The Cowboy Who Got Away

by Nancy Robards Thompson

  “I had to meet a client at the Campbell Wedding Barn.”

  It was the truth.

  Guinevere blanched. “And you went out of the house like that? I wouldn’t call that business attire.”

  Juliette resisted the urge to grind her teeth. “It’s Saturday, Mother. A rare Saturday that I don’t have a wedding on the books. I have a day off. I had not intended on meeting with the client today, but she had an emergency. This is Saturday business casual.”

  Maybe the slight edge of indignation would throw Guinevere off the scent.

  “Yes, well, you might want to make sure you fix yourself up before you leave the house in the future. Did you hear that Jude Campbell is home?”

  Damn that betraying blush. Juliette wanted to shake herself. She’d never been one to get embarrassed easily—certainly not one to blush like a crushing schoolgirl. If she wasn’t careful she was going to tell on herself.

  “Oh, really?” she said. “When did he get back?”

  Chelsea gave her the side-eye.

  Guinevere sniffed. “I’m not sure. You know he never was my favorite. Do you know Jude Campbell, Chelsea?”

  “Mom, Chelsea is married to Jude’s brother, Ethan. You know that.”

  Guinevere waved away the question. “Of course she is. Silly me. But, Chelsea, I’ll bet you didn’t know that Jude tried to talk my Juliette into giving up her scholarship.”

  “Mom. Really? Let’s not rehash that now, okay?”

  In fact, let’s not rehash that ever.

  “But, no, my girl was too smart and strong to be manipulated like that.”

  “Oh, my.” Chelsea’s crisp, proper British accent hid the sardonic undertone, but Juliette recognized it. “Jude is a handsome guy. That was strong of you, Jules.”

  Or stupid.

  No, not stupid. She would’ve given up her scholarship and it would’ve never worked. They would’ve never worked.

  Things happened for a reason.

  “He wanted her to follow him, to go on the road with him to all those bull riding events.” Guinevere looked as if she smelled something unsavory. “It would’ve been a disaster. A complete and utter disaster. My daughter deserves so much more. No offense to you, Chelsea. Ethan is a fine man. In fact, I was very happy to hear he’s running for mayor.”

  The current beloved mayor of Celebration, Ed Rosen, had been in office for nearly two decades and was retiring. Ethan was favored to be his successor.

  “Ethan has my vote,” Guinevere continued. “But that brother of his...”

  Guinevere shook her head. Juliette gave her a piercing look.

  “Mom, let’s not—”

  “You do know he’s the world champion?” Chelsea said.

  “Is he now?” Guinevere appeared unimpressed.

  “And you know that world champion bull riders can win a lot of money,” Chelsea persisted.

  “Good for him,” Guinevere said. “I didn’t realize bull fighting was so lucrative. Grizzly sport—if you can even call it a sport. Poor bulls.”

  “He’s not a bull fighter, Mom. He’s a bull rider. Big difference. No bulls are harmed.”

  Guinevere rolled her eyes. “Even so, it sounds uncivilized. I suppose he’s home for that big class reunion of yours?”

  “I have no idea,” Juliette said. It wasn’t really a lie. She didn’t know whether Jude was going to go to the trouble to call Marilyn Harding and ask if he could participate in the homecoming events.

  She could still feel his kiss on her lips...his hands on her body... Even thinking about him and how well their bodies had worked together made her lady parts respond.

  “Did you come all the way over here to grill me about Jude Campbell, Mom?”

  “No. I did not.” Guinevere sighed. Juliette knew her mother well enough to recognize it was a cue to ask her what was wrong. Of course she cared if something was wrong, but she was also happy for the diversion. All the better to change the subject and turn everyone’s attention away from Jude and onto something else.

  “Is everything okay, Mom?”

  “Everything is fine.” Guinevere heaved another dramatic sigh. “I suppose. I hope. Okay, I’m not sure everything is fine. Howard has been in such a cranky mood lately, snapping at me about the house, about my spending habits. He knew what he was getting himself into when he married me. I like to shop. I like nice things. After five years of marriage, it’s not fair to change the rules. He was fairly warned that I am an expensive woman. He knew that before he married me. I’m afraid he’s going to cut off the budget for decorating the new house. And that’s all we talk about when he’s at home. Most of the time lately, he isn’t home.”

  Juliette took a cup from the cabinet and poured herself some tea from the pot her mother and Chelsea had been sharing.

  “Have you sat down and talked to him about it?” she asked.

  “No. I just said he’s been away from the house more than he’s been home,” Guinevere mused. “Are you listening to me?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “Well, I simply don’t know what to make of it.” Guinevere picked up a fabric sample from one of the piles and studied it.

  “I’m sure if you asked—showed him that you care—he would make time to talk to you. Communication is key in any good relationship.”

  Howard Albright was her mother’s fifth husband. Besides Guinevere’s marriage to Juliette’s father, her marriage to Howard was the longest of all her marriages. Howard was a true stand-up guy. Even though Juliette loved her mother, she knew Guinevere could be a pistol at times. Poor, good-natured Howard was only human.

  With a flick of her wrist, Guinevere tossed aside the piece of fabric. “I’m sure it is, but it also opens the door for talks about budget. I’m too far into decorating this house to change my plan now. I’m afraid that’s what he wants to do.”

  “Howard is a good man,” Juliette said. “Since you’ve been married, he has never denied you anything. In fact, he has been quite generous. If he’s acting odd, you need to talk to him. People don’t just start acting out of character without reason.”

  Guinevere stared at the large diamond on her pretty, manicured hand. Juliette could tell that her mother had something else on her mind. So she waited, hoping the silence would smoke it out.

  “I guess I’m still a little gun-shy after discovering that Jerry cheated.”

  Jerry was husband number two. His infidelity had come as a surprise to everyone. In her late fifties, Guinevere was an attractive woman. She took care of herself. She had a figure that some thirty-year-olds would envy. She wore her sable-brown hair in a neat, stylish, age-appropriate bob. She wore just enough makeup to accentuate her sky blue eyes, but not so much that she looked like she was trying too hard. Jerry wanted an age-appropriate trophy wife and he’d gotten exactly that in Guinevere.

  Trouble started in paradise when opinion-conscious Jerry decided that he did not want his wife to work and persuaded Guinevere to sell her antiques store, Little Shop of Hoarders. Lydia Clark, whose family owned the Inn at Celebration, had bought the shop. Jerry had let Guinevere keep the proceeds from the sale, but it had been the beginning of the end for their relationship. Within six months, Jerry, who owned a car dealership that was located between Celebration and Dallas, had started working more and more, putting in long hours and finding excuses to go out of town—mostly on weekends.

  If Howard was changing his work habits, Juliette understood why her mother might be worried, though she had a hard time believing good old Howard would have an affair. He adored Guinevere.

  “I have considered hiring a private detective to follow him,” Guinevere said resolutely.

  Juliette stole a quick glance at Chelsea, who had busied herself, head down, sorting an additional lot of fabric samples into pile
s. If Guinevere didn’t mind talking about such a personal matter in front of Chelsea, it was her choice. Besides, Chelsea was trustworthy. Obviously, since that knowing look of Chelsea’s suggested she might know more about with whom Juliette had spent the afternoon than she was letting on.

  They’d talk about it later. That was a given.

  “Mom, please don’t do anything hasty until you talk to Howard. Imagine how you would feel if Howard was worried that something was wrong with you and didn’t talk to you about it. I will choose to believe my stepfather is a good man until we have hard proof that he isn’t.”

  Guinevere harrumphed. “Hence the need for the private investigator.”

  “Which you might discover you do not need if you would just talk to your husband. Howard is not Jerry. I understand the whole ‘once bitten, twice shy’ thing, but please talk to your husband before you jump to conclusions.”

  Guinevere inhaled a deep, long-suffering breath—probably giving herself time to justify her defensiveness—but her cell phone, which was lying on the table next to her, rang. Her mother grabbed it and jabbed at the connect button.

  “Howard, where are you? I have been worried sick. I had to come all the way over to Juliette’s just to calm down.”

  Phone pressed to her ear, Guinevere left the room. When they could hear that she was safely in the next room, engaging in an animated conversation with Howard, Chelsea said, “I hear you spent the afternoon with someone special?”

  Juliette’s hand fluttered to her neck. “Where did you hear this?”

  Chelsea smiled. “Ethan was downtown earlier this afternoon doing some things for the campaign. Somebody, I can’t remember who he said it was, saw you at the Redbird Diner with Jude. Is it true?”

  My, oh, my, good gossip travels fast.

  “Maybe.”

  Chelsea laughed. “Either you were there or you weren’t. There is no maybe.”

  “Okay, Yoda. Guilty as charged.”

  Chelsea’s eyebrows shot up. “And rumor also has it that the two of you left the diner together?”

  “Yes, we did exit through the same door—the only door, besides the emergency exit, that lets people in and out of the Redbird. What’s so scandalous about that?”

  “You’re the one who brought up the idea of scandalous. Methinks thou protest too much. What’s going on between the two of you?”

  “Nothing. There is absolutely nothing going on between Jude and me.”

  Juliette stood to take her mother’s teacup to the sink, but she saw Chelsea hold up her hands. “If you say so, Jules. Not that there would be anything wrong if there was something between the two of you. In fact, I think it would be nice. You and I could be sisters-in-law.”

  The thought of marrying Jude made Juliette’s heart perform a little stutter step and clinch.

  She knew she was being awfully defensive, even she could see it. But the truth was, when it came to Jude, she was vulnerable. Her feelings for him could be so easily resuscitated. He was the one person in this world who could hurt her. She knew that from experience. She also knew that the two of them had lived a decade’s worth of separate lives. Lives that didn’t include each other. He was only here for a couple of weeks and if she knew what was best for her, they would not have a repeat performance of what happened today.

  “Obviously, a change of subject is in order,” Chelsea said. “My sister, Tori, is coming for a visit in a few days. She would love to pick your wedding consultant brain. She’s considering opening a bridal division of Tori Ashford Alden Designs.”

  God love Chelsea. She was the best friend any woman could dream of. Case in point was that she knew just when to change the subject and not press the issue. Juliette would probably end up spilling everything to Chelsea sooner or later. But right now it was too raw.

  “You tell her I would love to see her and I am happy to share everything I know.”

  Juliette’s text tone sounded. She walked back to the table and pulled her phone out of her purse.

  The text was from a woman named Marcy Johnson who worked at the courthouse and was co-chairing the homecoming festivities committee with Marilyn Harding. Juliette had known both of them since high school. In fact, all three of them had been cheerleaders together, but they traveled in different social circles now. Marcy had gotten married right out of high school. She’d married a guy from Dallas and they’d had a child within the first year of their marriage. They’d divorced a couple of years ago. A few times when Juliette had come into the courthouse with clients who had needed help with their marriage licenses—they usually needed something expedited—Marcy had helped, but they always had to endure her half-serious jokes about the perils of marriage. Her favorite one was to say that it was not too late to back out.

  Even the thought made Juliette cringe.

  The text said:

  Are you and Jude Campbell dating again? Someone told me they saw you canoodling at the Redbird today. Everyone thought he wouldn’t be able to make it back for the reunion. But since he is back, we have a whole new plan for homecoming. I’ll fill you in at the meeting tomorrow. You’re going to be there, right? It’s at the high school at 5:45—in the library. I think you’ll love it. In the meantime, bring Jude. And will you ask him to sign an autograph for my son, please? I’ll owe you big-time. My boy’s name is Todd.

  Chapter Four

  “Hey, thanks for letting me come and speak to your rodeo club,” Jude said to the teens, who’d been a great audience. He’d been at Celebration High School addressing the club for more than two and a half hours. It was nearly 5:30 p.m. He’d been trying to wrap up the talk for the past twenty minutes, but the kids had so many enthusiastic questions, he hated to cut off anyone.

  “It was my pleasure to be here today. But I have to scoot to another meeting here at the school library. They’re trying to rope me into taking part in the homecoming festivities. I need to go make sure they don’t volunteer me for something. Know what I mean?”

  Everyone laughed.

  Since today was more of a Q&A about his experience as a champion professional bull rider, he and the kids had met outside on the grassy area between the school’s gymnasium and the library. It was such a beautiful fall afternoon, and since the kids had been cooped up in classes all day, he’d wanted to bring them outside and they’d seemed all the happier for it.

  Now, in the distance, he saw Juliette walking from the parking lot toward the library.

  He was glad he’d grabbed her phone and entered his number on the way home yesterday when they were at a stoplight. She’d texted him last night saying that Marcy Johnson, a former classmate and one of the reunion committee chairs, had asked her to invite him to the meeting. He’d said he’d be there—and the timing couldn’t have been better because of how it stacked up with the rodeo club meeting—but he hadn’t pressed her about when he could see her again outside of the meeting. She’d seemed a little skittish when he’d left her at her car. He’d wanted to give her some room to sort things out.

  A teenage girl raised her hand. She blushed when Jude nodded to her. “Do you have a date for the homecoming dance?”

  Jude flashed a smile, his gaze trailing back to Juliette. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  The girl looked crestfallen for a moment, but then she asked, “Who is it?”

  Juliette was closer now. Jude watched her put her hand on the library door and pull it open.

  “I can’t say just yet. I still have to ask her.”

  “What if she says no?” the girl said. “Can I be your date?”

  “You’re too pretty to go to the dance with an old man like me,” he said. “Besides, I’ll bet there are plenty of guys your own age lining up to be your date.”

  The girl shook her head. “No one has asked me to the dance.”

 
“Really?” said a tall, gangly boy. “I thought you already had a date. I thought you were going with Victor Hodges.”

  The girl shook her head again and shrugged. “No, he’s taking Vanessa O’Brien.”

  “I’ll take you to the dance,” the boy said. “Do you want to go with me?”

  The girl’s eyes lit up and she blushed a pretty shade of pink. “Sure.”

  As if sensing Juliette’s gaze on him, Jude glanced over and saw her watching him. Her hand was still on the door, holding it open. Their eyes locked. Jude held up his hand. She smiled and quickly slipped inside, as if she’d been embarrassed that he’d seen her watching him.

  “I need to go,” he said to the kids who were still there, but by this time most of them had split into smaller groups and were talking to each other or texting. The couple who had made a date for the dance had their phones out and seemed to be exchanging numbers.

  Jude’s work there was done. Now it was time to go secure his own date. The meeting would start in five minutes or so. If he headed in there now, he might be able to score a seat next to Juliette.

  When he entered the library, it looked smaller than he remembered. The place, with its tall shelves, book smells and rows of wooden tables, had always seemed a little unnerving and unwelcoming to him. It had been the place he’d been forced to go for standardized tests and to research term papers. A couple of times, he’d even served out detention at the austere wooden tables. When he was in school, he hadn’t been the studious type. His junior year, he’d been diagnosed with dyslexia after struggling with grades and, some would say, an attitude problem. It had been a relief to know there was a reason for the difficulty he’d experienced trying to focus on things that seemed to come so easily to others. Unfortunately, the diagnosis hadn’t stopped his father from seizing every opportunity to brand him with the stupid label. It had taken years of being out in the world—away from Celebration, Texas, and his father—for him to realize while he might not have been an academic, he had a lot of common sense. After years of hard work and dedication, he’d proven himself to be a respectable athlete. That’s why he couldn’t make peace about retiring from the circuit without going out on top. Or even worse, retiring without even trying to get back on top.