Cowboy Fever (20 page)

Teague woke to find himself staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. It took him a minute to remember where he was.

Jodi's house.

Jodi's bed.

The night before swept over him in a rush of memory that made him hard all over again. He glanced over at the empty pillow beside him. Jodi was up already. He'd slept so soundly he hadn't heard her leave the bed.

He could hear her making coffee out in the kitchen. This felt so—domestic. Like they were married or something.

Maybe they should be. Between the prenatal vitamins and the pickles, he was pretty sure Jodi really was pregnant. He stepped into his jeans, a new kind of excitement fluttering in his chest. He loved her enough to take on anything. If he'd ever doubted it, the night before had proven it. He remembered how she'd looked, glowing like an angel against the sheets, her eyes half-closed, a sexy smile urging him on.

All of a sudden, he wanted that baby worse than he'd wanted anything in his life.

He'd never planned to have children. He'd always sworn the Treadwell genes needed to die out. But if it was someone else's child, it would still be half Jodi. Maybe it would be a girl, a little tomboy like she'd been when they were kids. He pictured a pint-sized blonde kid mounted on a pony, bent double over the animal's neck while its hooves ate up the countryside.

Something broke open in his chest and the coming day suddenly looked like the best one he'd ever seen. He'd seen a coffee commercial once where some guy got out of bed and spread his arms in joy.
Rise and embrace the day
, the announcer had said. At the time, Teague had laughed at it, but now he knew exactly how that guy felt.

Except it wasn't the day he wanted to embrace. He needed Jodi. He could see her at the kitchen counter pouring coffee, her back to him, wearing a soft pink robe. He wondered what the robe felt like—how it would slide over her skin if he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, slipped his hands inside the collar…

He was so eager to find out that he stepped out into the kitchen barefoot, still buttoning his shirt.

“Honey, I…”

He stopped. Courtney was seated at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in her hand. She didn't look like she wanted to embrace the day. She looked like she wanted to smack somebody.

“Hi, Teague.” There was none of her usual flirtatiousness in her tone. “I figured I'd find you here.”

Well, she'd figured right. Guilt pricked at the back of his mind, but there was no reason for him to feel bad. He'd never led the girl on. She'd tried to entrap him, really, and she'd failed.

Well, now she'd know it. The whole half-naked, barefoot thing made it pretty clear he'd just gotten out of bed. It probably wasn't the most graceful way to break up with a girl, but it should be damned effective.

He should have broken up with her the night before. Hell, he should have broken up with her the week before, or maybe the month before. Trouble was, he couldn't really pinpoint the exact moment she'd begun to see what they had as a relationship, rather than a friendship. The whole thing had snuck up on him somehow.

Jodi turned from the counter, where she was whisking eggs in a bowl. The sash of her robe was tied tightly around her waist, but one tug would pull it loose. He looked away. Certain parts of him tended to be feisty in the mornings, and it would be rude to fly the happy flag in front of Courtney.

“Want eggs?” Jodi asked.

As usual, Courtney assumed the question was meant for her.

“I'm not hungry.” She flashed Teague an angry glare.

“You sure?” Jodi asked. “You're helping with the session this morning, right? You'll need your strength.”

“I'll be fine,” Courtney said.

“Okay.” Jodi went back to her whisking. “Teague?”

Dang. So Courtney wasn't looking for him. She was volunteering—and that meant Jodi had things to do. Clients coming. The dreams that had been riding around on pink, puffy clouds that matched her bathrobe drifted away on a cooling breeze.

“Sure,” he said. “I'm hungry.”

“Well, I'm exhausted,” Courtney said. “I was up, like, all night.” She shifted in her chair to face Teague. “I spent the whole night looking for my
dog.
”

Teague glanced at the purse she'd tossed on the sofa. Judging from its limp appearance, there was no Pomeranian inside.

Shit.

“You find him?” he asked.

“Yes.
Finally
,” she said. “He was in the barn. He rolled in something icky and his fur was all matted. I didn't even
recognize
him at first.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Teague said. “What did he get into?”

“What do you think?” Courtney shoved out her lower lip. “I tried to wash it out, but he's going to have to be clipped. I had to leave him home. He smells like—like poop.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Teague couldn't help smiling just a little. That poor little animal had probably had the time of its life. He wasn't sure it ever got to act like a real dog.

Courtney flashed him an angry look.

“It's not funny,” she said.

“No,” Teague said. “Not funny.” He made a strangled noise, then looked over to see Jodi was fighting the same battle and both of them lost the fight simultaneously.

***

Jodi felt bad for Courtney, but laughing released some of the tension that had been building inside her since she awoke to find Teague beside her and remembered the night before.

So much for keeping her promises. She wanted to blame the vodka tonics, but she knew she'd made a choice. She knew she should regret it too, but she felt unburdened somehow, light and carefree. It didn't make any sense, but then when had her relationship with Teague ever made sense?

The harsh jangle of the phone jolted her out of her reverie. She crossed the kitchen in two long strides to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Jodi, Cal's here.”

“Cissy? Is that you?” She hardly recognized her friend's trembling voice.

“He's at the door. He keeps pounding at it and yelling and I'm—I'm scared.”

“Does he know you're inside?”

“I think so. He went around and looked in windows. I hid, but he saw my car. Do you know where Teague is? I called his cell and he didn't answer.”

Jodi glanced at the man who sat at her table barefoot, with tousled hair and a satisfied expression on his face that couldn't be ascribed to the coffee. She didn't blame Cissy for wanting his help, but throwing Teague into a situation like that was asking for trouble—and not just for Cal. Teague was liable to lose his temper, and it seemed like he'd only just started to escape his reputation as a hothead.

“Ciss, you should call the sheriff. That's what he's there for.”

“But I don't want him to know. He's my boss, Jodi, and Cal's liable to say stuff…”

Jodi nodded. When Cal wasn't bashing Cissy physically, he was trashing her verbally.

“Nobody believes him, Ciss.”

“Jodi, everybody believes him. He's the golden boy, remember? Ten touchdowns and you're a god in this town.”

“Okay. You have a point.”

Jodi glanced over at Teague. He was lounging in the chair, sipping his coffee with a serene expression on his face despite Courtney's glowering stare. He'd changed a lot since she'd been gone. He could probably handle Cal without ending up in jail.

She ought to give the guy more credit.

Besides, if Teague could handle this, maybe she could convince her mother that he hadn't inherited his father's evil tendencies. What could be a bigger test than dealing with a replay of domestic violence at the childhood home that held so many bad memories for him?

If he passed it, she'd know he had his demons under control. If not… she didn't want to think about that.

Cissy's voice broke into her thoughts. “Cal's afraid of Teague, Jodi. He won't have to do anything, honest. If he just shows up, Cal'll leave.”

Jodi sighed. She hoped that was true. “I'll send him. You sit tight, okay? He'll be right over.”

She hung up the phone and looked up at Teague.

“Cal found Cissy,” she said. “He's at the trailer, banging on the door.”

“Damn. I thought we'd found one place he wouldn't look.” He shoved the chair back and stood up. “Gotta go, okay? I'll call you later.” He dodged into the bedroom and came out seconds later, boots on, hat in place.

Her heart fluttered in her chest. He hadn't even given it a second thought. A friend needed him, and he was there, no questions asked. Did he even realize what he was walking into? Cal's threats, the trailer—it was bound to bring back terrible memories.

“Be careful,” she said. “This—this scares me. I'd go with you but…”

“You have your kids to take care of. I know. It's fine.”

He leaned over and gave her a kiss. It was quick, with no real heat, but it still made her smile. It felt somehow domesticated, like a going-off-to-work kiss, and it warmed her up in a whole new way.

“I can deal with Cal,” he said. “He won't ever bother her again.”

“Geez, Teague, that's what I'm afraid of,” she said, the warmth fading. “Don't kill him, okay?”

***

Jodi took a deep breath as she led TT out to the arena. A young couple and a single woman sat at a picnic table Jodi had set up and watched their kids get ready to ride. An older couple lounged in canvas folding chairs beside them and sipped sodas from a cooler. Meanwhile her students' brothers and sister were getting acquainted with Vegas over by the corral. Jodi wasn't sure she wanted that big an audience for a therapy session, but at least the kids had supportive families.

And maybe it would take her mind off of Teague. She knew he had a short fuse, and like everyone else in town, he loved Cissy. When she'd told him not to kill Cal, she hadn't been exaggerating the possibilities.

She shoved her worries out of her mind and focused on the kids. She had two little girls for the first session. Russell was coming later, and he'd be crushed if Teague wasn't there—but she'd deal with that issue when it came. Right now, the girls deserved all her attention. She hitched TT to the corral gate beside a small roan mare.

“This is Peach, and this is TT,” she told the girls. Peach had belonged to Nate Shawcross's daughter before she outgrew her. She was perfect for the clinic—small and patient, and used to kids. The other horse was Triple Threat, once again working under the alias of TT.

“Tee-tee!” said Dorsey. Dorsey was eight years old and had autism. She also had a tousled blonde bob, wire-rimmed glasses over sparkling blue eyes, and the widest, sunniest smile Jodi had ever seen. It was impossible not to smile back.

“Tee-tee,” repeated Constance, wrinkling her forehead. She was six, with dark hair, a serious expression, and the manners of a tiny spinster aunt. Her parents said she'd been diagnosed with Asperger's.

Jodi diagnosed them both as adorable.

“Dorsey, Peach will be your horse today. Constance, you'll be riding TT.”

“I want Tee-tee!” Dorsey said. The sunny smile faded, her brows lowered, and Jodi swore she heard distant thunder.

Jodi took her hand and led her over to Peach. “No, you're riding Peach,” she said firmly. “Would you like to pet her?”

Dorsey cautiously stroked the horse's nose, and Peach blew out a gentle breath. The child put her hand in front of the horse's nostrils and turned it over to cup the warm air.

“Tickles,” she said, the smile twitching back to life. She looked up at Jodi, delighted.

“I think she likes you.” Jodi put an arm around the child's shoulders. “Do you want to help me put the saddle on her?”

Dorsey nodded enthusiastically and gave her a full-on grin that felt like a gift. “Okay,” she said.

Crisis averted. Jodi turned to Courtney.

“Courtney, I need you to help Constance saddle her horse.”

She wasn't about to say the magic word “Tee-tee” again. Dorsey was happy, and she wanted her to stay that way.

Courtney slid down from the top rail of the fence and headed for Constance. Jodi braced herself for a disaster as Courtney trotted across the arena. She'd probably treat the kid like she was stupid, and Constance was anything but stupid. She watched as the girl stopped and shook hands gravely with the child.

“Hi, Constance. I'm Courtney. Our names both begin with C, so I think we should be friends.”

“Hello.” Constance stared up at Courtney as if she was seeing a fairy princess. “You're beautiful.”

Jodi had to admit the child was right. Courtney had curled and teased her hair queen-style, and blonde locks cascaded from her straw cowboy hat. She'd toned down her clothing, though. Her jeans were store-worn, not barn-worn, but her shirt didn't have one single rhinestone on it to distract the kids or the horses.

The jeans fit like the girl had been dipped in denim-colored latex, though. Jodi glanced over at Constance's dad. He was watching the seat of Courtney's jeans like he was Tim Gunn judging a new pocket design as the girl bent over to pick up Tee-tee's saddle blanket and aimed her tightly clad rump in his direction. Jodi wondered if Courtney was doing it on purpose, but she seemed genuinely absorbed in her task.

Jodi tossed her hair and went back to her work.

“First we put on the blanket,” Courtney said to Constance. “Can you help me lift it up onto the horse's back?” She lifted one end while Constance helped hoist the other. Jodi felt the beginnings of a smile cross her face. Maybe Courtney wasn't as bad as she'd thought. The girl actually seemed to have a way with Constance.

And Dorsey had a way with Jodi. Once they'd saddled the horse, the little girl shoved one foot in the stirrup and clambered onto the horse's back. The minute she was mounted, she leaned forward and did her best to wrap her eight-year-old arms around Peach's neck and chest. Resting her head against the horse's sun-warmed pelt, she smiled wide and closed her eyes.