A Real Cowboy Never Walks Away (Wyoming Rebels Book 4) (17 page)

He grinned, feeling deeply content as he bent his head next to theirs, reading over the words together as they looked for the right poem. As he read over Bridgette's words, he knew that turning her words into music was the most important song he'd ever write.

He wasn't going to let her down.

"This one." Bridgette pointed to a short poem printed neatly in fine-tipped blue marker. "It's about my mom's pies, and how they make everyone want to smile and dance."

He grinned, glancing at Lissa, who was smiling. "They are good, aren't they?"

"The best. This is it. The one I want." Bridgette looked up at him. "It's okay to have a song about pies, right?"

"You bet. Let's see." He scanned the words, humming under his breath as he played with the notes, experimenting with different approaches. Lissa and Bridgette listened seriously, stopping him and offering suggestions, some of which were surprisingly insightful. He hadn't thought about creating simply for the sake of creating in a long time, but sitting there with them, was amazing. His fingers itched for his guitar, which he hadn't bothered to bring. His manager would have his equipment backstage, but he wanted his old one, the one from his days on the ranch, the one that was battered and still had some white paint on the side.

He heard guitar music, and he looked up, searching the crowd. He saw a teenage boy nearby, quietly playing, not paying any attention to the singer struggling through the notes on the stage. The kid was wearing battered cowboy boots, ripped jeans, and an old, paint-splattered tee shirt. Travis had a feeling the grunge look wasn't for show, but because this was the best the kid had to wear...kind of like how he'd once been.

He pulled off his sunglasses and tipped back his hat. "Hey."

The kid looked up, and his eyes widened in silent shock, his fingers freezing on the strings as he gaped at Travis.

Travis grinned at the look of shocked recognition on the kid's face. For the first time in a long time, he didn't mind being recognized. This kid was the kind of kid he'd wanted to find, to reach. "Can I borrow your guitar for a minute? I'm writing a song for my friend Bridge here." He paused. "Could use your help too, if you want to join us?"

The youth stared at Travis for a good five seconds before wordlessly holding his guitar out to him.

Travis laughed and accepted the guitar, nodding at a spot on their blanket. "What's your name?"

The boy tried to talk, but all that came out was a garbled sound. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Nick."

"Well, Nick, come join us." He readied the guitar while Nick relocated to their blanket, still staring at Travis as if his head was about to explode. "Bridge writes poetry, and she asked me to turn it into a song. This is the melody we're thinking of. Let me know what you think."

He began to play, his fingers settled into the old guitar easily. He kept his voice low, just for his group, playing with the words and the notes. Bridgette was staring at him with rapt delight, and Lissa was grinning. Nick still looked like he'd lost the ability to think.

Travis played the song three times, each time changing it up slightly as the music became richer, and he began to feel the soul of the song, instead of just the superficiality of it. His voice became lower and deeper, and his fingers began to fly across the strings, moving on their own, as if awakening from a long sleep.

He was vaguely aware that the conversation around him had died, and that people were looking at him, but he didn't care. He was too interested in the song, in Bridgette's words about blueberry pies, chocolate pies, and the melty warm apple pie that was perfect on Thanksgiving. As he sang, he looked up at Lissa, easily imagining her creating magic with those pies, baking the kind of memories her daughter would cherish.

Lissa was smiling, swaying slightly to the song, her face more relaxed than he'd ever seen her. His breath caught, and for a split second he was overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of her spirit, by the unfettered joy shining from her face. He'd been a part of that, this moment, the happiness on her face and Bridgette's. He didn't know that he'd ever been a part of a happy moment, not one like this, not one that seemed to burn deep into his core and brand him—

The group around him broke out into raucous applause, and Bridgette squealed with delight, throwing her arms around his neck. "That was amazing! Oh my gosh, Mom! Did you hear that? It was so amazing."

Travis grinned, bracing himself to keep from being dragged over by the exuberant eight year old. He nodded at Nick. "What did you think? Any suggestions?"

Nick's jaw dropped. "You want suggestions from me?"

"Yeah, sure. I started writing when I was about your age. Got any feedback?"

Nick hesitated, and then cleared his throat. "Um, what about repeating the chocolate pie stanza as the chorus? It's really good, and sort of anchors the song."

Travis cocked his head, contemplating it, rolling the idea around in his mind. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Yeah, I think that works."

A broad smile burst out on Nick's face. "Really?"

"Yeah." He looked over at Bridgette. "What do you think?"

Bridgette studied him with deep concentration. "Try it," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am." Travis started to play again, this time glancing around. His brothers and their wives were all watching him, and his brothers were watching him with dumb-ass grins he hadn't seen in a long time. He saw Dane a few yards away in his sheriff garb, also listening. And behind him… Shit. Rand was there, just behind Dane, a look of such extreme anguish and heart wrenching pain on his face that Travis nearly lost the beat.

He realized that Rand wasn't listening to the song. He was watching Lissa and Bridgette leaning on Travis, tucked against him. Son of a bitch. There was no way to fake the kind of pain on Rand's face. He did still love Lissa, and he probably never stopped. He wanted his family, and he wanted it with every fiber of his being.

He'd walked away from his chance, and he clearly regretted it. Travis could see from the anguish on his face that Rand was indeed back for good. He hadn't lied when he said he was willing to stick around this time.

Unlike him.

Travis looked down at the two amazing females leaning on him. Did he have a right to embed himself into their lives for a week, and then take off like Rand had? Was he being a selfish bastard for getting close to them, only to walk out in a few days?

Would they be better off if he left now, and gave them a chance with a man who was willing to stick around?

"Why'd you stop singing?" Bridgette frowned up at him. "What happened?"

Shit. "Nothing. Sorry. I got distracted by the ice cream truck. Anyone like ice cream?"

As soon as he spoke, the kids all spun around. Bridgette leapt up and raced over to it. Toby and Luke just sat there, looks of longing on their faces, until Steen handed the older boy a twenty. Their faces lit up, and they ran after Bridgette, laughing.

He wondered how many times they'd watched the ice cream truck go by, unable to buy anything. Then his gaze swiveled to Nick, who was still sitting in front of him. He was watching the ice cream truck with the same look of longing that Toby and Luke had had. Instinctively, Travis reached for his wallet and pulled out a twenty. "Hey, Nick. Can you grab me a chocolate cone? Treat yourself to anything you want as payment for doing the ice cream run." He figured the teen might not want charity, but payment for services rendered was honorable.

Nick's face lit up. "Sure. No problem. I'll be right back." He accepted the twenty and sauntered toward the truck, walking with feigned casualness belied by how tightly he was holding the money.

Lissa hugged him and stood up. "You are a very good man, Travis. Don't ever forget that." She grinned at him before walking away to join her daughter at the ice cream truck.

Travis sighed, draping his arms over Nick's guitar as he watched them line up at the window, Nick chatting casually with Zane's boys and Bridgette.

Zane sat down beside him, also watching the boys. "Nice crooning, bro."

"Thanks." Travis ran his hands over the worn wood. "Hey, do you remember Rand Stevens from your days on the bull riding tour?"

"Sure." Zane glanced at him. "Why?"

Travis shrugged. "He's Lissa's ex, and he's in town. I was just curious. Good guy?" He didn't know why he was asking. He didn't care. The man had walked out on Lissa and Bridgette. What asshole would do that?

"Don't know him real well." Zane shrugged. "He kept to himself. Never saw him go out. Not that talented, but worked his ass off."

"Not out with a girl every night?"

"Nah. Never heard of him with any girl, but then again, I didn't really care what he did."

Travis raised his brows. "You didn't care what
anyone
did."

Zane grinned. "True. Some things matter now, though." He nodded at the ice cream truck, where Taylor had joined the boys and was chatting with Lissa. "My entire world revolves around the three of them. If it doesn't affect them, I don't give a shit. If it does, I'll bring down the entire fucking house to keep them safe."

Travis considered that. "You like being a dad? And a husband?"

"It's not a matter of liking it." Zane rubbed his jaw. "It's more like, they're the reason I get up in the morning. They're the reason I take every breath. They're the reason my heart beats. Liking is how you feel about a good steak. Existing for the sole reason of being there for them is what it's like to have them for my family. I couldn't live without them."

Travis stared at Zane in shock. "What the hell did you do with my brother?"

Zane's grin widened. "They've turned me into a poet, I guess." His smile faded. "Listen, T-Man, I saw the way you looked at Lissa and Bridgette. It's how I looked at Taylor when I first met her. You get that chance once in life. Don't run away. I almost did, and I would have missed out on everything that matters."

Travis went cold. "I don't look at her in any particular way."

"Sure you do." Zane raised his brows. "She's a good one, Travis. Give it a chance."

"A chance?" He felt his throat starting to close up. "I did that once. Never again." His voice was cold. Hard. Tight. Not the kind of voice that could sing the way he'd just sung for Bridgette.

Zane raised his brows. "What happened to you?"

"I trusted the wrong person." Even as he said it, he saw Rand walk up to the ice cream truck. He touched Lissa's arm in a personal way, and she didn't pull away when she saw him. Travis gritted his teeth as he watched them talk, with Bridgette only a few feet away. Rand was her first love. The father of her child. Did those feelings ever go away completely?

Zane followed his glance, and frowned. "Ah. Now I see why you asked about him. He wants her back, huh?"

Travis jerked his gaze away and stared blankly across the crowd, refusing to watch. "She's not mine. I'm leaving in a few days."

"You gonna give up? Just like that?"

"It's complicated."

"It's not that complicated. Fight for her, T-Man, if that's what you want."

"I don't want it."

"Lies only work when you're trying to convince other people. Never works on yourself."

Travis glared at his brother. "Since when are you a fucking philosopher?"

"Since I realized that life can be better than we ever thought." Zane leaned forward. "It doesn't have to be the way we think it does, Travis. It can be better. Dad's dead, and he doesn't deserve our misery for the rest of our lives."

Travis tensed. "It's not about Dad."

"It's always about Dad. And my mom. And yours. And all of those who betrayed us a thousand times when we were growing up."

"The betrayal doesn't end just because we're not kids." Travis couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. "It never ends, Zane. It never fucking ends."

"It can."

"It doesn't."

At that moment, Travis's cell phone rang. He glanced down and saw it was his manager. "I need to go get ready to sing. I'll see you later." He stood up, glad to get away, glad to retreat into the mindless numbness of a performance. He handed Zane the guitar. "Give this back to Nick, will ya? And tell him thanks for the ice cream, and to keep the change and my cone."

He shoved his sunglasses back on his face and pulled his hat down as he turned away. He didn't look back at the ice cream truck. He just threaded his way through the crowd, back toward the life that had sustained him for the last decade, the life he wanted desperately to escape from for the first time in a long time.

L
issa finally locked
the front door of her café at two in the morning.

Travis had never come back after he'd walked away at the picnic. They'd listened to him sing, but he'd sounded wooden and uninspired, compared to how he'd sung for Bridgette. Then he'd left the stage, and she'd expected him to return to the blanket.

He hadn't.

He'd just disappeared.

The schedule he'd scrawled on that piece of paper had said he'd be done with his evening emcee appearance at the bronc riding by eleven, but he'd never showed.

Never.

Showed.

Hadn't he said she could count on him? Hadn't he promised that she wouldn't have to wait and wonder? She was pretty sure she hadn't imagined that entire discussion, and yet...he had not appeared.

She didn't want to appear too cynical, but she really hoped he was being robbed at gunpoint somewhere. Or that he'd been cornered by an angry bull and no one had felt like rescuing him. Or even that he'd fallen off the stage and been temporarily incapacitated by a minor head injury. Not that she wanted him to suffer, unless, of course, he'd intentionally blown her off, in which case, she wasn't going to be overly concerned about a little bonding time with a bull. But if there was a legit reason for his no show, then, at least, she wouldn't have to deal with the fact that she'd once again put too much stock in a man.

Either way, he hadn't appeared, and she was alternating between being worried about him, and being grimly bitter that he'd simply blown her off.

Rand, however, had appeared at ten with flowers, far too much charm, and enough friendly banter that he'd even managed to coax a smile out of her before she'd kicked him out.

She still couldn't believe that Rand had walked over at the fair, with Bridgette right there. At first, she'd wanted to grab Bridgette and run, but she'd been frozen in place, unable to act under the too-shrewd gaze of her daughter. She'd seen Rand's gaze flick repeatedly to his daughter, but he hadn't introduced himself. He'd just waited for her to do it, and she hadn't.

Why hadn't she? He was Bridgette's
dad.
Didn't she deserve to know her own dad? But dear God, Rand had broken her heart in every way possible. How could she ever trust him? How could she expose her daughter to him? What if Bridgette let him into her heart, and then he let her down too? Right now, her daughter was happy, cheerful, and entirely unconcerned about a wayward father she'd never met. How much of that would change if she suddenly had to face him?

Wearily, Lissa scooped up a piece of pie and sat down at the table for her nightly ritual of sugar, relaxation, and triumph. Tonight, the café felt eerily empty. She realized it was the first time she'd been there by herself at night in a very long time. She wasn't usually open for dinner, and when she was, she'd always had her help stay late with her. This week, she'd had Travis.

But tonight, she had no help. It was just her, in a building that needed new paint, electrical upgrades, and countless other improvements. She slid her spoon through the ice cream, scooping up a bite of the warm apple pie...just like in the song Bridgette and Travis had created at the picnic.

Tears filled Lissa's eyes, and she put down the spoon. That moment had been so amazing. Seeing the way her daughter had gazed up at Travis as if he were the most incredible gift had been the best moment. His face had been so happy and at peace, and Lissa had felt an almost surreal sense of contentment. It had been the moment she'd dreamed of her whole life, surrounded by people she loved and felt safe with, in the arms of a man who loved her and her daughter. She knew the Stocktons, but she'd never been so close that she would have sat with them at the picnic. Travis had brought that to her. He'd given her an afternoon of everything she'd ever dreamed of...and then he had disappeared.

Just...gone.

Just like Rand.

Well, she'd waited for Rand for too long. She wasn't making the same mistake again.

Resolutely, she downed the rest of the pie, then she grabbed her plate and headed back toward the kitchen. Tonight, she would get a good sleep, earn lots of money tomorrow, and be that much further along toward setting herself up financially for the long winter.

Screw men.

Screw dating them.

She shoved open the kitchen door and then froze when she saw Travis washing her pots.

He was wearing an old tee shirt and jeans, and his hat was on its hook by the door. He hadn't bothered with an apron. He was just scrubbing furiously, his muscles flexing as he attacked the pan with the SOS pad. His entire body was tense, and his jaw was set and hard.

He didn't even look up as she stood there. He just kept scrubbing.

She realized that he was scrubbing a pan she hadn't even used. He was cleaning an old pan that had so many stains on it that she'd given up ever getting it clean. All the others she'd used were already clean, drying on the rack next to the sink.

He couldn't have been there more than fifteen minutes, but he'd washed everything that would normally have taken her an hour. "Travis?"

He didn't look up. "I won't bother you. I just needed to do something. Go upstairs. I'll just be down here. I'll lock up when I leave."

She glanced at the door that led upstairs. She knew she should take his advice and not get involved. He wasn't reliable. She couldn't count on him. And she
really
couldn't afford to care about him. But her feet stayed rooted to the floor. "What happened?"

He didn't answer. He just kept scrubbing, almost desperately, as if he were trying to escape from the monsters that only he could see.

She knew what that was like. She'd kept herself busy for every second of her life. It was the only way to keep from drowning. Sitting at the picnic earlier was the first time she could remember that she'd truly relaxed.

They were the same in so many ways. Haunted by a past that would never let them go.

Silently, she walked up behind him and slid her arms around his waist. Not to seduce, but because someone needed to hug him, and she was the only one around.

He went still, bowing his head, his hands still submerged in soapy water.

She leaned her cheek against his back. His shirt was damp from sweat, even though the kitchen was cool.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then finally, he spoke, his voice raw and hoarse. "Why does it feel so damn good when you do that?"

She closed her eyes. "Because it's a hug, and neither of us gets hugged as much as we need."

"I don't need hugs."

"No?"

He swore under his breath, and then he wrapped a sudsy hand around her forearm, holding her in place. "Rand still loves you."

Lissa stiffened. "What?"

"I was watching his face when he was watching us sitting together. He still loves you." Travis's grip tightened on her arm. "If he's willing to stay around, maybe he's the right guy. Maybe he—"

"Stop it." She stepped back, her fists clenched. She didn't want to hear about how she should give Rand another chance. She didn't want him. She just
didn't
. "Just
stop it
!"

Travis turned around to face her. "I was so fucking happy with you guys today, Lissa. I didn't want to be anywhere else. My music came alive. It was just...it felt right. And then I saw him, and I saw him talking to you guys, and I realized I couldn't play that game. I couldn't do to you what he did to you. I can't be what you deserve." He ran his hand through his hair, his face tormented. "What the fuck am I doing, hanging out with you when I'm going to leave? Did you see the way Bridgette looked at me? Jesus. No one has ever looked at me the way you both looked at me today, but I'm leaving. I can't stay. I can't fucking be the guy my brothers have become. It's just...I can't, and I know that, and you deserve more, but look—" He gestured at the kitchen. "I came back. I have been sitting in my truck for three hours outside, fighting against coming in here, and I lost. I lost the battle because I can't live without how you make me feel, and it's not fucking right."

Lissa's heart tightened, and tears burned her eyes. He was so desperate, so lost, so honorable. He'd been sitting in his truck, battling his honor versus his needs for three hours? "I thought you blew me off. I had no idea you were sitting out there—"

"I didn't blow you off. Hell, I'd never blow you off. You matter to me more than I could even put into words." He swore again and turned away. "See? I'm no better than Rand. I'm—"

"Stop it! You're not like Rand when he left. He didn't care. He just left. You care!"

He didn't answer. He just gripped the edge of the sink and stood silently.

She hesitated. "Don't you? Care, I mean?"

"Fuck yes." He turned back toward her. "That's the problem. I don't know how to care. Caring is just...
hell.
I've worked so fucking hard not to care, Lissa. My whole life, I've shut it down. Even with Mariel, it wasn't like this. I—" He searched her face. "I don't know what to do, Lissa. I'm just...lost."

Her heart turned over. "Me, too," she whispered. "I don't know how to care either. Not anymore." She held out her hands to him.

He stared at them and didn't move. "No. I can't do this."

"Just come upstairs. Not to have sex. I want to show you something."

Stark longing flashed across his face. "I won't do that to you."

She sighed. "Travis. I'm a single mom. I own my own business, and the building it's in. I've been vilified by an entire town, and abandoned when I was seventeen and pregnant. Do you know how strong all that has made me? I'm a big girl, and I'm pretty tough. I know what I can handle, and I can handle this moment." She held out her hand. "I'm scared, too, but I want this moment with you more than I'm afraid of it. So come with me, just for ten minutes." She grinned. "I promise not to kiss you, fondle you, or be inappropriate in any way."

He didn't laugh at her joke. He just stared at her, and then silently put his hand in hers. "Okay."