Cowboy, It's Cold Outside

by Lori Wilde

  Fresh sadness washed over her, an ocean of sorrow.

  She turned on the Christmas trees to cheer herself up, but they only served to deepen her grief. She watched the lights, ensnared in a melancholy trance as she studied the details of the tree, the lights, the ornaments, the cranking sound of the mechanism that operated a twirling gold star, the sharp, earthy scent of pine and bark, the shine of a red light glinting off silver tinsel. Marinating mindfully in the moment, fully aware that she was orchestrator of her own life. For better or worse, she had created this experience.

  How tiny her world had been, how narrow her perspective. Until Cash had come into her life, she’d known little beyond small-town Texas. It occurred to her she was scared of that larger perspective, that expanded worldview he’d opened up to her.

  Was that secretly part of the reason she’d broken up with him? Because she lacked the knowledge about the complexities of that bigger life beyond her comfortable borders? Because she was afraid to grab hold of a wilder, bolder happening and run with it? Because, ultimately, she had trouble accepting help? That she believed she had to do everything on her own?

  What if she called him? Told him she’d made a mistake? Asked his forgiveness? Told him she loved him too?

  Her pulse quickened. What if, what if, what if?

  Racked with qualms, she turned her attention back to her phone, picked it up with trembling hands.

  Let him go to his destiny or call him back?

  She was struck with the awful feeling that no matter what she did, it would be wrong. Paige hung on the horns of uncertainty and hope, fingers poised over his speed dial number on the screen.

  What to do, what to do? Give me a sign!

  Something fell from the back of her phone case, and fluttered to the floor. She leaned over to see what it was.

  Simone Bishop’s business card.

  Paige heaved in a heavy breath. She’d asked for a sign and here it was, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt, no matter how much it hurt, what she had to do next.

  Cash woke the next morning in Emma’s spare room. He’d come to her place to crash until he could get his act together and decide where to go from here.

  It was almost noon and there was an empty pint bottle of Wild Turkey 101 on the bedside table, confirming what his throbbing headache already told him. Yep, he killed it last night and in a desperate attempt to bury the pain Paige had ripped through him.

  Hadn’t worked.

  He could not stop thinking about her. The image of her face, when she’d told him that he couldn’t really be in love with her because he’d idealized her, was embedded deeply in his brain. Her hazel eyes, sensual lips, those damn adorable cinnamon freckles, haunted him. Planted firmly in his cerebral cortex, growing bigger, wilder, and more impractical each passing minute. No expunging that picture.

  Or her.

  She was imprinted upon him forever.

  Cash sat up on the side of the bed, dropping his face into his palms as he waited for the dizziness to pass. How had he managed to screw up the one precious thing he’d ever held in his hands?

  His cell phone rang.

  The noise blasted through him. He winced, cradled his head.

  The phone rang again.

  He reached for it, contemplated flinging it against the wall. But what if it was Paige? He cracked open one eye, stared at the screen.

  Simone.

  He groaned and came within inches of throwing it at the wall, but Emma was a good friend to him. She didn’t deserve a hole in her Sheetrock.

  Viciously, he punched the accept button and snarled, “What do you want?”

  “Good morning to you too,” Simone chirped, cheery as a damn robin.

  “Simone, I don’t have the—”

  “Sympathies over Sepia.”

  “Did you call to gloat? If so, I’m hanging up right now.”

  “Don’t hang up, Cash.”

  “Why not?”

  “Good news.”

  “What’s that?” he asked suspiciously.

  “You have been invited to Apex’s Christmas Eve party.”

  He grunted. “Why?”

  “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. If you want access to the Apex execs, get your ass on a plane to Los Angeles.”

  Cash hesitated. One part of him was already plotting quick-footed networking, but another part of him whispered, You really want jump back into the frying pan?

  “Deet pulled strings?”

  “No,” she said in a crisp, matter-of-fact voice. “I did.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you want this or not?”

  “What does Snake think about it?”

  “He’s on board.”

  “Even after that little social media flurry?”

  “He knows that’s bullshit.”

  “Did he see that picture of you kissing me?”

  “Honey, that was all publicity.” She laughed, a self-assured sound that she knew how to use as a weapon.

  “You knew paparazzi were following you?”

  “Duh. You didn’t really think I was trying to start something up with you again?”

  Well, yeah, kinda. “No.”

  “I’m glad since you didn’t kiss me back. How embarrassing would that have been?”

  “You enjoy messing with people’s heads, don’t you, Sim?”

  “Listen, come to the party, or don’t come. Who cares? I’m hanging up now.”

  The connection clicked off in his ear.

  Now he had a purpose. He might not even want to go with Apex, but it wouldn’t hurt to go to the party and schmooze. More importantly, it would keep him from moping around here, pining over Paige.

  He got dressed and went into the kitchen where he found Emma baking cookies with Lauren.

  “Look who finally decided to roll out of bed,” Emma greeted him.

  “Is there coffee?” He grunted.

  Emma nodded at the single-serving coffeemaker on the far corner of the counter. “We’re not big coffee drinkers, especially at noon. Help yourself.”

  Cash got a mug down from the cupboard, shambled to the coffeemaker.

  “You wanna cookie, Unca Cash?” Lauren asked.

  He cringed at the high-pitch of her little-girl voice. The last thing he wanted was anything to eat, much less a cookie. The Wild Turkey hangover was telling him food was not a good idea.

  “I’m good, sweetheart.”

  “I know you’re good.” Lauren giggled. She crawled off the stepstool she’d been standing on and came over to hold a cookie up at him. “But I baked it myself, just for you.”

  He shot a glance at Emma, who raised her eyebrows at him, giving no sympathy at all. “What kind are they?”

  Lauren stuck her tongue through the gap where she’d recently lost a tooth, gave him the most beguiling grin. “Your favorite.” She stuck the caramel apple cookie up to his mouth and he had no choice but to take a bite. “Matchmaking cookies.”

  “Matchmaking cookies?” Cash mumbled around a mouthful of cookie. “What are matchmaking cookies?”

  “Cookies that make you fall in love, silly.” Lauren laughed.

  Huh?

  Emma looked away, busying herself with measuring flour, but she didn’t fool Cash.

  He stepped to the cookbook she had open on the counter and sure enough there was a recipe for matchmaker cookies. “What the hell, Em?”

  “Ahmm.” Lauren slapped a palm over her mouth. “You said a bad word.”

  “Honey.” Emma put a hand to her daughter’s back. “Could you go get me apples from the pantry in the garage?”

  “Sure, Mommy.” Lauren took off after apples.

  Cash waggled the half-eaten cookie at her. “You’ve been feeding me matchmaker cookies? Trying to fix me up with Paige?”

  Emma made a face. “Just a bit of fun.”

  “So you’re the cause of my broken heart?” he growled. He didn’t really blame Emma, of course, but it felt good to take her t
o task for her failed attempt at playing matchmaker.

  “You two are so good together,” Emma said, her shoulders sagging. “I just didn’t want to see you mess it up.”

  “Too late. I already did.”

  “I know.” She sighed. Folded her arms over her chest, leaned her butt against the counter, and faced him.

  “Look, Emma, thanks for the room and all, but I just decided I’m going to California as soon as I can get on a plane.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Simone wrangled me an invitation to Apex’s Christmas Eve party.”

  “Oh, Cash, do you think that’s a good idea? Is this about Apex or about Simone?” She looked alarmed.

  “Simone’s not trying to get me back.”

  “You sure?”

  “Pretty sure. She and Snake seem tight.”

  Emma sighed again, stronger and longer this time. “But Christmas is only five days away.”

  “There’s nothing for me here, Em. After Paige . . .” He shrugged, unable to say anything more on that topic. “If I don’t go and make a pitch to Apex, I won’t even have my career.”

  Emma sank her hands on her hips, nostrils flaring. “I have just one thing to say to you right now.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If you don’t go make things right with Paige before you leave, Cash Henry Colton, you’re a damn fool.” Then she threw a matchmaker cookie at him and stalked out of the room.

  Chapter 23

  Key: System of notes or tones based on and named after the key note.

  Call him a damn fool, but he was in California on Christmas Eve, walking into the swanky Beverly Hills Hotel.

  He arrived in the Ferrari that Simone and Snake had rented for him. It had been waiting for him at LAX. And though, no lying, the sports car was fun to drive, for some crazy reason he kept thinking about his first vehicle, an old farm truck given to him by his grandfather as a reward for helping bring in the hay harvest.

  Security stopped him before he reached the ballroom where the party was being held, and asked for his credentials. He half expected to be turned back. Ha-ha joke’s on you, courtesy of Simone.

  But no, he was on the list. This way, Mr. Colton. Welcome to the Beverly Hills Hotel.

  As a musician he’d been to more than his fair share of all kinds of parties, but this had to be one of the fancier shindigs he’d attended. Simone had texted him two words about that.

  Tux, dude.

  He was prepared. He fit right in. Glitterati to the left of him, glitterati to the right. He was in the big middle of it all. Shiny. Pretty. Lights. Colors. Open bar. Ice sculptures. Chocolate fountains. Sports figures. Actors. Artists. The “in” crowd. Sexy Santa, ripped physique, only in Hollywood. Live band onstage. Hottest act currently burning up the pop charts.

  Top of the world. Stuff of teenage wet dreams. Fantasies come true.

  A hundred different conversations. Humming. Buzzing. Talking, talking, talking. Everyone talking and no one listening. Lips moving. Teeth flashing. I. Me. My. Mine.

  This was the pinnacle of success?

  Glossy.

  Slick.

  Glib.

  Superficial.

  He stood in the middle of the room, in an expensive tuxedo, surrounded by the rich and famous, the hungry and desperate. People everywhere, crowded in on each other, all vying for top billing. So many people would give their eyeteeth to change places with him.

  And he’d never in his life felt this degree of lonely.

  None of it meant a damn thing without Paige.

  “Cash!” Simone’s voice cut through the noise. “There you are.”

  He turned. Relieved to see her in the sea of faces, Snake at her side.

  They took one look at each other. Snake held out his arms. Hesitating for only a beat, Cash brought it in, clapped his old buddy and bandmate into a masculine embrace that quickly dissolved into shoulder pounding and feigned fisticuffs.

  In that snap of a moment, all was forgiven between them, the past swept away by a friendship that spanned more than a decade.

  Cash turned to Simone. “Hey, thank you for wrangling me an invitation to the party. That was nice of you.”

  “I didn’t do it for you.” Simone shot him a pitying look that sent his stomach crashing sideways and he had no idea why.

  Cash cocked his head, puzzled and sizing her up. “What did you do it for?”

  “Several reasons.” She offered one of those enigmatic smiles that drove him bonkers. “One, so the three of us could finally mend fences . . .”

  Snake nodded. He was on board.

  “Two,” Simone went on. “I did it for Paige.”

  “Paige?” Huh? “I don’t get it.”

  Simone shrugged, casual, not really invested. “She asked me to.”

  “Paige asked you to get me invited to the party?” It still wasn’t sinking in.

  “She asked me if I could find a way to help your career and the party leaped to mind.”

  Cash’s head whirled. “Why?”

  “Why did she ask or why did I agree?”

  “Both.”

  “I agreed because I felt sorry for her. I know what it’s like to want your attention and not get it.”

  “But why did Paige ask you to lure me to LA? Especially if she wants my attention? You’d think the last thing she’d want is for me to go to a party with my ex.”

  “Who knows? Maybe she’s desperately in love with you and she’s doing that whole if-you-love-something-set-it-free thing to see if you’ll fly back to her of your own accord. Maybe she gets that she can never have you because of that insane belief of yours that love kills creativity. Maybe she wants you as far away from her as she can get so she can start healing. Or hey . . .” Simone lifted her shoulders and her hands. “Maybe the girl just be cray-cray. Wouldn’t be the first time you drove a woman nuts.”

  His stomach, which had already crashed sideways, fell off an embankment and hit the ground with a hard, smashing jolt.

  “As to why I agreed to finagle you an invitation? Well, now, champagne is in order,” Simone announced, and flagged down a passing waiter. Held up four fingers.

  “What are we celebrating?” Cash asked.

  “This . . .” Simone motioned for someone in the crowd to come over as the waiter dispensed flutes of champagne.

  Deet Sutton joined them, grinning from ear to ear. It felt like old home week as Cash and Deet embraced. It had been more than a year since the four of them had been in the same room together.

  “Simone tell you yet?” Deet asked.

  Cash looked from Deet to Simone to Snake. They were wearing best-night-of-my-life smiles.

  “In the wake of that viral video of you singing ‘Danke Schoen’ to the old lady . . . how many hits he got now, Sim?” Deet asked Simone.

  Simone looked like a cat licking cream off her face. “Ten million in six days.”

  “Apex sat up and took notice. They’ve made an offer. If you agree to team up with Snake and Simone.” Deet went on to name a monetary figure so high Cash blinked.

  “What kind of sound are they wanting?” Cash asked.

  Deet shifted his weight, but not his smile. “The sound that made you a star in the first place.”

  That’s what Cash figured, more of the same old, same old.

  “And they’d like it if you’d grow the hair and beard back.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “All right, that last bit’s not a deal breaker, just a suggestion. But for the music: stick with what works,” Deet said, his voice taking on the quality of steel-toed boots. He repeated Apex’s extravagant offer. “Money talks . . .”

  “Here we go.” Simone raised her champagne flute. “To success!”

  Snake and Deet both raised their glasses, looked at Cash expectantly.

  Cash held his champagne flute between two fingers, did not lift it. “I need time to think about this.”

  “What’s there to think about?�
� Simone asked. “It doesn’t get any bigger than this, Cash. You’ve arrived. This is everything you ever wanted. A seven-figure deal with the recording house of your dreams.”

  With two major strings attached. He had to keep making the same kind of music and he had to work with Simone and Snake.

  Been there. Done that.

  Did he really want to stagnate?

  What would he do if he didn’t take the offer? Paige had chopped off their relationship, and he had no idea if his new creative direction, which had come alive because of her, was viable without her.

  Forget that. Bigger question. Was he viable without her?

  But what did he have to offer her? He knew nothing about maintaining long-term relationships. He’d spent his life avoiding them. His entire focus from the time he was ten years old had been music and his career. Who was he without that?

  The thoughts that had been plaguing him since Paige told him it was over circled like voracious buzzards.

  The ballad of his life’s story didn’t make sense to him anymore. He thought he was following the script laid out by his mother. Forsake love and you’ll be rewarded with musical success beyond your wildest hopes and dreams. But lately he kept finding himself plunged into verse and rhyme that he didn’t understand. Music of a different genre. Off-beat tempo. Out-of-step rhythm. Ideas that challenged everything he believed were true about the world.

  He put the champagne down on a vacant table, shook his head.

  “Seriously?” Simone stared at him as if he’d lost his mind, and maybe he had. “You’re saying no?”

  “I’m saying I need some air.”

  “I told you he’d flake,” Snake mumbled to Simone. “The man talks a good game but he can’t run it into the end zone.”

  “What the hell, Colton?” Deet snorted. “I flew to LA to put this deal together.”

  Cash walked away. Stalked out of the room. Almost ran down the hall, past security, to the lobby. His heart was a hammer in his chest, pounding with a righteous beat.

  “Cash! Cash Colton, is that you?”

  At the sound of the familiar voice, Cash stopped in his tracks.

  There stood Freddie Frank, a living legend in the business. On his arm was Maxi, his wife of forty years.