Her Uniform Cowboy (Harland County Series Book 3)

by Donna Michaels

  When he’d woken up Monday morning exhausted and spent from an incredible all-nighter with a very sexy, adventurous, giving woman, he’d had hopes of continuing the fantastic streak. Especially when the first thing his gaze fell on when he’d opened his eyes was one sweet-as-sin ass as the naked, hot, curvy woman bent to pick up her clothes. He should’ve known the streak was shot when he’d tried to get her back in his bed, but she’d refused, tripping over her feet to get away as fast as possible.

  And he’d even offered breakfast.

  Breakfast.

  What the hell had he been thinking? A Kade Dalton first.

  Paying for the purchases already loaded in his truck, he strode out the door, his mind still on the designer. Things had gotten worse once she’d rushed from his room. He’d found her sitting in her truck in his driveway where she’d lied to his face, telling him things were fine when he could clearly see by the damn sheen of tears in her eyes they were not fine.

  Women. He’d never understand them. Not for lack of trying. At least, with this one.

  He got in his truck, slammed the door then drove to meet Connor at the only restaurant in town opened for lunch. A hopping little Mom-‘n’-Pop diner near Foster’s called The Port Hole. With its ship motif, outdoor deck and tables set up for the summer months, the restaurant did a good business.

  Parking next to Connor’s truck, Kade checked the time. He wasn’t late. In fact, his friend was early. A rarity, especially with Kerri’s business just down the street. He thought for sure his buddy would’ve been sidetracked.

  As he walked to the deck area around the back, his gaze was pulled to the designer’s little cottage a few doors down. Her white truck sat in the driveway. Odd. He knew she was knee deep in Cole and Jordan’s renovation. Ah hell, it was no concern of his what she did. And yet, he couldn’t stop thinking about her sitting in that damn truck in his driveway several days ago…or her expression as she’d driven away.

  Something in Brandi’s brown gaze had called to him, spoke to the consummate helper inside. He hadn’t gotten the sense it was something he’d done, or hadn’t done. No. They’d agreed to a no-strings-attached night of sex, and that’s what they’d had, and even though she’d rushed from his room, it was with a thank you on her lips and a smile on her face. No. He didn’t think the wounded look in her eyes was because she’d changed her mind and wanted a relationship. The emotion darkening her gaze to resemble rich coffee hadn’t been hurt, it had been more like…fear.

  Christ. His heart dropped to his ribs. What the hell happened between his room and her truck? He swiped the ball cap from his head and thrust a hand through his hair before shoving the hat back on. Why should he care? They were not in a relationship. That was what the whole talk had been about. But, son-of-a-bitch, it hadn’t stopped him from wondering about her expression all damn week.

  That was four days ago.

  “Over here,” Connor called, gaining his attention.

  He turned to find his large friend waiving to him from a corner table where a very pretty cook sat at his side. And that explained why the cowboy wasn’t late. He’d brought his woman with him.

  “Hi, Kerri,” he said, kissing her cheek before he sat down. “Your fiancé decide to spring for lunch and give you a break?”

  She laughed, amusement and affection twinkling in her brown eyes as she glanced up at the grinning cowboy at her side. “Something like that.”

  “Hey!” Connor slapped a hand to his chest and brought a pathetic, wounded expression to his face. “I give you lots of breaks. I’m the king of breaks.”

  “Oh, man. Way to lay it on thick.” Kade chuckled, dark mood beginning to lift thanks to his goofy-ass friend.

  Kerri patted her fiancé’s cheek. “Yes, but I’m not talking about the platter or shot glass you dropped on the floor.”

  As Connor’s mouth opened and brows rose to disappear under his brown Stetson, Kade’s laughter increased. Although the woman wasn’t brawny by any means, she sure as shit could take his buddy down in two-point-three seconds.

  “Now, darlin’. You know that wasn’t my fault,” his friend fumbled through an explanation, wounded look appearing earnest.

  As he watched the interaction between his friends, Kade noted strong bonds of trust and love evident in their voice, gaze, touch, smile, an underlying, unbreakable connection he’d seen before—in Cole and Jordan. The couples enjoyed a strong relationship foreign to the likes of him.

  A slice of envy shot through his body, and he rubbed at his chest, confused as to why envy hit him now.

  He was still contemplating that after the waitress left with their orders.

  “So, I don’t know if you know this, but Shayla is working for us now,” Kerri said.

  “No, I didn’t,” he told her. “That’s good.”

  “Her daughter is a little doll, isn’t she, Connor?”

  A knot instantly gripped his stomach and twisted, while the band around his chest tightened. He hadn’t seen Sergeant Nylan’s daughter since his trip up north three months ago. That had been tough enough. It seemed wrong—and fucking unfair—that he’d gotten to see the little girl when her own father never had the joy.

  “Yeah,” his friend answered. “A little darlin’.”

  “Excuse me.” He shot to his feet, needing air—even though they were already outside. “I have to check in with the station. I’ll be back.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he weaved around the tables and retraced his steps to the parking lot. Dammit. He inhaled and exhaled in controlled counts a therapist once suggested. It didn’t help with the tightness, but the suffocated feeling and need for air eased. He walked to his truck and considered getting the hell out of there. But nixed the notion. He didn’t run.

  Gripping the roof, he leaned his head onto his forearm and inhaled a few more times. Weeks had passed since he’d had an ‘episode.’ He thought he’d made progress. At least the nightmares had stopped.

  A pair of large, dusty boots came into view. Great. Moose.

  “Still running, I see.” Connor’s tone, although teasing, held a firm edge.

  He twisted around to lean against the truck, mimicking the cowboy. “I don’t run.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I just needed air.”

  His friend’s sigh echoed around them. “We’re already outside. You can’t get any more than that, buddy.”

  Kade laughed. “True.” Feeling better, he began to walk back toward the restaurant.

  “So, that’s it?” Connor asked, falling into step. “You push it aside and move on.”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s not healthy.”

  Biting back a curse, he stopped dead. “Just drop it, all right? I’m fine.”

  “Bullshit. If you need air when you’re already outside, you’re not fine.”

  He was about to respond when the expression on Connor’s face had him twisting around to see what had captured his friend’s attention.

  Brandi. In the passenger seat of Jace’s silver SUV.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” Connor said, cupping his shoulder as the vehicle drove by.

  The knot returned to his stomach…and brought a friend. “Whatever.”

  She was free to see whoever she wanted. They weren’t a couple. Guess the giant next to him hadn’t gotten that memo. Or the knots in his stomach, which increased to the size of boulders when the doctor parked in front of her cottage, draped an arm around the smiling woman and disappeared inside the house.

  “So…I’m guessing that doesn’t bother you?”

  He shrugged, overlooking the strange tightness in his chest. “Nope. Let’s go eat. Food should be ready by now.” And, ignoring his friend’s sadistic chuckles, he made his way back to the bastard’s sweet fiancée, talking his fists out of connecting with anything tall and dumb named Connor.

  Chapter Nine

  And so it begins.

  The wait.

  It was the day after
Brandi’s biopsies and she hadn’t heard a word. She knew it could take several days to hear, but after her initiation into biopsy horror with her mom, she had no patience. And in her experience, the outcome had always been bad. Very bad.

  “Now, I don’t want you worrying yourself sick,” Doctor Turner had said when he’d driven her home yesterday.

  The sweetheart had rescheduled his afternoon appointments after discovering she’d arrived at the hospital for the procedure by herself. He’d even arranged to get her truck home. What a nice man. Of course, she’d made him promise not to tell anyone. His handsome face had frowned in protest, but he’d eventually agreed.

  “You know this is just routine, right?” He’d settled her on the couch, doting on her like a child, tossing a quilt over her after flipping on the air conditioning. Mozart had immediately settled on top of the blanket, happily kneading while the doctor added, “Just because your mother had cancer does not mean you do.”

  She knew this. She really did, but as the hours wore on, her doubts increased. Flopping onto her mattress, she stared at the ceiling. Painted a soft blue, it was quite different from the ceiling she’d stared at yesterday at this time.

  Told to lay still and not swallow while the endocrinologist shoved a needle into her throat to gather cells from her goiters, she’d counted the ruts in the ceiling blocks above her head. Six times. Each biopsy had only lasted a minute, but seemed a lot longer when told not to swallow. As the doctor pumped the skinny needle in and out at a rapid pace, she’d imagined her fingers on the neck of her violin, playing the intricate chords of one of her favorite and toughest songs. She’d heard the music. Felt the indenture of the strings under her fingers and found her happy place. The image of a sexy sheriff with smoldering gray eyes and magical hands had also made an appearance. Yes, Kade was definitely a happy place. And as she forced herself to remain still on the hospital bed, she’d made a promise to herself to visit those places again in reality.

  Now, twenty-four hours later, Brandi had the perfect opportunity to cross one off her list.

  She rolled off the mattress, got on her hands and knees and stared at the lone case sitting under her bed. All as Mozart watched through a lazy gaze.

  “Come on, Wyne. Just do it,” she said out loud and grabbed the handle to pull the case close. “You need to practice for the upcoming Guard dinner, anyhow.”

  Why the hell had she agreed to that? Oh, yeah, right. Her father had asked her…okay, more like told the committee she’d be happy to perform at an upcoming dinner in Houston in a few weeks. Brandi looked forward to seeing her father and brother, Ben, at the dinner, just not the playing—still a few too many dark memories attached to performing. Sighing, she lifted the case to her bed, and once again, stared at the small black container she’d recently nicknamed Pandora.

  The heavy, suppressive weight she’d felt whenever near the case the past year was much lighter. Maybe Pandora was on a diet. She chuckled, noting her throat was not as sore as yesterday. And despite the discomfort of a scratchy throat, her voice remained fairly unaffected, with only a miniscule deepening of her tone. Thank God for small miracles. At least she wouldn’t draw attention to herself.

  “Okay, you can do this.”

  On an indrawn breath, she opened the lid, expecting the weight in her chest to increase, but it remained the same. She blew out the breath and gingerly lifted her violin out of the velvet indenture.

  Intense feelings, some good and some bad, rushed through her from head to toe, settling in her tight chest. She swallowed a few times, blinked a few more and the tightness lessened. Placing the violin on the bed, she glanced at the cat and shook her head.

  “You know the drill.”

  Sniffing, she unlatched the bow and rosin and prepared the neglected hair. She was doing this. This was going to happen. Now. One song. She’d get through one song. Baby steps. Bow completely rosined, she placed the violin on her shoulder, put her chin in the chin rest, and before she could think another thought, played the first song that came to mind.

  Beethoven’s “5th.”

  As her fingers slid across the strings, hitting the chords, bow connecting to create the sound she’d fallen in love with at an early age, she relaxed and gave herself over to the music. Sweet, soft, hard and passionate, the violin encompassed it all. Every time her mother had undergone a biopsy or procedure, Brandi had played and played until her fingers bled. Music was her out. The violin was an extension of herself, one she realized she’d missed. Why the hell had she hidden it away all these months?

  Oh, right. It also reminded her of suppression, and duty, and control, and she’d packed it away, along with the bad memories that took the joy out of playing.

  Until today.

  She’d left Ed, resigned her position with the Philharmonic—a position she once coveted, until he made her hate every single minute—and went back to designing, something she’d always found as a good, creative outlet.

  And she was happy for the first time in a long time. She enjoyed designing. Couldn’t imagine not designing. But now that she’d caressed the neck of her old friend, the reunion was sweet. The instrument would no longer remain packed away, collecting dust under her bed. No. She’d figure something out. But, she still had to work through the negative feelings. Playing for fun was easier than playing for commitment. She needed to go slow.

  “My goodness!”

  “Holy shit, girl!”

  Brandi stiffened, the bow screeching across the strings in a sharp stop. She twisted around to find Kerri and Jordan standing in her bedroom blinking.

  “I-I didn’t hear you come in,” she stammered, trying to ignore the fact she stood there gripping a violin and bow in her hands.

  “Wow...” Kerri rushed forward. “That was incredible.”

  “Yes, I had no idea you played,” Jordan said, stepping further into the room. “Do you do anything like Apocalyptica?”

  She loved the band and their interpretation of rock with her beloved string instruments. “Yes. Some.” In fact, she did a lot of different musical genres, having always loved the challenge.

  Jordan sank onto the bed and cocked her head. “Are you getting sick?”

  Really? She should’ve known better. “No. Throat’s just a little dry.”

  “Oh.” The shrewd beauty nodded, then smiled. “So, can you play some Apocalyptica?”

  “Yeah, they’re great,” Kerri agreed, fussing with her phone.

  Tightness returned to Brandi’s chest. “I...I don’t know.”

  She placed her violin and bow back in the case, then closed the lid, wanting to close the lid on the whole subject. But Bulldog McCall and her sister had caught her scent. She was screwed.

  Mozart stood and stretched, then purred and rubbed against Jordan who scratched under the feline’s collar.

  “You’d played for the Philharmonic?” Kerri asked. “Why didn’t you say?”

  How the hell did she…

  “That was way too good for a closet player. I had to look you up on the net.” Her friend held up her smart phone with a photo of Brandi and the rest of the orchestra in some sort of photo op last year.

  The band across her chest tightened. She pushed past the woman and strode into the living room as if the subject would remain in the bedroom with Pandora.

  “Brandi, hey.” Kerri caught up with her, took her hand and pulled her to the couch where they sat down. “Hun, you don’t just get a job with an orchestra. You have to be great.”

  She stared at her hand. “I auditioned.”

  “Exactly.”

  Great, now Jordan sat in the chair next to them.

  “Says here, you had to audition and interview.” Kerri pointed to her phone.

  Brandi sighed. “Yeah, there was a process. So?”

  “So, you’re better than good. You had to be great. Committed.”

  Yeah, she was certifiable right about now. She laughed. “Probably should be.”

  Jordan smil
ed, but Kerri frowned.

  “Why did you leave?”

  “Yeah.” The older sister leaned forward. “Not that I’m not thrilled you’re designing, but, why leave a music career like that? You had to love music and playing in order to achieve what you did.”

  Fighting tears, Brandi blew out a breath and nodded. “I did. Do,” she corrected.

  Kerri squeezed the hand she still held and waited for her to glance up. “What happened?”

  Blame it on the stress and worry of the past twenty-four hours, or the exhaustion of keeping her past a bit of secret, Brandi sighed and told them the whole story about Ed. About how he loved the limelight her position with the orchestra gave him. How he wouldn’t let her miss any venue or show, and made sure she practiced daily. How he took something she loved and killed it.

  “At first, I thought it was so great that he understood how much music meant to me, even at the expense of time spent together.” She laughed without mirth. “Boy, was I wrong. He only wanted the spotlight my little bit of fame afforded him. He didn’t give a damn about me.”

  “Oh, hun, I’m so glad you told him good-bye.” Kerri hugged her close.

  “I hope you kicked his ass,” Jordan said, her hands balling into fists. “Because if not, I’d be more than happy to fly up there and do it for you.”

  This time, genuine laughter bubbled up her throat. “That would be great to see, but he’s not worth it.”

  It may have taken her months to realize that, but at least she had, then packed up and left him. Taking her fat and violin with her, leaving him free to find someone else to boss around and control.

  She sat back and wiped her face. “I’m sorry to have kept it from you. It’s just that it’s still a bit raw.”

  Like her throat, but she wasn’t going to burden them with her latest problem.

  “Well, I hope, when you’re ready, you’ll play whatever you want at the pub,” Jordan said, leaning forward to squeeze her knee. “People here will love it. Classical, rock, country. You know how they pack in every Tuesday for amateur night. They’d be thrilled to hear someone of your caliber. Trust me.”