A Cowboy's Heart

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Good point.” She left one lit on the dresser and walked toward the bed. “I usually take the right side, but if you want it, I’ll switch.”

  He chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Thirty minutes ago we were thrashing around naked, burning up the sheets and now we’re politely choosing sides of the bed.”

  “You’re right. It’s ridiculous.”

  “Go ahead and take the right side. A lefty should probably be on the left.”

  “I keep forgetting you’re left-handed.” She settled down with a sigh. “I haven’t noticed any difference.”

  “Difference in what?”

  “Lovemaking.”

  “Then you haven’t been paying attention. I always lead with my left.”

  She drew in a quick breath. “This is a bad topic.”

  “You started it.”

  “I did and I apologize.” She was quiet for a moment. “Jimi’s purring. I think it’s safe for you to climb in.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” He crossed to the bed and assessed the situation. Jimi was closer to her side than his. He put a knee on the mattress and the cat didn’t change position. If anything, his motor got louder.

  “It’s possible he’s starting to like you.”

  “Since he’s hated everyone but you and your aunt, I don’t know why.”

  “Could be the hat. Every time I checked on him he was sleeping in it. Aunt Henrietta and I thought he’d started life with a grandmother and granddaughter, but now I wonder if there was a cowboy in the mix.”

  “That would be my good fortune.” He eased down on top of the covers and stretched out on his back, making sure he didn’t accidentally kick the cat.

  Nicole reached across the distance between them and took his hand. “I can’t believe how patient you’ve been with the Jimi situation.”

  He turned to face her. “You’re more than worth it.”

  “What a nice thing to say.”

  “Stick around. There’s lots more where that came from.”

  “I can’t wait. I’ve never known a songwriter before.” She brushed her fingers gently over his. “You really are tearing up your hand, though.”

  “It’s in a good cause.”

  “I agree. You’ll make plenty of people happy if you start playing again.”

  “Hope so. By the way, when’s your first appointment in the morning?”

  “I have a client at nine.”

  “Do you need to set an alarm?”

  “No. Jimi’s my alarm. He—well, speak of the devil. Did you decide to join us up here, kitty-cat?”

  “Has he ever done this?” Bryce lay very still as the cat made one slow turn and nestled between them.

  “Nope. He always stayed at the foot of the bed.” She squeezed his hand. “I think Jimi likes you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jimi’s acceptance of Bryce was total. Miraculously, when Nicole woke the next morning, Bryce was asleep with the cat curled up against his bare chest. Jimi opened his eyes and looked at her as if to say finally, a cowboy! What took you so long?

  But when she quietly got out of bed, Jimi stood, stretched, and hopped down. The cowboy might be nice, but clearly breakfast was more important. She went downstairs, fed him and checked the time. Not a lot of leeway before she had to get ready for work.

  Her shears, combs and the towel she’d planned to use sat on the kitchen table, silent reminders that she hadn’t cut Bryce’s hair, after all. Her own fault, too. She didn’t regret her silk robe stunt but he still needed a haircut.

  She’d also promised him a look at the Fender guitar. After putting on the coffee, she walked down a short hallway to the only bedroom on the first floor, the one that had belonged to Aunt Henrietta. Her aunt’s written instructions had been to give away all her clothes and move into the bedroom because it was bigger and had an attached bath.

  Nicole had donated the clothes, but she hadn’t moved down here. It was a lovely room, but the one upstairs felt more like home. She opened the closet, lifted the battered guitar case out and laid it on the bed. Then she popped the latches.

  The elegance of design struck her every time she opened the case. Aunt Henrietta had educated her about early 1964 Fenders, but even without knowing a thing, she would have recognized the quality of the workmanship. Although she’d never considered playing an electric guitar, she would have bought amps and tried this one if it hadn’t been made for a lefty.

  “So here you are.”

  She turned as Bryce walked toward her. In addition to the jeans he’d slept in, he’d put on his boots and his shirt. “You look very…dressed.”

  “Because I’m going to vamoose before I end up making you late for work.”

  “First take a look at this.” She stepped aside and swept an arm toward the bed. “There it is.”

  He blinked. “Damn.” He approached the bed with reverence and stared at the guitar. “Unbelievable.”

  “Go ahead. Take it out.”

  He slowly reached for it. Nudging the case aside, he sat on the bed and balanced the guitar on his thigh as he ran his fingers lovingly over the body and the steel strings. “A ’64 Strat.” His voice was filled with awe. “Incredible. I’ll bet it sounds awesome.”

  “Don’t know. Never got amps.”

  “I used to play electric guitar.” He plucked at the strings.

  “When?”

  “Back in my rock star days. Haven’t touched one in years. I decided the acoustic was more my style.” He glanced up. “How did your aunt end up with this?”

  “She had an affair with a musician who made tons of money and took a lot of drugs. When he died, he left her this guitar and whatever money he still had. It was enough for her to settle here.”

  “Do you know the guy’s name?”

  “She said I wouldn’t recognize it. But he hung out with Jimi Hendrix and supposedly the guitar was a hand-me-down from Jimi. I have no proof, though.”

  “Doesn’t matter if you’re never going to sell it.”

  “I’m not.”

  He held her gaze. “I love that about you.”

  Her heart rate spiked. Those were loaded words.

  Standing, he laid the guitar carefully back in its case and closed the lid. Then he turned and gathered her close. “Even without proof that Jimi played it, that instrument’s worth a lot.”

  “I know. I did some research online.”

  “You could sell it, invest the money and be set for life.”

  She nestled against his solid chest and wound her arms around his neck. “That’s not how I roll.”

  He gazed down at her as he rubbed the small of her back. “Which means you have a job to go to this morning.”

  “I didn’t give you that haircut.”

  “Got room in your schedule today?”

  “I have an opening at ten, but—”

  “Expect me at ten.”

  “It won’t be as much fun.”

  He smiled. “No, but I won’t lose an ear, either.” He gave her a quick kiss and released her. “See you at ten.”

  Bryce McGavin’s presence in the salon caused a stir. He knew everybody, and conversation flowed during the forty-five minutes he was in Nicole’s chair. She found it amusing. Maybe this was what it was like giving a haircut to a rock star.

  After she finished, she handed him a mirror. “How’s that?”

  “Awesome.” His eyes sparkled. “And I still have both ears.”

  “You really like it?”

  “Sure do. Great haircut.” He glanced around at the roomful of women. “Didn’t she do a terrific job?”

  All the clients and stylists who’d been chatting with him added their praise and Nicole’s cheeks grew warm. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll need to do this more often.” He stuffed a bunch of bills in her tip jar before grabbing his hat from a rack in the corner. “I might have to leave this off today to show off my haircut.” He winked at her
. “See you later.” He headed into the lobby to pay his bill.

  Immediately she was peppered with questions.

  “We’re friends, that’s all,” she kept insisting. Clearly no one in the salon believed her.

  She didn’t believe it either, especially after Bryce showed up at her house the next two nights after closing the bar. He said he couldn’t stay away and she didn’t want him to.

  On the second night, as she lay panting in the aftermath of a shattering climax, he stretched out beside her and gathered her close.

  She slipped an arm around his waist and sighed in contentment. “You’re the best.”

  “You bring out the best in me.” He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “I love being here with you. But before Jimi starts scratching at the door, I need to tell you I won’t be over tomorrow night.”

  “That’s okay.” She tamped down her disappointment. “Wedding stuff?”

  “No, personal stuff.”

  “Oh.” How quickly she’d become attached to the idea of having him here.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I want to be here every night, unless you get tired of me.”

  She went for a light-hearted answer. “Not tired of you so far. We’ll see how it goes.”

  “Thanks for that. The thing is, I need time for this song and I’m more productive at night. I’d like to finish it before we get into the wedding hoopla next week. If I don’t, it’ll bug me.”

  Ah, the song. She certainly didn’t want to stand in the way of that. “You’re welcome to work on it here.”

  “I have.”

  “Really? When?”

  “Last night after you went to sleep, I ran through it while I was lying here. Then I went downstairs for an hour or so and worked with my app. Jimi came along.”

  “You two must be stealthy. I had no idea.”

  He smoothed his hand over her cheek. “I didn’t want to disturb you. You have to be rested for work.”

  “You work long hours, too.”

  “But I’m used to functioning on only a few hours of sleep. Anyway, I confess I borrowed your guitar, although I’m terrible with a right-handed one. I’m stuck on a couple of phrases and the bridge isn’t quite right, either, probably because I haven’t written anything in a year and I’m out of practice.”

  “Can I help?”

  “You already do. You inspire me all the time. But when I used to get stuck like this, only one thing worked. I’d take my guitar, ride out to my favorite spot on the ranch, and spend the night under the stars. It’s worth a try.”

  “Of course it is. Jimi and I will miss you, but if that’s what you need to get unstuck, then I want you to go. Why didn’t you leave tonight?”

  “Because I’m greedy. I couldn’t resist spending one more night in your bed before I head off on my quest.”

  She smiled. “I like that answer.”

  “So you’re not upset?”

  “Why would I be upset?”

  “Because I’m voluntarily choosing to go off by myself instead of staying here with you. I think I can accomplish this in one night but I might need two. I’ve already alerted Trev and he can cover for me at the bar if I need him to. I hope I won’t, though.”

  She gazed into his eyes. “Why do you hope that?”

  “Well, because I want to be with you.”

  “I understand that, but this is more important right now. You’re restarting your creative process. Please don’t think you’re deserting me or anything.” Then it hit her. “Did Charity get upset when you did this kind of thing?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Did she accuse you of being selfish?”

  “Yes, and I had to ask myself if that was true, because I loved those nights out there alone, writing songs. It didn’t feel like work, so I thought maybe it was selfish.”

  “Let me get this straight. She wanted you to be a big success, but she wasn’t willing to give you time to be creative?”

  He was silent for a moment. “I never thought about it like that.”

  “Sounds like a no-win situation to me.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” He took a deep breath. “So it never would have worked. Even if I’d taken the offer from the agent in Nashville.”

  “From what you’ve told me, I doubt it.”

  “That’s a relief, in a way.”

  “Ray used to call me selfish and like you, I worried about it. But he only meant I wasn’t behaving the way he wanted. That’s when some people start throwing that word around.”

  “I’m going to remember that.” He rolled her to her back. “How about this for selfish? Jimi’s not scratching at the door yet and I feel like tasting some freckles.” He cupped her breast and gently squeezed.

  She arched into his caress. “He could show up any minute.”

  “Or not.” Leaning down, he licked her like an ice cream cone, swirling his tongue around her nipple until she squirmed. “I told him we could use a little extra time tonight.”

  “Did you, now?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She gasped as he began a gentle suction. “That’s…nice.”

  “Mm.” He continued tasting, sucking and nipping until finally he made his way back to her mouth. “Glad you like it.” Covering her lips with his, he slid his hand downward and sought her heat.

  His fingertips were no longer smooth. The slight abrasion of his calluses made his touch more erotic than she ever would have guessed. He aroused her so easily that she climaxed in mere seconds.

  He caressed her until her breathing slowed. Then he reached for a condom on the nightstand and sat back to roll it on. “You’re so beautiful after you come. You have such a rosy glow.”

  She took a shaky breath. “That’s a redhead for you.”

  “I’m a fan.”

  “By the way, I paid attention this time.” She paused to gulp in more air. “You do lead with your left.”

  “Told you.” He moved between her thighs and entered her with one firm thrust.

  She moaned.

  “Good?” He initiated a steady rhythm.

  “You have no idea.”

  “That would be a fact.” He rested on his forearms and gazed into her eyes. “But you could tell me.”

  “It’s amazing.”

  “Too vague. Specifics.” He kept pumping.

  “The friction lights me up inside.”

  He smiled. “That explains the glow.”

  “And when you lock in tight, it’s like when you spin a combination lock and the last tumbler falls.”

  “That explains what I feel right now, when you open up and invite me in.”

  The first spasms of her climax rolled through her. She gulped. “Consider it…an open invitation.”

  “Ah, Nicole.” He pumped faster. “I accept.”

  She gripped his backside and held on. “Welcome to the party.” Lifting to meet each stroke, she joined him in a lusty mutual orgasm that lasted a very long time.

  When she finally reentered reality, Jimi was at the door scratching to be let in. She and Bryce had a routine, now. While she put on jammies, he disposed of the condom and pulled on his boxers. He no longer bothered with his jeans because he got under the covers, too.

  But no hanky-panky went on after Jimi raced into the room. He started at the foot of the bed, but he only stayed there until she and Bryce had settled down. Then he took his position smack-dab between them.

  Tomorrow night, and maybe the one after that, Jimi would have to make do with her. She reached for Bryce’s hand. “When the song is finished, will you play it for me?”

  “Absolutely. You’ll be the first.”

  Okay, then. She snuggled down under the covers. Something exciting to look forward to.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bryce alerted his mom to the plan, and being his number one groupie, she insisted on packing some food for the campout. She was the only one down at the barn when he drove up and parked beside it. She had Winston standing at the
hitching post while she tightened his cinch. The plastic tote nearby meant she’d groomed him first.

  “Mom, you’re spoiling me again.”

  Turning to him, she dusted off her hands. “I felt like it. I’m so happy I could spit.”

  He grinned. “Go ahead.” He’d never seen her do such a thing but there was always a first time.

  “I don’t spit. It’s an expression.” She stuck her hands in her hip pockets and rocked back on her heels. “I warned you about getting involved with Nicole, but if this is the result, I’m all for it.”

  “How do you know I’m involved with her?”

  She peered at him. “How long have you lived here, son?”

  “All my life except for that trip to Texas this summer.”

  “Then how can you ask me such a question? There’s no way I could not know you’re sleeping with Nicole.”

  “Sleeping with her? Who said that? I—”

  “You’re blushing.”

  “Yeah, well…” He tugged his hat lower.

  “I’ve been hearing rumors plus I had my own suspicions after the way she acted at the shower on Sunday.”

  “How’d she act?”

  “Skittish around me, especially when we played Pin the Penis on the Man.”

  “You played what?”

  “It’s like Pin the Tail on the Donkey, except—”

  “Okay, never mind. I get it. And I get why Nicole might have been a little twitchy.”

  “In any case, your trip to the salon on Tuesday and your humungous tip was a dead giveaway.”

  “She deserved a good tip.” No point in asking how his mom knew about it. Everyone in the salon had watched him put the money in. A macho move on his part, sure, but fun, too. “She did a great job on my hair.”

  “I’m sure she did. I’m happy for both of you.”

  Aside from the embarrassment factor, he enjoyed knowing he was responsible for putting that sparkle in her eyes. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “I have your grub in the tack room. I’ll get it.”

  “Appreciate your fixing me something.”

  “Like I said, I’m in the mood to help.” She picked up the tote and headed into the barn.

  While she fetched his provisions, he pulled his bedroll and guitar case out of the truck and tied both behind Winston’s saddle. The butterscotch Paint was used to hauling his Martin around. They’d been on many such outings together.