All-American Cowboy

by Dylann Crush

  “So that’s it?” Beck asked, reentering the hall.

  “Yep, that’s it. Like I said, it’s not much.” Why did she feel the need to apologize? It wasn’t like she cared what Beck thought of the place or even what he thought of Holiday for that matter. “I’d offer to show you around the yard, but I’m not sure you’d be able to see anything in this rain.”

  While they’d been inside, the skies had opened up, and a full-blown summer thunderstorm now raged outside the windows.

  “That’s okay. Another time. Which way did you say your family lives?”

  “Um, I didn’t.” She walked back into the kitchen and stood against the back window. “Can you see that fence over there?”

  Beck came up next to her, and goose bumps popped up on her skin as his arm brushed hers. “Over there?”

  “Yeah.” As she moved her arm away, she caught sight of their reflection in the window. He stood slightly behind her, his eyes wide, probably trying to take in the vast openness of Sully’s land. Beck looked completely out of his element, but something about his stance reminded her of Sully. His breath tickled her ear, making her hyperaware of how close he was. She wanted to step back from the window, but her feet wouldn’t budge. Instead, she cleared her throat, dismissing the dizzying sensation of his body next to hers. “Beyond that fence is our land. We kind of have a large L, and Sully’s—well, your property now—sits in the crook of it.”

  Beck half turned to her, a crease wrinkling his forehead. “So I’m surrounded by you on two sides.”

  “Well, fortunately for you, my place is on the opposite side. So you’re really butting up against the pasture land we use for grazing.”

  “Who are my other neighbors?”

  “A couple of hobby farms and a tract of land that belongs to somebody up in Dallas. It’s pretty quiet around here.” She turned back toward the living room. “One more thing. Sully asked me to make sure you got his letters.”

  He followed her to a built-in cabinet by the TV.

  “There are a bunch of them. I think he saved every single one.” She pulled open the door and had to use both hands to grab the old leather case. “He wanted to make sure you got them.”

  Beck nodded toward the case. “These are all to me?”

  “You and your dad.” She unzipped the case and picked a yellowed envelope out of the stack. “Return to sender” had been scrawled in angry red ink across the front. “I haven’t read them. He just asked me to make sure you got them if you ever came around.”

  Beck held the envelope she handed him for a drawn-out moment, like he didn’t know what to do with it. The far-off look in his eyes told her he was a world away, lost in his own thoughts. Finally, he set it back in the case.

  “You don’t want to take them with you?” She didn’t mean to pry. But if she knew Sully, he’d probably filled the letters with his hopes and dreams for the Rose. If Beck read the letters, surely he’d realize how important the honky-tonk was to the town. And how important the town was to Sully.

  “I’ll get them later. I’ve only got a carry-on with me, so I don’t have a way to get them home.”

  Eyes narrowed into slits, she battled between begging him to read the letters and telling him to shove the suitcase up his pasty-white Yankee ass. Before she could arrange her words into the perfect insult, the scent of saddle soap tickled her nose.

  For Sully.

  Dammit, the old man better not be wrong. It wasn’t just her job he’d gambled on; it was the future of the Rose—the future of Holiday itself. The town wouldn’t be anything without the honky-tonk. And if Sully thought his grandson would be able to rise to the task, well, she’d promised him she’d do what she could to help.

  Fine. She bit back the bitter words she wanted to hurl and made her way to the door to the garage. “Let’s head back. It’s a big night at the Rose, and with this weather, we won’t be able to seat anyone outside.”

  Beck didn’t follow, just stood in the middle of the small living room, dwarfing it with his presence. He didn’t belong here. She could make all the suggestions she wanted, dress him up like a cowboy Ken doll and teach him how to two-step like a western Fred Astaire, and he still wouldn’t fit in. But she owed Sully the effort.

  She took a few steps back and placed her hand on his arm. The same spark she’d felt last night ignited in her core.

  “Look. I don’t mean to press about Sully. It’s just that…he was like a second dad to me.” Her eyes welled. Do not let him see you cry, not here, not now. She let her hand fall from his arm and wiped away the unshed tears.

  Beck turned to her, the grief she’d suspected before now etched across his face. “I wasn’t expecting…” He turned in a slow circle. “This. I wasn’t expecting anything like this.”

  Charlie struggled to tamp down her raw emotion. Before she could second-guess herself, she wrapped her arms around his midsection and hugged him tight. His arms went around her back, clamping her against him. She wanted to lean in, unleash the enormous bundle of heartache she’d been shouldering on her own.

  With her nose pressed against his chest, she inhaled his scent, so foreign yet so comforting. She closed her eyes, drawing from his strength. The moment turned into minutes, and still they stood, locked together in the fading light of Sully’s living room. Her breath slowed, matching his, and she became aware of the thump thump thump of his heartbeat under her cheek.

  “You okay?” His voice came out gruff, like he was trying to stuff down any and all emotion.

  She sighed. “Yeah.”

  His fingers brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. She leaned into his touch, letting herself take comfort from his gentle caress. Almost imperceptibly, his breath quickened, but she could feel it in his chest. She pulled back, trying to read his face. What was he thinking?

  His hands went to her shoulders. She lifted her chin to meet his gaze. There was regret in his eyes but something else too. Something that reached across their differences. Something that bound them together in this moment. She recognized the pain in his eyes because it was the pain she carried with her, too. Her chest expanded with the knowledge that someone else finally understood.

  His gaze moved to her mouth, and her heart sparked. Oh dear God, he was going to kiss her. She wanted that kiss, could practically taste his lips on hers. With memories of Sully swirling around them, cloaking them in their shared grief, for the first time in a very long time, she felt a tiny spark of hope for the future.

  But this was wrong. Not here. Not now. Not like this.

  His lips met hers. Her nerve endings crackled to life, lighting up one at a time like a long-dormant circuit board. The sparks traveled down the length of her body, then back up again. Her head tried to stomp on the brakes. But her mouth…her mouth wanted to devour him.

  His hands went to her hair, cradling her head as his lips parted. She couldn’t wait any longer. Before he had a chance, she deepened the kiss, clinging to his shoulders, holding on for dear life as sensations she hadn’t allowed herself to think about in years raced through her limbs.

  She hadn’t let a man touch her like this since, well…since Jackson.

  A war raged within her. It would be so easy to give in. Part of her wanted to. But she couldn’t. Not here. Not now. Not with him. She pulled back, already missing the exquisite feel of his lips on hers before she broke contact completely.

  “I can’t. I’m sorry. This didn’t happen.” She turned and covered the short distance to the safety of the garage in a few short strides.

  “Charlie, wait!”

  Charlie burst through the door, out into the storm, not even noticing the pelting rain that soaked through her shirt and caused her makeup to run down her face. Her hand rubbed up and down her arm, trying to erase the trail of tingles Beck had incited. She’d do what she needed to do to give him every chance possible to
meet the stipulations of Sully’s will. But if he couldn’t cut it or wanted to give up, she wouldn’t stop him.

  One thing Holiday didn’t need was another outsider coming in and trying to change things. Especially an outsider with a sexy-as-hell smile who’d already breached her weak defenses and left her feeling raw, unprotected, and vulnerable.

  She could still hear him calling for her from inside. If he wanted to make a go of it, he’d better get used to trying to keep up because she sure wasn’t going to slow down for anyone.

  Chapter Seven

  Beck clambered into the quiet SUV and found his way back to the Rambling Rose, a silent Charlie beside him. She didn’t say a word for almost the entire fifteen-minute drive. What the hell had happened back there? He hadn’t meant to kiss her. Especially not with all the talk of family and his dead grandfather and the thoughts of all the could-have-beens running through his head.

  They’d gotten lost in a moment. An ill-timed, emotional, spur-of-the-moment moment. And as much as he hated to admit it to himself, it was a moment he wouldn’t mind finding again.

  But she’d been right to insist they pretend it had never happened. It would be a bad idea to try to start something with Charlie, no matter how awesome her ass looked in those low-slung jeans she always seemed to favor. No matter how fantastic her lips had felt on his. No matter how much she tugged on his heartstrings, trying to make him face his unknown past.

  Best to keep things professional. And he’d start by making a peace offering. “Thanks for showing me around Sully’s place.”

  Charlie stared straight ahead. “No problem. Like I said, it’s not much, but he was happy there.”

  “I’ll need to go through his things. Is that something you might be willing to help me with?”

  They’d reached the bar, and she flung the door open before the SUV came to a complete stop. “We’ll see. Right now we’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

  Beck peered out through the rain-spattered windshield to where two groups of guys shouted at each other on the covered porch of the Rambling Rose. Shep stood between them, hands out to his sides in an effort to preserve the peace. But then the yells turned to pushes and shoves. One man took a swing at the other right as Charlie dove into the fray. Before he had a chance to think about it, Beck launched himself from the front seat and hurled himself in the path of the bigger guy. Beck threw a block, frantically searching to make sure Charlie was okay, but he couldn’t find her among what had quickly devolved into an all-out, old-fashioned barroom brawl.

  Fists flew, bodies thumped against the wall of the building, and the frenzied energy of too much testosterone hung over the crowd. Dodging an uppercut to the chin, Beck thought he caught a glimpse of golden hair before someone plowed into him, sending him crashing into the railing of the porch.

  A shriek whistled through the air, and fists and elbows fell. Charlie stood in the middle of it all, her fingers shoved between her lips, and whistled again.

  “Enough. What’s going on here? Where’s Shep?” Even though she stood at least a head shorter than any of the guys, there was no mistaking who was in charge.

  “Right here.” Shep spoke up, holding his palm to his temple, a line of blood trickling down his arm. “Double-booking snafu, Charlie. The fellas figured they’d settle it themselves out here in the parking lot.”

  “How did that happen? And why are you bleeding? I can’t leave this place for an hour without someone doing something stupid.” She stomped up the steps toward the front door. “Billy Ray, Presley, y’all come with me. Shep, go clean yourself up and make sure the bar’s ready to go. It’s gonna be a wild night tonight—I can feel it already.”

  The two heavyweights followed Charlie into the bar, and Beck stood by, wondering if he was supposed to trail after them.

  “Beck, you might want to get in here, too.” Her voice carried through the screen door, and he scrambled up the steps. By the time he found them in the office, she’d slumped into the chair behind the desk with a large calendar spread out in front of her. “I see what happened. Looks like Sully had Billy Ray on the books, but then it got erased. Did you cancel?”

  “Naw.” The guy with the bigger beer belly and lamb-chop sideburns looked down at his boots. “Not exactly, Miss Charlie. For half a second, I thought I might have to work tonight. But I called back and let Shep know I’d be here.”

  Charlie glanced at Beck. “Billy Ray works as an ER nurse and plays here on the weekends when he can.”

  Beck’s eyes widened. Lamb Chops was a nurse? He wouldn’t want that guy anywhere near him with a needle, much less a bedpan.

  “But Waylon told me y’all needed someone to play tonight. I talked my whole band into coming down here. Now you’re gonna send us home?” The other opponent crossed his arms over his chest. Something about the gesture reminded Beck of Charlie.

  “Presley, don’t whine. Mama says it’s not attractive, plus it’s not going to get you anywhere with me. You oughtta know that by now.” She rolled her eyes and tilted her chin up toward Beck. “Presley, meet Beck. He’s Sully’s grandson and might be taking over the Rose.”

  Beck offered his hand for a quick shake. “Presley?”

  “Yeah, all my siblings got named after country-music superstars, and I got saddled with Presley. Talk to me about life being fair.” The blank look on Beck’s face must have conveyed how completely at a loss he was because Presley continued. “You don’t look like you know much about country music. Lemme fill you in. Waylon’s the oldest. Named after Waylon Jennings, right? Cash lucked out being named after the Man in Black.”

  Waylon Jennings? The Man in Black? Beck scratched his head. They were all staring at him like he’d grown an extra arm or two.

  “Johnny Cash? ‘I Walk the Line’? ‘Folsom Prison Blues’?” Presley shot a wide-eyed look to Charlie. “Where’d you find this guy?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, unconsciously mimicking Presley’s pose from moments before. “New York City.”

  Presley clucked his tongue. “That explains it. So Statler’s after the Statler Brothers, Strait because my mama got knocked up with him the night she saw George Strait play here. Then there’s baby Charlotte. Dad finally settled on that when Mama convinced him he couldn’t name her just Charlie after the Charlie Daniels Band.” He shook his head. “And then there’s freakin’ Elvis Presley. Mama still remembers seeing him play the Rose all those years ago. Lucky me, huh?”

  Beck almost laughed at the dejected look on his face. “Now Elvis is one I’ve heard of. Didn’t know he was into country music though.”

  Billy Ray made the sign of the cross, let his eyes drift shut, and shook his head. “Don’t let anyone else around here hear you say that. You see that shrine with the spotlight set up for him in the front room?”

  How would he know if he had or not? The whole place was filled to the ceiling with crap. For now, he’d play along. “Sure. What about it?”

  “That napkin belonged to the King himself. Rumor has it he wiped his mouth with it after trying a deep-fried peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich. He signed it, too. It was the one and only time he played the Rose,” Billy Ray said.

  “So about tonight.” Charlie stood and shoved her hand in her front pocket. “We’ll split the pay, and y’all can alternate sets. Billy Ray, call it—heads or tails.” She withdrew a coin from her pocket and flipped it in the air.

  “Heads,” Billy Ray yelled.

  It landed with a clatter and spun around before finally settling on the desk. “Heads it is,” Charlie said, reaching for the coin.

  “What kind of quarter is that?” Beck squinted at the shiny silver coin. On a second look, it appeared to be larger in size and shape than a regular quarter.

  “It’s a Texas Centennial half-dollar. Something Sully left me.” Charlie handed it to him, and he rubbed his finger over the star and
eagle on the front before passing it back.

  “You want to go first or second, Billy Ray?” she asked.

  “I’ll let Pres go first. He can warm everybody up and get ’em ready for some real honky-tonk music.” Billy Ray pursed his mouth into a smug smirk.

  “If that’s the way you want it…they won’t want to stick around for your hog-calling after hearing me play,” Presley spit out.

  Charlie slid the half-dollar back into her pocket. “If y’all can’t work it out, I’m sure I can get half a dozen other folks who’d be more than happy to come play tonight.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Miss Charlie.” Billy Ray threw an arm around the leaner man’s shoulder. “Pres and me are happier than two hogs in a shit bath to get to share a stage. Ain’t that right, hoss?”

  Presley nodded. “You bet.”

  Charlie slapped a hand against her forehead. “Baby Back! I forgot to feed her this morning.”

  “Can I ask a question?” Three pairs of eyes landed on Beck. “What is it with the pig? I know you said tradition and all, but it seems to be a ton of trouble.”

  “A tradition’s a tradition. Now come on, and I’ll show you how it’s done. Billy Ray, Pres, go get your stuff set up before I change my mind and kick all of y’all out of here.”

  The two men scuffled down the hall, and Beck had no choice but to follow Charlie through the kitchen and out the back door. “About the pig,” he said, “I still don’t get it. I can’t believe the health department doesn’t have a problem with that. Hell, in New York that kind of thing wouldn’t fly.”

  Charlie rounded on him, hands on her hips. “There are a lot of things you ‘don’t get’ around here. And you won’t get them unless you try pulling your head out of your butt and give this place a shot. We keep a pig because it’s a tradition. This whole town runs on tradition.” She pointed a finger at him like she wanted to poke him in the chest. “Stick around, and you’ll see how much money this tradition makes during the pig beauty pageant. Things work just fine around here, and we don’t need you coming in and shaking everything up.”