The Cowboy Rode a Harley

by Susan Arden

  Sure, they had been inseparable, but Stephen was a good guy. Perhaps this is how good guys got rid of unwanted baggage. Good guys helped them move on. No hard feelings, just a see-you-around type of deal. She’d seen it happen with Lori.

  Her mind spun. It was true he’d not stood up for her, but politely, courteously let her go. If the shoe had been on the other foot she would have thrown a hissy-fit, the likes of which everyone from Annona to Hollywood would remember. Hell, the sight of perky Sunny with her French-manicured fingers curling around Stephen’s arm had nearly sent her into a two-ton-tizzy.

  Maybe that was the issue. Greener pastures. Suppose Stephen wanted a taste of the West Coast and didn’t want a small-town nobody hanging on for dear life? He’d hinted during rehearsals that this was her ticket, and she’d better take it. Asking her what she planned on wearing, camera angles, even how to smile to appear more…what was the word he’d used…marketable. Suddenly, the pieces made sense. It wasn’t her imagination. It was a revelation.

  After leaving the alley, Gillian focused on what to do next. The studio was overrun with too many people. A wild longing to tell them all to pack it up and go surged within her. This wasn’t her dream. She looked over to Nana and her grandfather drinking a refreshment, courtesy of Cory. Her friends; sure, some of them bordered on insane but, still, they weren’t superficial freaks. And Haden. What was she supposed to do, just forget about him at his darkest hour?

  Stephen nailed it. The man always shot from the hip. So many people wanted this opportunity to come true. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure if she was still one of them.

  About to turn away, Mr. Fitzgerald suddenly appeared, smiling into her face. “We’re about ready to mark out the scene. Got a second?”

  No. She wanted to go find Stephen and lay it all out there. Her feelings were frayed nerve endings only he could soothe. There had to be more to their relationship. She caught sight of him in the studio mirror, standing in the corner, his arm on the wall. And there was Sunny with her chin lifted, as though hanging on his every syllable. He rubbed his forehead, and there that witch went, putting her hands on him. Stephen straightened, and Gillian looked away rather than risk being caught spying on him in the mirror. Tears pooled in her eyes. She didn’t need a neon sign telling her the evening news.

  Blinking rapidly, she gulped a mouthful of air. “Mr. Fitzgerald, you were right. I’m more than willing to dance with Nathan. I talked it over with my friend and there won’t be a problem.”

  Fitzgerald chuckled. “For the last time, call me Ely. Wonderful. He’s an excellent coach. Just think, you might be doing this in a short while. Not bad, considering he’s taken time from his schedule on Flash.”

  Without thinking or enthusiasm, she asked the obvious question. “He works on the set of Flash?”

  “Those are his dance sequences, the ones featured. Their season finished and luckily for us he was available. One big, happy studio. Come with me, and I’ll get you two set up.”

  “Mr. Fitzgerald…I mean Ely, is Nathan staying when you all leave?”

  “For as long as you need him. He’s at your disposal. As a matter of fact, I’m considering hanging out in this sweet slice of heaven myself. How about you let me take you to dinner, and we can discuss the filming sequence? You’re bound to have questions. It would be your chance to give your input. A priceless opportunity.” He waved to her grandparents and added, “Your grandparents are lovely people.”

  She smiled across the room to Nana and her grandfather. Regardless of wanting them to be happy, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that overcame her each time she spoke with Ely. Gillian hesitated to answer, mindful to keep her distance from the producer. While in Hollywood Ely had flirted with her, and she’d chalked it up to the charisma a producer had to have in his arsenal to woo potential contestants, sponsors, and directors.

  The whole city had been one big smile bestowed with open doors, red carpets, and promises. She might come from a small town, yet she’d gotten the clear picture that she had something they wanted. All the glam and glitz wasn’t personal. If she screwed up, she didn’t expect they’d be around with open arms, offering help. Ely was buttering her up. Short and simple.

  Stephen walked to the front door, with Sunny trailing behind. The smile faded from her lips, leaving in its wake a hollow feeling.

  She turned to Ely. “Thank you. I’d like that. Were you thinking of tonight?”

  “I was. What time shall I pick you up?” He moved in closer, his gaze slinking down her body. “Is there a cozy restaurant in this neck of the woods?”

  “Actually, I’ll meet you. Do you mind if I bring my grandparents? I had plans with them, and I know how fond they are of you. Is that alright?” She gave him her best wide-eyed gaze. Heck, if he wanted to play, she was game. Not in a million years would she agree to be alone in an enclosed space with a man like Ely Fitzgerald. For all his charm and guile, underneath the veneer she got what he was after, and that wasn’t part of her bargain. “Excuse me for just a moment.”

  Peering through the studio door, she’d expected to see Stephen outside on the sidewalk. There were only a couple of people from the studio, no sign of a gorgeous cowboy. Gillian’s eyes flitted around the studio, taking in all the people except for a tall, dark drink of water she’d known all too well for too short a time. Her heart ached. She pressed her nails into her palms to keep herself from giving in to despair.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Stephen. Across the street, leaning up against his truck, standing in close proximity to a blond head. “Not on my worst day.” She ground out the words, refusing to be played in this fashion.

  She marched out the studio’s front door, ignored the call from her grandmother, and continued to make her way across the street. Reeling from immeasurable hurt, she nevertheless tried to keep it together, realizing small-town drama would travel faster than a wildfire. Wagging tongues were nothing new in Annona.

  Gillian came up around the back of the truck, banging her leg on the tail pipe. She stopped, stooping over. The pain in her shin didn’t compare to the pain in her chest. A car stopped in the middle of the street, honking its horn, and Lori waved from the open window. “Hey, Hollywood. Came by to say howdy.”

  Gillian wanted to shush her friend. She turned to see both Stephen and Sunny staring at her. Their stereoscopic sets of eyes took her hurt and humiliation up another level. It wasn’t her intention to sneak up on them. The surprise on Stephen’s face compounded her anger, a fluid toxin that bubbled in her blood.

  All that they’d had was torn away from her... she’d envisioned them spending a whole summer of Sundays in his bedroom, or years trying to finish a meal before one of them stopped in order to make love. All of that was gone. And Chance. What would happen to their dog? Their. Dog.

  Gillian had dived into the deep end of the pool with Stephen. This romance had been like their learning to dance together. Or so she’d imagined. She’d trusted him, given herself without reservation, and never questioned how long it would last. So much for the perfect dance partner. Or the perfect…lover. He’d made it clear: their song had finished and she was left standing alone.

  She lifted her chin, unwilling to let him see how much this had shaken her. Heartbeat thudding, her stomach a complete mess, she stepped up onto the sidewalk.

  Sunny looked over at her as though she were a stranger, brows drawn together. “Yes, may I help you?”

  Stephen came toward her. “What’s going on?”

  “Gillian, are you ready to begin filming?” Sunny asked, as though her memory had come back along with a professional demeanor.

  Gillian ignored the woman and faced Stephen. “No. Ely said that wouldn’t happen until tomorrow. We’re going to dinner to discuss the set-up. I didn’t see you inside.”

  Stephen glanced over at Sunny. “I thought you said the filming would take place today.”

  “Things change rapidly in this industry. It’s more imp
ortant to work on the set-up than reshooting. All about capturing the moment. I can see you two may need a moment. I’ll be inside, Stephen. Gillian, are you having dinner with Ely tonight? I need to update his schedule.”

  The blond witch was seriously getting on her nerves. “Yes. We are, as far as I know—”

  “Fine. I’ll go make reservations.”

  Stephen’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened. She’d seen the look of him angry. She waited until the assistant producer left. “I can’t believe you’ve moved me to your list of friends with benefits. I’m not surprised, but I guess I’m guilty of too much wishful thinking.”

  “Gillian, simmer down.”

  He took a step toward her, and she threw her hands up. “Don’t.”

  “Just hold on for a second.” He stopped, but his gaze continued searching her face. She stopped looking into his sensuous, azure eyes. “I don’t know why you’d think that.”

  “No? It’s all a mystery?”

  “Well, well.” Lori’s voice dripped over Gillian in the worst way. Her spine stiffened. Fate had come full circle and was about to cynically laugh in both of their faces. “I thought you said he was just a friend.”

  Gillian knew that, right about now, Lori was rolling her eyes. She might have lost what little cool she possessed but, with Lori present, she refused to shatter apart and take victims. That was the only positive thing that she could find to ponder, as Nana said people should. “Lori, give me a moment.”

  The short, bitter laugh from her friend set her teeth on edge. “Oh, Gill, it’s not so bad. He’ll call you every now and then. C’mon, girl, there’s plenty more fish in the sea.”

  “Stop, Lori. Don’t say another word. Please. Meet me back inside.” Gillian stared at her friend until the smirk disappeared from the woman’s face.

  “Sorry, girl. I didn’t mean to make it worse. Catch you inside.”

  Gillian watched Lori walk across the street.

  “I think actions speak louder than words. Really, Stephen.”

  So far, three women had traveled a path from her studio to Stephen. Past lover. Present lover. Future lover? This was so goddamn twisted. Not all roads led to Rome. Or the Texas Adonis standing in front of her. “Don’t tell me another thing. I get that we’re on a path as friends. I’m not hurt. This makes it easier, really. I was worried that you’d be hurt. I’m not any more. Thanks for everything.”

  “Gillian, it’s not what you’re imagining. Jesus, don’t do this.”

  For all the pain she felt, for once she didn’t dissolve into a mess of tears, acting as if in some soap opera cry-fest. Her voice came out soft and steady. “I’m not doing a thing, darlin’. Just doing what you suggested. Jumping for that golden ring. I can see you’ve got your own schedule to keep. Don’t walk away mad, Stephen…just walk away. Ely’s got the dance routine covered.”

  Stephen stood before her, shaking his head. Disbelief or relief, she didn’t know which. Did it matter? This was her academy award performance. Hard to feel good about winning for the break-up of her life.

  “So, you’ll be okay, then,” he said softly.

  “I think so.” Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t dare cry in front of him.

  He nodded his head, reached inside his pocket to remove his keys. “I’ll be heading out, then. You can call me if you want to talk about all this.”

  “No. I think I’d rather just get over it and then figure out the next step in my life.” Awkwardly, she turned; her whole body had begun to tremble. This was all wrong. So terribly wrong. The slam of his door rattled her brain through the fog she’d slipped into. Stepping from the sidewalk, she watched his truck tearing away from the curb. His tires screeching was the last thing she heard.

  Chapter 18

  From his rear view mirror, Stephen watched in horror. He swore out loud, jamming on his brakes in the middle of the street. Throwing open his door, he jumped out, demanding, “What the hell are you thinking?”

  Gillian’s glazed eyes searched his face. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  He took her by the elbow, waving along the car that had stopped just inches from her legs. Her beautiful, amazing legs. “You said you were fine. Doesn’t look like you’re doing very well.”

  “I’m sorry to be a problem.”

  “Far from it. I don’t want to see anything happen to you…that could hurt you.”

  She stopped her attempt to pull her arm free. “Funny you’d be the one to say that. What do you call what you’ve just done?”

  “You said to leave. I’m not the one with dinner plans. I’m giving you your space.” His ire rose, each second becoming more and more inflamed at having to pretend he was the bigger man, when all he wanted to do was take hold of her and, at this moment, shake her good.

  “And you were only too happy to be gone. I suspect I’m not the only one with dinner plans. And we both know your track record with getting through dinner. Bon appetit.”

  Standing in front of the studio door, he held it open for her. “You’re safe and sound. There’s your chance. Take it.”

  They stood facing one another. If she didn’t move, he’d detonate. All his good intentions blown to bits; the debris would scatter for miles.

  She had sparks flying from her eyes. Even with the heat scorching his desire, he wouldn’t do what he wanted: crush her mouth under his. No, he held back.

  Gillian whispered, “Fine. You’re right. No need to look back. I don’t see the possibility of getting side-swiped happening any time soon.”

  * * *

  Gripping the steering wheel, all he could think about was getting shit-faced drunk. Now it didn’t matter if he stayed out playing pool or cards. Hell, he should rejoice and party. He was a fucking free man.

  Instead of exuberance, he felt more shackled than he’d ever been. One young woman, in the blink of an eye, had roped him to the ground. She held him without knowing her power.

  He pounded the steering wheel. Gillian needed to be relegated to the past tense. He bore down on the gas pedal, racing past exit after exit along the highway. If he was going to make his escape, he’d need to leave the interstate soon. The sign for the by-pass was up ahead.

  Stephen flicked on his turn signal. The plinking sound reminded him of a heartbeat. Only one came to mind. God, he longed to lay his head against her chest, listening to the sound of heaven. Memories of the times she’d caressed his skin after making love ripped a hole in his resolve to forget her. He blazed past the by-pass sign and kept going.

  Hours passed, and he found himself inebriated beyond belief. Several shots of Jack, and he’d dropped faster than a ton of bricks. Waking up to the sound of Chance barking, he wiped his hand over his face. Chance’s barks grew louder. Three steady knocks to the front door meant one of his brothers had come to visit. The room shifted as he stood unsteadily. Matt’s frame came through the hallway, followed by Brandon.

  His older brother removed his hat. “You look like hell.”

  “Naw, hell would look a lot better than him,” Brandon mocked.

  He scratched his beard, heading for the bar. “Kiss my ass. Care for a drink?” Stephen didn’t wait for his brothers to reply, and liberally poured three glasses.

  “What in the world is going on? You’ve taken off work. Emergency vacation, and you haven’t gone anywhere. First time in…what?

  “Eight years,” Brandon supplied.

  Matt shook his head. “Stopped by yesterday, expecting to see some project. House or dirt bike torn apart. Got an eyeful from the patio.”

  Stephen slammed his glass down. “Don’t appreciate having uninvited guests. You got something to say, have at it and then get out.”

  Matt reached for a glass. “Don’t get your knickers in a knot. Saw some unusual things. Like you lifting Gillian in the air. I swear, it looked like dancing. But that’s crazy, ‘cause none of my brothers dance. I left and then I remembered, none of my brothers, but our sister does.”

  “What did Cori
nth say?” Stephen swirled his drink.

  Brandon downed his, chuckling. “The cat is out of the bag, brother.”

  He knew Matt was about to dump a load on him, so he walked to the glass wall overlooking the pool. Shit, just yesterday he’d had her wrapped around him. Physically, hell, yeah, she was a fireball. It was the space in his heart that felt the pain of separation at that moment.

  “What do you think? You’ve got a thing for Haden’s little sister. Well shit, if that wasn’t bad enough, then I had to learn you were entered into some national competition. Dancing? The only possible explanation is, you’re in love with the girl. There’s a difference between keeping things under wraps and cowardice. You’re hiding. Again. From yourself.”

  “Shut the hell up! None of your business. I’m owed vacation time. I figured I better grab some, considering I’ll be covering your ass soon. There’s a note on the board reminding everyone that our esteemed leader will be out on family leave, so I thought you’d be happy.”

  “Gotcha there.” Brandon nodded to Matt, and poured another round of drinks.

  Focused on Brandon, Stephen retorted, “I don’t know why you act all holier than thou. Dating the preacher’s daughter. It is just one girl, right?”

  Brandon’s amused expression vaporized. “What have I done to you? I’m here to help.”

  Matt turned to Brandon. “As in minister? Jamison’s daughter? Which one?”

  “I’d rather not say, at the moment. Things have gotten complicated.”

  Stephen snorted. “That’s rich.” He held up his hand. “Not to worry. I’m not going to blow your cover that you’re hip-deep into twins. Oops. Too late.”

  “Jesus H. Christ, Stephen.” Brandon looked over at Matt. “Don’t ask. And don’t repeat this.”

  “Okay, now that the playing field is leveled, I’d appreciate some consideration on my front.” Stephen bent down and playfully chucked Chance under the chin.

  Matt slammed his hand down on the bar. “ All three of us have been through the fire. So-the-fuck what?”