Counterfeit Cowboy

by Gail MacMillan

  She shot out of bed and into the bathroom, grimacing as a small, sharp pain flashed across her forehead. A shower, I need a shower to get back to reality. And fast.

  Oh, God, how can I face him? The question gushed over her like the water. What had happened to the purely professional relationship they’d agreed on? All it had taken was a dozen red roses, a few glasses of excellent champagne, and an old love song to throw that plan into a Dumpster.

  But she had gotten to know Jordan Brooks the man a whole lot better. She remembered his telling her about his home on P.E.I., and about his obligation to his band. And while it had made her respect him for taking on the latter, it had also impressed upon her how impossible it would be for him to ever form any kind of lasting relationship with her. His life was inexorably tied to the boys in his band. And her life was inexorably tied to Ebony Farm.

  She stepped out of the shower, toweled herself dry, and went to the basin to brush her teeth. So what? Jordan Brooks was a media superstar. His kind wouldn’t see last night as any kind of commitment, any offer of an ongoing relationship. By this morning he’d probably have filed the entire evening away under a good time and moved on.

  She paused and gazed at the woman in the mirror above the sink. She’d do the same. She wasn’t some old-fashioned country girl who saw one fantastic night as proof of emotional involvement. No, damn it, she could be just as sophisticated and worldly as any of Jordan Brooks’ previous lovers.

  But as she rinsed her mouth and reached for the blow dryer, her heart lurched and made a liar of her.

  ****

  She popped bread into the toaster and was taking a sip of coffee when the sound of a vehicle coming up the drive caught her attention. Looking out the window, she saw Andy Crowell’s SUV brake to a stop at the steps. A moment later, the lanky farmer emerged, a long white box in hand, and dashed up the steps two at a time. He knocked, then stepped into the kitchen, grinning.

  “Happy birth…” His words trailed off, the box extended toward her, his eyes focused on the roses in their vase on the counter by the stove.

  Oh, good lord!

  “I see someone got here before me.” He threw his box onto the table.

  “Travis. They’re from Travis.” From somewhere the lie flew to her lips. “He got a bit of money from playing a gig and, foolish boy, spent it all on birthday roses.”

  “Oh.” The cloud vanished from his face. “Well, good for Travis. You deserve them. You can add mine to the bunch.” He rounded the table to put his hands on her shoulders and pull her into a light kiss. “Belated happy birthday, Shel. Sorry I didn’t come over yesterday, but my best hand quit to take a job at the oil sands in Alberta, and three of my cows broke through a fence and got into the woods. By the time I got it all hashed out…”

  “No need to explain, Andy.” She eased away from him. “I’m a farmer, too, remember. I understand the demands of the profession.”

  “Yeah, you do.” He opened a cupboard and reached for a cup. “That’s why we’ll make such a great team, Shel. We’re cut out of the same cloth. With our places combined…”

  “Let’s not go there today.” Shelby watched as he poured coffee and made himself at home, as he’d done for years in her house.

  We are comfortable together, but there’s no spark…definitely nothing like there was on the beach last night. Good heavens, I hope Jordan doesn’t come up for breakfast until after Andy leaves.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jordan Brooks rinsed the soap from his body in the small cubicle that passed as a shower stall in the cabin, then stepped out into the fresh coolness of the cabin bathroom to dry himself. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he went to the basin to brush his teeth. He was humming, had been since he’d awakened a half hour earlier. He couldn’t stop. Memories of the previous night wouldn’t allow it. As he dressed, his thoughts were suffused with Shelby, Dr. Shelby Masters. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. His parents would love her.

  Damn, where did that come from? He was making plans, and he couldn’t make plans…not with Shelby, not while his lifestyle and hers clashed so dramatically, not with them both committed to their causes.

  The humming stopped. The realization hit him like a bucket of ice water. He’d made one very big mistake last night. He’d only wanted to give a remarkable woman the terrific birthday she deserved, but things had gotten away out of hand. His body reacted as memories of those moments on the blanket at the beach rushed back. What a night!

  He tried to slash the thoughts from his mind, but they continued to taunt him as he ran a brush through his hair. He remembered how he’d stopped the old truck in front of the cabin so they wouldn’t wake Travis, how they’d walked up to the farmhouse together, her head on his shoulder, his arm around her, how she’d kissed him that last time, how he’d had to battle to pull himself away and let her go inside alone.

  And if he’d thought that had been hard, it was nothing like what he’d have to do this morning.

  ****

  “ ’Morning.” Travis met him as he stepped out of the cabin. He was riding his gelding, Midnight Brandy, toward the barn. “Did you and Shel have a good time last night? Did she enjoy her birthday surprise?”

  “I hope so.”

  “I hope so, too. She deserved a good time.”

  “Yeah, she did. Is that Crowell’s SUV up at the house?”

  “Guess it is. I hadn’t noticed. He probably came over with a late birthday card. He’s always late with stuff. His farm comes first.”

  “Well, guess I’d better head on up there, grab an orange juice and coffee, and get to work.”

  “Juice and coffee? Are you dry this morning, Jake. Ah, man, you didn’t get drunk on her, did you? Jeez, Jake, I trusted you…”

  “No, no, nothing like that. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” He started toward the house, wondering what situation he’d find there, apprehensive but knowing he had to face it.

  “ ’Morning.” He knocked and peered through the screen door. Something that could have been relief washed through him as he saw Andy Crowell and Shelby seated across from each other at the table, having coffee.

  “ ’Morning, Banks.” The farmer swiveled on his chair to face him. “Come on in. I imagine you’re looking for breakfast?”

  “Toast and coffee will do just fine.” He crossed the room toward toaster and coffeepot and waved Shelby back into her chair. “I can manage it, boss. Not all that hungry this morning.”

  “Okay.”

  “Weren’t out drinking last night, were you, Jake?” Andy asked as Jordan opened the fridge, took out a pitcher of orange juice and downed a glass. “You seem a bit dry. I can hands who come in to work with a desert in their throats.”

  His eyes narrowed as he looked over at him.

  “No, no, nothing like that.” He saw the long, white box on the table. “Flowers for you, Doc? You should get them in water right away. They can wilt pretty fast if they’re not cared for.”

  “He’s right.” Andy Crowell stood. “And farms go to seed pretty quick if someone isn’t watching them all the time.” He rounded the table, bent to plant a kiss on the top of Shelby’s head, then, giving Jordan a penetrating glance, he strode past him and out the door.

  “Hey, Shel.” Travis arrived so close on the farmer’s exit that the screen door had barely closed when he entered the kitchen. “Got most of the stalls mucked out. You and Jordan were out pretty late last night. Figured you’d need a little extra sack time this morning. Hope he didn’t get drunk on you.”

  “He certainly didn’t.” Shelby flashed him an admonishing frown. “And will you keep it down? I don’t need Andy coming back in a jealous fit. We just had a nice evening didn’t we, Jake?”

  “Sure did.” Using the alias, distancing us. Well, maybe it is for the best. He jerked a thumb in the direction of the unopened box. “More roses?”

  “I assume they’re roses. Andy has been giving them to me for years. And if anyon
e asks, Travis, those roses on the counter are from you.”

  “Ah, come on, Shel. Jake brought those for you…”

  “It’s okay.” Jordan stopped his protest as he took a seat at the table. “It wouldn’t be right for the boss to be getting a dozen long stems from a farm hand paying child support for four kids.”

  “What?” Shelby’s mouth gaped open.

  “That’s what Jordan told Andy.” Travis chuckled. “Said he lost his job at a mill and had to take any work he could find, at any salary, to keep up his child support payments and avoid jail.”

  “It is sort of true. I am responsible for the guys in my band.” He grinned sheepishly.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

  “I’ve got work to do. I’ll let you two hash out your stories.” Still chuckling, Travis went out, letting the screen door slam behind him.

  “Well.” She faced Jordan.

  “Well,” he repeated, meeting her gaze.

  “Jordan, about last night…”

  “Yeah, about that…”

  “After our back-story telling, I think we both know a relationship between us won’t work. It was a lovely night, something I needed, and I think maybe you did, too, but it’s over. And can’t be repeated. Let’s just leave it what it is…a terrific memory.”

  “Is that what you want?” He watched as she turned back to the counter for more coffee.

  “It’s the only reasonable thing to do.” She sat down opposite him, cradling her cup in both hands, a gesture he’d come to enjoy. “Agreed?”

  “Okay. But I won’t say I’m not sorry.”

  “Nor I.”

  “Shelby, under different circumstances…?”

  “No point in speculating. Just leave it there, Jake.” Her tone has softened. Tears floated in her eyes.

  “Yeah, sure, whatever you want.” He shoved back his chair as he stood. “See you later.” He had turned to go back out into the hot, humid day when Shelby’s cell rang. Wondering if it was an emergency that would take her away from the farm, he paused to listen.

  “Dr. Shelby Masters here. Andy, hi. You just left. Calling from your cell? Something you forgot to ask? Your cousin’s wedding on Saturday? Sounds like fun. You’ll pick me up around three thirty? Great. See you then.”

  “Date? With your old boyfriend?” As she hung up, Jordan felt the hottest rush of jealousy he’d ever experienced, and his hands contracted into fists at his sides.

  “Something like that.” She shoved the cell back into the pocket of her jeans. “Life has to go on…doesn’t it?” The expression in those gorgeous green eyes knotted his gut.

  “Yeah, life has to go on.” He went into the clammy heat.

  “Wait.” She stopped him.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m thinking it’s time we stepped your lessons up a notch.”

  So you can get rid of me sooner?

  “How, exactly?” he asked.

  “A trail ride, with you handling Midnight Brandy. He’s well trained, just a bit feisty. More like one of the horses you’ll probably be required to ride in the movie.”

  “You think I’m ready for this?”

  “You rode Midnight Black, didn’t you? Brandy is nowhere near the handful that stallion is.”

  “Yeah, but there was a trick to that, and we both know it. I’m guessing this Brandy character isn’t partial to a Jordan Brooks tune.”

  “He might be. I’m sure Travis spouts some of your stuff while he’s riding him. Feel free to give it a try. I’ll meet you at the barn as soon as I clean up here.”

  ****

  “Here you go.” Shelby handed Midnight Brandy’s halter rope to Jordan. “You did a good job saddling him, but you still have to lunge him in the round pen out back. He’s feeling his oats this morning, and it wouldn’t be safe to ride him without a bit of exercise first. I’ll put Fancy through her paces in the arena. Then we’ll be off. Lunge him good and you won’t have any trouble on the trail.”

  “Right.” The word reflected his uncertainty as he took the rope and the big gelding snorted and pranced. “Piece of cake.”

  “You may need this to keep him loping,” she said, handing him a long whip. “Remember, just touch him lightly if he slows down or stops. Usually just showing it to him will keep him going.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I remember the drill.” The words came out harsher than he’d intended. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m short-tempered. Last night…”

  “I understand. We made a mistake. No, strike that. We made a memory that we have to leave as just that.” She looked up at him. “Now we have to get on with the job at hand. We’re both pretty tough cookies. We can do it, right?”

  “Right.” Damn it, he ached to take her into his arms, to kiss her, to bring back all the wonderful sensations of the previous night. But there she stood handing him a lead rope and a whip, determination to stay aloof in those gorgeous green eyes. She had moved on. Making that date with Andy Crowell proved it.

  ****

  Fifteen minutes later, she joined him at the round pen, leading Fancy.

  “Ready?” She swung into the saddle, and he had to stop himself from admiring her terrific body, her fluid movements. Dr. Shelby Masters was one great lady—one he’d never have the privilege of sharing another romantic moment with, unfortunately.

  “Come on.” She turned her mount toward a trail leading around the pasture and into the woods. “We’ll take a short ride today to see how you make out.”

  “Great.” Jordan stuck his boot into the left stirrup and Brandy danced sideways, dragging him hopping beside him.

  “Shorten up your right rein,” she advised, turning back. “Don’t give him a chance to swing around. He’ll start playing with you if he thinks you’re not in charge. That’s the difference between him and Candy. She’s easygoing. Brandy needs to know who’s boss.”

  “Fine.” He did as she advised and managed to swing into the saddle. “Easy, boy, easy.”

  “You’re doing fine.” Shelby turned again to the trail and led the way. “Don’t take any nonsense from him. If he tries anything, remember I’m right ahead of you to put a stop to it.”

  ****

  “Lope!” Her direction was a command not a suggestion as the trail opened into a meadow rich with buttercups and daisies. And she was off, galloping easily along the path through the flowers.

  Jordan didn’t have to inform Brandy. Seeing the mare break into a lope ahead of him, he followed suit, only at a harder pace. Does this guy have a bit of Seabiscuit in his genes? Jordan tried to relax into the gait, but the horse appeared to have decided it was a race. He passed Shelby and Fancy, jolting them aside with a shoulder and all but unseating Jordan.

  “Whoa!”

  “Pull him around into a circle!” Shelby thundered close behind him.

  He made the effort, but the horse skidded, reared, bucked. The next instant Jordan was flying through the air. He landed with a thump that knocked the breath from his body and hurt one buttock like hell.

  “Jordan, are you all right?” Shelby had leaped from her horse and was dropping on one knee beside him.

  “Yeah, yeah, I guess so.” He struggled up on one elbow. “But I’m pretty sure that will leave a mark.” He eased onto his good hip and rubbed the other.

  “That was entirely my fault.” Concern wrinkled her forehead. “I never should have started a lope in the lead. I forgot Brandy gets into race horse mode when he feels challenged. Do you think you can get up?”

  “Sure, sure.” With her dragging on his arm, he struggled to his feet and was relieved to find he really could stand, that nothing appeared to be broken.

  “Do you think you can ride Fancy back to the farm? It’s quite a walk. If you don’t think you can, I’ll ride back and get the truck. The trail is wide enough for me to drive it in here.”

  “What kind of a cowboy would I be if I had to get driven back from a cattle drive?” He grinned down at her. “Falling off is all part of the
learning process, isn’t it? What’s the old saying about having to get right back on a horse after you fall off? I’m getting back on that guy and show him he can’t toss me around.”

  “Well, then, good.” He saw something he hoped was respect in her expression. “That’s the true cowboy spirit.”

  “So you’re saying that maybe I am getting the hang of it?”

  “That’s what I’m saying, cowboy.” And she smiled.

  Way to go, man. She’s impressed. But doesn’t the cowboy always get the girl?

  “Okay, let’s see if I can live up to your standards.” He headed toward where Brandy, head lowered, was peacefully cropping grass.

  “Okay, kid, this it.” He gathered up the dragging reins. As the horse threw up his head in protest, he brought him up short. “That’s enough of that. You and I are going to head back to the farm, and you’re going to behave, hear me?”

  The gelding snorted, shook his head with a jingling of his bit, and began to prance.

  “Hey, none of that.” Jordan hoped he sounded a whole lot more in charge and confident than he felt. His jelly knees weren’t helping, but he fitted his boot into the stirrup and swung himself up, this time remembering to keep the far rein taut.

  “Now.” He turned the animal toward the farm. “Let’s go…at a reasonable speed and with no nonsense involved.” He nudged with his knees, and Midnight Brandy started off at a sedate walk.

  “Great!” Shelby swung onto Fancy and trotted to come up beside him. “You’ve got him listening.”

  “But no more races, okay? I’ve only got one cheek left unmarred, and I’d like to keep it pristine.”

  “Agreed. It would be a shame to mess up such treasures of the entertainment business.” He caught the teasing smirk she slanted over at him. “And I’d hate to be sued for allowing something like that to happen.”

  Damn it, he enjoyed the woman. She was bright and funny and kind and beautiful. What more could a man want?

  That she wanted him.

  ****

  They’d put the horses away and were heading up to the house when a car careened off the highway and into the drive. It braked to a dust-raising halt at the house and a man wearing shorts and a T-shirt jumped out. He started for the porch steps at a run. Then, seeing Shelby and Jordan, he turned and ran toward them.