Man From Montana

by Brenda Mott

  “Ignore them,” Kevin said, elbowing him in the side.

  “I am.”

  Danita looked puzzled, and Kara discreetly mouthed “Later.”

  Distracted, she was caught off guard when Derrick took her by the hand. “Come on. Let’s dance.” He tugged her to her feet.

  Kara froze. “Thanks, but—”

  “No excuses,” he said. “I promise I won’t bite.”

  “Go on, Kara,” Hannah urged, giving her a crooked smile, “before I decide to steal your handsome cowboy.”

  Kara opened her mouth to protest that Derrick wasn’t hers, but he silenced her by slipping an arm around her waist and guiding her out onto the polished, hardwood floor. Belatedly, she realized the band had switched to a slow love song.

  “Derrick, I don’t think this is such a good idea.” She looked directly into his eyes as he tugged her up against him.

  “Why not?” He swayed to the music, matching his hips against hers. “We’re here to have fun, Kara. Just dance with me.” His eyes begged her to give in.

  Unable to resist, Kara sighed. “All right. Just one.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, tense.

  “Relax,” he whispered against her hair. She felt him brush a kiss on the top of her head.

  After a moment, she let out a breath and felt herself relax. It felt so good to be held. Kara closed her eyes and eased into the rhythm of the music, and the sway of her body against Derrick’s. His arms felt warm and strong, and oh, so comforting. She fought the tightness in her throat. She wasn’t doing anything wrong.

  “You smell so sweet,” he said, the words tickling her ear…her senses.

  “So do you,” she answered automatically. “I mean, not sweet, but good.” Damn!

  He chuckled. “What’s wrong, Kara? You seem rattled.”

  She was rattled all right. “I’m fine.” Still leaning against Derrick, she looked around. Were people staring? Was that Lily Tate, with a plate of barbecue ribs, two tables away? Did she notice Kara in the arms of a man who wasn’t Evan? Dear God, there was Liz, not twenty feet away!

  Kara almost jumped out of her skin before she realized it was only someone with short hair wearing a shirt similar to the one Liz had worn the other night.

  Stop it.

  Kara’s pulse raced as Derrick picked that moment to sing along with the music. Softly. She let herself forget everything, except how it felt to dance with a man she’d fallen in love with. Lord help her, she could no longer deny it, and she truly couldn’t help what she felt.

  Unconsciously, Kara slid her palm along Derrick’s warm back. His muscles were hard beneath her touch. The fabric of his shirt soft and inviting. She wanted to feel his bare skin. Wanted to press her body even closer. The song ended, and he leaned down to kiss her. Kara kissed him back, their tongues touching briefly.

  “See—that wasn’t so bad,” he said. His lips curved, and he laced his fingers through hers as they headed for their table.

  Danita mouthed “Go, girl” as Kara sat down. Maybe there wasn’t any harm in enjoying a dance with Derrick.

  “Thanks,” Derrick said, holding Kara’s chair for her.

  “I’m wounded,” Connor said, clutching both hands to his chest. “I thought I was your only dance partner, Kara.”

  She laughed, glad he’d broken the tension. “You’re next,” she said, “then you, Kevin.”

  Connor started to cuff his friend in the shoulder when his gaze focused on a point beyond Kara. “Hey, there’s Lisa.” His eyes lit up. “I’ve never seen her here before.”

  Kara turned and saw her, leaning on her crutches beside a short, round woman with silver-blond hair. Lisa waved at Connor and smiled as she sat at the table a waitress had led them to.

  “That’s Kay Owens with her,” Hannah said. “Lisa’s aunt. I take care of their horses. I’ve seen the two stop here for dinner on occasion.”

  Kara started to ask Hannah why she hadn’t mentioned Lisa before, but just then someone spoke at her elbow.

  “Hey, Connor.”

  It was the pretty blonde in the low-rider jeans. She stood between Kara’s chair and Danita’s, leaning over the table in a way that gave Connor a prime view of her cleavage. Kevin’s eyes were practically bulging out of his head.

  Connor swallowed. “H-hey, Kerri. What’s up?”

  “Not much,” she said, quirking her pretty mouth in a flirty pout. “I’m just here to meet somebody.”

  “Yeah? I, uh, thought you were with Bart.” He glanced over at the tall, dark-haired boy.

  “Not tonight.” With a toss of her head, Kerri flipped her long hair over her shoulder.

  “Who’s your friend, Connor?” Derrick asked.

  Kara suddenly realized why the girl looked familiar. She was Kerri Hendricks. Her father had money, and Kerri drove a truck that probably cost more than Kara’s house.

  “Hi,” Kerri said to Derrick, flirting like crazy. “You’re the lead singer of Wild Country, aren’t you?”

  “That’s right. I’m Connor’s dad.” He held out his hand, and Kerri gave it a prim shake, then turned back to Connor.

  “I’m here to meet a rodeo cowboy, Connor. From Billings.”

  “So, why are you telling me?” His gaze dropped to the glass of Coke in front of him.

  The band picked that moment to go on break, and in the lull between the end of their set and the time it took someone to fire up the jukebox, Kara heard laughter from the next table where Bart and his buddies sat.

  What were they up to?

  She narrowed her eyes at Kerri. But the girl ignored her, continuing her little game.

  “Maybe you know him,” Kerri said. “I’m pretty sure Kevin does.”

  Kevin frowned, puzzled. “I know a couple of guys from Billings, but neither of them rodeo.”

  “Oh, I think you know this guy.” Kerri gave them a saccharine smile, then pulled a folded piece of paper out of the back pocket of her skintight jeans.

  Kara was surprised she could even get her hand inside the pocket. She watched Connor’s face as Kerri opened the paper to reveal a printed photo of a good-looking kid in western clothes, a black cowboy hat tilted at a cocky angle.

  “Look familiar?” she asked. “Montana Cowboy eighty-nine.” This last she said as though addressing Connor.

  A burst of laughter made Kara look at the next table again. Kerri’s friends were watching, clearly enjoying this.

  “Yee-haw,” Bart called. “Ride ’em, cowboy.” The others laughed even louder, staring at Connor as they relished his humiliation.

  “What’s going on here?” Derrick looked from Connor to Kerri.

  But Connor ignored his dad, facing Kevin instead, his expression furious. “You idiot!”

  “What?” Kevin stared blankly at him for a moment. “I didn’t say anything! I swear.”

  “Your secret’s out, Mertz,” Bart taunted, “you little faggot. You wish you could ride a bull!”

  “I said, what’s going on?” Derrick repeated.

  “Nothing, Mr. Mertz,” Kerri said sweetly as she turned away. “Nothing at all.”

  “The only thing you’ll ever ride is that chair,” one of the other boys called.

  “Hey.” Kara stood. “That’s enough.”

  “Shut up.” Connor thrust his wheelchair away from the table. His face was twisted with fury as he stared down Bart and his buddies. “Just shut the hell up, you assholes!” Then he reached out and shoved Kevin’s shoulder, nearly tipping him out of his chair. “I thought you were my friend. Thanks a lot.”

  “Connor.” Derrick stared at his son.

  “Leave me alone.” Connor spun around, nearly bowling down Lisa, who’d come up to the table. He stared right past her and headed for the back of the bar.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  DERRICK GOT UP to go after him.

  “No,” Kara said, laying her hand on his shoulder, “let me.” Her eyes met his. “Please. He doesn’t want his daddy running after him.”
>
  “Maybe you shouldn’t, either,” Beth said. “Besides, I think he’s headed for the bathroom.”

  “I’ll wait outside the door, then,” Kara said, hurrying away before Derrick could protest.

  Leaning against the wall just outside the doorway of the men’s room, Kara waited until it was obvious Connor wasn’t coming out. When she was pretty sure all the cowboys who’d passed by her on the way in had also passed by on the way out, Kara walked hesitantly inside.

  “Connor? Are you okay?”

  “Leave me alone.”

  “Unless you’re planning to spend the night in there, you have to come out sooner or later.” Silence. “Come on, buddy, talk to me. We can go outside if you want.”

  Connor wheeled past her out of the men’s room. His eyes were red, but he’d obviously fought the urge to cry. Kara was sure he felt beyond embarrassed.

  She laid her hand on his shoulder. “Come on.” She jerked her head toward a side exit.

  They found a quiet place in the parking lot. “You don’t have to explain what just happened back there, unless you want to.” Kara propped her booted foot on a cement parking barrier. “But whatever it was, why do you let those jerks get to you like that? It’s exactly what they want, you know—to yank your chain.”

  “I’m never going back in there again.” Connor blinked angrily, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “I’ve never felt so damned stupid in my life. God! I can’t even trust my best friend.”

  “Whoa, back up a minute.” She stared directly at him. “Are you sure you’re not jumping to conclusions? Like I said, I don’t know what’s going on, but Kevin didn’t seem to, either. I saw his face. He wasn’t lying to you.”

  “There’s no other way Kerri could’ve known…. Forget it. I just want to go home.”

  “Fine,” Kara said. “We can do that. Or, you can go back in there and face those little jackasses and show them what you’re made of.”

  Connor’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Hear that?” She jerked her head toward the building.

  “What—the band?”

  “That’s right. It’s not your dad’s band, but they are friends of his, right?”

  “He knows them, yeah. So?”

  “Go back in there, pull the lead singer aside, and ask him if you can play a song.”

  “Are you nuts? No way!”

  “Why? Connor, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why you don’t want your dad to know what a great guitar player—and singer—you are. What gives?”

  He stared at his cowboy boots, and for a minute, Kara thought he wasn’t going to answer.

  “You saw how those girls laughed at me,” he finally said. “And stupid-ass Bart Denson.” He sighed. “I went online in a chat room, and pretended to be a bull rider. I was trying to impress Kerri. Kevin must’ve told her.”

  “What makes you think it was Kevin?”

  “Because he was the only one I told.”

  “You’re sure no one else knew?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t even mean to tell him. I was logged on under the wrong screen name, and—” He broke off, frowning. “Crap. Maybe he didn’t say anything. Kerri was online right before that, and I slipped up and answered Kevin without switching to my real screen name, which everyone knows. Then I did switch, and I kept chatting with Kevin.”

  “Kerri.”

  “Yeah. Man!” He groaned and yanked his ball cap low over his eyes. “Lisa probably thinks I’m a real jerk now. I practically ran over her. How am I supposed to face her at the riding center?”

  “You’re not. You face her here, now—and Bart and Kerri and their friends, too.”

  “By singing?”

  “You got it. Chicken?” She raised her eyebrows.

  He readjusted the cap. But she could see his mind racing.

  “Come on. Your dad will be really surprised. It’ll be cool. Lisa will melt into a puddle, and Kerri will wish she hadn’t been so mean to you. I even know the perfect song, that is if you can play it.” She told him what it was.

  “I don’t know.” But he chuckled. “Jackasses, huh?”

  “Well, they are.”

  He laughed again, worrying his bottom lip. “All right.”

  “Yes!” Kara clapped him on the shoulder.

  But back inside the bar, Connor hesitated. “I don’t know if David Miller will let me use his guitar.”

  “I’m betting he will.”

  He let his breath out on a long exhale. “Okay.”

  Kara watched him go over and stop at the side of the stage. Derrick spotted him and started to get up. Kara hurried to the table, motioning him to stay put.

  “What’s going on?” he asked. “Is Connor all right?”

  “I think so. Just watch.” She sat and sipped her Coke, to give her hands something to do besides shake. She was so excited for Connor, and she knew Derrick was going to be bowled over. She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face.

  David Miller—the lead singer of Rockin’ Cowboys—stepped up to the microphone.

  “Hey, everybody, are y’all havin’ a good time tonight?”

  “Yeah!” The crowd’s collective response included whistling and cheering. Beth let out a loud whoop, and Danita put her fingers to her lips, whistling. Kevin sat quiet—he still looked hurt.

  “All right,” David said. “We’ve got a real treat for you tonight, a young man making his debut here at the Silver Spur. Y’all might know his daddy, who’s a fine guitar picker—though not as good as me.”

  Everyone laughed, including Derrick, even though he looked puzzled.

  “So, put your hands together and give a warm welcome to our own Connor Mertz!”

  The crowd cheered and roared, applauding loudly. Kara caught a glimpse of the surprise on Kerri Hendricks’s face, as well as Bart Denson’s and the rest of his bratty bunch. Derrick laid his hand on her arm. The expression on his face was priceless.

  “What’s he doing?” His mouth gaped slightly.

  “Watch and see.” Kara grinned at Danita.

  “I didn’t know Connor played the guitar, Derrick,” Hannah said.

  Derrick sat up straighter in his chair. “Neither did I.”

  CONNOR FELT yet another moment of humiliation as the drummer and the keyboard player hefted him up the four steps to the stage. But he didn’t have long to think about it as David shrugged out of his guitar strap, and handed him the Fender. “It’s all yours, son,” he said softly. “Give ’em hell.”

  Hands shaking, Connor took the guitar. He’d worried about the microphone—that it wouldn’t adjust low enough for his chair. But David gave him a headset microphone, and Connor clipped it on, then replaced his ball cap. Glad he’d worn a rad T-shirt and his best jeans, he faced the audience. The stage lights felt hot on his face, and he began to sweat immediately. He was going to make a fool of himself. He just knew it. He could barely make out his dad and Kara for the glare of the lights.

  Blocking everything from his mind, Connor ran a short warm-up lick on the guitar, then spoke into the microphone. And it was as he saw Lisa looking at him, a smile on her pretty lips, that his hands stopped shaking.

  “Hey, y’all. I’d like to dedicate this song to a certain someone in the audience.” He cast a dark look toward Kerri’s table. “You know who you are.” He glanced at Kara, and she gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

  Connor began to play. The more he got into the song, the more confident he felt. He let his voice rise on the chorus of his rendition of Toby Keith’s “How Do You Like Me Now”—a song about a girl who won’t give a boy the time of day in high school. A boy who later becomes a recording star.

  The music swept him away, and he forgot about his wheelchair, his humiliation, until he no longer gave a damn what Kerri thought of him.

  When he’d finished, he raked the pick across the strings on the final note and shouted, “Yeah!”

  The audience exploded. Not only that, they gave him a
standing ovation. A friggin’ standing ovation! He couldn’t have planned it better if he’d dreamed up a fantasy.

  “All right!” David clapped loudly as he walked back up to the microphone stand. “There he is, folks! Connor Mertz.”

  Connor felt on top of the world. He shrugged out of the guitar strap and handed the Fender back to David. Then he took off the headset. “Thanks, dude,” he said, loud enough only for David to hear.

  “Anytime, bud.” David turned to the crowd. “We’ve got another hour left of family night, folks, so let’s keep things rolling.”

  But Connor barely heard the rest of what he said, as the guys lowered him back down the steps. He was flying. Hell, he felt like he could jump out of his chair—jump out of his own skin. Kara had thought of the perfect song.

  “Eat that shithead,” he said as he passed Bart’s table.

  “Faggot hick,” Bart shot back.

  Connor reached up and high-fived Kevin, and his buddy grinned, accepting his unspoken apology.

  “Ooo, you think you’re so cool,” Bart said. “Big time gui-tar picker. Yee-haw!” He and Kerri and the others laughed.

  “Ignore them.” Kevin shot Kerri a hateful look.

  She merely folded her arms, looking down her nose at Connor.

  “I don’t like you now any better than I did before, Montana Cowboy,” she razzed. She wriggled her hips, showing off a silver belly ring. “Come on, Bart. Let’s dance to some real music.”

  The band had already started to play a toe-tapping, country-rock song.

  The elation of moments before blew out of Connor like air from a punctured tire.

  “Connor!” His dad came around the table to meet him. “My God, son, where did you learn to play like that?” He was so damned proud, Connor felt even worse.

  He had thought he was being pretty cool.

  I don’t like you now any better than I did before…Montana Cowboy.

  He’d made an ass of himself. As usual. And he’d jumped to conclusions about Kevin. He couldn’t do anything right. And now the whole school—the whole town—would know he’d pretended to be someone he wasn’t.

  His stupid song hadn’t changed anything.