The Cowgirl Rides Away (Bluebonnet Texas Book 1)

by Stuart, Amie

  "Where's my boy," she demanded, then gave me a wink and added, "Travis likes my flan."

  "With his granddad." Zack performed the introductions again and gave Carmen a quick update on Travis and the rest of the family.

  "Ohh! You wait until Rosalita finds out you brought a woman in. She'll get you," the older woman teased, shaking the menus in her hand at Zack.

  We followed her through the packed restaurant. With industrial-grade carpet in a neutral color, dark paneling and brown restaurant-issue tables, Carmen's Hacienda would never be called fancy, but judging by the crowd, it wasn't the décor people came for. I could feel the stares as we made our way across the restaurant and was glad for the warmth of his hand at my waist.

  Once she'd taken our drink orders and disappeared, I opened my menu. "So who's Rosalita?" Zack's face turned bright red and I ducked behind my menu to hide my laughter.

  "Carmen's cook and old enough to be my mother," he confessed with his own laugh.

  I peeked over my menu again. "You don't like older women, Zachary?" Instead of a flip 'no', he went quiet and the smile faded from his face. Not faded, changed. And the light went out in his eyes as he focused on something, or someone, behind me.

  "Reverend."

  "Zack, how's your Momma?" The reverend had a deep, resonant voice that was hard to ignore. I wondered if he'd taken acting lessons to learn how to project like that. Despite his interesting voice, I'd lay odds he wasn't the warm and fuzzy type. Not if Zack's suddenly cool demeanor was anything to go by.

  "She's fine, sir."

  "Tell her I look forward to seeing her on Sunday." Then he glanced down at me and all I could do was nod. "Young lady."

  "Sir."

  Zack didn't say a word until the older man was gone.

  "What was that?" I finally asked.

  Zack sighed and steepled his fingers, the light still out in his eyes. "What are your views on religion?"

  A harried young waitress sped by dropping off some water, a basket of chips and hot sauce, and giving me a few minutes to process his question. I didn't miss the intense expression on Zack's face. Religion was one of the few topics we'd never really discussed, but whatever this was about, it was obviously important to him.

  That said, I didn't really have an answer for Zack. Not a concrete one anyway. "I'm not sure."

  "Not sure of what?"

  "How to answer that." I was saved—for a few minutes—by the waitress's return for our orders. "I will say this, you can't climb on the back of a two-thousand pound animal and not think about the afterlife. Even if it's just, you know, abstract. Sure I believe; I've been to cowboy church plenty. It's hard not to considering my former profession, but—" I shrugged, "—I don't know."

  "Dimwitty, the reverend, and Momma haven't forgiven me for leaving the church." He nodded, his lips quirked into a smile of understanding. "Before that, back in college, in Florida there was a group of us. We used to go around to different churches. We went to a Vietnamese Baptist Church, a Catholic church. Even a Universalist Unitarian—say that five times fast—we tried 'em all. We had no clue what we were doing, but to us, it was another form of art to explore."

  "I don't get it?"

  "Art is self-expression. People also express themselves through their religious choices, which isn't that different. Not really; not to us anyway. It all seemed pretty clear. Then I came home with Travis and Momma tried to make me give him up." He stared at me intently, waiting to see how I'd react.

  I'd always prided myself on my ability to cowgirl up—get the job done no matter what. But I couldn't get the lump in my throat to go down as a lot of things suddenly became very, very clear.

  Clearing my throat, I forced myself to pick up my glass, slippery with condensation, and take a sip of my Coke. "What did you do? What happened?" My voice sounded rusty so I took another sip.

  "I went to see Reverent Dimwitty. He'd been my minister since I was born. Hell, he baptized me."

  I closed my eyes and took a breath, then tried to finish for him. "And he told you to...give..."

  "Yup. He said my mother was right. That I had no business raising a child on my own and that Travis would be better off with some nice couple. I begged Aunt Susie to help me, and she intervened. Aunt Susie and Momma are still polite with each other, barely, and Momma and I still have...a strained relationship. I told you, she's very into who we are. Her church, her ladies are very important to her." He shook his head. "But I haven't been back and I won't."

  "Wow. Does she know about me?"

  "Yeah." He grimaced, not quite able to meet my eyes, and that told me pretty much everything I needed to know.

  "I don't have to come on Sunday. I could always go home." I could go home anytime I wanted. "I don't want to cause you any trouble."

  "It's okay."

  "I'm not sure I'm ready for Sunday," I confessed. By the time lunch was over, my face ached from keeping my smile in place. And I was going to have to do it all over again tonight at the dancehall. For once in my life, I found myself wishing for a girlfriend to confide in.

  ***

  Zack had stuff to do that afternoon but offered to come get me that evening. Back at my hotel, he sighed and threw the gearshift in park. Opening the door, he slid out and I followed. "It's open mike night tonight. Are you sure you wouldn't rather wait until tomorrow?"

  "And that's bad because?"

  "Originally it started as a way for us to find a new female lead, but now it's just turned into one huge, God-awful joke." The expression on his face could only be called pained.

  "I'm sorry, Zack, but you act like you're going to the dentist and they're out of Novocain."

  "It can be pretty bad. You'd be surprised at what a drunk woman will do."

  I buried my face in his chest and laughed again. I had every idea what a drunk woman would do. Like climb up on a stage and act like she's the next Loretta Lynn. Had done it a few times myself.

  He placed a soft kiss on my temple, right where my scar was. It was so innocent, but not. Not with those hot green eyes staring into mine as he pulled away.

  As dancehalls went, The Bluebonnet wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Brick and siding on the outside with cement floors on the inside, it had a separate room for pool tables. The stage was small, but the oversized, oak dance floor made up for that. Long tables with benches were scattered around. Two women worked behind the oversized bar, which took up almost all the back wall. The décor was "Rustic Bar" complete with a mural taking up one wall and tiny Christmas lights suspended from the ceiling.

  I stopped in mid-stride for a better look. With half-naked dancing girls, a poker game and a lady sheriff sporting a set of shiny six-shooters, it was like something out of Gunsmoke or Bonanza. "Did you paint that?"

  "I did."

  We grinned at each other. "Do I even need to ask who the sheriff is?"

  "If you do, you weren't paying attention," he teased and we both laughed. His Aunt Susie. Zack got me settled at a table near the front. "Will you be alright here by yourself?" He was so close his goatee tickled my ear.

  "Sure." I had trouble looking him in the eye as he brushed my hair away from my face. I couldn't ignore the fact that half a dozen waitresses, his aunt and band mates were all probably watching, taking note and talking. It was unnerving. Maybe I should have waited for another night, or not come at all.

  Tell that to the rest of me though. I felt a definite reaction deep in my belly. My nipples hardened, suddenly hypersensitive to the chaffing of my bra, and all I could think of was how badly I wanted him to kiss me. For starters. I guess both of us knew where tonight was probably headed.

  "Hey," a voice yelled.

  I jumped and we both turned toward the stage.

  "Quit flirting with her and get up here. We gotta warm up."

  People trickled in, and at eight, Zack announced to the already crowded bar that it was time. The dread in his voice was unmistakable. The audience just laughed and hooted.
r />   "If no one comes up here, we're just gonna start playing," Rowdy added.

  "Please don't make Zack sing "Goodbye Earl" again ladies," one of the other band members begged.

  More laughter from the audience. A little blonde broke from the crowd, crossed the dance floor and hesitantly approached the stage.

  "What'cha gonna sing, honey?" Rowdy gave her a hand up.

  "Goodbye Earl?" she asked, hesitantly wrinkling her nose.

  Everyone laughed, but she just nodded her head. The band started playing and she stumbled through it. Her voice wasn't bad, but even I could tell she didn't have the chops to belt out such a strong song.

  She exited the stage accompanied by catcalls, hoots and a few appreciative whistles as the guys just stood there looking at one another.

  "Alright, who's next?"

  Zack was right. The singers were bad in a comedy show/train wreck sort of way, but the band seemed to take it all in stride.

  I loved to people watch, and it was an interesting crowd. Every once in a while Susie would stop by to feed me some tidbit on this one or that one. A few guys flirted and asked me to dance, but I said no—my knee being the perfect excuse even though it wasn't really bothering me. And besides, the only man I had any interest in dancing with was up on stage.

  The band had just announced their first break when I spotted a tall, dark, extremely good-looking cowboy. And judging from his walk, he wasn't the dime store variety either.

  Susie slipped up beside me and took a seat on the bench. "What do you think?"

  I turned a critical eye on him as I wondered why she wanted my opinion. He was at least six-four; his dark hair and tanned complexion made his pale eyes stand out, even in the dim light of the bar. The smile lines at the corners of his eyes identified him as a good-natured man. The knowing grin on his lips proclaimed him to be something more. He made me think of Kane, but not near as serious.

  "Lady killer." I threw out the first word that came to mind with a knowing glance in her direction.

  "Sadly, yes, he is." She shook her head. "But he's my nephew, and I love him like crazy."

  If that had been a test, it seemed I'd passed.

  Susie called him over and performed the introductions. Tim Caldwell was even better looking on closer inspection, and obviously knew it. I hadn't spent ten years on the circuit for nothing. I could spot 'em a mile away, even a good-natured one like him.

  With a wicked grin, he shook my hand. "So you're the one. Enjoying your visit?"

  "Yes I am. Thank you," I replied, suddenly wary. He also didn't seem like a man you could easily pull something over on.

  "How long do you intend to stay in town?" he said, moving a little closer.

  This was another test, and I understood exactly where he was coming from. Tim wanted to see what I was made of and probably what my intentions were toward his brother. I'd done similar for my own brother. It was nice to see him so concerned about Zack, but I had personal space issues and he was sitting closer than I'd like.

  I leaned back on the bench and said, "I have no idea."

  "Ever been married?" he asked.

  I'd barely finished answering the last question, but Tim had apparently decided we were playing forty questions, take-no-prisoners style.

  "Nope."

  "Kids?" Tim queried as Zack and the blond drummer took a seat across from us.

  "Nope."

  "Tim," Zack interjected.

  "It's okay." I waved him off. This was almost familiar territory.

  "Arrested?"

  I paused and then said, "Yup."

  Zack's eyebrows shot up in obvious surprise as Tim continued, "For what?"

  Susie, who'd been watching the whole exchange from my other side, burst out laughing. "That's enough, Timothy! I have to get back to work and I don't want you torturing this poor girl."

  I shrugged and said, "People think because I'm little, I'm fair game. They learn otherwise pretty quickly. And besides," I continued, "I don't like seeing friends get ganged up on."

  The drummer tapped his nose, indicating my own crooked features, then pointed at me, his tone teasing, "And what did it get ya?"

  Tim nudged me. "I didn't realize accounting was such a rough business."

  That's when I glanced at Zack and then back at his brother, rapidly debating what to say.

  Tim's eyebrows slowly rose as the silence at the table lengthened.

  Decision made, I finally shook my head. "I was never an accountant."

  "So you did lie?"

  All I could do was nod. "I used to rodeo."

  Tim said, "I know," and gave me the biggest, shit-eatingest grin ever. "Waitress, two scotches."

  "So you follow the rodeo?" It was hard not to hem and haw.

  "I try to keep up," he said, then thanked the waitress as she delivered the drinks he'd ordered.

  We sat and talked a few minutes about the circuit, though talking about rodeo meant talking about Jace and Colby and Kane. All the while, Zack silently took it in.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Zack

  Zack watched Jessa and Tim chat like old friends, unsure whether to be jealous or just irritated. By the time Tim finally got up to leave, his Aunt Susie was back at Jessa's side. He resigned himself to no alone time with Jessa until after the bar closed, but all he'd wanted, all he'd been able to think about, was getting her alone in the beer garden for five minutes.

  That was obviously not going to happen.

  "You alright?" Jessa asked.

  "Fine," he assured with a nod.

  "So what do you think of open mike night?" Susie asked.

  "You weren't kidding when you said they were bad." Jessa smiled at his aunt, then over at him, looking perfectly at ease. For a second he was jealous. Of her.

  "They get worse," Susie shouted over the music. "The more drunk they get! Do you sing, Jessa?"

  Her eyes twinkling, Jessa just shrugged.

  He leaned down so his lips were against her ear. "How well do you sing?"

  "I can assure you Jennifer Nettles' job is safe, but I won't break glass."

  "Prove it." Zack swung his leg over the bench and turned so he was facing her, a part of him curious to see what she could do, a part of him still irritated.

  Jessa took a sip of her scotch, then did likewise. "What do you want me to sing?"

  "Surprise me," he said.

  "Do you know any Pam Tillis?" Aunt Susie stood, rested a hand on his shoulder and her hip against his side.

  Jessa's broad grin was easy enough to interpret, but that didn't mean she could carry a note without a bucket.

  She sat up straight, eyed the bench, him, Susie, then focused on some spot above his head and proceeded to leave him a little speechless. By the time she finished "Melancholy Child" his Aunt Susie had joined in and everyone in the vicinity of the duo had gone quiet.

  She didn't just sing it, she manipulated the song so that Zack felt as if she were telling him a story about herself. As if she was trying to tell him she was a melancholy child. It wasn't too difficult to figure out why she'd picked that particular song and his earlier irritation with her disappeared.

  Rowdy now stood behind her, arms crossed. "But can you do that in front of a bar full?"

  Her eyes on Zack, she just shrugged, as if to say it was his call.

  He nodded at Rowdy who led the way to the stage. Jessa's hand was damp in his as they crossed the dance floor.

  "You don't have to do this," he said as she stepped in front of him.

  "I'm good."

  Ty had barely gotten settled behind his drum before Zack had her doing "Melancholy Child"again. He wanted to hear her over the sound system, wanted to find out if he still got that same feeling.

  He did.

  Not surprisingly, Jessa had nerves of steel. She skipped from that to "Maybe it was Memphis" without batting an eye. Nobody danced and the bar was strangely silent—for a bar.

  Once the last note had been played, he heard
people yelling, "She's hired!" over the enthusiastic mayhem of the crowd's very obvious approval.

  In his excitement over her ability to sing, to interpret a song, he'd forgotten the whole point to open mike night—to find a new singer for the band.

  "Zack," drawled a voice from behind the drums.

  "Yo." His husky voice surprised him.

  "Please marry her, so we don't have to go through this again."

  More laughter. His face burned, but he didn't say a word. Just gave Bo Foster, their sometimes fiddle player, a nod as he joined them on stage.

  "So," said Rowdy, "Do you know anything besides Pam Tillis?"

  In reply, she sang the first stanza of "Run" by the Dixie Chicks.

  "Oh, no you don't," Rowdy yelled. "If Zack don't marry you, I will."

  The hell he would.

  "Okay, okay," she said with a chuckle. Still unable—or too nervous—to look at Zack, she turned to Rowdy who nodded and played the opening bars of "Kerosene".

  He held his breath, barely able to concentrate as she powered through the Miranda Lambert hit. Perfectly.

  By the time she started "Hand in my Pocket" there was no doubt in his mind she knew exactly what she was doing and could do more than just carry a tune in a bucket. Zack played, unable to keep the smile off his face. Again he got the feeling she was letting him in on a secret, sharing some hidden part of herself with him—and to a certain extent—the crowd. He saw so many shades of the quiet woman he'd spent so much of the last twenty-four hours with in nearly every song she chose. But he didn't have time to stop and let it all sink in, turn it over or analyze it.

  Matricia Berg's "Back in the Saddle" even had him laughing, if for no other reason than how well Jessa captured the tongue-in-cheek flavor of the song. And the wink she gave him.

  Then she drawled in her best Texas accent, "Ya'll know why God made Mexico?"

  Apparently she wasn't the only Tim McGraw fan in the house because that got her some cheers.

  "You can't sing that," Ty hollered.

  "And just why not?" She turned, hands on her hips, and quirked an eyebrow at him.