Champagne and Cowboys

by Donna Michaels

  “Okay, then.” She stood and pressed her palms on the table. “I’m a little tipsy. So I’d better show you to your room and head to bed. The diner opens bright and early.”

  “Diner?”

  “Next door.”

  He nodded, disappointment spiraling through him. If he’d had his way, he would have stayed up all night talking with her. “I guess you’re right.” Pushing back his chair, he followed her through the living room, grabbing his bag on the way, and up a wide set of stairs, down a shadowed hallway to a closed door. She opened it, flipped on the light, but stayed at the threshold.

  “Here you are. It’s not the Ritz, but you have clean sheets, a warm blanket and the best view a person could ask for. The snow is beautiful as it falls on the trees.”

  “Thank you. Looks great to me,” he said as he stepped in, scanning the space. A comfy-looking bed covered in a bright comforter. A lamp on the nightstand and a beautiful view, just as she’d promised. What more could a man ask for? Looking at her, he imagined there was a lot he could hope for.

  “Bathroom is down the hall. Fresh towels are on the shelf. Warning, this is an old house and it creaks at night. No ghost, I assure you. I’ve looked hard enough.” She gave him a half-hearted smile and closed the door quietly behind her.

  What did she mean that she’d looked hard enough?

  He practically tore his hand through his hair. He walked to the window, stared out for a few minutes and then went to the bed, falling belly-first onto the soft mattress. With whiskey-warmed blood flowing through his veins and the image of a pretty lady in his head, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

  Charlie hurried to her bedroom and once inside she leaned against the door. She could be crazy, but she caught Storm watching her—not just a simple look, but one that made her feel different, maybe even special. That couldn’t be possible. They barely knew each other. Charlie’s father told her that when he met her mother there were instant sparks between them. Having never experienced it before, Charlie wasn’t sure what she was feeling, but the tingles deep in her core certainly had her curious.

  Stripping from her clothes, she dragged on an old shirt and climbed into bed. But sleep evaded her.

  She tossed and turned, punching her suddenly hard pillow until she plopped onto her stomach and closed her eyes. Her nose itched and her brain was fuzzy. She giggled at the idea that she’d gotten tipsy. And for the first time in a long time, the guilt and sadness she carried every day wasn’t as painful.

  Chapter Four

  Storm woke up in a strange bed. He jerked his head up, blinked, and felt a dull ache on his forehead, remembering where he was. The whiskey had helped him sleep like a baby, but the cut on his forehead altered the effects of a good night’s sleep.

  He rolled over onto his back and stretched his arms high, blinking as the bright morning light rolled through the window. The snow had stopped and the sky was clear. Reaching for his cell phone from his back pocket, he read the screen. Still no service. Max definitely was going to kill him. And why didn’t Storm care?

  Sliding out of bed, his boots hit the floor with a loud thud. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the full-length mirror and grimaced. He needed a shower. His hair stood out all over his head. He’d grown a beard. Short, but still a beard. And his clothes were rumpled. Reaching into his bag, he grabbed clean clothes and headed out of the room.

  He stepped into the bathroom at the end of the hall and closed the door, deciding he better lock it too. It’d been a long time since he’d shared a space with others. He’d never live down the humiliation of Charlie walking in on him. Yet, on the other hand, he certainly did imagine seeing her naked enough in his dreams last night.

  Damn, he should be mortified that he couldn’t get his mind off of her. Instead, his cock responded by growing and threatening to break his zipper.

  A cold shower was in order.

  Stripping off his clothes, he looked down at the leather bracelet he still wore. He pulled it off and placed it on the sink. Removing the bandage from his forehead, he examined the cut. The surrounding skin was bruised, but it looked like it was healing fine.

  Adjusting the water in the tub and pulling the knob to the spray, he climbed into the cool water and inhaled sharply, a few minutes passed before his warm body adjusted. He stood there for a long time, water running over him, then he switched the temperature to hot. Searching the bottles in the wire basket, he found shampoo. Reading the label, he smirked. A cowboy could use lustrous locks. He poured a small amount into his palm and sniffed the fragrance. Charlie’s scent. There went his misbehaving parts again. He needed to get the hell out of dodge. He had commitments—and none of them had to do with the craving in his loins.

  Once he was washed and dried, he pulled on his clothes, stuffed his dirty ones into his bag and headed downstairs. He followed the savory smell of bacon crackling on the stove. Brent was dishing the meat out onto a folded paper towel. He looked like quite the chef with a white apron on and a spatula held in one hand.

  “That’s enough to make a man salivate,” Storm said from the doorway.

  Brent laughed. “I’ve eaten bacon every morning for the last forty years. Doc said I should give it up, ya know, because of the heart attack and all.” He popped a piece into his mouth. “But the way I see it, I’ve lived a long, blessed life. If one piece of bacon does me in, then I’ll consider that a price I pay. Care for some?”

  “How about coffee? I could use a caffeine boost.” Storm made his way through the kitchen, looking around. He hadn’t really noticed much last night except for the woman that had sat across from him. The large space was nicely decorated with everything organized and in its place. Pristine white cabinets above green granite countertops. A hanging rack on one wall with pots and pans. A kitchen island in the center was scattered with fresh fruit, a bowl with more fruit, and a rooster cookie jar.

  “Help yourself.” Brent pointed to the coffee maker. “Cups are in the cabinet right above.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Taking down a cup, he poured himself a heaping amount of the liquid gold.

  “Milk? Cream, Sugar?” Brent asked.

  “Not this morning,” Storm said, then sipped the coffee. It burned its way down his throat, but it was a welcomed feeling. “I don’t have any cell service.”

  “And you won’t. Carriers are in the process of putting new towers up, but they’ve promised that for a few years now. You could use the landline.” He dragged off his apron and hung it on a hook.

  “Why do I get a feeling there’s a but coming?”

  Brent laughed. “Great perception. I’m afraid it’s not working. We get a little change in weather around here and service goes down. We’re lucky we still have power. But we have a generator for those times. Haven’t had to use it once this season. Knock on wood.”

  Storm gulped down the hot coffee. What the hell would he do now? “I need to be in Ohio by this evening. Any car rentals nearby?”

  Brent scrubbed his jaw. “Not within fifty miles I’m afraid. Getting there could be a problem, even if they’re open.”

  He set his empty cup down and sighed.

  “I hope you’re only eating one slice of that bacon, Pops.”

  Storm lifted his head. Things seem to suddenly get better. Charlie came into the room and the sunshine followed her.

  “Yes, daughter. Only one slice,” Brent assured her.

  It would be hard for Storm not to admire the cascade of shiny hair and her deep-set eyes. She was a classical beauty, but beyond just the physical, he had a gut feeling she was wholesome and natural. As friendly as she was, he sensed she only gave so much of herself before a wall came up. The shadows under her eyes spoke of something deeper.

  He moved his gaze lower, over her bright pink T-shirt with the words “Cancer sucks”. Her skinny jeans fit every curve of her slender hips and long legs. A ripped hole in the thigh of the denim gave him a peek of creamy, smooth skin. His heart flipped. />
  She wasn’t like the dolled-up women he was used to. Not that getting all dressed up was wrong, but here lately the only thing they wanted from was a hook up with a country star. They were everywhere on his tours and easy to find out of the crowd. They’d saddle right up backstage, carrying a bright smile and a nice peep of big tits.

  Once upon a time he’d felt like a clam basking in the sun with all of the attention he’d gotten from sexy, willing women. Sometimes one wouldn’t be enough and he’d find himself with two warm, sweet bodies. He’d had a few one-night stands in the past, and each and every time, one after the next, he’d inevitably feel more and more dissatisfied.

  What he’d learned over the last years, most of the country knew him, loved him, paid a good amount of money to hear his music, but no one, not even his manager, really knew him. Except for his uncle who was gone. Maybe because Charlie had no clue who he was made her even more interesting to Storm. There was definitely something different that set her apart from the rest. Against his better judgement, he wanted to get to know her even better.

  She stepped up next to Storm, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “I’m guessing you’ve already been told about the phone service?” One thin brow lifted. Her eyes, a distinctive green this morning, danced in the light flowing in from the window above the sink.

  He nodded. “Unfortunately.”

  “The road to the highway isn’t passable. I heard it over the scanner. The county trucks don’t bother with these parts.”

  The news kept getting better. But why didn’t he care that he was stuck. He could think of far worse places to be than here.

  He noticed she had a faint scattering of freckles along the tops of her cheeks. He was glad that she didn’t cover them with layers of makeup.

  “You said you had commitments,” she said above the rim of her cup.

  “I do. If I don’t get to Ohio soon my goose is cooked, so to speak.”

  “By the way, the cut looks a lot better. I wish I knew a way to help you save your goose.” She moved away from the counter. “Pops, no reason for you to come to the diner this morning. I’m sure we won’t have but a few customers. I’ll take care of things over there.” She put her still-full cup in the sink.

  “Why don’t you take Storm with you?” Brent said.

  Storm gulped. Spending time with Charlie could be a big mistake—bigger than traveling in a blizzard. “I don’t know how much help I’d be, but doesn’t look like I’ll have anything else to do.” Yeah, those words really came out of his mouth. He just had to admit the truth…he liked the idea of spending the day with her.

  He saw the hesitation in her expression, probably trying to come up with a good excuse for him to stay put here with Brent. She nibbled her bottom lip and something triggered deep within him. Oh hell!

  “I have to grab a few things and we’ll be on our way. Pops, you have a coat he can borrow?”

  Brent looked Storm over from head to toe. “I might be able to dig up something.”

  She nodded and left the kitchen with Storm watching the sway of her hips. Hearing the clearing of Brent’s throat, Storm jerked his head up. He placed his cup in the sink next to Charlie’s and hooked his thumbs into his front pockets. “I don’t think she wants me along today.”

  Brent waved a wrinkled hand through the air. “She won’t mind. You’ll keep her company.” He popped another piece of bacon into his mouth, chewing slowly as if savoring the goodness. Storm lifted a brow in accusation. “Don’t tell her,” Brent whispered.

  “Not my place, but I have a feeling she already knows.”

  Upstairs, Charlie leaned against the bathroom sink and stared at her reflection in the mirror. What was wrong with her father? Why would he put her on the spot like that? She didn’t need anyone, especially Storm, shadowing her today. What would he know about helping in a restaurant?

  She knew exactly who Storm Rich was. He was the country star extraordinaire. When she couldn’t sleep last night, and her mind was bombarded with feeling like she knew Storm from somewhere, she’d scrolled through some of her father’s old country-western magazines, and just as she’d thought…she had seen Storm before. So why didn’t she mention it to him this morning that she knew what he did for a living? Probably for the same reason he didn’t mention it to her what he did for a living.

  She wondered if her father had any clue?

  No, not possible. The only musicians he listened to were Meryl and Elvis. If it wasn’t for her the same music would play on a loop at the diner. She wasn’t much into country music, but something told her she would have more of an inclination to give it a try now.

  She cringed.

  Darn weather. Why did it have to come in so fast and carry a six-foot, brawny cowboy with it? And why did she care? She’d helped many people over the years. But none looked like Storm and made her dizzy.

  She lived a less than glamorous life here in Palms. A man like Storm must be used to finer digs and everyone catering to his needs. Well, he certainly wouldn’t be treated like a star by her. If he gave her that smile again, the one he was famous for, she might slap him into yesterday. If he thought for a second that honeyed charm could influence her, he was mistaken. She didn’t want him to think she was one of those women who swooned over his dimpled smile, or the sparkle in his eye. Even the huskiness of his voice that bled over into his music, as described by the magazine, wouldn’t get past her barrier.

  She grabbed her toothbrush and put a dollop of paste on the bristles, humming along to an upbeat tune. She almost dropped her brush. Why the hell couldn’t she get Storm Rich’s latest song out of her head? She knew she should have never watched his videos that morning on YouTube. Who could blame her? She was curious…that was all. She had the Storm Rich under her roof and just wanted to see what he looked like in his videos. He looked better in person, if she said so herself, not that he was her type of man. It’d take all day to explore his coiled muscles. Who had that much time on their hands?

  Giggling, she finished her teeth and went downstairs, finding him waiting for her by the door. He was wearing a thick coat and the sleeves were about three inches too short. The material barely buttoned across his wide chest. “I’m glad Pops found something for you.”

  “It’s a little tight.” He straightened his arms and a seam ripped. “Oops.”

  She bit back a smile. “At least you won’t freeze.”

  “My wrists might. I’m not complaining. Only saying.” He sighed.

  “Sure sounded like complaining to me.” She didn’t even dare look at him. Why was she a bear this morning? She knew exactly why. The waves of desire crashing through her were hard to handle. If she didn’t hold them tight she might very well expose the fact that she wanted to kiss him. Charlie Lindon kissing Storm Rich? Ha! She wasn’t his type any more than he was hers. She’d done a little research that morning. Google told her everything she needed to know. Although he was single at the moment, the beautiful actress, Gabriella Tate, had been seen on his arm lately.

  Charlie suddenly became very aware of her misbehaving hair, her ruddy complexion, and her breasts that were firm, but nowhere near Gabriella’s double D’s.

  Charlie had never cared before. She certainly wouldn’t start now.

  Once she had on her own coat, boots, and hat, she led the way through the snow covered path that would take them to the restaurant.

  “Must be nice having work just a hop and a skip from your house,” he said. Puffs of clouds filtered around his head as he spoke.

  “It’s certainly not a bad thing.” She tightened her coat against the blustery cold.

  “I want to say thank you again for your help. I wouldn’t have lasted all night in the truck.”

  “You weren’t doing much thinking, were you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She kept her gaze steady ahead. “You should never drive in this weather. It’s dangerous. No coat. No proper clothing.”

  “Ah, come on. I took
your words last night to heart. I’ve learned my lesson and will never drive in bad weather again.”

  “I have a feeling you haven’t learned a thing.” She was glad when the restaurant finally came into view.

  “Did I say something last night that has made you angry?”

  She flipped a glance over her shoulder. “I’m not angry.”

  “Really? Then why have you been eyeing me like you could skewer me for the last ten minutes?”

  Get control of yourself, girl. “I think I have a slight hangover. I’m not much of a drinker.” They approached the door and she took the keys out of her pocket.

  “I slept like a baby. I don’t remember ever sleeping that good.”

  “Lucky you.” She’d managed a good two hours of sleep. Pushing through the glass door, she stomped the snow off her feet and switched on the lights. Crossing around to the back of the counter, she placed her coat and hat underneath, noticing that he was still standing by the door. “You can come in.”

  His cheeks were pink and his lips a pale blue. “I don’t know. You have all kinds of sharp tools at your disposal. You might decide to use one on me.”

  “You must think I don’t like you.”

  “At least you’re smiling now. That’s making me feel better.”

  She didn’t realize she was smiling. “Okay. First, I’m not angry with you. Second, thank you for coming to help. I’m sure it’s out of your element.”

  “Sort of.”

  She grabbed her clean white apron from a hook on the wall, pulled it on and tied the back. “Here’s you one too.” She grabbed the other and tossed it to him. He caught it against his chest.

  He removed the too-tight coat and slid into the apron. She had an urge to take a picture. He was cute no matter what he wore. “You’re serious about making me work.” He chuckled.

  “Never pass up free labor.” She winked.

  “Can I use the phone first?”