by D. D. Scott
He knew their friends would serve them well, but no matter how much he worked on his dad’s tomatoes, those bastards would more than likely be screwed. And trusting Roxy to do right by him, after the secret she’d kept, wasn’t a chance Zayne was ready to take. Even if his mother had played a significant role in Roxy’s deceit. Zayne needed someone who’d level with him whether good or bad information was at stake.
Roxy chose not to operate that way. What if there were problems at the saloon Zayne should be resolving? Would she keep those from him too…to protect him? He didn’t need her looking after him. He could take care of himself.
“Roxy, I appreciate your offers, but I really think this is a family problem Mom and I need to figure out.”
Roxy looked at him as if he’d taken away her only friend. Her eyes welled with tears she’d be too proud to spill. Excluding her from his inner circle must have hit hard. But she’d done that to herself by leaving him out of the loop concerning his mother. Zayne pushed away the compassion nipping at his resolve to keep Roxy a safe distance from his heart.
“You are my family now, Zayne.” Roxy rose from her chair, stoically pushing it back against the wall opposite the bed. “Like it or not. I’m not going away when you need me.”
Zayne didn’t know what to say. He’d never seen Roxy so vulnerable yet determined. He may be angry with her but he couldn’t turn her away, not when she must need them as bad as they needed her. His gut tightened at the realization he didn’t want to lose what they’d started. Each thought of life without her squeezed his stomach with rushes of regret.
Maybe some quality time in the fields would be good for him. Lord knew the women in his life were driving him down the fast lane to insanity. At least tomatoes didn’t talk back.
“Well, I’m glad that’s settled. You two can work out the details with your friends tomorrow during brunch. Please let them know how grateful I am for their help,” his mother said then pushed the nurse’s call button. “It’s late. We’ve all had quite a night. I’ll have Rhonda see you out.”
“We probably should be going.” Zayne got up, leaned over and planted a kiss on his mom’s cheek.
“And don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, Mom,” he whispered into her ear. “But I’ll decide when and if I’m interested in someone.”
His mother chuckled softly. “Roxy, give me a hug. Then make sure my ass of a son sees you home.”
Zayne stepped away from the bed to make room for Roxy. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t ignore the good feeling he had seeing the connection she and his mother shared.
“Love ya both,” his mother called after them.
Women.
Chapter Sixteen
No charm school she’d attended in Upper East Side Manhattan had prepared her to be a bootscootin’ barmaid, Roxy thought, as she followed the host to a corner booth along the far wall of the Pancake Pantry.
She’d wanted a Nashville zip code since her favorite au pair had introduced her to Country Music Television. But living where those boots walked was an entirely different experience.
Before she could slide out of her coat, a waitress delivered a steaming cup of coffee. After folding her silk and satin parka and placing it on the bench seat between her table and the next booth, Roxy emptied a partial packet of sweetener into her cup.
While the crystals fizzed and swirled into the depths of the hot liquid, she stirred, taking comfort in the clink of her spoon against the inside of the ceramic cup. She could make this work, she told herself, restating her mantra with each ching of metal to china.
A long line of customers wrapped around the front of the restaurant. At 8:30, Roxy had started close to the same spot as the last person in line. She checked her watch. 9:34. About right. Even midweek, it was usually an hour wait to be seated. But sixty minutes worth every second.
Excitement buzzed her senses. Even though every item on the menu tasted great, her anticipation made it difficult to focus on food. The pancake house was a hot destination for country stargazing. So far, though, Roxy hadn’t spotted any of Nashville’s elite. At least if she had, she didn’t know it.
Keith Urban supposedly liked the Pantry’s Caribbean pancakes, and Vince Gill was reportedly partial to the sweet potato stacks. But Roxy couldn’t prove either…yet. But she would. She just knew it. You done good, girl, she thought, giving herself an imaginary pat on the back. Some days she still couldn’t believe she’d finally found the courage to live and work where her dreams demanded.
Seeing Zayne searching for her by the host’s stand, Roxy waved. Watching him saunter toward the table, she blocked out her fears of making good on her plan. Instead of focusing on their mission to save Raeve, his mom’s saloon and Zayne’s tomatoes, Roxy sat back in her seat and appreciated the view of Zayne’s work-hardened muscles.
Judging by his serious scowl, she had major damage control to do to restore the fantastic smile he used to flash her way. But she intended to earn back the trust he’d once had in her.
To see the hot and cocky grin return to his lips, Roxy would suffer through a day at the spa with her mother or a night on the red carpet with her father. Two activities cutting deep chasms of dread into her psyche, but fissures worth jumping to re-establish her respect in Zayne’s eyes.
“Have a seat, partner,” she said.
His raised eyebrows hinted he found her mildly amusing at best. She did, however, welcome his choice of body language. He could just as easily have extended his middle finger. So she’d take the arched brow.
“I think I have our plan all worked out,” she said as he took a seat across from her, his proximity priming her nerves for adversity while her hormones sizzled with unquenched desire.
Starting out with a suggestion of joint ownership couldn’t hurt her efforts, Roxy reasoned. According to her childhood therapists, including a potential adversary in her plan should make him or her feel powerful and more at ease with the idea of working together toward their goals. If only the concept also empowered Roxy instead of turning her insides into monumental landslides.
“Let’s get this right from the get-go.” Zayne looked down at her over his reading glasses, his dark eyes firing a silent but spirited message. “This is your plan, Princess, not mine.”
Roxy had expected him to play hardball and had prepared a solid defense. Unfortunately, by starting with that sexy look-over-the-glasses thing, Zayne had produced a powerful, early in the game block. He’d almost melted her survival instincts and definitely overheated the wrong drive.
Changing gears to get her mind out of his bed, Roxy rehashed the building blocks of her plan. To fix her betrayal, she had to take over Zayne’s life for the summer.
Not that unreasonable, she thought. For years, she’d tolerated living by her family’s plans. All she was asking of him was a few months. He’d just have to adjust like she did. If he wanted both The Neon Cowboy and his tomato crop to succeed during his mother’s recovery, he had no better option. How to clue him into that reality wasn’t exactly clear. Roxy would have to develop her techniques on the fly.
“Does that mean you’re going along with my plan then?” She asked, needing to see how much work she had yet to do.
“Like I said at brunch Sunday, I agree with you that Raeve will be much less stressful for Mom than the saloon. With her out of the hospital, she needs something to occupy her time besides me. And if we do this your way, I’m free to be stressed out with dad’s tomatoes.” He pushed his glasses back into place, swallowed a gulp of coffee then opened a menu. “Although, I’ll be honest, leaving you at The Neon Cowboy isn’t settling well. Those cowboys can be tough to handle.”
Stuck on his lack of faith in her, Roxy wasn’t ready to order when the waitress arrived.
“Chocolate pancakes for you?” Zayne asked.
Roxy couldn’t enjoy pancakes even if she wanted them. Zayne’s disillusionment of her management skills churned her stomach. “No pancakes. I’ll have an
omelet, please, with cheese and bacon.”
“I’ll have the same,” Zayne said, “and I’ll take her potatoes.”
“Maybe I want the potatoes.”
“Sure you do. Like you’d ever do something not in your life plan. Just like I’m not ready to cave to your plan.”
So what if he wasn’t going to make this easy on her? She didn’t deserve it, but she wasn’t about to fold, even though she’d gladly forfeit the starch.
“About The Neon Cowboy. I may not be a Coyote Ugly girl, but I’m sure I’ll manage. I’m a quick learner, a hard worker and good on my feet.”
“I know you’re good on your feet. It’s your mind I’m worried about.”
“Please stop. You’re support is overwhelming me,” Roxy said, her spirit officially deflated by his last dig, but her pride heated to geyser force blows. “I certainly haven’t belittled you because you don’t know your ass from a hole in the ground about tomatoes.”
She was swinging low, but he’d forced her hand.
Apparently still not ready to give up his opposition, Zayne bristled, his jaw twitching as he came at her again. “I may not know much about growing those fuckers, but I’m honest about my limitations. I don’t take risks I have no business taking.”
“Maybe that’s your problem,” Roxy said, slamming her menu into the holder.
Their bickering hurt much more than she’d expected. With each of Zayne’s slams, her stomach lurched. As wedges of desperation sliced through her, her chest ached.
“I take chances. You’re right. I do. Because I’m afraid not to. I don’t want to look back and wonder what I could have done.”
She knew she should be more sympathetic. She shouldn’t have hidden his mother’s illness. She knew it when Kat had asked her to keep her secret. And boy did she know it now. Zayne’s anger was more than justified.
Maybe if she was a little less combative and tried to defuse him instead of set him off, she’d patch things up between them. She certainly couldn’t continue her current path or her heart would be pulverized, crushed by the weight of her betrayal.
“I’m sorry, Zayne. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Roxy concentrated on dumping another packet of sweetener into her coffee even though it didn’t need one. Too disheartened to look him in the eye and once again see his disappointment, she rearranged her silverware. Focusing on the raw regret chewing her conscience was too painful to sit idle. “I want to make things right with you, but other than this plan, I don’t know how to make amends.”
Finally brave enough to look up from her place setting, she found him studying her. The pain she’d caused him was still there but with a softer focus than the hard edge he’d carried into the restaurant.
He took his gaze away from her, apparently more interested in the floor than her apology.
“Neither one of us knows what the hell we’re doing. This will never work,” he said, shoving his menu beside hers in the holder at the edge of the table.
His chest went taught under his muscle-cut t-shirt. He chewed his lower lip and started to continue their debate twice, stopping each time, evidently fighting for words.
“But I’ll be damned if I can come up with anything better. And for now, the farm and Mom have to be my priorities, leaving me no time to run the Neon Cowboy,” he finally stammered.
“So it’s settled then.” Roxy lifted her napkin out of the way as the waitress set her breakfast in front of her. “We’ll just have to help each other.”
Zayne picked at the eggs he’d normally devour. “To do that, Rox, you’ve got to tell me everything. And I mean everything. Which you obviously have trouble doing.”
“You’ll regret that open door policy real quick.” Roxy laughed as she smothered her omelet with ketchup. She’d have so many questions coming at him he’d end up running into his fields for comfort. “You might not like me when I’m fired-up.”
“That’s a chance I’ll willingly take.” For milliseconds, Zayne’s come-get-me smirk made an appearance. “For the record, I like you fired-up and sassy.”
“Was that a compliment? Surely not.” Roxy reached for his hands, pleased to feel him jolt at her touch.
His grin gave way to blushed cheeks the color of his tomatoes. For a brief flash, the air between them got hotter than a sauna in Cabo San Lucas.
Roxy pressed her palms against his then threaded their fingers into a tight-locked weave. “I won’t let you down, Zayne. You or your mom. We’re in this together.”
“I could use the help at the saloon. And I know Mom will have a heyday at Raeve. God knows Dad’s tomatoes are in big trouble if I don’t figure out something. ”
Zayne removed his hands from hers, leaving a chill in place of the warmth their connection created.
“I guess I do need you,” he said.
His words instantly replaced the heat Roxy had lost with the absence of his touch.
“I wish we could still be dance partners.” The thought was out of her mouth before she could reconsider.
Nothing like a Freudian slip to screw up a good breakfast.
Zayne threw his napkin on the table, a good third of his breakfast still on his plate. “Me too. But we just don’t have time.”
“I’ll call Nosebaum and let him know.” If she could find his number, Roxy thought. She took her purse off the seat next to hers and rummaged through it for her cell phone and the agent’s card.
“No. I’ll call him. He’s way too anxious to get to know you better.” Zayne took out his wallet, flipping through several well-worn business cards before pulling out one with crisp, clean edges. “Here’s his card. I’ll give him a holler this afternoon.”
“Tell him I said hello.” Roxy batted her eyelashes and let loose a girlish giggle, pleased to note Zayne reacted way too fast on the draw for the card to not have been oh-so jealous of Howie.
“No can do, Princess. I need to keep you focused on our plan,” Zayne said, shocked at his willingness to claim the cockamamie plan as his too.
But as he looked at Roxy, laughing inside at her coy antics, he noticed she wasn’t focused on anything except what was going on behind his left shoulder. Turning around to see what the hell the commotion was, he wished he’d kept his back turned.
Roxy was speechless and damn near drooling.
Jack Baudlin was on his way across the restaurant, heading for the table right next to theirs.
Zayne fought his lungs for air and his attitude for adjustment.
Roxy’s reaction couldn’t be to Jack, could it? Zayne sure hoped it wasn’t a Baudlin causing Roxy’s star-struck stupor. If so, Zayne’s reflexes were going to be completely Jack’s problem to bear. If Jack was Roxy’s stimulus, Zayne would have more to adjust than his attitude. He’d have to balance his farm schedule with jail time. Plus, he’d need his mom’s cardiologist. That was one punch to the heart he couldn’t take.
The stir, however, could definitely be Jack’s breakfast date. Deena Mettles, a rising Nashville star, accompanied the Beefsteak King. Deena had that effect, from a male’s view anyway.
“Howdy, Zayne. Fancy finding you here,” Jack said.
Jack pulled out a chair for Deena. After getting her settled, he slid into the booth next to Roxy.
“I thought you’d already be knee deep in the fields,” Jack quipped.
“I could say the same for you,” Zayne said unable to keep an icy challenge from coating his words.
Getting way too cozy to Roxy for Zayne’s liking, Jack needed to be put in his place and fast. Thank God the waitress had already given him his bill. Zayne snatched it up and stood to leave.
Roxy, not picking up on Zayne’s cue it was time to go, remained seated. Her almond eyes couldn’t open much further before bulging out of their sockets.
“Are you ready, Princess?” Zayne asked, knowing his hostility right now for anything Baudlin would make a showing if he didn’t get off the stage.
Jack removed his hat and shook his hea
d, evidently wanting an encore. “Well, aren’t we rude. Here we are with two beautiful women and haven’t bothered to make introductions.”
He ushered his hand from Deena toward Zayne. “This is Deena Mettles. Deena, please meet Zayne McDonald, the second best tomato farmer in the county.”
“And you are?” Jack turned his attention to Roxy.
Afraid Roxy couldn’t speak in her befuddled state, Zayne made his own introductions. “This is Roxy Vaughn. Roxy, meet Jack Baudlin and Deena Mettles.”
Zayne, not about to be shown up in the manner’s arena by Jack, shook Deena’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Deena. I’m a big fan.”
Roxy, still unable to speak, extended her hand to both Jack and Deena, although releasing Jack much sooner than his breakfast companion.
A shiver of relief shimmied through Zayne’s chest. Jack wasn’t Roxy’s object of interest. She just had a celebrity hang-up. That kind of fixation, Zayne could handle without any emotional or physical scars.
“So pleased to meet you,” Roxy said, finally finding her voice. She leaned toward Deena. “I’m also a huge fan. You’re new album is fantastic. I play it all the time.”
“Why thank you. Thank you very much.”
Zayne had to hand it to Deena. For a rising starlet, she seemed genuinely appreciative of Roxy fawning over her.
Despite her Sarah Evans’ look and star power, Roxy matched Deena’s outside beauty, curve for curve, 10 for 10. Inside Roxy’s delicious hourglass hotness, Zayne doubted a woman existed with her sweet blend of sugar and sass.
As Roxy got up from the table, Deena reached for her arm. “Wow!! Great belt! May I ask where you got it? My stylist is always looking for unique pieces for my videos.”
Roxy was rendered speechless once again.
Poor girl, Zayne thought, touched by her sudden, uncharacteristic weakness. Chivalry aside, he moved to rescue her with a quick sales pitch.
“You’re in luck, Deena. Roxy designs for Raeve, her new boutique. You can find her at the local tractor —”