Beauty and the Cowboy

by Nancy Robards Thompson - Beauty

  “What I’m saying is if I loved a woman I wouldn’t wait—not even a few weeks. And most important, when I propose, she’s going to know she’s been proposed to.”

  *

  When Charlotte got home, she’d taken Jesse’s advice and called Tom. The only problem was Tom hadn’t picked up. The next thing she knew, she was waking up the next morning with her cell phone on her pillow.

  She’d fallen asleep, and Tom hadn’t called her back.

  She tried not to be uneasy about it. She didn’t want to be one of those clingy types who got upset whenever her boyfriend was out of arm’s length.

  He’d told her it was going to be a tough week for him and there wouldn’t be many opportunities to talk. He was in Las Vegas working on some promo for the PBR tour. Sometimes the strategy meetings went late and started early.

  Now, she sat at her desk trying not to give any more heat to the irritation that had been simmering beneath the surface all day. Come on, it was past 5 p.m., nearly twenty-four hours since she’d called, and nothing. No response. Surely he’d taken a lunch break.

  She’d gone through the cycle over and over: Should she be worried? No. Okay. She didn’t want to be mad at him. But, damn it, couldn’t he make an effort? Couldn’t he at least text her a quick ‘Thinking about you’?

  As if on cue, her phone sounded the special text chime she’d designated for Tom. Her heart leapt and then thudded a quick staccato. Finally.

  Tom: We need to talk. Important.

  Charlotte: You okay?

  Tom: Yes. Need to talk. You alone?

  Charlotte: Yes. Call me.

  Jane had left the office around four for a meeting, and their administrative assistant, Sophie, had clocked out at five on the dot. Charlotte hadn’t been in any hurry to go home. She’d figured it was better to stay at work and tie up some loose ends rather than watching the clock at home waiting for Tom to call her back.

  Tom: Will call in five minutes.

  She reread their conversation, fixating on We need to talk.

  That never boded well.

  Something was up. She could feel it in her bones. During the five very slow minutes she waited for him to call, the clock on her phone seemed to count backward. As she waited, a multitude of scenarios flashed through her head. Everything from him suffering a career-ending injury to him wanting her to forget about the formalities of engagement rings and fly out to Vegas to elope.

  She didn’t know which scared her worse.

  Of course she didn’t want him to be hurt, but Vegas? No. She didn’t want that, either.

  The words Jesse had said yesterday about how his woman would know that she’d been proposed to wove through her head, followed by a sudden moment of clarity.

  That’s how a relationship should be. Maybe it was her defenses kicking into place, preparing her for whatever it was that Tom was about to spring on her, but she suddenly hated how their relationship had always been on his terms. She’d let it be that way because it had always been so easy and comfortable just to hide behind this long-distance relationship with the hometown hero.

  She didn’t want to do it anymore.

  Jesse was right. A relationship shouldn’t always be easy and comfortable. Where was the surprise and the romance? Where was the passion? Where had her voice been all these years?

  Suddenly, the only thing she wanted more than romance and passion was for Tom to listen to her. To really listen. For once in the life of their relationship.

  Her phone rang. Tom’s picture appeared on the display screen. Her heart lodged in her throat.

  Like a sixth sense, she knew that something was going to change—for better or worse.

  *

  By the time she got off the phone, everything had changed.

  Tom was married.

  Married.

  The bastard had taken her ring shopping and then had married someone else six days later.

  Charlotte wasn’t sure how long she sat there in the office after they hung up. She stared at the black display screen on her phone, willing it to all be a nightmare, willing herself to wake up so she could call Tom and they’d laugh about the bad dream and he would comfort her by assuring her that he’d already gotten her ring—the emerald cut that she really wanted—and while he hated to spoil the surprise, he’d be there tomorrow and get down on one knee and propose in a way that left no doubt that she’d been proposed to and that he loved her.

  By the time darkness swallowed up the office, Charlotte realized that while she was in shock over the turn of events, she hadn’t shed a single tear over him.

  The guy to whom she’d given her virginity and six years of her life had just called and said he hated to break the news this way—over the phone—but he’d wanted her to hear this from him. He was telling her before he told his family, because he knew once he told them, it would get out. He wanted her to have time to come to terms with it, as if that were some sort of consolation prize and she should be grateful.

  She wasn’t grateful, of course. She was mad as hell.

  But what was more important was the guy she was supposed to marry had just eloped with some man-stealing ho-bag he’d known for less than two weeks and Charlotte couldn’t even cry.

  Not one single tear.

  That’s when she knew she had to get out of there.

  She locked up the office and started walking north toward Main Street, but instead of continuing straight to her little apartment over the bookstore, she hung a left and found herself walking into Grey’s Saloon.

  She didn’t feel like cooking, even though she was hungry.

  And what was up with that? She’d never been one to eat her feelings. On the contrary. In the past, grave disappointment usually was a sure way to shed five pounds.

  But tonight Charlotte was famished. She wanted a burger and fries. No, make that onion rings. Tom hated onions. Tonight she would eat the entire order. Maybe two.

  She made a mental note to order extra onions for her burger, too.

  At the hostess stand, she requested a booth and a menu and prepared to do some damage. She’d have dessert. And wine, too. Hell, she’d order a bottle of chardonnay and drink the entire thing. Because she could. That was the beauty of living a block from the bar. She could walk home.

  She sensed someone standing at her table. So she gave the menu one last perusal in case she’d missed something good.

  “You’ll need to write this down. I’m ordering a lot of food.”

  “Hungry?”

  It was Jesse, not the server.

  “Sounds like there might be enough for me. I’ll join you.”

  Did she have a choice? She really didn’t want company right now.

  “I’m glad to see you,” he said, before she could send him packing. “I want to talk to you about something. I was going to call you tomorrow.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to do just that—call her tomorrow—but the words got lost in her throat as she watched him slide into the other side of the booth.

  Crap. She wasn’t in the mood to make small talk. She wasn’t in the mood to talk, period.

  “Are you okay?” Jesse peered at her from across the table.

  She felt her shoulders do a quick rise and fall.

  “Come on, Charlie, tell me what’s wrong. Is your dad okay? Your sisters?”

  She nodded.

  “What is it? Something’s definitely wrong.”

  “Tom got married.”

  “What?”

  “Tom called me at about five thirty and told me he got married yesterday.”

  “Tom is married? Tom Tucker?”

  *

  Jesse wished he could say he was surprised by the news, but he wasn’t. Well, maybe he was a little surprised that the jackass actually had the gumption to get married. Jesse had been expecting only the breakup, not this news. The guy had practically left his credit card with the jeweler so he could charge up that hideous ring as soon as Charlie gave
the word. Had he planned to give it to the other woman?

  “Charlie, I’m sorry. The guy’s a jerk. You deserve so much better.”

  “You think?” she said.

  Their waitress, Mardie Griffin, approached the table to take their order.

  “How are you two doing?” she asked. “It’s good to see you.”

  They made a little small talk with Mardie before he said, “What do you want? It’s on me.”

  “No, you don’t have to do that. I was going to get a burger.”

  “Okay, she’ll have the burger,” he told Mardie. “What do you want to drink?”

  “No,” Charlie said. “I changed my mind. I’ll just have a glass of chardonnay.”

  “It’s still happy hour, so it’s two-for-one. Do you want me to bring both glasses at once or do you want me to keep one cold?”

  “What the hell,” Charlie said. “Bring ’em on. And I’ll have a large order of onion rings, too.” She looked at Jesse. “Tom hates onions.”

  Mardie shot him a quizzical glance. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if she was asking what Charlie was talking about or if she was asking for his order. “I’ll have whiskey, neat.”

  “Yours is a happy hour special, too. Do you want your shots in one or two glasses?”

  “One is fine.”

  Mardie nodded and disappeared. When he was sure she was gone, he said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Charlie shook her head and sipped the water Mardie had placed in front of her.

  “He said he was in love, Jesse. He said he met her two weeks ago and immediately knew it was different with her. What am I supposed to say to that?”

  “You might’ve asked him why he took you ring shopping when he was here if he was in love with someone else.”

  Jesse regretted editorializing as soon as the words escaped his mouth. He was relieved when Charlie squeaked, “I did.”

  This time he stayed quiet and let her take her time.

  She stared at her hands for a moment. Then brushed something off the sleeve of her blouse. “He said he needed to make sure it was really over with me. So he took me ring shopping. Have you ever heard of such an asinine thing? He said it was his way of tossing it up to fate. God, I should’ve just let him buy me the ring he kept pushing on me. What if I had? Would he have married me instead?”

  She ran her finger along the rim of her glass. They were silent for several minutes, letting the sounds of Friday night happy hour fill the void of conversation.

  Finally, she looked up at him and said, “You know what I’m having the hardest time with?”

  Jesse shook his head, hating what this was doing to her and knowing the next time he saw the bastard, it would take everything he had to keep from planting his fist in Tom Tucker’s too-pretty face.

  “The hardest part is I’m more relieved than I am sad. I mean, how stupid is that? I gave six years of my life to the guy, and he calls me up and tells me he’s married someone else, and I can’t even cry about it. I mean, I’m pissed off, and my pride is hurt, but I’m not sad. It’s like a weight has been lifted.”

  Jesse wanted to say, Give it a few days. You’ve been blindsided. You think you’re fine, but tomorrow or the day after you’re bound to wake up with whiplash.

  “Actually, what I’m dreading is all the talk that this is bound to cause. I don’t want people to look at me like I’m damaged or broken now. I can’t stand that sympathetic head tilt people do when they see a person for the first time after something bad has happened. I hate that. If I can just get through the tea-and-sympathy part of the debacle, I’ll be fine.”

  She slapped her hand down on the wooden table. “That’s enough. I don’t want to talk about Tom anymore. What did you want to talk to me about?”

  Jesse crossed his arms and sat back in the booth.

  “You’re dealing with enough. I don’t want to put anything else on your plate right now.”

  “Oh, please do. Give me something to take my mind off of the confusing hot mess my life has just become.”

  He hated the tortured dullness of defeat in her dark eyes. All he wanted to do was slide in next to her and pull her into his arms. But he didn’t.

  “Are you sure? You really are dealing with enough.”

  “Hit me up. Go ahead.”

  Hit me up. The words brought to mind something else. Thoughts that he’d shoved to the far recesses of his mind started leaking out.

  He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t ignore the roar in his head shouting, Charlie Morgan is a free woman! Immediately, the voice of reason whitewashed that thought and put everything in perspective: She might be free, but she was in no shape to start something new. Not even if she thought she was fine or felt like a weight had been lifted. She wasn’t fine. She just didn’t know it right now.

  “Come on,” she said. “What is it?”

  “I wanted to ask you a personal favor.”

  He paused, unsure why. Maybe he was waiting for her to realize she was on overload and stop him before he could ask.

  But she didn’t. Instead, she was looking at him expectantly.

  “Anything. Shoot.”

  Go to dinner with me?

  He cleared his throat. “Matt—er—Mattalyn has filled out her entry form for the Miss Marietta Fair pageant. She’s going to enter. I was wondering if you’d give her some advice? I understand if that’s a conflict of interest since you work for the Chamber, but if it’s not, she could really use some help.”

  Charlie shrugged, as if it were no big deal. “Sure. I’d be happy to talk to her and give her some pointers.”

  “She really admires you, Charlie. And you have all that pageant experience. You could be a consultant. I’ll bet parents would pay to learn your pageant secrets. And if you want to help any of the other girls so it doesn’t look like you’re playing favorites, I know Mattie’ll understand.”

  Charlie was squinting at him. “You do realize I never won an actual title, right? So it’s not like I’m in possession of the Holy Grail of pageant secrets.”

  Now, it was his turn to squint back at her. “But all that money you earned for college was from pageant scholarships. You got through school debt-free. How did you do that if you didn’t win?”

  “Fourth runner-up and Miss Congeniality draw pretty good money. It adds up over time.” She rolled her eyes. “That was an era of my life I’d like to forget.”

  “I thought you liked competing in pageants.”

  “No, my mother liked me to compete. It was her dream, not mine.”

  “I never knew that. Why did you do them?”

  She drew in a breath and let it out slowly as she studied her hands.

  “You know my family never had very much money. If I hadn’t won pageant scholarships, I couldn’t have gone to college. My parents just couldn’t afford it.”

  Jesse nodded. He knew that the Morgans had run into financial problems after Mrs. Morgan had gotten sick and they’d been underinsured.

  “Pageants were a source of family pride. Even though they couldn’t afford to buy me fancy dresses, my mom was pretty gifted with the rhinestones and sequins. She could make a ten-dollar dress from the thrift store look like a million bucks. Well, at least from the audience; you didn’t really want to look too closely. I guess seeing me all dressed up for competition, wearing my finest, made them feel as if they were giving me a chance to hold my head high.”

  Did she really believe that her good image raised her family’s stock?

  “Besides, you know that my parents watched the Miss America pageant together on their first date, right?”

  No.

  “After they got married and my sister and I came along, my mom was sure one of us was destined to become Miss America. One of my biggest regrets is that my mother didn’t get to see that happen before she died. Actually, I think me winning any title would’ve made her happy. That’s why I had to keep trying while she was alive.”

  Charlie shook he
r head. The hint of a smile teased the corners of her lips. She had a great mouth.

  Jesse toyed with a cardboard coaster on the table. “How come I never knew that?”

  “It wasn’t exactly something I made public knowledge. Why spoil the illusion?”

  “I guess so. Everyone thought you were the consummate pageant queen.”

  Charlie snorted. He loved how comfortable they were together, and right now he was happy that this favor he’d hesitated to ask her seemed to be a help rather than a burden.

  “Seriously? Boy, did I have you fooled. Don’t you remember? Even your old girlfriend Veronica Robb beat me out for Miss Copper Mountain Rodeo when I was a junior and she was a senior. I think she entered on a dare, and damned, if she didn’t win.”

  “Veronica was always so jealous of you,” Jesse said. “I think that was part of her motivation for entering. The other part was that she loved being in the spotlight.”

  “She was jealous of me?”

  “Yep.”

  “Is that why you stopped hanging out with me?”

  That was a good question. Why had they stopped hanging out? But it was true. The last couple of years before he’d graduated, they’d been like strangers. Then she’d started dating Tom and had gone off to college. Jesse had been busy trying to make a name for himself on the professional rodeo circuit, until his accident, and then it all had come crashing down. Veronica had left him. His chances for a career on the circuit had been nil.

  At that point in his life, he’d hated Tom Tucker because he was the golden boy. He’d seemed to have everything Jesse wanted: The career. And Charlie.

  “I don’t know,” Jesse said. “But look at us now. I guess that’s all that matters.”

  He thought he saw a flicker of something in Charlie’s eyes, but he reminded himself that she was fragile right now. For all he knew, the jackass would come to his senses in a week or two, get the marriage annulled and come crawling back.

  Whether Charlie would take him back was another story. He’d wager that she was smarter than that. But he had no business thinking about it right now.

  “Jesse, I don’t know. It’s not that I don’t want to help her. I just don’t know how much help I would actually be.”