Champagne and Cowboys

by Donna Michaels

  “Suit yourself,” she took the cordless from under the counter and handed it to him. “but don’t get your hopes up.” She spun on her heel and walked into the kitchen. A second later, she heard Storm’s growled curse and she smiled. She peeked through the window into the dining area. “Still not working?”

  “Nope.”

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “I’ll live.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “That wasn’t convincing. How about I grab you a slice of heaven?”

  One brow snapped up. “I would question your ability to give me a piece of heaven, but after last night with the present, I think it’s best I don’t question your capabilities.”

  “I see you’re still wearing it.”

  He held up his wrist. “Of course. So what’s this heaven you’re tempting me with?”

  “It’s only a slice of our famous brownie pie. I promise, if anything bad is happening in our lives, a piece of that sin in a crust is an instant pain reliever. I’ll even throw in a scoop of our homemade vanilla bean ice cream.”

  “Dessert at eight in the morning. I like the way you think.” He rubbed his hands together and sat at the bar.

  She had a strong urge to comfort him. Obviously, he needed to get to where he was going, but he hadn’t yet confessed where that was. That didn’t bother her, not entirely. There was something else—something far more dangerous—that needled at her.

  Last night, while she bandaged him up and while they were sitting at the table, she’d felt something strong, overwhelming—a reminder of the things she missed. For three years she’d only allowed people so close before she pulled away. Even with her father. She hadn’t allowed herself to entertain any thought about relationships, or simply going to a movie with a man, having a nice dinner. But last night, after shed finally fallen asleep, she’d had dreams of Storm—a complete stranger with sexy eyes and a spectacular smile. Yeah, she’d noticed, even this morning when she’d come downstairs and saw him leaning against the counter, her counter in her kitchen, with his black T-shirt fitting him like a second skin. The cotton clung to every coiled muscle, every masculine dip. The worn jeans did wonders for his long legs. She thought she’d done an excellent job of pretending she didn’t notice how good he looked or smelled, but it wasn’t every day she had a man, besides her father, in her home.

  Placing a piece of pie on a plate, she scooped ice cream on top, grabbed a fork and took it out to him. He was rubbing his thumb and forefinger along his chin—the layer of crisp, dark hair. His hat was gone and his hair was finger combed into silken waves. She’d never seen sexy come so effortlessly. “Here you are. Enjoy!” she said a little too fast.

  “Where’s yours?” he asked.

  “I’ll just watch you—I mean—I won’t stare…I’ll just stand over here and make the coffee.” Oh brother.

  She could barely get her shaking fingers to function as she scooped coffee granules into the filter and filled the canister with water. She stabbed the power button and steam sifted from the sides—much like her internal circus.

  Chapter Five

  Storm finished his pie. It was the best he’d ever had.

  He watched Charlie stacking cups and his gaze naturally fell over the indentation of her slender waist and the firm curve of her rounded bottom. His fingers ached and he placed them flat on the cool counter.

  He finished off his coffee when she leaned against the counter, watching him with her expressive eyes. Could she see into his thoughts? Damn he sure hoped not. That could be treacherous. She licked her lips and heat slammed into his chest. What he wouldn’t give to have those lips and tongue on him. He blew out a long breath.

  “How was it?”

  He wrapped his brain around her question, having a hard time concentrating. He’d been focused on the slight pink in her cheeks and the delicious curve of her bottom lip. All natural and lovely. “Enjoyable.” There was a slight choked sound to his voice.

  “Another coffee?” she offered.

  “Better not. One more and I might be down on the floor washing it.”

  She grinned, showing off a twinkle in her eye, then cleared her throat and her smile dissolved. “I have a confession to make.”

  “A confession? We’ve only known each other twelve hours.” He sat back on the stool, hooking his thumbs in his front pockets. “That must be a record breaker.”

  “I know who you are.”

  He held his breath, then forced air into his lungs. “You do?”

  “We do have cable TV and newspapers here under this rock. Although, I didn’t recognize you immediately. I hope that doesn’t deflate your ego.”

  He knew this was bound to happen. “I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret. I just thought it was refreshing that you didn’t,” he admitted. A sinking feeling rose in his chest. He didn’t need to say anything more. What could he say? Facts were facts.

  “It’s okay. I don’t blame you for not introducing yourself as Storm Rich the famous country singer. I’m sure being careful comes with the business.”

  “You know who I am and haven’t asked for my autograph or a song dedicated to you. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or disappointed.” He leaned in on his elbows.

  “You get that a lot? People walking up asking for your autograph? Maybe that’s a silly question.”

  “More times than I can count. Just last month a woman approached me in the airport asking if I would sign her, uhh, chest.”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “Wow. That would take a lot of guts.”

  “Asking or me signing?”

  “Both.” She laughed. “Do you oblige those awkward requests?”

  “I—”

  The bell above the door dinged, cutting off any chance for him to finish his answer. Best he didn’t.

  Charlie tossed the towel onto the sink. “Harvey? What are you doing out in this weather? Please tell me you didn’t walk.”

  The elderly man slowly made his way to the counter. He hung his walker over a bar stool. “You know I wouldn’t miss my eggs and toast made by my special girl.” He gave her a wink. “You and the fresh air are what keeps this old heart ticking.” He then looked at Storm. “We have a visitor?”

  “Harvey Peterson, this is Storm. He’s only passing through. He ran his truck into a ditch last night.”

  “Oh, I thought you would finally tell me you’ve gone and met someone.” Harvey slid on the stool next to Storm. “Understand, I’m not too old to fight for a pretty girl if I have to. But it’s nice to meet you, young man.”

  “Harvey, you know I’m saving my heart for you. You don’t talk Storm’s ear off too much while I’m making your eggs, you hear?” Charlie teased as she poured a cup of coffee and placed it in front of Harvey.

  “Me? Why would I ever do that? I don’t like to talk,” Harvey said with a sniff then a mischievous grin.

  Once Charlie had disappeared inside the kitchen, the older man leaned in close to Storm and whispered, “She’s a catch, if you get my drift. You’d be one lucky man to grab onto her.”

  “I’m sure she is, but like she said, I’m only passing through. I’ll be gone by tomorrow.” A pain swept through his gut. He didn’t care for the conflicting emotion flying through him. Storm heard the clattering of pans in the kitchen.

  “I’ve lived here in this town all my life. Charlie’s father was my best friend in school, still is. The family has suffered too much tragedy.” Harvey reached for the pink packages of sugar. His hands were gnarled and curved, and he slowly and carefully ripped the packets open, dumping the contents into the cup.

  Storm glanced toward the window into the kitchen where he caught a glimpse of Charlie moving about. He doubted she could hear them talking. “What do you mean?”

  Harvey stirred his coffee and tapped the spoon against the rim of the cup. “First, it was Brent’s wife. They were as happy as a baby snug in a blanket, I tell you. When he lost her I thought he’d never recover, but
he had his daughter and Sunny that pulled him through.”

  “Was Sunny her husband?” Storm asked, nodding toward the kitchen.

  “No. Her daughter.” Harvey’s eyes filled with sadness. “They lost her too.”

  A heaviness spread over Storm’s chest, feeling like he’d been kicked by a horse. He forced air into his lungs and exhaled slowly. “Her daughter?”

  Harvey nodded. “She was the spitting image of her mom, just turned five.” He shrugged as if to push off the sorrow.

  Storm rubbed his forehead. An ache started at his temples and oozed down his neck. He didn’t know Charlie well, but his protective side grew by leaps and bounds. How does one lose a child and recover? He realized how strong she must be and his respect grew for her.

  Yet, now he understood what ghosts she was referring to last night.

  Charlie heard the bell above the door ring. She looked up from wiping down the counter. “Hel—” The greeting fizzled on her lips and her stomach tightened. Why today of all days did Billy have to show up? Had he gotten wind that a stranger was in town? She doubted his visit had anything to do with him being hungry.

  He strolled in, smiling arrogantly, and took a seat at the corner booth. She didn’t hurry over. Usually her father took his order so she wouldn’t have to face Billy—or have to go anywhere close to him. Did he think she’d ever forget? That it was possible? Did he think she’d ever take him back? He’d told her several times lately, over the phone, that he wanted a family again, with her, but he didn’t understand that their family disintegrated.

  Truth was, she didn’t even miss him. They’d split up when Sunny was two and, although he had been a halfway decent father to her for the first few years of her life, after he left he’d practically forgotten that either of them still existed. She never even really thought about Billy, not anymore. Not unless he happened into the diner or made a midnight phone call. Usually, she brushed off his appearance, but today it irritated her even more because he had a motive outside of getting her back. She knew him too well.

  Bumping off the counter, she made her way to the booth, passing the table where Storm sat filling the sugar containers. By his expression, he’d rather be pulling teeth. She approached Billy and he winked. “Hi, sweetheart.”

  She cringed. “I’m not your sweetheart.” His smile grew. He was a nice looking man, charming when he wanted to be. That’s why she’d crushed on him back in high school. They’d seen each other off and on through college, but nothing serious. However, when she’d gotten pregnant and told him the news, he’d wanted her to get an abortion, but she refused. He’d eventually called, wanting to see their daughter, assuring her he had every intention of being a good father. “What can I get for you?”

  “Whoa. You don’t have to be so cold. Or is that for the audience?” He flipped a glance toward Storm.

  A sickening sense of déjà vu rolled through her. Just as she’d suspected. He had an agenda. “Come on, Billy. I’m working. What do you want?”

  “Can we talk?” he asked.

  “I’m working,” she snapped.

  “Looks like I’m the only customer.” His eyes narrowed.

  “If you’re not here to eat, then leave.” She started to turn but he caught her elbow. Not in a harsh way, but enough that venom from his touch swirled through her arm. She pulled away. “You never miss an opportunity to cause a scene, do you?”

  “Oh come on, baby. That’s no way to treat me,” he slurred. This early and he’d already indulged. She’d suspected for some time that he’d been hitting the bottle pretty hard.

  “What do you want?”

  He flinched at the harshness in her tone, but as always, he was a step ahead. “I’m not here because I want anything.”

  “I’ll get you a cup of coffee. Looks like you could use a pot.”

  He snickered. “Don’t give me a lecture, Charlie.” He cocked his head to the side. “I’m not drunk and I haven’t been drinking.”

  “The blood shot eyes are ruining your effort in lying,” she murmured.

  “Hell, I had one beer. That’s not enough to get a kitten drunk.”

  “Why bother trying to convince me? It’s none of my business.”

  He raised a brow. “I want it to be your business again.”

  “You’re always predictable. Do we need to go through this once a month?”

  He nodded and she wondered if he agreed that once a month was necessary or did he understand her anger? She wondered if he’d ever get the point that they were over. “You’re not the only one who lost someone. I lost her too.”

  Something crumbled within Charlie. She inhaled deeply, but it didn’t fix her inner turmoil. “You keep reminding me of that.”

  “Because you keep forgetting.”

  She chuckled, harsh to her own ears. “Trust me, there’s nothing about that which I can forget,” she whispered. She glanced over her shoulder. Storm had stopped what he was doing and he was watching them. He smiled and she attempted to return it. The last thing she needed was a stroll into her history here in front of him. She turned back to her ex. “Why are you doing this? Why now?”

  “I’m hoping you’ll eventually talk about it, Charlie. It wouldn’t hurt to talk.”

  Charlie shook her head, tired of listening to this already. “Like I’ve told you many times before. There’s nothing to say.”

  “There’s a lot to say.”

  She swallowed hard. “If I needed a therapist to air my feelings to I’d hire one,” she growled.

  He slid out of the booth, standing, swaggering. “I want to ease the pain. Like when we were younger. I know how you like it, sweetheart. I can make you feel good again.”

  She felt sickened. “Why are you doing this?” she hissed through tight lips.

  “Doing what?”

  “This whole episode? This seems like a show, a spectacle, more than just a reason to have a conversation over something we can’t change.”

  Her words seemed to catch him off guard. The corners of his eyes crinkled. “I-I just…”

  “Wanted to see who the stranger is staying at my house?” she whispered. Taking a peek at Storm, he was now standing at the counter, drinking from his water bottle.

  Billy laughed, but it fizzled. “Well, since you mentioned him. Do you think it’s a good idea to have a stranger staying with you and Brent?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since you cheated on me with Phoebe and who knows who else.”

  “Don’t do this.” He shook his head, sending a tuft of back hair onto his forehead. He looked a lot like he did back when she met him. But things had changed for them, and for her.

  “Oh I see. You can come here and dish it out but you can’t take it. That’s just like you.” This time she didn’t bother keeping her voice low. It wasn’t as if Storm couldn’t hear.

  “I guess you’re right.” Besides the slurring, she believed maybe, for the first time, she’d talked some sense into him. But then he let the bomb drop. “You’ll always be my business, sweetheart. I know I’ve made some of the biggest mistakes of my life, but I’ve changed. We belong together.”

  “That part of my life is over.” Did he truly believe, in his heart, that she’d fall for his meaningless words again?

  “Think long and hard.” He reached for her hand and she pulled away.

  “Don’t do this, and especially don’t touch me.”

  “Everything okay here?” Storm’s voice sounded from close behind her.

  Charlie lifted her chin, meeting Storm’s gaze, seeing concern in his pale eyes. Embarrassment flooded her. Why did he have to witness this? To see into her baggage? It made her vulnerable somehow.

  “We’re fine. This is a private conversation,” Billy slurred. Charlie saw a glint of anger brighten Storm’s eyes. Billy wrapped his hand around her wrist and she jerked her chin around, facing him.

  “Stop, Billy,” she pleaded. />
  “We’re still talking so if you’ll excuse us.” Billy pointed at Storm, then waved a hand through the air.

  She yanked her arm free. “You’re drunk. Go home. We’re closing.”

  “Why do you always have to be so stubborn, Charlie?” His brow furrowed, his eyes turning dangerously dark. This wasn’t the old Billy.

  “You need to leave, just as Charlie has asked nicely,” Storm said.

  Billy looked beyond her, then back at her again. “Relax, cowboy. We’re just talking. Nothing to get your rope in a bunch about.”

  “And right now, I’m just asking you to leave her alone.”

  There was no misunderstanding the warning in Storm’s tone. No mistaking the testosterone passing in thick waves between them. Billy’s jaw clenched and Storm appeared calm and collected.

  A bead of sweat rolled down Billy’s temple, yet he wasn’t backing down from the situation. He’d had enough liquid courage to not think things through clearly.

  “Why don’t you mind your own business, fellow?” Billy blurted.

  “I’m not asking any longer, fellow,” Storm put great emphasis on each word. “I’m telling you to walk away. Sleep off the drunk and maybe, if Charlie is willing, you can discuss what seems important.”

  Billy blinked his bloodshot eyes. “Are you going to allow him to intervene like this?” His question was directed at Charlie.

  She swallowed against the cotton-ball feeling in her throat. “He’s right, Billy. You’re drunk. This isn’t the time to talk.” She hoped he listened and walked away. Nothing good could come of this.

  Now that she agreed with the cowboy, Billy snorted and shook his head, skimming his red-rimmed gaze over Storm. Charlie didn’t blame her ex. Although tall himself, Storm was at least two inches taller and had shoulders as broad as a linebacker. She’d guess he weighed at least two hundred pounds of nothing but lean, coiled muscle.

  “Go along now, buddy,” Storm said, pointing at the door. “There’s no reason to make this harder.”

  Billy didn’t even look at Storm. He stared at Charlie. “Does he know about Sunny?”