by LuAnn McLane
Cat desperately wanted to dislodge the luggage from her legs, but all her brain could deal with was the pain shooting up her shins. Rocks bit into her denim-clad butt and both elbows stung. “Don’t you know I bruise easily?” She intensified her glare, but then sudden tears welled up in her eyes, and with a little groan, she shoved hair, which had escaped from her ponytail, off of her forehead. Cat considered herself a tough cookie, but this past year had tested her mettle in more ways than one, and in that moment, she threatened to fall to pieces. “This is your new beginning! No damn negativity,” she reminded herself, and swallowed hard. “Get a damn grip!”
Cat gritted her teeth, determined to shove the suitcase aside. “Get off me.”
But just as she leaned forward, she heard the crunch of gravel and her heart rate increased. Could it be another wild animal from the woods? But this time, instead of a doe, could it be the kind with claws and big teeth?
Before she could turn around to face her fear, the suitcase was suddenly lifted from her legs as if it didn’t contain piles of clothing, which had the lid bulging like a muffin top. From her sitting position, Cat looked at scuffed brown cowboy boots and jean-clad legs.
“Hey, are you okay?” His deep-voiced Southern drawl oozed with charm and a hint of concern.
Cat leaned back on her palms and tilted her head up. Wow, he was tall. And even through the pain throbbing in several places, she noted that he filled out his flannel shirt quite nicely. “Define okay.” She meant it as a joke, but her voice had a slight hitch in it.
“Okay as in are you hurt?” The tall cowboy flashed Cat a slight grin, which caused two very cute dimples to appear in cheeks covered in dark stubble, which matched the dark hair clipped close to his head. He had a strong jaw and a straight nose, but it was a full mouth that suddenly captured her attention. “No, really, are you okay?”
“Sorry but I was distracted by . . . ah . . . your sudden appearance.” She blinked at him. She wondered if he’d recognize her with her hair pulled back and not a trace of makeup; she hoped he wouldn’t. Cat wanted to remain on the down low while she got her life together. “To answer your question . . . um . . . yes.”
“‘Yes’, as in okay?”
“‘Yes’ as in hurt. Everywhere. In fact, I think I’m one giant bruise. Where did you come from, anyway?”
He jammed his thumb over his head. “I heard your . . . um . . . rather colorful shouts of distress and decided I needed to jog up here and investigate. So, just bruises?”
“And maybe broken bones.” She frowned at her legs.
His grin disappeared and his blue eyes suddenly grew concerned. “Are you serious?”
“Why do people always ask me that? Yes . . . Well, kinda. Oddly enough, I’ve never had a broken bone, so I don’t know, but it sure feels like my legs are crushed.” Okay, she might be a teensy bit overdramatic, but she was a singer, an entertainer, and an only child. Drama was in her blood.
“Well, I’ve had a few broken bones, and believe me, you’d have a pretty good inkling.”
“Come on, it was the attack of the killer suitcase. That thing is a monster on wheels. Do you really think I’m overreacting?” she asked with an arch of one eyebrow.
“A little.” He gave her a slight grin. “Although that overstuffed monster does weigh a ton.” He tilted his head in the direction of the suitcase. When he knelt down beside her, she got a subtle whiff of spicy aftershave, which made her want to lean closer. “So, do you think you can move?”
She made a show of wiggling her toes. “That’s a good sign, right?”
He nodded. “Think you can stand up?”
“I’m sort of afraid to try,” Cat admitted with a wince. “I think I’ll just chill here for a few minutes. Or maybe overnight.”
“Out here with coyotes and raccoons?”
Cat glanced toward the woods. “Okay, scratch that idea.”
“Do you want me to carry you inside?”
His question made her eyes widen. “No!” Cat replied, but in truth his offer held more than a little bit of appeal.
He held up both hands in surrender. “Gotcha.”
Although Cat could be a bit dramatic, she also thrived on being independent, so her unexpected, rather needy reaction to this perfect stranger felt confusing. She blamed it on fatigue. Or maybe low blood sugar. Or maybe she was damn tired of being strong and wanted to lean on a shoulder other than those of her parents, who didn’t fully understand what was going on in her life and career. No, it wasn’t that last one! Fatigue and hunger were the culprits. She glanced at those wide shoulders. Maybe.
“Well, then, at least let me help you up.”
Cat gave him a quick nod, conveying more conviction than she felt, and then accepted his outstretched hands. His grip was warm and strong as he effortlessly tugged her to her feet. Cat was tall and had a solid build, but he suddenly made her feel feminine. He held on after Cat had stood up, presumably to make sure she remained steady on her feet, which she didn’t. To her dismay, her legs hurt and her knees felt wobbly.
“The offer remains,” he said with a hint of concern.
Cat inhaled a deep breath. “I’ll be okay, really.” She stiffened her spine. “I’ve just had a long day of driving, and I pushed too hard to get here. Low blood sugar,” she added, but when she pulled her hands from his, she swayed slightly, and he immediately put an arm lightly about her waist.
“Are you sure about that?” His question still held concern, but with a slight hint of amusement.
“I’m fine,” Cat insisted. In the cool air, his body felt warm, and she fought the urge to snuggle closer.
“Hey, just let me help you inside. Look, I know we’re strangers, but not for long. I live in the cabin just around the bend in the road. My family owns this property, and it butts up to our farm. The local real estate company handles the rentals for us. I didn’t realize you’d be moving in, or I would have come over to help earlier. That’s the way we do things around here.”
“Oh.” Cat wondered why Mia hadn’t mentioned that she would have a cute country-boy neighbor, but then maybe she didn’t know.
“I’m just being a neighbor and a gentleman. I’ll bring your suitcase to you once you’re inside.”
“Okay, thanks. But now that I’m standing, I’m feeling better,” she lied. “It was just the initial shock of pain that threw me for a loop. I can make it on my own.”
“My mother always told me to err on the side of caution.”
“And do you?” She tilted her head up to see his face. There was something familiar about him that she couldn’t put her finger on.
“No.” Oh, there were those dimples again. “Dare me and I’ll do it. It’s kind of a country-boy thing.”
He helped her up the three steps to the front porch, which Cat knew wrapped around back to overlook the river in the distance. She knew there was a grill, a swing, and a hot tub—all pictures sent from Mia. Unfortunately, her friend had had to head out of town to watch her husband play baseball, or she would have been there to greet Cat. “Oh, I forgot. There is supposed to be a packet with keys and instructions in the mailbox.”
“Sit down here in the chair, and I’ll go get it for you.”
“Thank you.” Cat eased into the big wooden rocking chair and watched her neighbor walk across the lawn. While she wanted the cabin in the woods for solitude, it was comforting to know she’d have what seemed to be a nice guy to rely upon nearby, if an emergency occurred. He certainly oozed small-town charm, and she suddenly wondered if he had a girlfriend but then quickly squashed that thought. She was on a mission to switch gears in her music career and didn’t need any complications to get in the way.
And yet Cat looked at the flannel stretching across his shoulders and suppressed a sigh. Because she stood at five foot nine, Cat was always attracted to big, tall men. Throw a sexy
Southern drawl into the mix, add arresting blue eyes, and he was quite a pleasant package. The dimples and crooked smile were just an added bonus.
Mia had to have known that Cat would find this guy attractive, and she wondered if the location of her rental had anything to do with it. Cat nibbled on the inside of her lip. Surely, her friend wasn’t trying to do any matchmaking. Well, if so, Mia’s efforts weren’t going to work. Although Cat did have an unfortunate knack for ending up with jerks when it came to her boyfriends. Maybe a matchmaker wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Cat watched his long, lazy stride and realized she was staring. She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. As he approached, she tried to act nonchalant.
“Here you go.” He handed her the packet. “By the way, in all of the commotion I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Jeff Greenfield.”
“Really?” Cat raised her eyebrows. So that’s why he seemed so familiar. “‘Outta My Mind with Lovin’ You’? I was singing along just a little while ago when it came on the radio. I love the lyrics. Did you write it?”
“I did.” Jeff smiled. “Thanks.”
“You’re with My Way Records.”
“Yes . . .” Jeff said, and then tilted his head sideways. “Oh boy, wait. You’re Cat Carson.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “Wow, I’m sorry. I can’t believe that I didn’t recognize you. I guess I was so concerned with you being hurt. . . .”
Cat waved him off. “If you don’t mind, I’d like my residence here to be kept under wraps. I’m planning on doing some songwriting, and I’d like some peace and quiet.”
“Aren’t you with Wayside Records?”
“Not anymore,” Cat answered darkly.
“Wait. Did you sign with My Way Records?”
Cat paused. “Yes, but keep it quiet, please? Rick wants to make an official announcement after I get some songs written and a single ready to release. He’s going to team me up with Maria Sully! I am so thrilled.”
“But you just came off of a big year. I don’t get why you’d want to switch to a small label when you were with the big dogs.”
Cat shrugged. “It’s simple. Rick Ruleman will let me take my music in the direction I want it to go.”
“Which would be?”
“Less pop sounding and more traditional,” Cat answered, and watched for his reaction. He tried to hide it, but she could feel Jeff’s slight but sudden withdrawal. She understood. Jeff’s music was traditional country, much like legendary George Strait’s, and she bet he wasn’t a fan of her songs. Old-school country artists often felt as if singers like her were simply jumping on the county bandwagon, and although popular with fans, they weren’t taken seriously by the icons in the industry.
“That’s . . . um . . . good,” Jeff said but shoved his hands in his pockets and his gaze flicked away. “I mean, I do get it. I wanted complete control over my career too.”
Cat arched an eyebrow. “So, I have to ask, do you switch the station when one of my songs comes on?”
“No,” he answered a bit too quickly. “Why would I do that?”
“Oh, if I might be so bold to ask, do you have a favorite song of mine? Just curious.” She gave him an innocent look and waited.
His mouth worked but nothing came out. “Um . . . ‘Sail’ . . . um . . . ‘Moonlight’ . . . um . . .”
“‘It’s a Sail-Away Summer’?” Just because she wanted to go in another direction now didn’t mean she wasn’t proud of her beach-themed songs, many of which she had written. Cat just didn’t want to do them exclusively.
Jeff rocked back on his heels and nodded a bit too hard. “Yes, uh, that one.”
“Or did you mean ‘Moonlight Dance’?”
“Oh, I like them both.”
Cat suspected he liked neither. “Thank you.”
Jeff nodded but appeared a bit uncomfortable.
Cat gave him a smile that felt rather stiff. She’d certainly felt the backlash of having her star rise swiftly, making some artists feel as if she hadn’t paid her dues. And because her music bridged the gap between pop and country, she had a wide following, much like Sheryl Crow, Kelly Clarkson, Taylor Swift, and Carrie Underwood. When she’d been named female vocalist of the year at the CMA’s last year, Cat had felt the heat in more ways than one. That’s when she started to reexamine where her life and her career were headed and found the need to make changes.
“You have a huge fan base,” Jeff added, as if that would make up for his obvious lack of interest or knowledge of her music.
“I’m lucky to have such loyal listeners.” Cat adored her fans and loved her songs, but she was tired of doing the same themes, which were starting to blend together and feel stale. “I don’t want to disappoint them, but I’m going to explore more traditional country with a splash of bluegrass,” she explained, thinking that admission might change the expression that he was politely trying to hide. Although she’d moved to Nashville three years ago, most people thought she was a city girl from Chicago, where her parents still lived, but she’d spent her childhood in South Carolina. “And get back to my Southern roots.”
He only nodded.
“Let me guess.” Cat gripped the arms of the chair. “You don’t take me seriously.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Wow.” Jeff tilted his head to the side. “So you can read minds?”
“It’s written all over your face.”
“Really?” Jeff leaned back against the railing. “And maybe you are making assumptions that you shouldn’t.”
And maybe she was suddenly tired and sore and grumpy. “Right. Listen, I can get things from here.”
“Don’t be stu—silly. I’ll get your suitcase. You’ll have a tough time getting it up the steps.”
“Watch me,” Cat boasted, knowing she sounded stubborn and childish. “Thanks for your help,” she added but didn’t sound all that thankful. What was wrong with her?
“No way. I won’t allow it,” Jeff insisted, and turned on his heel.
“‘Won’t allow it’? Are you kidding me? Did you really just say that?” Cat stood up, but when the blood rushed down her legs, she sucked in a sharp breath. She was going to be so sore tomorrow. She knew she was overreacting, but she’d been pushed around enough for the past year, and she wasn’t about to be told what she couldn’t do any longer.
Jeff turned around and gave her a concerned frown. Well, she was standing now, so she was invested. Gritting her teeth, she took a tentative step forward. Not too bad. Apparently, she was just going to have massive bruising—not that bruises were anything new. Cat had a knack for running into things. Being tall and gangly all of her life had something to do with it. Her choreography onstage remained minimal for that reason. With a bracing intake of breath, she moved forward, brushing past Jeff, but had to grab onto the handrail for dear life.
“What exactly are you trying to prove?”
More things than she could begin to count. “That I don’t need your help.” Petulance wasn’t in her nature, but she just couldn’t stop.
“This sudden burst of anger is all because I don’t know your songs?”
Are you that vain? remained unspoken, but Cat felt it when Jeff glanced over at her. She was used to having people make assumptions about her family, her music, and her life in general, when the reality of her daily existence was nothing remotely close to the rumors or gossip. Cat also tended to be outspoken about issues that she believed in and that also sometimes landed her in hot water. She usually had fairly thick skin, but for some reason, Jeff’s apparent judgment put her on the defensive.
When he folded his arms across his chest and looked at her expectantly, she refused to dignify his question with an answer.
“Thanks again for your help, but you can leave now. I’ve got this.” Cat f
elt his eyes on her as she walked stiffly across the lawn to the suitcase. Her legs did hurt in an achy kind of way, but she did her best to ignore the discomfort. Carly Simon’s song “Haven’t Got Time for the Pain” filtered into her head, and Cat had to smile. Her mind continually revolved around lyrics, sometimes making her feel as if she were living in her own personal musical. Her brain was a Wikipedia of songs, and she could give anybody a run for the money with music trivia. There was so much more to her than catchy beach tunes, and she longed to prove that she had more depth and talent than people were giving her credit for.
Grabbing the suitcase’s handle, she raised it upward and rolled the heavy thing awkwardly across the lawn, hoping Jeff would get bored with the embarrassing situation and decide to leave her to her own devices.
Of course she was wrong. With his arms still folded across his chest, he leaned against the railing looking all smug. And hot. No! Scratch the hot part. Cat paused at the first step, gathering her waning strength. This was silly. She should allow him to help, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to give in and ask for it.
After taking a deep breath, Cat muttered a silent prayer, but before she could even begin to try to lift the suitcase, Jeff swiftly descended the steps and grabbed the handle from her.
“Hey!” Cat protested but was secretly so very glad for his help. “I could have managed,” she added, trying not to admire his nice butt in his Wrangler jeans.
“I have no doubt.” Jeff positioned the suitcase close to the front door and then turned around to face her. “But my mother taught me to be a gentleman. Put some ice on those bruises.” He waited until she nodded. “My number is listed in the contacts in the packet. If you need ice packs or anything, please don’t hesitate to call, okay?”