A Cowboy's Song

by Megan Ryder

  He stiffened and looked almost green at the idea of the spa, but he gamely swallowed. “I could always drive you and wait for you. I could swing by the feed store, see if our order is ready.”

  She leaned forward and patted him on the chest, trying not to linger and trace the muscles under the flannel. “I was just teasing. Tara is going in with me. You can just pick me up from there.”

  “That was just mean. I didn’t know you had that in you, Piper.”

  She grinned. “Neither did I.” Then she sobered. “Thank you for loaning me Dundee last night. He was an excellent guard dog. And I appreciate you scouting the area too. I slept great.”

  They glanced over to see the dog stretched out on the couch, flat on his back, legs spread everywhere, snoring lightly. Ty grunted. “Yeah, he’s a good dog. If you want him tonight too, that’s fine. Glad you got some rest. I’ll pick you up at the spa.”

  “Thank you, Ty.” She stretched up on her toes and gave him a peck on the cheek, the rasp of his overnight growth a gentle scratch against her lips, igniting her nerve endings. She drew away before she could do something incredibly stupid like throw herself at him and beg him to rub that stubble all over her.

  He put the travel mug down on the counter. “You call that a kiss? I lent you my dog, and everyone knows a cowboy needs his best friend. I hauled my ass out here in the cold spring night to chase coyotes away. And I apologized. And all I get is a tiny peck on the cheek? I’m feeling a bit cheated here.”

  “You yelled at me, offered me your dog, and I never asked you to chase the coyotes. And I gave you my precious coffee. Twice. I’m not entirely sure why I owe you more.”

  He pushed off the counter and gave her a lazy smile. “I never said you owed me, darlin’. Just maybe thinking you might want something a little more than that peck.”

  A shiver ran up her spine. How could he tell that she wanted to know how his lips felt on hers, what it would be like to trace his muscles with her fingers, and see if his arms would hold her just right? She would be here for only a couple of weeks. It wouldn’t be awkward at all, even if it was bad, but somehow, she sensed it would be pretty damned awesome. And she could use some awesome in her life right about now.

  She took a step forward, and his body radiated heat to warm her slightly chilled skin. Her hand reached out and stroked his arm, a tentative motion, then bolder when he stood still, staring at her with dark, fathomless eyes that seemed to see deep into her soul, to the secrets she held inside.

  “You’re going to have to make the first move. I won’t have anyone say I forced you.” The deep rumble in his chest startled her in the quiet of the cabin.

  She took another step until she was almost flush against him, until just a sliver of air separated them. She rested one hand on his chest, letting her fingertips curve around the muscle of his chest, his heart pounding just under the skin. Her head tilted, and she wet her lips and sucked in a breath. Why had her courage suddenly deserted her? She was inches away from the most desirable man she had seen in years and she was about to back out.

  He ran his hand down her cheek and traced her lips with a fingertip then ran them under her chin, lifting her a little more. She parted her lips and her eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his lips on hers, a gentle, introductory kiss. She slowly relaxed under the unhurried tasting, opening her lips a bit more when his tongue stroked against hers. His hand circled her waist and pulled her flush against him, the hard planes of his body fitting neatly against her soft curves, and his tongue dueled with hers, parlaying and dancing in a tangle of passion.

  Slowly, he pulled back and she found her hands painfully twisted in his shirt, holding him close, almost climbing him to get closer. She disentangled herself from him and smoothed the fabric of his flannel shirt, trying to ignore the muscles underneath, and the fact that she had a bed just a hallway away.

  “I’ll see you in a few hours.” His voice sounded gruff and hoarse with passion.

  She nodded and he left, calling for Dundee on his way out. She sagged against the counter. Well, maybe her time in Montana would be filled with more than wedding plans and a renewal of friendship.

  *

  Piper was surprised to see Ty sitting in one of the cushioned wood chairs in the spa’s waiting room when she’d finished her appointment. His rugged masculinity looked completely out of place among the white walls, beige carpet, and plethora of plants scattered in the room designed to inspire a feeling of peace and tranquility. Even the music, a soothing blend of harp, piano, and other instrumentals gently playing in the background, reminded Piper of an Oriental tea garden atmosphere. It didn’t do much for her relaxation personally, as that kind of music never soothed her soul, but she supposed it must work for some people if Sierra was still in business in the small town.

  Ty stood as soon as he saw her, his hat twisting in his hand. “Ready to go? Gene is ready for us whenever we get there.”

  She nodded. “Unless you’d like a massage for your tense muscles. I’m sure that cot in the barn wasn’t comfortable. Or maybe a manicure for your nails, clean up those cuticles.”

  He gave her a dour look and studied his hands. “There’s nothing wrong with my hands. Solid, working hands. And I wash them all the time. Curious though, you don’t seem as relaxed as I’d have thought you’d be after spending the morning at the spa, getting pampered.”

  She shifted on her feet. How could she admit that she was one of those odd women who didn’t like being touched by strangers, avoided massages as a matter of course? The past hour had been an exercise in avoiding the probing questions Sierra had asked about her spa experiences and allergies and which spa services she’d like for their bridesmaids’ day. How could she refuse and say none of it?

  She pasted on her interview smile. “I’m already pretty relaxed. What do I have to be tense about?”

  He frowned, giving her a sharp look. “Don’t do that. Don’t give me that fake smile. It just pisses me off.”

  She blinked. She had perfected her I’m okay act years ago, but Ty was the first person to see beneath the surface. “I didn’t mean to do that. I’m just used to…”

  He arched a brow. “Used to pretending everything is great? Well, I’d prefer to know the truth instead of lies, so tell me, how was this morning?”

  He pushed open the door and the sun hit her face. Her eyes watered immediately, and she blinked rapidly to clear her eyes. “Aw shit, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Damn, Tara will have my hide for this.”

  She laughed. “I’m not crying, you dork. My eyes just watered from the bright sun. No, this morning was torture. I hate people touching me, people I don’t know.”

  He nodded slowly. “I get that. Tara will understand if you tell her.”

  She shook her head as they strolled down the sidewalk toward his truck. “Tara thinks this is a great thing to do for her friends, and I won’t ruin her wedding. No, I’ll deal with it.”

  “You do that a lot, I think. Deal with things rather than speak up. Why is that?”

  “Psychoanalyzing me, Ty Evans? Kind of a unique hobby for a cowboy, isn’t it?” She hoped the diversion would steer him away from her psyche. The last thing she needed was another armchair therapist. She had enough of them in her business life.

  He shrugged. “Not much to do when you’re herding cows. Gets boring after a while so I need some sort of hobby.”

  “Well, you don’t know me well enough to make that judgment. Can we look at furniture now? I have a house that needs a style, and your friend’s stuff might be perfect.”

  He gave her a slow nod, but his piercing look warned that the conversation wasn’t over, just postponed for a while.

  *

  Ty was right. Gene’s workmanship was amazing, and he wasn’t as cantankerous or as old as everyone had led her to believe, though he came by the mountain man moniker honestly. He was maybe in his late thirties, a broad and tall man, easily topping six and a half feet, with a full dark brown beard
starting to streak with silver. His eyes though were kind, and he welcomed her into his studio after an initially cool greeting, where he sized her up with suspicion. She didn’t take it personally though, since he didn’t seem very welcoming of Ty either and he supposedly knew Ty. Gene soon warmed up to her, and it had nothing to do with what she bought. In fact, she knew she had scored when he steered her away from a bedroom set and offered to build one like the set in the cabin she was in and ship it to Nashville, since he had nothing like it in stock.

  Before she left, he paid her the highest compliment. “You’re not so bad, for a music star.”

  Ty chuckled as they exited the studio. “He liked you. Tara almost had to grovel for her special orders, and I think she’s still waiting for her new bedroom set. Though I have it on the best authority that you saw glimpses of it in his workshop. Don’t tell.”

  Piper’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God! That amazing pine set is for Tara and West? She’ll love it. No wonder he wouldn’t sell it to me. Although, he didn’t have to say it wouldn’t be right for me.”

  Ty grinned. “Gene has his own ideas about where his furniture belongs. Be careful. What’s delivered may be something different than what you ordered. Gene might decide you should have something else better suited to you.”

  “No wonder he asked me all sorts of questions about my house. He’s kind of like the Ollivander of furniture.” She cringed at the Harry Potter reference. He’d really think she was a dork, if he even caught her meaning.

  Ty cocked his head for a moment. “I guess that’s true. He does kind of decide what wood and furniture fits the person. But he only does that if he likes you. Now, how about lunch at the best burger and waffle joint in all of Montana?”

  *

  They slid into a booth at Early Byrd’s, and Ty had such a look of pride and excitement on his face that Piper didn’t have the heart to tell him that she had already been here with Tara and the girls yesterday. Apparently, not only was Earl’s one of the only places to eat in town, although she was sure there had to be others, it was THE place to eat. She understood that—there were certain places people went in Nashville when they wanted to be seen, or to see others, but Earl’s was more like a reunion place, especially since Ty basically had to stop and greet just about every person sitting in the diner before they got to their booth.

  And Earl’s definitely was not the high-end establishment that a talked-about place would be in her hometown. The refurbished train station was charming and quaint in a way she never expected to find except in an out-of-the-way southern town. The booths were wood, and the cushion stuffing had been worn down from decades of diners, so there was barely any buffer between her butt and the hard wood. The wood itself was scarred and not smooth; the high backs provided support for her back and even a little privacy yet were rigid and hard. In the open space in the center of the diner, old-fashioned tables and chairs were scattered, like what she saw in movies from the fifties, their cream Formica tops brightening the dark wood of the benches. There wasn’t much wall space, but it was cluttered with old pictures with what she assumed were from the area, people and places from the town. Who they were and what they meant were probably lost to memory, or a few old souls.

  She loved it, more than any of the fancy places she had gone to back home.

  Amy Jo, their waitress from the previous day, tore herself away from the older ranchers perched on the stools at the counter and fairly raced over to their table to take their order, a far different situation than Piper had experienced. Sure enough, the difference was the presence of a young, single man, judging by the way Amy Jo fluttered all over him and basically ignored Piper.

  Piper really wanted a pile of those waffles or even another burger, but she had to be reasonable. She might be on break, but she couldn’t go wild. Not every day. She closed the menu with a snap. “I’ll have a Cobb salad, dressing on the side, and a glass of iced tea, unsweetened.”

  Amy Jo snapped her gum. “You sure? You enjoyed that burger yesterday and mentioned you might want the waffles next time.”

  Piper raised her brow. Now the waitress decided to remember her order? “I’m sure.”

  Ty stared at her, eyes narrowed. “Nope, no one comes to Earl’s for the salad. She’ll have the waffles. And I’ll have my usual. Thanks, Amy.”

  Amy sauntered off, an extra sway to her hips, but she needn’t have bothered. Ty never even looked at her. Piper glared at him, anger a low boil under her skin. “I really hate when people decide what’s best for me.”

  “You didn’t really want the salad and you know it. Besides, you have to try the waffles at least once. And I’m not wasting my apology on a lame salad. Have one of those things on your own dime.” He leaned back in the booth and stretched his arms out, looking remarkably unconcerned about her anger.

  “You’re not listening to me.” And that was the one thing she wouldn’t tolerate, especially when she spoke up about it.

  As if sensing her breaking point, Ty focused on her. “I’m listening to you. Why did you want a salad over waffles?”

  “Because I have to watch my weight for the tour.”

  He burst out laughing. “You’re kidding. You could stand to gain a few pounds, not lose it. You’re a woman, not a mannequin. Eat something. You might feel better, sleep better, and be less tense.”

  “I’m not tense.”

  “Sure you are. Strung tighter than a guitar string that’s been over-tightened. And we both know what happens in that case. It snaps. I don’t want you to get hangry. People get downright pissy when they’re like that. Besides, since you had our beef yesterday, you have to try the waffles. After that, have all the salad you want. If you want to work some of it off, I’ll take you riding. Besides, you look great. Why do you need to diet?”

  “I have costumes to fit into, so I need to keep my weight at a certain level.”

  “Jeans and a shirt? How is that a costume?”

  His tone of disbelief was pissing her off. “My sponsors want me to look a certain way on stage. My clothes are often a size smaller to ensure I look smaller than I am, so I need to keep my weight down.”

  He shook his head. “Bullshit. I’d tell them no. That’s seriously fucked up, princess. How you can dance on that stage in clothes that barely fit is beyond me. Give me comfort any day.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t expect you to care about how you look when you’re shoveling shit.” Her hand flew to her mouth, but the damage was already done.

  Instead of getting angry, he threw his head back and let out a loud, booming laugh. “Nice one, princess. I didn’t expect it, but I certainly deserved it. You’re right. I had no business ordering for you. If you really want that salad, I’ll change your order.”

  At that moment, Amy Jo brought their food over, and Piper almost drooled over the waffles piled with fresh fruit and whipped cream. She wrapped her arm around the plate and glared at him. “Touch this plate and die.”

  “I knew you’d love it. You can have rabbit food with Tara for dinner.”

  She took a bite, and the flavors exploded on her tongue. She’d never admit it to him, but she was damned glad he changed her order. Waffles trumped salad any day. Everything trumped salad, to be honest. God, she hated lettuce and low-fat dressing, but her mom practically raised her on it, pointing out that ordering salad was safe, you always knew what you were getting, and it was less messy. Not that she’d had a lot of dates to practice it on in recent months. Still, she was glad to eat real food, though she really needed to watch her caloric intake. It would suck to head back to Nashville after her minivacation and be put on a strict diet regimen. She didn’t need the lecture about that.

  Ty was almost done with his burger when a shadow fell over the table. A big guy, almost as big as Gene, and built like a linebacker, with muscles on top of muscles and tats winding their way up his arms, stood at the end of their table. He frowned at Ty, who gave him a curt nod.

  “Zane. How’s it going?”
>
  “Good. When you playing again? Calving is done. People are wondering when you’re coming by. Scene of the Herd is playing Thursday through Saturday. You singing with them?”

  The sounds were bitten off like a machine gun, firing at Ty, who just leaned back in the booth.

  “This is Piper Raines. She’s visiting for the wedding. Grant told me they were playing. I might be able to play a few sets. I know you have the bachelorette party, so we’ll probably be there anyway.”

  Ty’s words faded as Zane focused his total attention on her, and Piper swallowed her waffle against a suddenly dry throat. She took a sip of her iced tea, which was sweetened, by the way.

  “Hello.”

  “Are you the Piper Raines who sings ‘Lazy and Love’?”

  She blinked. “Yes, I am.”

  “Sing for me. At my bar. I’ll pay you.”

  She glanced at Ty, pleading for help, but he only watched, a bemused smile on his face. “Um, I’d have to check with my business manager and agent before I can just sing somewhere. It’s not that easy.”

  “Why not?” He scowled at her, and she desperately wanted to just agree to get him to stop scowling, but she couldn’t.

  “Zane, you’re scaring her. Back off, man.”

  His face relaxed a bit, but the intensity of his gaze never wavered. “You’re a good singer, though your last album kind of sucked. You should get new writers or, better yet, write your own stuff. Your earlier songs were better.”

  “You’re not wrong about my current album, but no one liked my early stuff.”

  “Bullshit. Your second album was great,” Zane insisted.

  “It was a flop. Which is why I don’t write songs anymore. No one wants to hear my music, just my voice. Look, I’m on vacation, and I’m not supposed to be booking my own shows and appearances. It’s against my contract. I’d have to get my business manager involved and that will be a mess. The most I could do is sing a few songs but nothing formal.”