Rodeo Song

by Shannon Taylor Vannatter

  His chest tightened. She hadn’t been about to call because she wanted to talk to him. She only wanted damage control. “I wish I could. But it’s gone viral.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  “Wait for it to pass. Give it a week or so—there’ll be another big story and your concert footage will be a thing of the past.”

  “‘A week or so’?” Panic sounded in her voice. “I don’t have a week or so. I’ve had my phone off most of the day because of reporters calling.”

  He’d been afraid of that.

  “I can’t run a business with my phone off or with so many reporters calling that my clients can’t get through.”

  “There is one thing we can do.” He stood and walked to the railing. The stone tiles were cool against his bare feet.

  “What?”

  “We could give them what they want.”

  “What do they want?”

  “A story.”

  “I’m not some story.”

  “I mean, if we talk to them, explain there’s no hot romance—” his voice cracked “—they’ll go away.”

  “I’m not talking to the press.”

  “I’d be there with you. I’ve got a concert tonight in Oklahoma City and then a week later I have to be in Arkansas. I was planning to chill in between, but I can fit in a press conference.” His doctor wanted him to rest his voice, but he’d cut his rest short for her.

  “A press conference?” Her tone went an octave or two too high. “I want my quiet life back.”

  “A press conference would lay the story to rest. They’d see there’s nothing going on between us—” his heart ached “—and move on to the next big story. It’s either wait until the story blows over or a press conference and peace the next day.”

  Could he pull off a press conference with her? Could he convince the world he didn’t love her? He had to—for her sake.

  “No.” She sighed. “Never mind. Sorry to bother you.”

  “You’re never a bother. It was nice to hear your voice.” He closed his eyes. “I’ll call you again. I mean—just to talk?”

  “If you can get through, go for it.” A smile came through her words. Feminine laughter in the background.

  “Sounds like I’ll have to use your cell. Who answered the phone?”

  “Natalie. She and Caitlyn are both here.”

  “Tell them I said hi.”

  “Sure.”

  “If you change your mind about the press conference, I’ll be there. Just say the word.” Anything to see her again. Spend time with her. Even if he had to tell the biggest lie he’d ever told. That he did not love Jenna Wentworth.

  “Thanks anyway, but I need to go.”

  Her refusal stalled his heart. Obviously, she didn’t want to see him again.

  * * *

  Jenna pushed End and the phone rang. A number she didn’t recognize. Probably another reporter. She sighed and unplugged it again.

  “Talking to the press would solve a lot of things.” Natalie set her bowl in Jenna’s sink and poured the three of them a cup of coffee without asking.

  Maybe the steaming brew would wake her up from this bad dream.

  “He suggested a press conference—with both of us.”

  “Brilliant.” Natalie sipped her coffee.

  “Not brilliant. How can talking to the press help?”

  “If you can convince them there’s nothing going on with Garrett, they’ll move on. But that’s a mighty big if. I’m not sure you could pull it off.”

  Jenna rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing between us. I hadn’t seen him in eight years until last night.”

  “I hadn’t seen Lane in nine years, but all those butterflies took flight in my stomach with my first glimpse of him. Even after all our time apart.”

  “Same here.” Caitlyn grinned. “Butterflies galore and I hadn’t seen Mitch in ten years.”

  Jenna drained her coffee and stood up to get another cup. Movement outside her kitchen window skimmed her line of vision. A camera flashed. Jenna ducked and slid to the floor in front of the sink, facing her cousins.

  “What are you doing?” Natalie frowned.

  “There’s a cameraman in my yard. He took a picture of me.”

  “This is crazy.” Caitlyn hurried to the window.

  “Get down.” Jenna tugged on her jean leg.

  “You can’t be a prisoner in your own home.” Caitlyn joined her on the floor.

  “What now?” Natalie sat down on the other side of her.

  “Maybe they’ll get cold and go home.” Jenna knew she was grasping at straws.

  Vibration in Jenna’s pocket. She dug her cell out. Garrett’s number again.

  “They’re in my yard, Garrett.” She whispered as if they could hear her.

  “I was afraid of that. Don’t worry—I’ve got you covered. I called to warn you I’ve got a couple of security guys on their way over.”

  “Thank you.” Her stomach warmed.

  “Not a problem. They’ll stay until the press gives up.”

  “What if this siege lasts a week?”

  “It probably won’t, but I’m paying them.”

  “You shouldn’t have to do that.”

  “I can afford it. And you’re worth it. You’re worth all the gold in the world to me.”

  His words curled around her heart.

  “Garrett.” A male voice in the background. “Come on. We gotta rehearse.”

  “I’d love to talk to you all day, but I gotta go. Rehearsal with the band.”

  Lyrics from “Beth” seared through her memory. The classic love song by the rock band Kiss had been a favorite. Until Garrett’s long-ago words before he left for Nashville: Will you be my Beth?

  A chill moved through her. No, she would never be Garrett’s Beth. She would not endlessly wait for Garrett Steele to come home.

  “Goodbye, Garrett.”

  “Goodbye? What happened to talk to you later?”

  Music started up in the background.

  “I don’t think you should call me anymore.”

  “But you said I could.” Hurt rang in his tone. “Just to talk.”

  “Come on, Garrett,” a male voice called.

  “You need to go.”

  “Not until we get this settled. You said I could call you.”

  “That was before the press camped out in my yard. It’s better if we cut all ties.”

  “But—”

  “Garrett!” The male voice in the background again. More insistent this time.

  “I’m coming,” he snapped.

  “Goodbye, Garrett.” She pressed End and closed her eyes.

  “You okay?” Caitlyn’s elbow nudged her in the ribs.

  “Fine.”

  “You’re crazy.” Natalie sighed.

  “I was crazy to get anywhere near him again. He’s sending a couple of security guys over to keep the reporters at bay.”

  “And you honestly think it’s better this way?” Caitlyn settled a hand on her arm.

  “Yes.” Who was she kidding? Seeing him again had stirred up all the feelings she’d long tried to bury. There was no getting over Garrett Steele. Ever.

  “Um.” Tori stood in the doorway with her hand pressed to her forehead. “Is this some kind of weird family powwow?”

  Jenna had almost forgotten her guest.

  “Get down.” Jenna jabbed her finger at the floor.

  Tori slid to the floor right where she was. “What’s going on?”

  A fit of laughter bubbled up inside Jenna. They must look ridiculous lined up against the sink cabinet. Yet, it wasn’t funny.

  “Morning, Tori.” Caitlyn smiled as if no
thing were amiss.

  “It was late when we got home last night, so Tori stayed here.”

  “Sorry about...everything.” Tori’s gaze dropped to the floor.

  “Come on, Nat. Let’s go in the living room.” Caitlyn—on all fours—crawled in that direction.

  Natalie giggled but followed. “This reminds me of Grandma Wentworth crawling all over her house every night because some doctor told her it was good exercise.”

  After the crawling convoy disappeared down the hall, Jenna got on her knees, poured Tori a cup of coffee and scooted over beside her.

  “So, how do you feel?”

  “Like somebody pumped paint stripper into my head.” Tori’s hand shook as she took the coffee cup. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

  “No problem.”

  “Anybody else would have left me in Dallas and let me find my own way home.”

  “Probably.”

  “So, why didn’t you?”

  “Because I care.”

  Tori swiped a tear away. “I’m dying to know why we can’t stand up.”

  Gravel crunched outside.

  “More family coming to crawl around with us?” Tori sipped her coffee.

  “No.”

  A car door slammed, followed by chatter from several voices. Several motors started, and more gravel crunched. The rumble of engines faded in the distance and finally, blessed silence.

  “I think it’s over now.” Jenna stood and peered out the window. Nothing. She took Tori’s cup and helped her stand. “I’m under attack. By reporters.”

  “Because of the concert?”

  “If you dare to even think this is cool or talk to any reporters, I’ll kill you.”

  “Please do.” Tori closed her eyes. “Put me out of my misery.”

  “Why don’t you go back to bed?” Jenna put her arm around Tori’s shoulders.

  “Best idea I’ve heard in ages.” Tori hung on to Jenna as if she were a lifeline.

  Jenna wasn’t. But she knew just the lifeline Tori needed. And it would be easy if Tori stayed another night.

  * * *

  At the back of the sanctuary, Jenna took a deep breath. Nothing like church to calm the nerves and forget your worries. Why couldn’t everyone realize Jesus was better than any drug or drink?

  Wearing one of Jenna’s dresses, Tori, usually self-assured and confident, clutched the back pew. White-knuckled, as if she might bolt any second rather than go any farther.

  At least they hadn’t had to fight reporters to get here. Thanks to two beefy security guys camped in Jenna’s yard this morning.

  “Come on.” She linked her arm through Tori’s and propelled her friend forward. Please, Jesus, do Your work on her.

  “Can’t we sit in the back?”

  “I usually sit on the fifth pew. It won’t kill you.”

  Several people welcomed them and she introduced Tori. No one mentioned the concert ordeal. A teenage girl darted in her direction, but the girl’s mother called her back.

  Close call. She didn’t want to talk about Garrett. Or think about him. Or even acknowledge his existence.

  For the first time in—she couldn’t even remember when—she’d missed Sunday school. But there’d been no way she could have gotten Tori going any earlier.

  Her parents, uncle and aunt, and Caitlyn and Mitch, lined her family pew—everyone except Lane and Natalie, who attended a different church.

  “Jenna.” Mama’s eyes held worried questions. Questions Jenna didn’t want to answer. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She managed a big smile. “You remember Tori?”

  “I’m still reeling from finding out Jenna knew Garrett Steele.” Tori giggled.

  And reeling from something else. Jenna wasn’t sure if it was drugs or alcohol. Must have a stash in her purse. Jenna’s blood burned. What if they’d gotten in a fender bender this morning?

  She filed in and sat by Caitlyn, leaving room for Tori next to her mom.

  “Aunt Millie’s here again,” Caitlyn whispered. “She’s still not a Christian. Pray she’ll hear something that’ll change her mind.”

  Caitlyn and Natalie’s aunt had gotten involved in an abusive relationship, been missing for thirty years and only recently come home to reunite with her grown son. “I’ll help you pray for Millie and you help me pray for Tori.”

  “Done. We’re all going to lunch afterward. Natalie and Lane are coming once their service ends. Maybe you and Tori can join us.”

  “Sure.” After she made Tori empty her purse. She’d warn her cousins—not one word about Garrett. Jenna blew out a big breath. Concentrate on Jesus. And Tori.

  The piano player began a hymn and everyone took their seats. She sent up a prayer for Tori and Millie as the song service began. Three hymns later, the music faded away and the pastor approached the pulpit.

  Jenna watched Tori from under her lashes throughout the entire service. As the pastor poured out the message of salvation through Christ, Tori seemed bored—picking at her nails, her gaze downcast. Was she even listening?

  The altar call came and her cousins’ aunt went forward and knelt. At least one soul had been stirred. Tori seemed unfazed by it all.

  * * *

  The baby grand in the corner of his suite tugged at Garrett. He settled on the bench and picked out a melody. His fingers followed the notes without him even thinking. “Amazing Grace.” His hands stilled. Why was he thinking about such things? That was a long time ago.

  But since he’d seen Jenna again, he’d been thinking a lot about the past, what used to matter and how simple his life had once been.

  The hot tea with honey failed to soothe his raw throat. Somebody must have shoved a bottle cleaner down his throat while he slept. Maybe he should have taken his doctor’s advice and ended the tour early to rest his voice. He longed for a glass of iced, sweet tea, but Amanda swore by this elixir.

  Back-to-back concerts for the past two nights had done him no favors. But at least he didn’t have another concert for five whole days. Oklahoma for five days. He didn’t know a soul in Oklahoma, and even if he did, he was a prisoner in his hotel room no matter what state the hotel happened to be in.

  His phone buzzed, doing a vibrating dance across the bench beside him. He grabbed it before it fell. Jenna’s number.

  “Jenna?” His surprise echoed in his tone.

  “I had reporters everywhere.” Panic laced her voice. “The police had to come.”

  “What about my security guys?”

  “At my store, Garrett. At the Stockyards. My store was crawling with reporters. My customers couldn’t get in.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll send more security guys to cover your store.”

  “And then they’ll find out where I go to church. And where I grocery shop.”

  “Sounds like one exciting life you live.” He tried to lighten things up with a chuckle.

  “I can’t live like this, Garrett.” Her voice broke on the verge of tears.

  “I’ll hire a bodyguard.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I want to help you.” He stood and paced the large suite. “I got you into this mess.”

  “I give. I’ll do the press conference.”

  Garrett couldn’t contain his smile. Even though she was upset and he’d caused her problems, this meant he’d see her again. Soon.

  “I’ll set everything up and get back with you.”

  “Soon, Garrett. Make it soon.”

  “ASAP. You’re at the top of my priority list.” Where she should have been all along.

  “In the meantime, I guess I’ll take you up on more security.”

  “Done.”

  “Thanks.” The
line went dead.

  Now all he had to do was find a neutral zone for the press conference. And contact the media. He needed someone in the know.

  Natalie.

  They’d talked at the Aubrey Car Show last spring and she’d given him her card. He scanned the address book in his phone. Had he kept her number?

  Yes. He punched the number in.

  “Natalie Gray, publicist. How may I help you?”

  “I need someone in the know to set up a press conference for me.”

  “I’m assuming this is Garrett.”

  “Sorry, I forget the pleasantries when I’m on a mission.”

  “Don’t you have a publicist?”

  “He’s the one who leaked the concert footage of Jenna to the press. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s fired as soon as I reach him. Know any good publicists?”

  She laughed. “I’m already employed by the Fort Worth Stockyards.”

  “I’ll pay more.”

  “Does the name Wentworth ring a bell? Money doesn’t talk to me.”

  “Jenna’s agreed to a press conference. I’ve ruined her life and I need you to help me with damage control.”

  Several seconds of silence ticked past. Must have gotten her attention.

  “We’ll talk. In the meantime, give me a date and time. I’ll set things up and get back with you.”

  “Thanks, Nat.”

  Now all he had to do was convince the world he didn’t love Jenna. Tall order.

  * * *

  Four miserable days since making the stupidest decision of her life had landed Jenna here with her privacy up for public consumption. The world’s biggest honky-tonk, Billy Bob’s Texas, for a press conference.

  With Garrett.

  Jenna hadn’t been here since local bull rider Clay Warren retired. She’d gone to school with Clay, and following his career had been fun. And now they were family, sort of, since her cousin had married his.

  Kendra, photographer extraordinaire and Natalie’s best friend, dusted powder across Jenna’s nose with a big fluffy brush.

  A tickle started and her eyes watered. “Ah ah ah achoo.”

  “Oh, dear.” Caitlyn dabbed under Jenna’s eyes with a sponge. “There. All fixed.”

  Jenna looked in the lit bathroom mirror. Garish makeup—way overdone. She barely recognized herself and grabbed a tissue. “It’s way too much.”