A Cowboy's Song

by Megan Ryder

  Her excitement was contagious, and he nodded. But first, he had to have a little fun, payback for having to take a cold shower and a little self-gratification when he got home. “I don’t know. Are you sure you can restrain yourself from all this? I know it’s going to be hard.”

  Her eyes widened, and she punched him in the arm. “I thought we agreed to forget all of that!”

  He grinned and rubbed his upper arm. “You said that. I never agreed. Anyway, grab your gear. There are boots in the tack room if you don’t have any. I’ll get some lunch packed for us.”

  Within an hour, they were headed to the meadow overlooking the stream. When they crested the hill and looked down, she gasped. “Ty, it’s beautiful! Like a postcard.”

  He smiled and relaxed in the saddle, the tension from the past few days easing from him. “I love it up here. When we were younger, we used to camp out by the stream down there and fish. Douglas built a cabin there several years back, and we’ve added a few more now for the hunting and fishing part of Redemption Ranch. No one is staying there now; it’s not the season.”

  “Can we go see it?”

  He shrugged. “It’s pretty rustic, but sure.”

  They galloped down the hill and to the snow-swollen river that rushed down from the mountains. They dismounted and hobbled the horses so they could graze and headed into the main cabin. He went first to make sure no critters had made a home in there for winter but then laughed. Piper peered around him, her brows furrowed.

  “I thought no one had been here yet to see how the cabins had fared from the winter, but clearly Tara and West have already come by.”

  The main cabin was clean, with fresh firewood and stocked with canned goods in case someone got stuck in a storm. Ty cleared his throat. “It’s nice outside. I could make a fire in the pit and we could work out there, now that we know no one will spy on us.”

  “Why don’t you want Tara or West to know about the song?”

  He sighed. “Tara only asked me to sing at the wedding. She didn’t say what song, leaving the choice up to me. I decided to write something special for them. I want it to be a surprise.”

  “She’ll love it. And we’re getting there. The music is fine. We just need to work on the words a bit.”

  How could he admit the real reason he’d been struggling, why he was having such a hard time with this song? He grabbed his guitar off the bed and headed outside to get the fire going and avoid the question. But her words kept after him, needling him much like the woodpecker drilling a tree in the copse behind the cabins. He had spent his life not peering into the depths of his soul, much like everyone else around him, and wasn’t looking forward to doing it now. He knew from experience that path was a dark and twisted road, and he’d rather avoid it as best he could.

  He was sure a psychologist would have a field day with him, or any of his brothers, though they had wives now who probably spent their time analyzing their mental issues. Hailey alone had her hands full with Chase. Ty didn’t envy her talking through his whole past. Yet Ty envied his brother for how calm and content he was now, relaxed and completely comfortable in his new life, happy to spend his time at home with Hailey and his stepson.

  Piper followed him outside, carrying her own guitar, and settled on one of the log benches around the fire pit and began to tune it idly, ignoring him as he stoked the fire. He stole glances at her, at the rays of the afternoon sun highlighting the glossy dark brown of her hair, the waves cascading down her back, and he had the sudden urge to run his fingers through the strands, to feel them wrapped around his hands as he kissed her deeply, sank into her, body and soul.

  She lifted her head, her eyes wide and questioning.

  *

  A wave of heat passed over Piper, and it had nothing to do with the afternoon sun passing overhead on its journey to sunset. Since the fire was just starting, she couldn’t even blame that for the warmth, especially since it was coming from deep inside. She stared at Ty, his dark brown eyes settling on her, scorching her with their intensity. She shivered, a frisson of awareness skating across her skin. He blinked and returned his attention to the fire, fanning the sparks with the kindling until it caught and started burning. He sat back on his heels and studied the flames, avoiding her.

  She smothered a grin and began playing the chords for the song, practicing the melody and humming along. She closed her eyes, letting the music flow over her, through her, and settled into her happy place. When she finished, she opened her eyes to see him staring at her, his eyes like burning coal.

  “You love playing music. So why don’t you play more on stage?”

  She slumped a little over the guitar and stared at the flames dancing above the logs. “It’s complicated.”

  He leaned back against the bench and arched his brow. “How complicated could it be? You’re talented, and most musicians sing and play some instrument. Your brother plays. Why not you?”

  “Well, it was decided people came more to see and hear me sing and dance, not play a guitar. So, I have a backup band that focuses on the music. The fans want to see me out front, hear me, not see me play guitar.” The last sentence was said in a parroted falsetto voice, higher than her usual, yet the bitter tones came through. “It’s hard enough to keep track of everything I have to do on stage. Easier not to manage a guitar too.”

  “So, you really don’t like performing. Why do you do it then?” He seemed surprised by her statement.

  She smiled. “It’s what you do, part of the job. Do you like the branding and castrating?”

  He grimaced. “Point taken. We have to do it for the cows’ health and herd management, but it’s dirty, messy work and no one likes it. But music is not the same thing.”

  She laid her guitar aside while struggling to control the familiar burn. Someone was always putting down her career choice, as if it was a lark, nothing serious. She had expected Ty to know better, to at least give her the measure of doubt, but how could she expect that if they’d never talked about it and his only experience was playing on occasional weekend nights? Now, how to explain what she actually did.

  Before she could speak, he pulled a beer out from the cooler, cracked the top, and handed it to her. “What was it like growing up with a famous family?”

  Her shoulders immediately relaxed, and she took a long swallow. This was something much easier to talk about. “My parents are incredibly talented, but even more so, they love us. My earliest memory is hearing them sing to us at home, practicing their songs and including us in their singing. There was always music in our house, or on the road when we traveled on tour with them.”

  “You traveled with them?” There was such a tone of disbelief, she had to laugh.

  “Of course we did. Back then, they were just starting out and hadn’t quite hit the fame and fortune they have today, so they were on the road several months at a time, on a tour bus. They didn’t want to leave us when we were young, so we went along. Once my brother reached school age, we stayed home with my mee-maw, my mom’s mother, while they toured.”

  He stared at the flames for a few minutes, saying nothing. “Did you see any of their concerts?”

  “If I went to a therapist, they’d probably say that’s where the root of my performance issues come from. I remember my dad carrying me out on stage, my brother walking with my mom next to us, during one of their concerts. A true country family. All of these people, screaming at us, cheering, and calling our names.”

  He shuddered. “Sounds terrifying.”

  “It was horrible. My brother still teases me about it, how I burst into tears, screaming and trying to get out of my father’s arms, almost falling in the process.”

  “Tell me they never trotted you out on stage after that.” He sounded angry on her behalf.

  Her lips twisted in a semblance of a grimace. “Well, they tried. I had to learn how to be on stage, you know. Holiday specials, family shows. And then at school, everyone expected me to be a natural perfor
mer.” She leaned forward, letting the bottle dangle from her fingertips. “For me, performing is worse than torture, but it’s what’s expected of a Raines. I have people relying on me for their livelihood, and if I don’t perform and do my job, they lose their jobs. I have to find a way to make it work as successfully as I can. So, I hire a choreographer and focus on structuring it as much as I can.”

  “You control it. But the other night, when you sang with us, you were relaxed and seemed to enjoy it. And last night…”

  She sipped her beer. “I did. I don’t ever remember singing and having as much fun as I did the other night. And last night I was drunk off my rocker.”

  “Maybe you should try it again.”

  She cocked her head. “Getting drunk? No thanks. My head would appreciate me staying far away from the pink punch for a while. Enough psychoanalyzing me. Turnabout is fair play. What about you? Why don’t you do more with your music?”

  This time, it was his turn to stare into the fire as the light danced around the shadows on his face. Birds sang in the trees, the sound of rushing water in the creek several yards away, and the breeze through the high grass marked the time that passed as Ty seemed to wrestle with his thoughts, lost in the past or in the pain she sometimes saw darkening his eyes. Finally, he started to speak, never lifting his head from the charred logs and ring of stone.

  “We’re all foster kids here, except for Tara, but you knew that. We all came here from different paths. Unlike West and Chase, I had a family. Not a foster family but my parents and a younger sister.”

  She sucked in a breath. How had she not known this? Why hadn’t Tara clued her in on this? Her stomach plummeted; if he had ended up at Redemption Ranch, the story could not be a happy one, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it. She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat and waited while Ty struggled on his own. She wanted to go to him, to hold him, but she wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. Not yet.

  He took a deep draft of his beer and laid his head back against the bench. “I had been taking guitar lessons for quite a few years by then, playing with a few guys in a band. We thought we were awesome, and I was writing some songs. My teacher convinced me to enter a songwriting contest, and I was a finalist. I was already at the competition in Billings. My family was driving up there to see me perform. Just before I went on stage, a state trooper came over and told me a snow squall had come through the area where they were driving, and a truck lost control and hit them. They were dead.”

  She felt the tears splash on her hand. She swiped at her eyes, trying to do it surreptitiously so he wouldn’t see her, but he was somewhere in the past, in his own pain and loss. She couldn’t imagine losing her whole family like that.

  “How… How old were you?”

  He spared her a glance, as if just realizing she was there. “I was twelve.” He gave a low laugh. “As they were telling me, the announcer came on, calling my name to come out and sing my song. Obviously, I never went out there.”

  She finally gave in to her initial instinct and crawled across the circle to sit next to him on the ground, laying her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist. They sat there for several long minutes, listening to the fire crackling and the sounds of nature. Finally, he gave a shuddering sigh and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close and burying his head in the space between her neck and shoulder. She hugged him, offering what comfort she could, wishing she could go back in time and hug that pre-teen child whose whole life changed in an instant.

  Wetness soaked her neck; he was crying, silently, and her heart shattered for the boy he had been, the man he was now. She held him tighter, and he responded, clinging to her as if she were a lifeline in the storm of his past. Finally, he sighed and softened against her, his hold relaxing. His hand began stroking her back, slowly moving up and down, almost as if he was soothing her instead of the reverse. He lifted his head and rested his forehead against hers.

  She had so many questions. Why did he go into foster care? Didn’t he have any other family? Why didn’t he write music again? But the words were stuck in her throat, unable to move past the lump of sympathy pain that acted like a plug, for once, holding her back from saying anything to ruin the moment. Not that she could really do anything to make it much worse, to be honest.

  “Seriously, Piper. I can almost hear all of your questions running through your brain. Go ahead. Ask them.” His tone was gruff, but there was a thread of amusement she hadn’t expected.

  She cleared her throat. “I, um, don’t know what to say.”

  He glanced down at her, a small smile on his lips. “I find that hard to believe. Really, I can take it.”

  She eyed him doubtfully then nodded. “Didn’t you have any other family?”

  His eyes widened. “Ouch, you went right for the jugular.” She winced and started to take it back, but he shook his head. “I’m just kidding. Really. Both my grandparents were older and living down south. I barely knew them, and they didn’t feel capable of handling a teenager. I guess I had some distant relatives—again, those I didn’t really know—and they felt the same way about taking on a new kid. So, they weren’t an option.”

  He laid his head down on her again. “I got lucky though. I was in a group home for a short time before my social worker moved me out here. She felt I needed something more stable and quieter than some of the regular foster homes. She was great. She even rescued my guitar before the house, and everything in it, was sold.”

  Piper stroked the neck of his guitar. “Is this it?”

  “No, I had some anger issues, or maybe grief, depending on which shrink you talk to. I destroyed that guitar shortly after she brought it to me. I never wanted to play music again or even listen to it. Douglas bought me this guitar for Christmas that year. I hadn’t really said anything since coming to his house and, Christmas morning, I woke up to this. I think I shocked everyone when I lost my shit and tried to destroy it. The guys stopped me. He kept it on a stand in the living room, telling me I could use it whenever I was ready. It took me months, but one day I picked it up and started playing again.”

  “Did you start writing music then too?”

  He shook his head. “Not until right now.”

  She leaned back and studied him. His face was quiet, pensive, as if lost in the past, but there were hints of frustration and shadows still lurked in his eyes, and pain. “Well, no wonder you’re blocked. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to write music again.”

  “Tara and West deserve this. I want to do this for them.”

  “Well, then let’s make this the best song we can.”

  She started to lean back, but he didn’t release his arms from her waist. She froze, her hands on his shoulders. His gaze had darkened, fully in the present, no longer haunted with pain from his past. No, now he was fully here with her, and he wanted her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ty had always avoided facing these emotions, the feelings that often threatened to overwhelm him in the past, yet somehow, having shared them with Piper felt more like a purge, a cleansing. Now he was more clear-headed, focused, and could almost hear the song in his head, see the words he needed to say. It was like a dam had broken inside of him, unleashing the blockage and opening the doors to what had prevented him from finishing the song in the first place. But before he did that, he had other unfinished business to attend to, business with the woman in his arms.

  Piper stared up into his eyes, her expression both wary and knowing at the same time. Her fingers flexed on his shoulders, an involuntary spasm, then she smoothed them around and down his back as she leaned into him, her eyes never leaving his face. He pulled her close, but their position was too awkward, too much distance, so he swung her around until she straddled him, settling her over his lower stomach, his aching cock brushing against her ass.

  She smiled, a teasing glint in her eyes. “And here I thought you weren’t interested after all your contortions to get away from me
last night.”

  “So, you do remember.”

  She shrugged. “Some of it. Some of it I wish I could forget, but I figure there will be plenty of people to remind me. One thing I definitely want to experience again is this.”

  She bent forward, her dark hair cascading around them as she took his lips in a passionate kiss, no hesitation, no waiting, no pausing. Piper was a woman who knew what she wanted in that moment, and she was going for it. She sucked at his lower lip, nipped it gently until he opened, his tongue tangling with hers in a sexy dance that left no doubt how he felt about her. As if she could harbor any doubts with the way his cock was pressing hard against his zipper and into her lower back.

  He ran his hands up her thighs and over her curvy ass to the juncture where her jeans and T-shirt met. He dipped his fingers in the waistband and tugged the shirt out, desperate to feel her skin under his fingertips. He slipped under the cotton shirt and dragged his fingers up the side of her torso, taking the shirt with it until he could feel the underside of her breast and the lacy bra she wore.

  She broke the kiss with a gasp and stared down at him, eyes wide. “Do you think this is really the right place for this?”

  He glanced around. “I don’t think the bears or coyotes really care, but we have a bed already made inside. The fire is contained and low enough that we don’t need to worry about it.”

  She scrambled off of him. “Last one inside is a rotten egg.”

  He snorted. They both were going to win no matter who got in there first or last. He grabbed a can of dirt and smothered the fire just in case. He didn’t want anything distracting him from finally having Piper where he’d wanted her for days. And he was taking his time.

  *

  Piper stood in the cabin, suddenly unsure what to do next. She hadn’t had much experience with the art of seduction, having very little opportunity to entice a guy. Most of her sexual escapades involved mutually agreed upon bedding then separating for whatever they had to do. She kind of expected Ty to be racing in after her, to take control of the situation, yet he was dawdling, making her second-guess if he really wanted her, if she imagined the iron bar pressed against her ass. Maybe it really was a cell phone or something else. Maybe he was reconsidering. Maybe…