Crazy for Cowboy (3 page)

“Houston,” the cowboy said. “Houston, Texas.”

Houston Saveloy from Houston, Texas? Obviously, his parents had no imagination when it came to names. If the guy had a sister, they'd probably called her Dallas.

Texas.
At least now his accent made sense. And he was a man who had apparently spent some time in the sun. But his face wasn’t weathered like most of the cowboys she knew. Maybe the guy used Oil of Olay.

“He must be hot in that coat,” one of the women at the other table muttered.

“He’s hot, period,” declared her sidekick.

Forget peripheral vision. Emily was so stunned by the exchange, she turned and looked at the older pair full on. The lady furthest away was staring openmouthed at her tablemate.

“Martha!”

“Well, I’m not wearing blinders,” Martha hissed back.

The first lady threw her napkin onto her plate in disgust. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

Emily glanced back at the cowboy. What was that spreading across his cheeks? Was the man actually blushing? How cute was that? Too bad she’d sworn off his type. She took another gulp of wine.

“If you’re in the mood for dessert, I have a suggestion.”

Emily recognized the voice. It was the cowboy who’d spoken—in a very seductive manner—but who was he talking to? She looked up to find him smiling down at her.

She swallowed. Hard.

Sure the guy was attractive. But that probably had more to do with her sick addiction to cowboys than his actual physical charms. Take off the hat, the duster, the shirt and the pants and he’d be...

Well...

Standing there naked.

Emily had a sudden flash of what that might look like and licked her lips. Talk about dessert.

She gave her head a shake. That train of thought had completely derailed and led her to a dangerous place. She tried again.

Take off the hat and the cowboy clothes and he would be...just an average guy. Probably not that cute at all. And that crack about dessert? What an obvious come-on. Was she willing to sit there and forgive such a poor pickup line?

This was it. Her big chance. The opportunity to do her part to avenge wronged women everywhere. The words, just say no to cowboys rolled around in her brain. She placed her tongue behind her back teeth and opened her mouth.

“Nnnnn-ahrg.”

A wrinkle appeared between the cowboy’s eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

Emily tried again. “Nnnnnn.” She sighed. “Nnn-o.”
Getting better.
“No.” There, the word was finally out of her mouth. “No,” she repeated with more confidence.

She felt a moment of elation. She’d actually done it, actually said no to a cowboy. It wasn’t until the man’s smile faded and he took a step backwards that she began to feel something else.

Mortification. Suddenly, she realized how rude she must have sounded.

“Excuse me, sir,” the waitress said, appearing with two steaming plates of pasta.

The cowboy moved to one side, his head lowered, his words mumbled. “Well, I’d better mosey along and let you ladies git to yur lunches.”

Emily nodded. She was afraid to open her mouth again. She’d made a royal mess of it. Or had she? This was her first step. She’d said no to a cowboy. So she’d been a bit rude. It wasn’t as if she was ever going to see the guy again.

Well it was darned unlikely. But if she did happen to run into him, he’d know that she was off limits. Her new resolution was working just fine. Still, from now on, she planned to leave the talking to Jackie. She was better at it and besides, in the presence of this man, Emily had already proven she couldn’t string together a coherent sentence.

As if reading her mind, Jackie chirped a cheery, “Adios, amigo,” and the handsome stranger walked away.

* * *

Brandon felt like an idiot. Damn but his improvisational skills were rusty. When the tomato-topped woman had asked his name, the only cowboy one he could think of was Houston Savage. He’d managed to catch himself before blurting out the whole thing and was able to twist the last name.

But Saveloy? Wasn’t that some kind of dried up sausage?

Great. He’d made a total fool of himself. It was a good thing he’d never see the beautiful brunette again.

How could he have read her so wrong? She’d been practically drooling over him. Then, before he could tell her about Eduardo’s mouthwatering tiramisu, Emily vanished and an ice queen appeared in her place. And, in spite of his frostbite, Brandon still found her appealing. What would Freud say about that? That actors are masochists? That thespians thrive on rejection?

And why was he getting worked up about her anyway? It wasn’t as if he had time for a serious relationship. Not while he was working double shifts at the restaurant.

On the other hand, if this film role gave his career a jumpstart, then he could consider the possibilities of dating. The opportunities for work were certainly out there. Though he’d been out of the acting loop for the last six years, he’d kept in touch with his buddies in the business. Things had picked up in Calgary since he'd graduated from college. They were filming big budget movies, a couple of TV series, even the odd commercial, right in his hometown. And now that his sister was doing better, he could think about getting back into the theater scene, maybe start his own company and produce a couple of plays. Some of his fellow actors had mounted successful shows with less than ten grand.

“How’d it go?” Katie looked up at him with impish glee.

“I think I fooled them with the accent.”

Sarah set down a stack of dirty dishes on a nearby table and moved toward him. “Did you ask the dark-haired one out?”

Had Sarah overheard something? Like Emily’s rejection, for instance? Was she trying to mock him? He decided to play it cool. “No. Why would I have done that?”

“Judging from the way you were looking at her, I thought you were finally interested in something other than work. God only knows the number of friends I’ve tried to set you up with.”

“I’m not a blind date kinda guy, Sarah. I’d rather be in a gunfight with Billy the Kid.”

Katie gave him a friendly swat on the arm. “You’re too good looking to waste, Brandon. You need to get out more.”

“I guess I’ll take that as my cue to leave. I have to get this costume back to the Wardrobe Mistress before my shift starts. Hey, Sarah, do you have the script?”

“Yup,” she said, producing the text from under the counter. “I didn’t get very far into it. Looks interesting, though. Especially that scene where you first ride up to Houston’s character and tell him that you and your cronies are in town to—”

He gulped. “Did you say
ride up?
You mean, on a horse?”

“
Duh.
Yes, on a horse. It takes place in the mid-1800’s. You’re not going to drive up in a Lamborghini.”

Brandon felt a cold chill creep over his body. “That can’t be right. My character doesn’t have to go anywhere near a horse.”

“Then why does it say you do?”

“Where?”

Sarah flipped open the manuscript. “Right there on page forty-seven.”

His stomach gave a queasy lurch. “Let me see.” Brandon grabbed the booklet and peered over the text. That wasn’t the scene he’d read for the audition. Sure the casting director had asked if he rode. And sure, he’d told a little white lie and said yes. From the pages he’d seen, it didn’t look as though he’d actually have to. And he’d been desperate for the part.

“Are you all right?” Katie’s forehead crinkled with concern. “You’re awfully pale.”

“No wonder, wearing that big coat on a hot day like this.”

Brandon reached for one of the chairs. “I think I need to sit down.”

“Do you want me to get you a glass of water?”

Before he could answer Katie, Sarah pushed him into the seat and removed his hat. “Put your head between your legs,” she ordered.

“No. I’m okay.”

“Sure you are. Let’s get that coat off, anyway.” Sarah reached for a sleeve and tugged. Katie followed suit and pulled on the opposite arm. Brandon felt as though he was in the middle of an old-fashioned taffy pull, and that he was the taffy.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, wrenching away from them both. Instantly, he felt like a jerk. His friends were trying to be helpful and how had he repaid them? “I’m sorry, guys.”

“Brandon, I’ve never seen you like this.” Katie crouched down in front of him, gently placing her hand on his knee. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“You’re not afraid of horses, are you?”

“No...not exactly.”

“Then what exactly?” Sarah coaxed.

Could he say it? Without being ridiculed? This was Cow Town. You might as well admit you were a Liberal at a Conservative Convention. Brandon took a deep breath.

“I’m allergic to them.” Once he’d opened his mouth the words swooshed out like a geyser. “I’ve never been on a horse in my life, except for the time I went to Chuck Mallory’s seventh birthday party. His father plunked me down on a pony’s back and I sneezed so much I threw up.”

Katie brought her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, no.”

“Maybe you’ve grown out of it.”

“No such luck. Every year I go to the Calgary Stampede to test it. And every year I end up snorting louder than the bulls.”

“Boy, oh boy, are you in trouble.” Sarah’s observation may not have been helpful, but it sure was accurate.

“What if you can’t do the movie? Can they sue you?”

Brandon didn’t even want to think about that possibility. The day had started out so perfectly. Now, everything was disintegrating before his eyes.

“Oh, Brandon,” Katie continued, her voice echoing some of the hysteria he felt. “What are you going to do?”

“He’s going to do the only thing he can,” Sarah announced. “He’s going to pop some antihistamines and take some riding lessons. Right, Brandon?”

It was very kind of his coworker to make his life decisions for him, he supposed, but it still felt weird. He’d been the man of the house since he was twenty-two.

Brandon sat upright in his chair and tried to focus. He had to think this through. Was Sarah’s plan the best solution?

He shrugged. What else could he do? If he was going to keep the part, he’d have to control his sneezing and figure out how to ride. Fast.

“The movie is due to start filming next week. I’m not scheduled to shoot right away. I figure I have...” he did a quick calculation on his fingers... “fourteen days to learn how to handle a horse.”

Sarah clapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit.”

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Maybe it would work. He might as well give it a try. What did he have to lose? “Either of you ladies know where I can get some lessons?”

“Try the Rocky Mountain Riding Stables,” the ever helpful Sarah replied.

Brandon shot her a hopeful glance. “You’ve been there?”

“No, but I heard a customer mention the place.”

“Works for me. Thanks.” He gave her a peck on the cheek then wrapped his arms around Katie. “You two are the best.”

“We know,” Sarah agreed. “Now git. You’ve got a lot of arrangements to make before your shift starts.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” he said, pulling his hand up to his forehead in a salute. “Ooops, wrong genre. Adios, amigos.”

He grabbed his hat then scooted out the door, stealing one last look at the pretty brunette at table ten.

CHAPTER TWO

“That’s a good girl.” Emily extracted the hypodermic needle and patted Tulip’s rump. The infection had eased a bit since yesterday, but the mare still needed to improve before the operation. Another day or two of antibiotics should do the trick.

Emily disposed of the needle and zipped up her medical bag. As she walked across the field to her truck, she took a deep breath, forcing her shoulders to relax. She tried to concentrate on the awesome view at her command—the big prairie sky, the incredible panorama of the Rockies, the graceful ballet of the riders moving around her—but all she could think about was that man from the restaurant and how rude she’d been to him.

So a few cowboys had dumped her. It didn’t give her the right to be impolite to a stranger. He’d left their table wearing the expression of a guy who’d arrived at a party, only to discover that he’d just missed the last piece of pizza. Then he’d disappeared behind a barrier. The next time she’d seen him, he was dashing out of the restaurant.

Out of her life.

Hold on a second. He wasn’t even in her life. He was nothing. No one. Just some guy she’d met in a restaurant. Besides, she’d sworn off his type. Forever.

So why did he keep popping into her mind? Was it just guilt? It had only been a day since she’d announced her resolution to Jackie. Was it possible she was already suffering from cowboy withdrawal?

Perhaps she wasn’t meant to do this thing cold turkey. Perhaps she needed to wean herself off slowly.

And get hurt again? Not on your life.

Complete abstinence was the best way to go, no matter how appealing this fellow from the restaurant might have been. So what if he seemed special? Who cared about his unassuming charm? What did it matter that his voice was unbelievably sexy and, coupled with that smile of his, he could probably sweet talk a woman into doing just about anything?

And why was she thinking about him again?

Emily blew a strand of hair away from her face. So what? Just thinking about him wouldn’t hurt. To her knowledge, no woman had ever died from thinking about a man.

She could picture him in her mind, standing by one of the horses, leaning his tall, hunky body against the fence, close to where her truck was parked. His image was so clear it was almost as if she could see him.

Wait a minute. She really
could
see him. Or else it was his twin brother.

He was dressed a bit differently. The long duster was gone, along with the leather chaps. He was still wearing the regulation jeans, blue today instead of black, with a thick, brown belt buckled at his waist. The sleeves on his jean shirt were pulled up, showing off tanned forearms and a silver watch, worn on his left wrist.

She closed her eyes, opened them and looked again.
Yup.
She was sure that was Houston Saveloy, talking to Sam, one of the riding instructors. Probably the two men were friends. Or maybe Houston was looking for a job at the stables. Her heart leapt to her throat and jammed there.