Jolie’s heart was breaking listening to her friend. Red had been through so much. His family had been through so much that she couldn’t ever begin to understand what they’ve all been through. Now she understood his mom’s concern.
Jolie represented Red’s old rebellious lifestyle.
“I’m about as far from being a true cowgirl as you are from being a city girl. I can never fit into his family.”
“But you sang to his mare. Why?”
“She was having trouble accepting her foal, and I had sung to her during her delivery. It seemed to help, so I thought I’d give it another try.”
“Did it help?”
Jolie nodded, and as she did, a great big grin spread across her face. She couldn’t help it. Seeing Miss Ida May finally accept her foal was one of the biggest thrills of Jolie’s life.
“Yes. Calmed her right down, enough so she allowed her foal to nurse. She’d done it before, but only with a tranquilizer. I wanted to see if I could get her to do it with a song. Silly me. I cried when she let that beautiful little boy nuzzle her and nurse. Afterword, she cleaned her baby, and gave him some real lovin’. It was beautiful to watch. I’ve never seen anything like it. Probably never will again.”
“You should see your face.”
Jolie touched her face, thinking her mascara must be running, or she had lipstick on her teeth. “What’s wrong?”
“Absolutely nothing. You’re glowing. You look positively radiant. That, my dear friend, what you’re feeling right now, the love and enchantment that’s written all over your face . . . that’s what a true cowgirl is all about.”
~~*~~
What Red couldn’t understand was how he’d successfully gone without a woman for the past two years, and now, this little out-of-towner who barely knew that a pig didn’t live in a stall or what it meant to slop a pig had captured his heart in less time than it took for a cowboy to get thrown off a Brahman bull.
He’d told himself that if he seriously pursued her, he’d get his heart ripped out again, for sure. Hell, the woman lived in Las Vegas, hated the cold, and didn’t have enough sense to know she shouldn’t sneak into a barn in the early morning where a cowboy had bedded down for the night.
Still, no woman he’d ever been with, dated or tried to marry ever sang to one of his mares. No woman he’d ever talked to, laughed with, or kissed made him feel like he did when he was around Jolie Shepard. And no woman he’d ever given his heart to had ever made him long for her touch. She had a way of making him laugh, making him believe that everything would work out all right, and most of all she had a way of making him believe in love again.
He had tried calling her after she’d left, but she didn’t answer. He even texted, but still no reply. He just hoped the kids hadn’t scared her away. She’d known he taught special needs kids how to ride, but he also knew all too well, what the reality of those kids could cause a person to do.
Run.
So there he was, knocking on Riley’s door just after dusk on Christmas Eve, hoping he and Jolie could work something out. He’d never been to Vegas. Maybe it was about time he flew out there to see what it was all about. A long-distance relationship might be exactly what the doctor ordered. No strings, at least not until they both got to know each other a little better. Hell, they could be dating for the next two years in order to get to know each other better.
After the third knock, the door finally opened and Riley stood in the doorway wearing a Santa hat, a bright red sweater, and black pants. Her coat hung open. She held a large paper shopping bag filled with presents, another one stood by her feet.
“Red, Merry Christmas! Give me a hand bringing some of these things to my truck, will you?”
She thrust a bag at him, then the other one before she turned and walked back inside. He peeked around the door looking for Jolie, but didn’t see her.
“Sure,” he said, then walked out to the driveway where her truck was already warming up.
Fresh snow covered everything, but the roads were clear. Barney Platt had done his job. Tomorrow would be a different story. Barney took the day off to be with his family, so if it snowed on Christmas, you better be happy where you were, ’cause the roads weren’t getting plowed.
Moments later, Riley came out of the house carrying a couple baking dishes covered in foil, then she closed the door behind her.
“Jolie’s not joining you?”
Riley’s face shadowed. “She left.”
Riley opened the passenger side of her truck and placed the casserole dish on the seat, then turned to him and took the bags.
“As in left, left? Or she already left for your parents’ house?”
Riley turned to him. “I don’t know all the details of what went on with you two, but she left, as in she went back to Vegas. And I have to say, I’m pissed at you. I finally get my best friend out here for Christmas, and you have to go and scare her away.”
A rush of adrenalin shot through him. “I didn’t do anything. Matter of fact, I thought we were getting along really well.”
A bit of an exaggeration after their minor argument that morning, but he really had thought it could all be worked out.
She slammed the passenger door shut. “Maybe a little too well. After all this time of self-imposed celibacy, why did you pick my friend to sleep with?”
“She told you?”
“We’re best friends, remember?”
She walked around her truck to the driver’s side. Red tagged close behind. “I don’t understand. Was I that bad in bed that she had to run away?”
She opened the passenger door, then turned to him. “No. You were that good.”
“Then why the heck did she leave without even saying goodbye?”
Riley looked down at her watch. “You need to figure that out for yourself, and if you leave right now you might be able to catch her before she gets on that plane. She wouldn’t let me wait with her, so I dropped her off.”
But he was already heading for his truck, hoping the rest of the roads were clear all the way to the airport.
Chapter Eight
Jolie had switched her phone to Airplane Mode and shoved it back into her purse as soon as she had gone through Security. One less thing she had to think about once she boarded the plane. She’d spent the last hour reading a magazine she’d bought at a stand, and now she knew the exact shade of lipstick she should be wearing, the style of jeans that best fit her body type, and where to buy a festive New Year’s Eve dress for half the price.
Funny thing was, she didn’t seem to give a damn about all those fashion tips, and tossed the worthless information rag right in the trash. Then she turned right around and bought American Cowboy and intended to read it from cover to cover on the plane.
Now she stood in line with about twenty or so other people waiting to board the flight to Las Vegas. The small airport sparkled with colorful Christmas decorations, giant nutcrackers, shiny wrapped oversized packages, trees of all sizes, teddy bears and dolls—all adding to the holiday glee that everyone seemed to be feeling.
Unfortunately, it only reminded her of how miserably sad she felt to be flying back to Vegas . . . alone.
Not only had she left her best friend, who really wanted to spend Christmas with her, but she’d walked out on possibly the greatest guy she’d ever met.
“Boarding for Flight 286 for Las Vegas will begin in a few minutes. Please have your boarding pass ready,” the middle-aged woman, with the perky smile and Santa hat announced over the loud speaker.
The finality of those words sliced right through Jolie. Was she really leaving Red? Was she really going home without actually getting to know him? She stood and walked over to the line that was forming in front of the open door that led to her plane, wishing she had a good excuse to turn right around and head back to Starlight Bend.
“Going to Vegas for Christmas, huh?” the older man standing alongside of her said. His thin, heavily dyed reddish-brown hair told her he
was probably in his sixties, but his arched posture told her she could probably add ten years to that. “I’m going for a golf tournament. Why are you going?”
He seemed like a nice enough man all spruced up for the holiday in his dark colored slacks, a dark gray polo shirt under a black wool coat, and brown boots. He stood next to another man about the same age, only this man wore a black baseball cap.
“I actually live there,” she told him, not really wanting to talk to anyone, but willing to be polite.
“Are you a stripper?” he asked, dropping his gaze over her body as if he could see right through her clothes. It made her want to slap him. The baseball cap guy grinned and did the same, only he tried to be more discreet.
“No, I’m not a stripper.” Her voice must have been louder than she thought because a few other people still sitting in the rows of seats looked their way.
“You’re certainly pretty enough to be a stripper,” he teased, openly flirting. Then he winked and a rush of memories came crashing in.
That wink.
Red’s wink.
What the hell had Red meant by it? Was it the same reason why this smarmy old coot winked? Had Red assumed because she lived in Vegas she was a stripper? Did all men think every young woman who lived in Vegas was a stripper?
Jolie thought that myth had died right around the time the mob moved out. Was there an underground group of men who still promoted it?
She had to know.
“Listen you old dog. Just because I live in Las Vegas does not mean I’m a stripper. And even if I was, it’s a respected profession in Vegas. So start treating it as such . . . and another thing, because I’m not a stripper, you’ll never get to see my body, and believe me,” she leaned in closer, teasing him with an air kiss and a smile. “It’s spectacular!”
She gave him a quick onceover, which seemed to make him cringe. Then she turned on her designer boot heels and stepped out of line, pulling her suitcase behind her.
~~*~~
By the time Red parked his car and ran into the airport, he knew the chances of catching up with Jolie were slim. If her plane left on time, it would be boarding by now. He’d called and texted her about a dozen times, but she was either purposely not responding or her phone had died. His only hope was to get on that plane.
Fortunately, the baggage check-in line was completely empty, so he breezed right up to the counter.
“One ticket for Las Vegas, please,” Red told the smiling young woman who seemed eager to help him. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest, he thought for sure it might push its way right through his ribs. He had to get on that plane, he just had to.
She typed something into her computer, then gazed up at him. “The last flight today is already boarding. You won’t make it. I can get you on the flight tomorrow.”
Red wasn’t taking no for an answer. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. “I need to get on this flight. Now. It hasn’t left yet, so there’s still a chance. Are there seats available on this flight?”
“Yes, plenty.” She stared at him for a moment. “Aren’t you Red Wiseman?”
“Yes, why? Will that help get me on that plane?”
“We were in grade school together. I’m Connie Craftsmen. I had such a crush on you, but you’d been smitten by Miranda Whittaker. I heard you two tied the knot.”
Now that he looked at her more closely, he recognized her. She was the girl who would occasionally drop a lizard or some other sort of small critter on his desk or he’d find one in his locker or in his backpack. Once he even found a dead mouse still caught in a trap on his front porch. His aunt May almost had a heart attack when she nearly stepped on it.
Oh yeah, he remembered Connie Craftsmen, and wanted to tell her what he thought of her shenanigans, but right now he needed her to get on Jolie’s plane.
“Nope. Still single. Now, can I please buy a ticket for this flight?”
“I’m single, too. How about that?” She straightened her shoulders, and threw him a great big smile. He reluctantly smiled back, a great big smile, one that would certainly garner him a seat on that plane. “You know, I shouldn’t be doing this, but because it’s Christmas and all, I’ll call the gate and see if they can hold the door for you.”
Score!
Then she printed out his ticket, told him a price, which he quickly paid. Before she handed him the ticket she wrote something on the back. “My number. Give me a call sometime, cowboy.”
The possibility of him ever calling her was about as probable as a pig flying, but he didn’t want to alienate her either. He still needed that open door. So instead, he simply said, “Thank you so much for the ticket, Connie.”
And he took off running, away from Connie and towards the security line.
Thankfully, it was a very small airport and after talking his way up to the front, then quickly removing his coat, emptying his pockets, removing his belt, and boots, he didn’t want to take the time to put them all back on again so instead he carried everything as he sprinted to the gate. Unfortunately, being the good son that he tried to be, he’d worn the Santa socks his mom had given him last Christmas. They were fine hidden inside his boots, but not so much outside, in an airport, on Christmas Eve.
They glowed.
Not just a small glow, but a sparkly glow all across his toes whenever he took a step.
But at this point, he didn’t care. Nothing mattered but getting to that plane on time.
“Great socks,” the female security guard who let him through the metal detector said with a chuckle.
“Must be from your mom,” the male guard said. “Got a pair just like ’em at home. Wouldn’t wear ’em out, though. You got nerve. I’ll say that much for you.”
Then he laughed, along with anyone else who happened to be around.
“What can I say? I love my mom.”
He took off running and glowing with each step. People stopped to watch him flash through the airport. Some even took pictures as he waved and rushed by. Children giggled and grown men gave him a thumbs up. One family actually applauded.
When he finally reached the right gate, all the chairs were empty, and two female attendants stood by the door.
“Mr. Wiseman?” the taller of the two asked, a harried look on her face.
“Yes,” he croaked in between catching his breath. He stopped about ten feet away to take in some much needed air.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” the other woman said, and held out her hand for his boarding pass.
He pulled it from the tangle of clothes and boots and was just about to hand it to her and walk through the door when a familiar voice echoed behind him.
“Wait! Don’t get on that plane.”
He whirled around to see Jolie walking towards him, pulling her suitcase.
He instantly dropped everything he’d been holding onto the tiled floor. His change rolled around and a quarter stopped right next to Jolie’s left foot.
“Sir,” the attendant said, “this is your last chance.”
“Yes, ma’am. I believe it is.”
“You dropped something,” Jolie said, in between chuckles.
“Will either of you be getting on this plane?” one of the attendants asked. Red wasn’t sure which one was doing the talking. He didn’t want to take his eyes off of Jolie.
“You can go on ahead without us,” Jolie assured them, still laughing. “Merry Christmas.”
And with that the door slammed shut.
“Do you realize how funny you look running through the airport with those glowing Santa socks? Carrying cowboy boots, and all the rest of your things?” She laughed out loud when he tapped his feet on the floor, causing the glow to bounce around his toes.
“Yes, but I didn’t have time to get dressed again.”
She finally controlled her laughter. “Not even for your boots?”
He shook his head. “You didn’t get on the plane?” He wanted desperately to kiss her.
>
“No. You bought a ticket?”
“Yes. I couldn’t let you leave without me.”
“You’d come to Vegas?”
“Wherever you are is where I want to be.”
“I want to be here, with you.”
“You are. Does this mean you’re staying for a spell?”
“Maybe, but first I have to ask you a question, and a lot depends on your answer.”
He took in a deep breath and let it out again, knowing the question undoubtedly had to do with his students. He would try his best to explain everything to her, explain how he felt when he helped a child achieve his or her dream of learning how to ride a horse. There was nothing like that smile when they finally achieved their goal. Those moments meant everything to him, mainly because he knew his dad was standing right by his side.
“I’m ready. What’s the question?”
“Why did you wink at me inside Big Sky Living?”
He thought back to when he’d first seen her standing in the store, wrapped up in that big coat, looking like a delicate flower caught in a snowstorm. “Because I knew that was the only way I’d get your attention. Nobody winks anymore. It’s a lost art. It’s all in the way you move your cheek. My dad used to wink at my mom all the time. He told me once that it was his way of telling her he loved her across a crowded room. Besides, you looked so darn cute cuddled up in that big old coat that I couldn’t help myself.”
Her face beamed with a smile.
He asked, “Did I answer that right?”
Holiday Heat: The Men of Starlight Bend Page 38