Reforming the Cowboy

by Marisa Cleveland

  Her squeak turned into a low moan as he took one nipple in his mouth. She arched her back and ground her hips into his jeans, and he lifted up to press into her. When he slipped his hands under her skirt, he skimmed her panties and then felt her hot wetness. He couldn’t wait to enter her.

  He mumbled into her second breast, “Do you have protection in here?”

  Her hands stilled in his hair. “No.” The dazed expression left her eyes, and she lifted off him, crossing her arms over her chest. “What am I doing?” She slid to the side and stood by the bed, grabbing her bra and turning away from him.

  Dang. Was she really going to change her mind?

  She touched her fingers to her mouth. “This is a sign. It’s a bad idea. It’s not meant to be.” She covered herself and yanked the T-shirt over her head.

  “Let me go get some,” he offered, sitting up. “I’ll be right back.”

  She shook her head, straightening her skirt. “It’s late.”

  Ten thirty on a Tuesday night did not equal late in his playbook. In fact, he could hear strains of music coming from the bars just now coming to life. Seemed South Beach was a never-ending party. Getting condoms wouldn’t be a problem.

  “Come on.” He stood and took her hand in his. “You’ll show me where to go. We’ll walk.”

  She looked uncertain, so he pulled her close for another kiss. Maybe they wouldn’t wind up in bed, but with his body rock hard and aching for her, he knew it would be a long time before he could settle into sleep anyway. Judging by her hardened nipples, even through her bra and T-shirt, and the moistness he’d felt in her panties, she wouldn’t be ready for sleeping any time soon either.

  “Darlin’, just a walk. I won’t pounce on you, unless you ask.”

  Hesitantly, she stared out the window. “Where?”

  He wasn’t in the mood to bar hop, but he didn’t know the area well enough to suggest anything beyond a drugstore to buy condoms. Then, it struck him that for being in South Beach, he hadn’t set eyes on the Atlantic Ocean. Might make for interesting material. Moonlit walk. A few more stolen kisses. “The beach.”

  Her face lit with pleasure. “I love the beach at night.”

  He gave a shrug. “Maybe I’ll love it, too.”

  Chapter Four

  As they passed Palace, with the car-stopping performance of Ocean Drive’s notorious drag queens, Billy twined his fingers with Lacey’s and leaned close to her ear. “Not your typical bar.”

  “Nope. But it’s the first and only gay bar on Ocean Drive.”

  They crossed the street and stepped onto the path running parallel to the beach, where Billy noticed the shadowy shapes of other people with the same idea.

  He inhaled deeply. “Smells like a party.”

  She tipped her face toward the darkened sky and closed her eyes. “I never get tired of this.”

  He etched her profile into his brain. She looked so at peace with the world, even with the chaos around them. The local flavor of South Beach surrounded them. The bright moon and the ocean air mixed with thumping rhythms of bars competing for customers. The fried food encouraged drinking and the muggy air promoted skimpy clothes. He could hear the mumbled sounds of other people chatting or making out.

  As they continued to walk, he asked, “Did you grow up here?”

  She shook her head. “Chatlem Grove. About twenty minutes north, but I waited tables here through college.”

  He linked his fingers through hers, and they strolled on the path, occasionally passing an entrance to the sandy beach. His boots wouldn’t stand a chance against the sinking sand, but he made a note to find some flip-flops for their next evening walk.

  “I didn’t go to college.” He cleared his throat. She squeezed his hand, just like she had at the hospital. Dang woman probably didn’t even realize how much that meant to him.

  Lacey shrugged. “It’s not for everyone. I got caught up with the wrong crowd.”

  “Ah, that second chance you mentioned. Drugs, alcohol, rock and roll?” He was only half teasing.

  She nodded. “Close enough. Bad ex. But at the time, I thought he was the one. I hate talking about it.”

  “Got it.” He knew something about bad exes. They had that in common. Maybe one day she’d share with him. He scanned the darkened night. Noisy and quiet at the same time. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go to college.”

  “You did?”

  He looked down at their fingers. “I don’t know. I missed a lot of my sophomore year in high school.”

  She looked up at him. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I remember reading…” She stopped talking.

  Those dang tabloids. “Yeah, we were coming back from a family vacation, and there was this accident.” He didn’t know what it was about her, but he wanted to share his version of what he went through. “My mom died, but my dad and sister were stuck in a coma. I was fine. The other guy was fine.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He tugged her hand and continued walking. “I spent every day after school in that hospital. I would’ve skipped school all together if my aunt hadn’t stayed with me and made me go.” It hurt to say it because for two decades he’d held in the truth. He was mad as hell about what happened.

  “You were only fifteen. It must have been tough.”

  “It was hell.” He gritted his teeth and admitted, “I hated having to spend every day after school in the hospital. It was like everything was frozen in time. Nothing changed for the longest time. Same thing every day. No improvement. My sister in a coma. My dad in a coma. Hell, I felt like I was in a coma.”

  She stopped walking and faced him. “No wonder you hate hospitals.”

  He stared over her head. “That’s the thing. I don’t hate hospitals. But I feel so helpless when I’m in one.”

  “You’re not. You’re helping those children forget for a moment that they are sick.”

  “You’re so full of life.” He touched the ends of her hair. “I don’t even know why I told you that.”

  “I’m glad you did.” She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a hug.

  “You bring out the words in me,” he admitted, kissing the top of her head. “I haven’t had that in a long while.”

  She snuggled a little closer. “That’s a good thing?”

  “It’s amazing.”

  When she peeked up at him, he kissed her upturned face, and she sighed. “Being here with you feels like a dream.”

  Corny as it sounded, he stroked her cheek and said, “Don’t wake me.”

  …

  He sliced another X through the page and cursed. But damn it felt good. After pounding out the song yesterday and pouring half of his heart to Lacey last night, Billy vowed to write as much as he could between now and when he left.

  “I can’t believe I’m witnessing a genius at work.” Lacey tiptoed out of her bedroom.

  He could’ve blocked her out. He had killer concentration. But he wanted to talk to her. Drain his brain of the past and focus on the future. He recalled an answer from one of his better interviews. “Back in the day I could slam out an entire album in one weekend.”

  She laughed. “I remember reading that. With a bottle of Patrón, a notebook, and a pen.”

  That she could quote him impressed the hell out of him. He hadn’t considered she might have been that big of a fan. “Yeah, I didn’t even need my guitar for most of the songs since I hear the chords in my head.”

  Turning to a fresh page, he scribbled, “Temporary Guest” at the top of the page for the fourth time. Fourteenth time. Hell, he wasn’t keeping track. All he knew was that his dilemma came at the price of his pride.

  “I don’t want to bother you.” She backed away. “Just wanted to say good morning.”

  “Thanks.” He glanced up to see her by the door.

  “You know where to find me.”

  He smiled. “I really do appreciate this.” He wasn’t sure if he meant the place to stay or the job, but she n
odded and left.

  He hated how he doubted himself. Staring at the title, he wondered just who was supposed to be the temporary guest in his scenario? Him to Lacey, or Lacey to his heart? His greatest success rose from the hard edge he gave to country twang—soft with indecision did little to gain the confidence of an audience. Where had his rowdy youth disappeared to?

  Where did it go? Late morning.

  More crossing out. More cussing.

  He tossed the notebook on the bed and roamed the apartment. He liked the place. It was neat and orderly. The two bedrooms on either end of the apartment sandwiched a living room and a kitchen with a breakfast bar.

  Lacey trusted him in her domain. Alone. Of course, at any moment, she could show up. It wasn’t like she was more than a stairway away. In the kitchen, he opened the fridge and perused the contents. Beers. Yogurt. A tomato. He scratched the back of his neck. Knowing he could get food downstairs but not really anxious to leave the quiet of her apartment, he checked to make sure the yogurt hadn’t expired.

  His phone buzzed, and he checked the screen. Chip.

  “Yeah?”

  His manager launched into an excited ramble. “Have you seen YouTube? I can’t effing believe you! An overnight success! My phone hasn’t stopped ringing since midnight!”

  Billy could hear the sound of water and rap music. “What the hell are you talking about? Where are you?”

  “Hotel pool. Get on your iPad.”

  Billy hated that thing. He wouldn’t even have one if his sister didn’t insist they Skype every week. That and e-mail. He hated e-mail. He pulled the tablet out of his bag and placed it on the bed. Then he powered it up, entered his password, and let the thing come alive. “Okay, what now?”

  “Just open YouTube and check out who’s trending.”

  He clicked and clicked again. Trending.

  “Well?” He could hear the impatience in Chip’s tone.

  “It’s thinking. Why are you so impatient?” The site loaded, and Billy’s image appeared. Trending. Holy hell. He was trending. On YouTube. “Shit.”

  “Yeah!” The excitement in his manager’s voice amped up several notches. “Yeah!”

  “I’m trending?”

  “Billy, you’re all over the Internet with that song!”

  “Which song?” The new one he’d written or a fan favorite?

  “Click the effing button and listen. You didn’t name it, you shit, so that’s the beauty of it. No one knows what to call it!”

  He clicked and watched. Him, leaning on a bar stool. Guitar balanced on one thigh. “I’m not sure what to call this one, but I know you’ll know what I mean, when I say it’s like I’m torn in two.”

  “Yeah, that’s the one, and Billy?”

  He stared at the screen. A grainy YouTube video was trending. And it was him. Playing in a coffeehouse in South Beach. Un-freakin-believable. “Yeah?”

  “We have a recording offer.”

  So engrossed with watching himself, he almost missed Chip’s announcement. Billy’s brain played back his manager’s words. He choked. “We do?”

  “Can you believe it? Only two nights and you’re already on the rise!”

  “I…that’s…amazing. I’m writing like crazy.” This was it. This was why he’d agreed to take this gig. To start over fresh and build back his career. He just hadn’t expected it to happen over two nights. Over one song!

  “Hold up. Meyers just offered to record the one new song. So you better name it.”

  One song? That wasn’t the same as a record deal. But it would hit airwaves, and that would generate more interest, which would lead to a record deal. Eventually. “I’m in.”

  “I’m already working on booking studio time.”

  “Billy! I brought lunch!”

  “Chip, it’s Lacey. I’ll see you tonight.” He emerged from his room. “I polished off your last yogurt.”

  She shook a bag. “So you don’t want this coffee and sandwich?”

  “Woman, you know the way to my heart.”

  She dropped the goodies on the kitchen counter and after grabbing two plates, scraped back a barstool. He mimicked her, and they sat side by side sipping their coffee. She’d dumped a ton of cream in hers, and he’d kept his black.

  He stared into the dark liquid. “You finally brought me coffee black.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, how about that.”

  They ate in silence and sipped their coffee, and when only crumbs remained, he brushed his hands over his plate and said, “I want to write a song about you.”

  She snorted. “My whole life’s a country song.”

  “Really?” He perked up.

  She shrugged. “We covered some of this last night. Pretty wild teen, somehow made it to college, duped by a bad ex. Lying, cheating, backstabbing.”

  “Bad ex? I can definitely relate.”

  “Imagine that.” She dumped the dishes into the sink. “Mountain of debt from your ex?”

  It made him sad to think of Lacey with debt. “Nah. I lucked out in that department. Thanks to Chip.”

  “Wish I had a Chip in my life.” She gestured to the café below them. “That down there is my rise back from the bottom of the barrel.”

  “Bottom of the barrel, huh? This does sound like a country song.”

  She scoffed. “That’s because I can relate to every country song you’ve ever written.”

  He’d written some doozies. “You can? I wrote some pretty hard stuff.”

  “Tell me about it.” She leaned against the counter, and he thought she zoned him out when she murmured, “I thought my whole world was ending when Stephen cheated on me. My heart might have even stopped beating for a second or two. Right before all the red-hot anger and plots of revenge took hold.”

  She’d basically quoted one of his songs, and he was more resolved than before. “You need a song just for you. About you.”

  …

  “My very own country song? No, thank you.” She shuddered to think of her failures on display for the world to hear.

  He closed the distance between them and pinned her with his proximity against the counter. He didn’t touch her, but his heat was right there. Her body swayed toward him, and even if she wanted him, she didn’t want to connect with him. His contract would expire and he’d leave her with a brilliant country song and nothing more. She would not let him touch her heart.

  He gave a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe I won’t.”

  Angling away from him, she scooted to the center of the kitchen. Most days she could forget what she’d suffered. But no way did she want that out there in the form of a song. It would ruin her image as a reliable, dependable, savvy business owner. “Really, you shouldn’t write a song about me.” When he flinched, she realized her words might have sounded harsher than she intended. “Just please, don’t do it. I have to get back downstairs.”

  He reached out and stroked a hand down her arm. “Hey, it’s okay. Maybe too much caffeine?”

  Even though she knew he was probably joking—hoped he was joking—his nonchalance grated on her nerves. Maybe it was because she wanted to dive in for a long, lingering kiss, but she couldn’t afford that luxury. She had to get away from him. Away from temptation. “It’s not the caffeine. I just don’t want you broadcasting what I shared.”

  He stepped back, his eyes regarding her with unreadable scrutiny. “Do you have to control everything?”

  A shiver of fear slid in her stomach. She was a private person. She didn’t want the whole world to know how close she’d come to failure. “Just promise me.”

  Flashing her a sardonic smile, he drawled, “Honey, I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

  Her hands fisted at her sides. “You are so insensitive! For just once in your life, why can’t you be reliable and make a promise and keep it?”

  Her eyes widened as she realized what she’d said.

  He advanced forward, and she shuffled back until her back hit the refrigerator, even thou
gh nothing but the ferocity of his gaze pinned her in place. “Honey, in country, in order for a song to be good, it has to be honest. This is me being honest.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know what you meant.”

  He touched the side of her face, and the heat from his fingertips burned into her flesh. Her emotions rioted in a frenzied swirl of lust and anger and humiliation. How could she want the man capable of exposing her hard life to the world? And yet, her whole body ached for him. When he slipped his hand into her hair and covered his mouth over hers, she forgot everything but the wickedly delicious taste of desire on his tongue.

  “Lacey.” He wrapped his other arm around her lower back.

  They were making out in her kitchen, and in the back of her mind she pictured leading him to her bedroom and ripping off his clothes. Her mind warred with her body, and she reached up to grab his neck, leaning back as he towered over her. Her head smacked the freezer with a loud thump, and he pulled away, an apologetic expression on his face.

  “Are you okay?” He touched the back of her head.

  She grimaced and laughed. “Yeah, I think it sounded worse than it was.”

  He kissed her forehead. “That was amazing.”

  “I really do need to get downstairs.”

  “Running away?”

  “Being responsible.”

  He wrapped her in a tight embrace. “One more before you go.” He dipped his head and expertly molded his mouth to hers. He parted her lips with his tongue, and she sagged into him, hot sparks of awareness tingling over her skin.

  Her phone buzzed, and she groaned. “You’re distracting me from my job.”

  He didn’t even look guilty as he let her go, but he did follow her to the door.

  “One more?” he asked with a hopeful look.

  “No.” She laughed.

  “For motivation?”

  She would have given him a quick peck on the cheek, but he insisted on another full-body, knee-weakening embrace. It was a wonder she didn’t trip as she twisted away from him and jogged down the stairs.