Champagne and Cowboys

by Donna Michaels

  “At what cost, Mom?” he asked.

  “I like to think that things worked out for you, honey. You’re working and living in exactly the place you’d always wanted to be. You’re content—”

  “That’s debatable,” Justin interjected.

  “Surely, you’ve dated some nice girls since you’ve been in End of the Line?”

  His doorbell rang, saving him from having to launch into a handful of dates, most of which he botched by mentally comparing them to Georgia. “Mom, my dinner is here. I’ll call you later in the week.”

  “Okay, honey, love you. Go talk to your brother.”

  He hung up. This damn invitation had blown a hole in his sequestered little life. When he was seated on his porch swing, coffee in hand, catching a brilliant sunset, he’d convinced himself he didn’t need any more than this. Trouble was, he’d convinced his brain, not so much his heart.

  Justin glanced once more at the black-and-white photo of his alma mater. Memories of a rainy afternoon—of him and Georgia—on an old dirt road flickered in his brain. He shook his head. Water under the bridge. He forced his thoughts to the present as he heard the locker room door open and looked up to see his star quarterback over the past three years. “Hey, Eric. How’s it going?”

  “Hey, Coach. I just stopped by to get this signed.” He handed him a pink slip of paper. “My folks want to leave tomorrow after lunch. Dad wants to get an early start on some freakin’ family road trip.” The teen, now a junior and with a promising future in football, leaned against the doorframe.

  The paper fluttered in the breeze left in the wake of the small oscillating fan Justin had brought in and put on the file cabinet to keep the air moving in the locker room.

  The boy sighed. “Don’t you think that Canada in the summer pretty much looks like Montana?” Eric asked despairingly. “I mean, why now? We’ve never taken one. It’s the summer before my senior year. I have to take off work, miss doing stuff with my friends—who, by the way, are heading down to Texas.”

  Justin chuckled softly under his breath as he added his name to the list getting the boy out of tomorrow’s study hall. He handed it back, sympathizing with the boy’s frustration—parents were impossible to understand. Even so, he felt compelled to offer a bit of ‘teacher-like’ wisdom. “Hey, your senior year goes pretty fast. Then you’ll be heading off to college on a scholarship, no doubt.”

  Eric shrugged, though his expression remained unenthusiastic. “I’m keeping my grades up, so yeah, I guess.”

  Justin continued. “Well, then, you’ll be starting your life at college, meeting new people, maybe a girl—”

  Eric snorted. “I’ll have to fight them off.”

  “Yeah, then the next thing you know, you’re married, starting a family…”

  “Whoa, Coach, slow your roll. I haven’t even met ‘the girl’ yet.” He crooked his fingers for emphasis.

  “My point,” Justin said, “is that this road trip that seems lame right now might look pretty good in the rearview mirror. You get what I’m saying?”

  The teen—his hair grown longer in the off season, along with the scruffy beard—gazed at Justin for a moment. “Yeah, I guess.” He lifted a shoulder. “Besides, I’ve got my laptop and noise-cancelling headphones. I can watch movies, right?”

  As a teacher, he could only advise so much. “Right.” Justin leaned forward. He dropped his pen on the desk and the invitation fluttered to the teen’s feet.

  Eric picked it up and casually glanced at it. “So, your class reunion, huh?” he asked, raising a brow as he handed Justin the card. “You going?”

  Uncomfortable to be placed on the spot, Justin took back the card and tossed it on the desk. “Not sure. The timing isn’t very good for me.”

  The boy’s mouth turned up in a challenging smile. “What was that you were saying about rearview mirrors?”

  Damn. He had been listening. Justin glanced at the card, picked it up, and tapped it against the desk. It’d been a long time since he’d set foot in Atlanta…and he had his reasons. “Go on, Eric. Enjoy this time with your family. Life’s too short.” His mother’s words popped out before he even realized it.

  About the Author

  Amanda McIntyre’s storytelling is a natural offshoot of her artistic creativity. A visual writer, living in the rich tapestry of the American heartland, her passion is telling character-driven stories with a penchant (okay, some call it a wicked obsession) for placing ordinary people in extraordinary situations to see how they overcome the obstacles to their HEA.

  A bestselling author, her work is published internationally in Print, eBook, and Audio. She writes steamy contemporary and sizzling historical romance and truly believes, no matter what, love will always find a way.

  WEBSITE:

  www.amandamcintyresbooks.com

  NEWSLETTER:

  madmimi.com/signups/110714/join

  AUTHORGRAPH:

  www.authorgraph.com/authors/AmandaMcIntyre1

  Other Books by Amanda McIntyre

  CONTEMPORARY WESTERN ROMANCE:

  KINNISON LEGACY:

  Rugged Hearts, Book I Wyatt & Aimee

  Rustler’s Heart, Book II Rein & Liberty

  Renegade Hearts, Book III Dalton & Angelique

  All I Want for Christmas (Kinnison holiday novella)

  LAST HOPE RANCH:

  No Strings Attached, Book I

  Worth the Wait, (TBA)

  END OF THE LINE, MONTANA:

  Lost and Found/Crossover novella

  Georgia on My Mind

  KINDLEWORLD SINGLE TITLE:

  Hurricane Season/Hell Yeah Kindle World

  Going Home /Sapphire Falls Kindle World

  Thunderstruck/Hell Yeah Kindle World

  CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE:

  Stranger in Paradise

  Tides of Autumn

  Unfinished Dreams

  Wish You Were Here

  HISTORICAL:

  A Warrior’s Heart

  The Promise

  Closer to You (formerly Wild & Unruly)

  Christmas Angel (formerly Fallen Angel)

  Tirnan ’Oge

  The Dark Seduction of Miss Jane

  HARLEQUIN SPICE/HISTORICAL:

  The Master & the Muses *(audio/international)

  The Diary of Cozette *(audio/international)

  Tortured *(audio/international)

  The Pleasure Garden *(audio/international)

  Winter’s Desire *(audio/international)

  Dark Pleasures *(audio/international)

  Cowboy Masquerade

  by

  Tori Scott

  Acknowledgments

  With thanks to Ade Ratna for the cover art,

  to my fans who’ve been asking for another Lone Star Cowboys books, and to my husband for his never-ending patience. Life with an author is never easy.

  About the Book

  Cowboy Masquerade is the eighth book in the Lone Star Cowboys series.

  Chapter One

  Doctor John Marshall used to love his job. He’d spent most of his life involved with the rodeo in one way or another, first hanging out behind the scenes while his father wrestled steers in hopes of a little prize money, and now as the main—and in some cases only—doctor to the bull riders, calf ropers, and other competitors on the rodeo circuit.

  His trailer was getting old, showing its age in the fading paint and sagging awning. As he opened the door and climbed inside, Doc realized the trailer wasn’t the only thing growing older. His aching back, nagging shoulder pain, and creaking knees reminded him with every movement.

  He passed through the examining room and into his private quarters. He needed to rest before the evening round of competition, but before he could pull the covers back on the bed, someone knocked at the trailer door. With a sigh, he pulled his boots back on and went to see who was there.

  “Susan! What a surprise. I didn’t think you and the kids were going to make it up for a visit this w
eekend.”

  Susan Hunt was the widow of bull rider Dillon Hunt, who’d died of an aneurysm during a bull riding event nearly three years earlier. Doc had done everything he could to save him, but there was really nothing anyone could have done to change the outcome. Still, he’d carried the weight of guilt ever since that awful night.

  He’d watched over Susan and the kids since then, making sure they had everything they needed, trying to be a substitute father for the kids, even though he had no experience to qualify him for the job. They came to visit whenever the rodeo was nearby, and he drove down to Amarillo to see them whenever he had a chance.

  “The student I was supposed to tutor cancelled at the last minute, so we decided to come on up. I hope that’s okay.”

  Susan looked pretty as a picture in her bright yellow sundress, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her daughter Christy was dressed in a similar outfit, but in bright pink. Matt and Damon both wore jeans and boots, western shirts, and cowboy hats. They hadn’t lost their cowboy roots.

  “Of course it’s okay. Come on in.” Doc opened the screen door and let them in, closing the door behind them. “Pardon the mess. I wasn’t expecting you.”

  He hurried to pick up the remains of his breakfast, dropping the dishes in the tiny sink.

  Susan put a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry about it.” She looked him over with a critical eye. “You look exhausted, John. Are you feeling okay?”

  “Other than feeling my age, I’m fine. I didn’t get much sleep last night. There was an accident in the arena.”

  Susan paled. “Anyone I know?”

  John shook his head. “I don’t think so. Young kid, barely out of high school, got his hand caught in the rope. He’ll be okay, but he has a nasty break that will take a while to heal. I stayed at the hospital until he got out of surgery around three this morning.”

  “You poor thing. Why don’t you go take a nap? The kids haven’t had lunch yet, so I’ll take them over to the snack bar and get them something to eat. I’d like to visit with some of my old friends, anyway. We’ll come back in a couple of hours.”

  He should say no, since they’d driven three hours just to come see him, but he was so tired. “Are you sure? I do need to get some sleep before tonight’s events.”

  “Absolutely. We’ll see you later.”

  After they left, Doc crashed on the bed, falling asleep almost immediately. His last thought before sleep claimed him was how young Susan looked with her hair pulled back like that. Almost young enough to be his daughter.

  When he awoke two hours later, the trailer was still empty. He dressed and headed to the arena to look for Susan and the kids. They weren’t in the concession area or the stands, so he headed to the staging area. Susan was talking to Dusty Ballard, an up and coming steer wrestler. He was leaning against a post, his arm above her head as he leaned forward. She laughed at something he said, her cheeks pink.

  Doc felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. He shook off the feeling. This was what he wanted, right? For her to find someone to love again, for her to get married and give the kids a father. Dusty was about Susan’s age, he had a successful career that was on the rise. He was a good man. Everything John wanted for Susan.

  So why did he feel like punching the guy out for standing so close to her, for making her laugh?

  Susan’s children sat at her feet, blowing bubbles from brightly colored containers. Damon tried to catch the bubbles as they floated into the air. Doc wanted to go sit with them, but he didn’t want to interrupt Dusty and Susan. With a sigh, he turned and headed for the bull pens.

  Susan turned just in time to see John striding toward the exit. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” She gathered the children and hurried after him, leaving Dusty without a backward glance.

  “John, wait!”

  He stopped and waited for them to catch up.

  “What was that all about? Why didn’t you let us know you were here?”

  The scowl on his face told her all she needed to know. He was jealous.

  “You were busy. I thought I’d go see what was going on out back and catch up with you later.”

  “We came here to see you, silly. Dusty is a bore. He talks about himself incessantly. I was hoping you’d rescue me.”

  John gave her a skeptical look. “You didn’t look like you were in need of rescuing. Besides, it’s good for you to socialize with people your own age.”

  “You make it sound like I’m ten years old. I like hanging out with you, thank you very much. Besides, I’ve about had my fill of rodeo cowboys.”

  “You and me both,” John mumbled.

  Susan stopped and looked up at him. “You seem different. What’s wrong?”

  John sighed and looked toward his trailer. “What you said about having your fill of rodeo cowboys? That’s me, lately. Don’t get me wrong. They’re great guys for the most part, but I guess I’m ready for something different. I’ve been thinking of either retiring or settling down somewhere with a normal practice. Something with regular hours and a variety of patients, instead of all broken bones and concussions, with the occasional STD thrown in.”

  “Whoa,” Susan said. “I always thought you’d stay with the rodeo until you died. Are you really thinking of quitting?”

  “Yeah, I am. I’m getting too old for this life.”

  “You’re not old, John. But if you want a change, go for it. We’d love to have you in Amarillo where we could see you more often. The kids miss you.”

  John ruffled Matt’s hair. “I miss them, too. Amarillo may be too big for me, though. I’m not sure I’d like city life. I was thinking maybe a small town. The rural areas have a hard time getting good doctors.”

  “There are plenty of those in West Texas. Just don’t settle too far away, okay?”

  “I won’t. Texas is my home. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. My brothers are getting older, too, so I’d like to be close enough to visit them often, as well.” John led them around the cars beginning to stream in for the evening rodeo. “I have to be on hand for tonight’s competition. Are you and the kids going?”

  “Of course. We may hang out in the back some, too. We’ll probably see you there.” Susan followed John to the trailer. “Would you mind if I put Damon down for a quick nap? He’ll be cranky if he doesn’t get one.”

  “Not at all. Make yourself at home. I’m going to grab a shower.”

  Susan settled Damon on the bed and stretched out beside him. Christy and Matt sat at the table with their hand-held games, talking quietly. She missed times like these. Her life with Dillon had been one rodeo after another, living in a travel trailer, trying to keep the kids quiet while he slept. Some rodeo wives hated the life, but she had loved being with her husband, seeing her friends in each new town.

  She didn’t think she could do it again, though. She loved her home in Amarillo, loved coming home at night, knowing she didn’t have to go back out again. She hoped John was serious about retiring and settling down somewhere. The idea of a life on the road again was the one thing that had held her back from pushing him to take their relationship to the next level.

  Now all bets were off. She needed to knock down those walls he’d built around his emotions and find out if he felt anything for her beyond friendship.

  He came out of the bathroom, his hair wet, face freshly shaved. He was still one of the best looking cowboys she’d ever run across. If she didn’t know his true age, she’d guess he was in his late thirties. The only real sign of aging she saw was the sprinkling of gray in his hair, and even that was sexy. He had more energy most of the time than she did.

  “How about we go get some of that barbecue, kids?” John said, crouching down beside the table where Matt and Christy played. “I can smell it all the way out here and it’s making me hungry. We can bring some back for your mom.”

  “Can we, Mom? Please?”

  She nodded. “As long as you promise to stay close and not run off. I don’t want John
to have to go looking for you.”

  “We will.” Christy slipped her hand in John’s and looked up at him. “Can I have cotton candy, too?”

  He looked at Susan. She shook her head. “Maybe later. You’ll want something at the rodeo.”

  He helped the kids down the trailer steps and they headed across the parking lot, looking like a father and his children. For a moment, Susan felt that old tug of sadness that Dillon was missing out on seeing his children grow up. Thank God John was there to fill in the gap for the kids.

  While they were gone, Susan cleaned the trailer and washed the dishes. John wasn’t a slob, but from the contents of his refrigerator and the empty boxes in the trash can, it looked like he needed someone to take care of him. TV dinners, beer, and chocolate chip cookies seemed to be the staple of his diet.

  No wonder he was feeling his age. If she got him to move to Amarillo, she’d make sure he had good, home cooked meals on a regular basis. She smiled at the thought of cooking for him. He’d probably rebel at eating the vegetables she insisted the children have every night, but she knew for a fact her homemade cookies were better than those things he ate from a package.

  If she couldn’t win him over with her charm and her wit, maybe she could win him over with her baking skills.

  Behind the scenes, the rodeo bustled with life. Cowboys perched on fence rails to watch the competition, walked their horses to the pens, wrapped their hands in preparation for the next ride. Family members or friends helped them settle onto the back of a bull or bronc, others hurried back and forth with equipment, food, and drinks, while the wives gathered in groups to talk, make plans, or catch up on old times.

  They all looked up as Doc walked through, waving, nodding, tipping their hats as he passed by. This is what Doc had always loved about his job. The respect, the camaraderie, the energy you could almost reach out and touch.