Rodeo Song

by Shannon Taylor Vannatter

  “See you later.” Natalie waved and slipped out.

  “I don’t understand. Why are you performing at Cowtown for two months?”

  “Natalie needed someone to fill in and I suggested me.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s home. Cowtown was the first place I performed outside of church and high school.” Garrett drew in a big breath as if he savored it. Manure and all. “I wanted a break from touring and time to get to know my new nephew. But I didn’t want my star to fade in the meantime. Cowtown needed a singer. I needed something to keep me in the news. We both win.”

  “This is why you got the haircut.” She pulled the rim of his hat down. “And the hat.”

  “Partly. I’m not sure anybody could pull off singing at Cowtown without a cowboy hat.” He checked his watch. “My second set’s coming up.”

  “I better get out of here.” Before someone stumbled upon them. “I’d prefer not to make the news again.”

  “Nat and my security detail are the only ones who have access to me. They’ll get us to the car. I can leave right after my set. Unless you want to stay.”

  If she had a brain, she’d ride with Nat. She stifled a yawn. “Early is good for me. I’ve got this difficult client who won’t make a decision and he’s wearing me out.”

  “I’ll try to do better tomorrow.” He shot her a grin.

  And her heart tumbled.

  Do not throw yourself into his arms.

  Instead, she scurried out the door and hurried back to Nat’s box seats.

  “Interesting visit?” Nat lifted a brow.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He wants a break without fading out of the spotlight. Him singing here will be big news and allow him time for his family. And you.”

  “I’m his decorator. That’s all.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  As Caitlyn exited the arena with a sponsor flag, Garrett entered again and the crowd erupted into pandemonium. Music began, but Jenna couldn’t identify the song because of the deafening noise.

  Finally, the crowd quieted and strains of “One Day” rang clear. Great. Just what she needed to hear to keep her heart in check.

  * * *

  Week two—Operation: Win Jenna’s Heart. Garrett made smooth strokes with the roller across the longest wall in the great room. But he’d rather stare at Jenna.

  “I can’t believe you picked the color so quickly,” she said from behind him.

  The only reason he hadn’t pulled his indecisive act was because she wouldn’t have come today to bring the paint. He’d have to spend more painstaking time on the next decision to make up for it. He dipped the roller in the tray and stole a glance at her. “I did another interview with Sammie this morning. Did you see it?”

  “Sorry. I missed it.”

  “Basically an advertisement for the rodeo. Cowtown management is hoping crowds will pick up if everyone knows I’m there.”

  “The coliseum may not hold them all.” She shouldered her purse. “You’re doing a nice painting job. I’ll leave you to it.”

  “No.” He swung around to face her. “I was hoping you’d do my corners.”

  Her mouth twitched. “I had several men available for this job, but you said you wanted to do it yourself. So, you can do your own corners.”

  “How long’s it been since you painted? It’s very relaxing.” He picked up a brush and slid it into her hand.

  “I haven’t painted since I was just starting out in this business. It’s messy and I like what I’m wearing.”

  The jade-colored blouse brought out green flecks in her eyes and the brown jeans hugged her curves. “Me too. But I’ve got something you can wear.”

  “I think you can handle it.” She set the brush down and turned toward the door.

  “You’re breaking our contract.” He caught her hand.

  “There’s nothing in our contract about me painting.”

  “You’re supposed to supervise the entire project. If your painters were doing the painting, would you leave them to it?”

  “I’d check in now and then.”

  “Do you have any idea how long it’ll take me to do all this painting by myself?”

  Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, all right.”

  “I’ll get you a shirt.” Regretfully, he let go of her hand and set his roller in the tray. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  He fished an old, long-sleeved shirt out of his walk-in closet and headed back to the great room. “This should do it.”

  “That’s a perfectly good shirt.”

  “It’s old. I haven’t worn it in years.” He held up the shirt to help her into it.

  “I can get it.”

  “I can help.” He helped her shrug into it. It swallowed her slight shoulders and hung almost to her knees. Too cute. And sexy. He could totally see her as his wife, wearing his shirt.

  If only he could kiss her until she promised to never walk away from him again.

  She turned away—interrupting his fantasy—and tackled the corners.

  Hoping to speed the project along. He’d see about that.

  But he couldn’t stop time. The hours flew by. With her hair in a ponytail and his no longer long enough, they worked side by side. As if they were newly married and redecorating their first house together.

  As the afternoon turned into evening, his elbow grazed hers and his heart thrummed a response.

  “Did anybody ever tell you, you look cute with paint on your nose?” He caught her chin and gently wiped the tip of her nose with a tissue.

  “Is it gone?” Her gaze locked with his.

  “Not quite.” He dabbed again and with each dab his face drew closer to hers.

  She pulled away, took a step back. “I’ll take care of it. It’s getting late and I need to get my catalogs together for you to choose your furnishings and fabric tomorrow.”

  “Jenna, don’t leave. You can help me finish the walls.”

  “I’ll be back tomorrow.” She shrugged out of his paint-spattered shirt and handed it to him.

  At least she planned to come back. At least a week’s worth of painting remained. With Jenna. And then they’d get to tackle the rest of the rooms. Plenty of alone time. But not enough for a lifetime. He had to win her for a lifetime.

  * * *

  An entire week of painting followed as April dawned and then another week of tiling. Three men laid tile in the kitchen and dining area, their tools clattering and scraping with progress.

  And Garrett couldn’t think straight. But not because of renovations. Because of Jenna. If he completely focused on her, he could even forget the impending phone call.

  “So, it totally doesn’t matter to me if you want prefab furniture or something exclusive from my store, but I need to know what you have in mind.” Jenna tucked her hair behind her ear and sat down on the completed great-room floor beside him. “But this sitting-on-the-floor thing has to stop.”

  His bare foot was almost touching hers. He couldn’t get past her tantalizing perfume. A hint of citrus and something flowery. Like Jenna—sweet—but tart if you crossed her.

  “Garrett? At least look at the catalog.” Her elbow bumped his and his pulse quickened.

  “I’m sorry. All the renovation is distracting.”

  A convenient distraction to blame his absent brain on.

  “This is the same line as your chair.” She pointed to a picture. “Do you want to order the couch and a few more chairs to go with it?”

  Something ordered from her store would take longer. “No, I only bought that chair so I’d have somewhere to relax during the renovations. I want something with your touch. Something unique.”

  “Okay.” She dumped the catalog in the pile beside h
er and picked up a thick book of fabric swatches. “I narrowed the selection down by bringing only the colors that will blend with or accent the tile and walls.”

  Perfect. This could take years.

  “You’ll need to pick a fabric and design.” She unfolded a large laminated board showing several different styles of couches and chairs and spread it in front of him.

  “One Day” began playing. He dug his cell from his pocket. Dr. Vincent. “Sorry, I need to take this.” He vaulted for the front door.

  Garrett paced circles around the fountain in the courtyard. With a big breath, he closed his eyes and answered. “Dr. Vincent.”

  “Mr. Steele. I have your tests back. I’m afraid you have a polyp on your vocal cord. I’ll need to do further testing, and no matter what tests reveal, it’ll have to be removed.”

  Garrett sank to the porch swing. “Further testing for what?”

  “There’s always a possibility a growth like you have could be cancerous. But it’s not a given. And even if it is cancer, it’s possible it hasn’t spread.”

  “Will I sing again?” Or even live—if it was cancer. But he couldn’t bring himself to ask the rest of it.

  “I can’t make any guarantees. Once we find out what we’re dealing with, I’m recommending a doctor in Boston for the surgery. He’s performed successful surgeries on several famous singers.”

  “Can you send me something on him?”

  “Of course. I’ll email you some information and references. In the meantime, we need to set up an appointment for the biopsy. Perhaps tomorrow?”

  “So soon.” He pushed his hair back. Nothing to ponytail.

  “We need to move fast. Just in case.”

  “If I have the biopsy, will I be able to sing this weekend?”

  “You’re not supposed to be singing period. But no, after the biopsy, you’ll need to rest your voice. No speaking or singing for ten days.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible. I signed a contract to perform two songs at the Stockyards Championship Rodeo every Friday and Saturday through mid-May.”

  “Mr. Steele, I’ve repeatedly cautioned you to rest your voice.”

  Garrett chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood. “I consider two nights a week rest.”

  “Trust me, your vocal cords don’t. And if we’re dealing with cancer, there’s no time to waste.”

  “I appreciate your advice.” Garrett traced a tile with his toe.

  “Mr. Steele, we need to do the biopsy, ASAP.”

  “I can’t. It will have to wait until mid-May.”

  “In the next five weeks, you could further damage your voice.” There was no compromise in the doctor’s stern tone. “And if the polyp is cancerous, it could spread.”

  “I realize that, but there’s nothing I can do.”

  “I see.” The doctor sighed. “I’ll set up the appointment and have my nurse call you. In the meantime, I’ll pray for you, Mr. Steele.”

  “Thanks.” Garrett’s throat closed up.

  He ended the call, blew out a big breath and pressed the phone against his chest. A biopsy. Something cold and hard twisted in his stomach. Cancer. Would he even get a second chance with Jenna?

  Pull it together. Don’t let her know anything is up. He shoved the phone back in his pocket and headed inside.

  Determination dwelled in the rigid lines of her shoulders. She sat on the floor where he’d left her. Determined he’d make a decision today. Determined to finish this job so she could walk away from him.

  “Leather and paisley go nice together.” Jenna held the swatch against the newly tiled great-room floor, smoothing her hand over the velvety paisley in shades of rust and light green. “We could go with something like this for accent chairs and throw pillows.”

  Garrett stared at the swatch.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine.”

  But would he ever be fine again? More than anything, he wanted to hold her. To draw comfort from her. But he had to keep it together.

  “I like paisley.”

  * * *

  Jenna stopped at his fence and punched in the password. The iron gates slid open.

  Last week’s phone call had distracted Garrett, making him even more indecisive. Who had called him? A woman? Her stomach twisted.

  Today, he’d make a decision if she had to choke it out of him. They were into mid-April now, and if he kept procrastinating, she couldn’t finish the project by deadline. Other clients were waiting, but besides that, she needed to finish this for her sanity. And leave Garrett behind once and for all.

  Sloping hills, horses grazing, the gently lapping lake, miles of tranquillity. No wonder Garrett had fallen in love with the ranch. She rounded a curve and the ranch house appeared.

  Three knocks roused no one. She walked around the side of the huge house.

  Garrett paced beside the pool, on the phone. She started back to the front to wait and give him privacy.

  “No, Dr. Vincent, I haven’t changed my mind.”

  Her steps faltered and her heart crashed into the wall of her chest. Doctor? Was Garrett sick? She shouldn’t listen. But if Garrett was sick—she had to know. She hovered beside the house, straining to hear, and peeked around the corner.

  “I understand that, but I’ll see you in mid-May as planned.”

  Something was wrong.

  “My voice is holding up and my throat is better since my tour ended.” He ran a hand through his hair and it didn’t take as long as it once had.

  His throat. Maybe his voice needed rest.

  “Yes, I’ll be there.” He ended the call.

  “Garrett?” Her voice came out too high as she stepped out of her hiding place.

  He spun around to face her.

  “What was that about?”

  “You heard?”

  “I didn’t mean to. You didn’t answer the door, so I walked around. Why are you making an appointment with a doctor?”

  His shoulders slumped and he turned away from her.

  “Tell me.” Her knees quaked as she neared him. She was getting way too involved, but she couldn’t help herself. She needed to know the truth.

  Chapter 12

  “I started having problems with my throat midtour. It felt irritated after each performance. I was hoarse, and my range wasn’t as wide.” Garrett started pacing again.

  Just his voice. She could deal with that. He could deal with that. He needed rest. Her insides settled.

  “I called my doctor. He wanted to see me, but I figured he’d want me to cancel the tour. I couldn’t let my fans down, so I finished the tour.”

  “Have you been to see him yet?”

  “I thought it was merely strain. I thought once the tour ended, it would get better.” Eyes downcast, he nodded. “I finally went in to see him last week. I have a polyp on my vocal cord. He wants to do a biopsy.”

  Cancer. The unspoken word stole her breath and hung between them. Jenna’s vision blurred.

  Garrett stopped pacing and turned to face her. She put her arms around him.

  “I’m scared.” He clung to her.

  “Have you told your family?”

  “No. I didn’t want to worry them. Even if it’s not cancer, I don’t know if I’ll sing again.”

  “Let’s get past the biopsy first, then we’ll worry about singing.”

  “We will?” He pulled away enough to see her.

  “I can’t let you face this alone.”

  “I was hoping you’d feel that way.” His mouth smiled, but it didn’t make a dent in the fear in his eyes. “I have a confession.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been so indecisive on decor because I didn’t want to be alone with this g
oing on.”

  “All you had to do was tell me.” She whacked his shoulder with her fist.

  His gaze locked on her lips.

  With everything in her, she wanted his kiss. To comfort him and drown in him. But she couldn’t. Garrett had toned down his lifestyle, but he still hadn’t turned back to God.

  His lips dipped toward hers.

  “But none of that.” She pressed her fingers against his mouth.

  “You sure?” he whispered against her fingertips.

  And her resolve almost melted into the pool.

  “Positive.” She took a much-needed step back. “I’ll see you through this on two conditions.”

  His eyebrows lifted.

  “You keep your lips to yourself. And you make quick decisions on the house.”

  “I’ll have to have surgery. Whether it’s cancer or not. The specialist is in Boston. Will you go with me for the surgery?”

  “If you stick with my conditions.”

  “Deal.” He offered his hand.

  “And after you get the biopsy results, you have to tell your family what’s going on.”

  His gaze dropped to the patio, but he nodded.

  She clasped his hand, but he threaded his fingers through hers and led her to two chaise lounges with thick padded seats.

  “When did you get these?”

  “A few days ago. Just for today, can we not decorate?”

  “For weeks, all I’ve wanted to do is stay on schedule with this house.” She squeezed his hand. “But now...”

  “Can we chill by the pool? We could even swim if you want.”

  Swim with Garrett. Wearing swimsuits. No way. “The ‘chill’ part sounds nice.”

  “Really?” His eyes lit up. “We can move in the shade if it gets hot.”

  “So far, the sun feels nice.” She settled in the cushy chaise, but it was no comfort. “The biopsy is set up for mid-May? That’s a month away. Shouldn’t you get it done sooner?”

  “I can’t. I have to rest my voice for ten days afterward. No speaking or singing. I can’t do that since I’m contracted to sing at Cowtown every weekend.”

  “I’m sure they’d understand.” His life might be at stake. “Does Natalie know about this?”