thankfully, it had held for a few days.

  “Here.” Cody climbed onto the counter and slid the book out from under a stack of mail. She’d thrown days’ worth of mail onto the counter and hadn’t thought about it since. She really needed to get back to her routine.

  “Thanks.” She grinned down at him as she took the book. A sticky note marked the page and she had it open in no time, pulling ingredients from the cabinets and pantry in record time. Scones were comfort food in her house growing up, and they could all use an extra hug tonight—even in the form of fried bread.

  “What’s a scone?” Cody asked.

  “It’s fried br—” Emily cut off as the doorbell sounded. She looked at Cody. “I need to get the door—don’t fall.” He nodded and crossed his heart. She smiled, hurrying to the front entryway. Xavier had finally taken some time in his studio, and she didn’t want him interrupted by their impromptu visitor.

  She swung the door open. “Hi.” She glanced over the man in a dark suit and perfectly mussed hair. He looked to be about her age and had a tense smile.

  She slid her gaze to the second guy, and her eyes landed on the country music star Tyson Temple! She recognized him immediately and giggled without thinking. Oh my gosh! It was really him. From his traditional blue button-up shirt to his straw cowboy hat and two-day scruff, he was every bit the hunky man she’d admired for years. Tyson Temple was on her doorstep!

  “Hi.” The man in the suit held out his hand. “I’m Mark.”

  Mark …. Mark …? “Xavier’s agent,” she blurted like a fool. Holy cow. They were here officially. In all the day-to-day moments they shared, she sort of forgot that her husband knew famous people. Her hand flew to the messy bun perched on top of her head. “Please, come in. Come in.” She stepped back and motioned for them to enter the house.

  After Mark stepped over the threshold, Tyson tipped his hat and said, “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Emily barely managed to shut the door without squealing like a thirteen-year-old. She turned around just to make sure he was really standing in her house. Tyson was really here. He had on a pair of nicely worn-in jeans with his signature silver belt buckle and brown boots. She thought back to the hundreds of times she and Lexi had jammed out to his songs bemoaning the hard life of a cowboy and memorializing the love of a good woman. She’d even made out with a guy to his “Hard Life, Good Boots” song in high school. He was only five years older than she was, but fame had come early in his life due to his caramel voice and delicious blue eyes.

  His age had made him seem accessible to the girls in her group. Any one of them could be swept off their feet by him when they went off to college or scored backstage passes. The daydreams were within their grasp.

  The men stared back at her expectantly.

  She suddenly realized they weren’t here to see her. “I’ll, um, find Xavier and let him know you’re here.” She was about to invite them into the living room when her mind flashed to the mess that awaited them. Why hadn’t she cleaned?

  She knocked and rushed into the studio, breaking one of her unspoken rules to not disturb Xavier when he was deep in his creative process.

  “Why didn’t you tell me Tyson Temple was coming today?” she hissed, glancing over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t overheard. “He’s in the entryway.” She jabbed her finger in that direction several times.

  Xavier jumped to his feet and glanced down at his sweats. “I totally forgot.” He dashed out the door and to his bedroom. “Can you entertain him for a minute?”

  She moaned, following after him. “The house is a wreck.”

  “He’s a good guy. He won’t say anything.” Xavier said.

  “Men!” She threw her hands in the air. “It’s not about him saying anything—it’s about me knowing how bad our place looks. A guest feels more comfortable in a clean house, and the only clean space is the kitchen.”

  “Then take them in there.”

  “Gah!” She threw her hands up. Entertaining a music legend in her kitchen wasn’t her first choice, but she’d have to make do. “Okay …”

  Xavie
r ripped off his shirt and threw it in the hamper. Her mind went blank, and she stared at the amazing-ness that was his body. He worked out, but not excessively—he was lucky to get in a couple sessions a week. Apparently, he was just blessed with the kind of genes that sculpted nicely.

  She gulped.

  He hooked his thumbs inside his sweats, ready to shove them to the floor, and stopped abruptly, making eye contact with her. She flushed from the bottoms of her feet all the way up to her roots. He’d totally caught her checking him out.

  “Hurry,” she whispered, shutting the door as she backed out. On the other side, she leaned against the wood, placed her hand over her heart, and tried to breathe normally.

  That man had serious hotness issues. How was she supposed to keep the image of him shirtless from filtering in every minute of every day?

  She heard something hit the kitchen floor and took off at a run. Cody had knocked over the barstool in his efforts to climb down. His legs dangled as he hung over the edge. She rushed in and lifted him up. “I told you to not fall,” she teased. No harm, no foul.

  Ahem.

  She turned around, still holding Cody against her stomach, his arms up at funny angles.

  Mark and Tyson smiled. “Need some help?” asked Mark.

  She took a moment to consider her options. Being the fabulous and sophisticated wife of a hit songwriter had gone out the window the moment she fangirled at the front door. Better to go with who she was and hope they were cool with that. “Sure.” She handed Cody to Mark, who threw him over his shoulder and headed for the front room. “While you’re in there, can you fold a few blankets?” She mentally slammed her hand over her mouth to stop herself from saying stupid things. Who asked their agent to fold blankets?

  “I’m on it,” Mark called back.

  She sagged against the counter before realizing she was now alone in a room with her high school/college never-going-to-happen-crush. “Um, how are you at frying scones?”

  He blinked once, and a slow, sultry smile spread across his lips. “I guess I’m as good as the next guy.”

  If he’d given her that smile six years ago, she would have melted into a puddle of goo right there. As handsome as Tyson was, he didn’t stir up a belly full of butterflies or make her want to watch him do laundry. She gave him another once-over and decided he was just a man who could sing pretty. And he was here to buy a song from her husband—hopefully. Might as well make him feel like one of the family.

  She nodded and pulled a pan out from under the stove. “You’re hired. Oil is in the cupboard next to the fridge.”

  He crossed the kitchen, tugging on one of her apron strings. “Do I get one of those?”

  She laughed, feeling more at ease. “I think we can arrange that.” She retrieved a plain white apron that went well with his shirt and tossed it to him. He caught it with one hand as he poured oil into the warming pan with the other. She got the dough from the fridge and sprinkled almond flour on the counter. They worked in silence for a moment. Cody laughed in the other room, and she smiled.

  What was taking Xavier so long? And what was she supposed to say to a man who was a legend?

  “Cody’s a cute kid,” Tyson offered.

  She relaxed into her task of cutting dough into triangles. “Thanks. He had a rough week—strep.” She realized what strep could mean to a man who made his living with his vocal cords. “Don’t worry, though. He’s been on an antibiotic for four days. He’s not contagious.”

  Tyson waved off her concern. “My nieces and nephews pass around enough germs to infect a whole concert hall. I’m fine.”

  She breathed out, and her shoulders slumped. “So what’s it like, touring all over the world and having billions of women use your face as wallpaper on their phones?”

  He laughed and stepped back so she could drop dough into the oil. “It’s overwhelming at times. Definity surreal. I’m just a country boy at heart, and I need quiet nights on the ranch with my family to recharge.”

  She handed him a pair of tongs. “Flip them when they brown on the bottom.”

  A small line appeared between his eyebrows as he studied the scones. “What about you?”

  She blinked. “Me?”

  “Yeah—what do you do?”

  “I’m a mom,” she replied automatically. “I used to be a physical therapist and a fitness coach.”

  “Sounds like a busy life.”

  She nodded. “The best kind of busy.”

  “My sister would say the same thing.”

  Emily wondered at the ease to their conversation. Lexi was going to freak out when she told her she’d spent an evening making scones with Tyson and discussing raising children. “How many kids does she have?”

  “Six under nine.”

  “Okay, she’s officially my new hero.” Cody wore her out, and he was just one kid!

  He laughed as he carefully flipped over the first batch of dough. They were golden brown and beautiful.

  “Your fans will be happy to hear you’re accomplished in the kitchen,” she teased.

  He waved the tongs and pumped his eyebrows. “I’ll wow them all with my deep-frying skills.”

  She was giggling when Xavier walked in, freshly showered and smelling clean and yummy. He looked back and forth between the two of them. “What’s going on?” Hs voice had a jealous edge to it. She hadn’t expected that from him. But she liked it.

  “We’re making dinner.” She pointed to the fridge. “Can you find the fruit?”

  Xavier moved to the fridge. “Hey, Tyson.” They shook hands. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “You too.” Tyson pulled out a finished scone and set it on the paper towel-covered plate Emily offered.

  “Again?” Emily asked, quirking her eyebrow.

  Xavier nodded. “We used to work together a lot.”

  Tyson pointed the tongues at Xavier. “He wrote ‘Hard Life, Good Boots.’”

  Emily dropped the dough in her hands. It landed with a puff of flour. “Shut the front door.” Her face flushed with the memory of kisses in Bobby Tom’s living room. To think she’d swooned over Xavier’s words! That was just … mind-boggling. He couldn’t have been much older than Tyson at the time. It seemed success had come early to both of them.

  More importantly, though, she realized that Xavier had been in her heart long before she’d ever met him. Tyson might have added caramel to the song, but the lyrics were all chocolate and Xavier. Her insides were antsy. She’d thought she could wait for him to make up his mind, but the waiting was killing her, because all she wanted to do was fall into his arms and make out to that song! If he started singing? She’d totally swoon.

  Mark came in, carrying Cody over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Did someone order a kid?”

  Xavier grinned and reached for Cody. “Nope. But we’ll take him anyway.”

  “Hey!” Cody scowled, making them all chuckle.

  With everyone’s help, dinner was on the table in record time and they dug in. Tyson was easy to talk to. He wasn’t lying when he said he was just a country boy. He had great stories of days and nights on his family’s cattle ranch. Cody was enthralled with the whole idea of riding horses and rustling cattle.

  The evening was going well. They hadn’t said a word about music, though, and Emily started to worry. Selling a song hung heavy on Xavier’s shoulders. He needed this win—she could see it in the way he’d thrown himself into writing music lately. The songs came to him at random moments, and he’d trot off to note them down. She wanted this for him. Wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything for herself.

  21

  Xavier

  Xavier had a hard time getting his scones down. Every time he looked up from his plate, Tyson was looking at Emily like she’d hung the moon and the stars and was personally responsible for electricity and moving pictures too.

  No guy had a right to look at his wife that way.

  He mentally stuttered to a stop and stared
at his plate. Yes, Emily was his wife, but he didn’t have a right to possess her—not like some over-egoed macho man who insisted on being the center of a woman’s world just because he’d put a ring on her finger.

  But still … there were boundaries a guy should keep around another man’s wife. He stabbed at a strawberry and chewed it ferociously. He should be talking about his latest song, the one he was sure Tyson would want to headline his new album. And then there were the two singles that were chart-toppers. He could feel it in his bones, had a sixth sense about these things, and he had never been wrong before.

  He couldn’t focus when Emily laughed breathlessly at Tyson’s stupid jokes. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t flirting. She wasn’t sending out I’m available vibes. And she worked to include everyone, even Cody, in the conversation. In short, she was being an excellent hostess.

  He wished she’d knock it off.

  Tyson didn’t need one more reason to smile at her. He could obviously see Emily’s charms. She was an excellent mother, an active listener, and a great cook. Tyson would be stupid not to follow her around the room with his eyes.

  When she got up to clear the table, Xavier jumped in to help so that Tyson wouldn’t follow her into the kitchen. They were a team, and he wanted to show it to everyone in the room. Including Mark, who had kept his eyes to himself, though he’d been quiet throughout the meal.

  Tyson turned in his seat to track Emily’s movements as she took dirty plates to the counter.

  Xavier glared at him.

  Tyson said, “You guys should come down to Texas for a weekend. We’ll teach you to rope and ride.” He rubbed Cody’s head, messing up his already messy hair.