Читать книгу A Christmas Baby For The Cowboy - Deb Kastner - Страница 13

Chapter One

“Cash Coble, front and center, please.”

Jo Spencer, the bubbly elderly redhead serving as the auctioneer, had more energy in her pinky finger than Cash had in his whole body, and her warbling voice made his head throb mercilessly.

Cash, a rodeo bareback rider only recently returned to his hometown of Serendipity, Texas, winced at the high-pitched feedback of the microphone that followed his name being called over the loudspeaker. The screechy whine drilled straight into the space between his eyes.

He was the next bachelor on the docket at Serendipity’s First Annual Bachelors and Baskets Auction in the middle of June.

But if he had his way, he would be anywhere but here.

The last thing he wanted right now was to display himself for all his hometown to see. He’d left Serendipity in the dust when his rodeo career had taken off and he hadn’t been home since—with good reason.

Now he had no choice. Even if he’d rather slink off to the nearest bar and drink himself into forgetfulness.

“Remember,” said his publicist, Martin Brandt, stepping back a pace as he surveyed Cash from the tip of his boots to the top of his hat. “You get up there and turn on your cowboy charm. Don’t forget to smile. I have a photographer from Rodeo Times here to document this, so you’d better make good out there if you want your career back.”

Cowboy charm.

That was what had got him into this predicament in the first place. His once-handsome face and enormous ego.

He scoffed under his breath. There wasn’t one blessed thing that could even remotely be considered charmed about his life right now.

What was the opposite of charmed, anyway?

Pete Drexler grinned and held up his camera as Martin leaned up on tiptoe and adjusted Cash’s black cowboy hat, presumably to reveal more of his eyes. The middle-aged publicity agent was a diminutive fellow who stood no taller than five feet even. Cash, at six-one, towered over him.

But what Martin lacked for in size, he made up for in vigor, and he was one of the best agents in the business, with all the attitude of a T. rex in obtaining the best for his clients.

Cash hated being bossed around by the man. Sometimes he had to grit his teeth to fight from barking back, especially when he was feeling as physically out of sorts as he was right now. But Martin was the only one in the rodeo world who hadn’t dumped him after all that had recently happened to him, and Cash appreciated his loyalty.

Cash’s advertising sponsors had dropped him like a hot potato when his life had turned into a downward spiral after his best friend, Aaron Emerson, had died.

Martin could easily have done the same. Having Cash as a client couldn’t be good for his reputation, and yet Martin had persisted, believing in Cash when he didn’t even believe in himself. There was a lot to be said for that kind of commitment.

Martin had this inspired idea that Cash could prove himself worthy of advertising support and save his public image by participating in this bachelor auction, not only because his agent expected Cash to be popular with the ladies, but because it was for charity.

What better way to show that Cash was a changed man?

Cash didn’t blame his sponsors for dropping him. Carrying a secret darker and thicker than tar affected every area of his life, from blackouts after nights of hard drinking to losing his stamina on the rodeo circuit.

He was a down-and-out, has-been cowboy, and deserving every bit of what was coming to him. Up to and including the ridicule and humiliation he would suffer as he stood on an auction block with little to no expectations of being bid on.

When he’d been a winner, nobody blamed him for his actions. Young cowboys were expected to let off steam. He got a pass.

But now?

Who would want him?

A big fat nobody. That’s who.

Yet he had to try. Rodeo was the only thing left for him.

If he lost that, well...

He would lose everything.

The good folks in Serendipity had gotten together to raise funds for a new senior center and hospice. With such an outstanding cause, townsfolk had come out in droves and were opening their hearts and pocketbooks with cheerful generosity.

The bachelor auction, where a single man would offer his particular expertise and skill set to the winner, had originally been Jo’s idea, but it hadn’t taken long for married men to sign on, as well.

Did a young woman need her car fixed? Carpentry? Plumbing? Accounting? Painting? Laying hardwood flooring?

There was a man for that.

Refusing to be outdone, Serendipity’s women had decided to chip in by preparing down home country meals served in festive picnic baskets to the men they bid on. All for a good cause and all in good fun.

He’d given up praying the night Aaron had died, but he mumbled under his breath something that might have been a prayer. He hoped this scheme of Martin’s wouldn’t backfire. Cash didn’t know how it could get any worse, but with the downhill slide he was on, it wouldn’t surprise him if it did.

He growled under his breath and climbed the stairs to the makeshift platform. He’d watched the previous bachelors hamming it up for the crowd, curling their biceps and showing off their muscles. One guy had even run up a tree and done backflips across the stage, much to the audience’s amusement.

Cash was an athlete on the back of a horse, but he couldn’t do a backflip to save his life. He wasn’t going to flex his biceps, either, not even if Martin pressed him to do so. The auction was already degrading as it was. If the ladies wanted to bid on him, they would just have to take him as is.

He plucked off his hat, curling the brim in his fist until his knuckles hurt. The muscles in his shoulders and arms clenched, resisting the sudden hush of the crowd.

Instead of the cheering and catcalls the other men had received, people were either staring mutely or whispering to their neighbors behind their hands.

He glanced at Martin, who gestured for him to do something, but there was nothing to do. He’d made an entrance, all right, just not the kind he’d wanted.

Raising his chin, he gazed across the crowd. No one would meet his eyes.

His throat was as raw as sandpaper and he couldn’t keep still. He wiped his free hand across the rough material of his jeans, stilling a tremor that had nothing to do with his snapping nerves at being plunked in front of an unyielding audience, and everything to do with counting the minutes since the last time he’d experienced the sweet burn of alcohol.

He was as dry as the Sahara. He’d thought that after three days, he ought to be over the worst of the physical withdrawal, but if anything, he was feeling worse now than he had those first horrible couple of days.

This—abstention—wasn’t a part of his cleanup act—or at least not one meant for the benefit of the camera. Drying out was his own personal journey, made by his own choice and determination.

At the moment, it was his own personal torment.

“Now, ladies and gents,” Jo announced in a singsong voice, “you’ll be happy to hear that our very own Cash Coble is back in town, fresh from his success on the national rodeo circuit.”

Success?

That was embellishing the truth if Cash had ever heard it, but he appreciated Jo for trying to help him. A man was only successful until he wasn’t.

And Cash wasn’t.

“Now, anyone can see that Cash here is easy on the eyes. Better yet, his agent informs me that he is ready and willing to help you out, no matter how big or small your project. Whatever odd job you’ve got, Cash is your man, ladies.”

This was usually the point where the crowd broke into an uproar of laughter and the single ladies started tossing out bids.

However, the entire crowd was acting peculiar, milling around in small groups and having personal conversations rather than paying attention to the unsteady cowboy rooted to the platform.

No one called out a bid.

Not. One. Woman.

While Serendipity was full of good people, Cash knew how easy it was for gossip to flood such a small town. A perpetual game of Telephone where the story changed bit by bit as it went from person to person.

Cast blame first and find out the truth later.

Only in Cash’s case, the truth was far worse than anything these spectators’ minds could conjure, something he would carry with him to his grave, a burden that was his alone to bear.

“Come on, ladies,” Jo urged. “Let’s see those hundred-dollar bills waving in the air. Remember, it’s for a good cause,” she reminded everyone. “The new senior center ain’t going to build itself without your generosity, so I’m going to ask you again. Who will start the bidding at one hundred dollars?”

Cash waited, tapping his hat against his thigh.

Nothing.

There wasn’t a single bid, even with Jo’s urging. And if Jo couldn’t get a response from this otherwise receptive crowd, there was no hope whatsoever for Cash.

People might not believe it from the way he’d been acting recently, but he had a heart, and it was stinging nearly as bad as his ego.

There was no way he would let anyone in Serendipity know how their collective rejection affected him. He shook his head and scoffed audibly, then straightened his shoulders, jammed his black Stetson on his head and turned to stomp down the platform stairs.

“Three hundred dollars,” came a female voice that carried across the silence with the pure tone of a bell.

He turned to scan the crowd.

Who had bid on him?

“Once, twice, sold,” Jo said, speaking faster than any real auctioneer Cash had ever heard. She banged her gavel on the podium that had been placed on the stage for just that purpose. “Alyssa Joan Emerson, come on up here and rope your prize.”

Of all people, not only an Emerson, but Lizzie—Alyssa. He couldn’t get over how his best friend’s kid sister had bloomed into a beautiful woman. Her wavy strawberry-blond hair was grown out now, more blond than strawberry. He didn’t recall her eyes being so very...brown, like deep, rich dark chocolate.

Little Lizzie Emerson, all grown up.

* * *

Alyssa wasn’t in all that much of a hurry to claim her prize, as Jo had called winning Cash Coble. She wasn’t sure she’d made the right decision at all. This might very well rank up there among some of the most foolish decisions she’d ever made.

But when no one else offered to buy Cash, her soft heart had gotten the best of her and her mouth had worked faster than her head.

Her oldest brother, Eddie, accused her of letting her empathy get the best of her. She led with her heart instead of her head. She felt too deeply—and then acted on those emotions even—often—to her own detriment.

She couldn’t seem to help herself. She chose to believe the best about people, even when they showed themselves to be untrustworthy.

Was she crazy, bringing Cash back into her life? Even without all she’d heard about the kind of man he’d turned out to be, she suspected Cash would be a problem for her.

She had so many other challenges to face.

Despite her best efforts, tears burned at the backs of her eyes and she blinked rapidly. Cash would be a constant walking, talking reminder of the brother she had recently lost. Cash and Aaron had been best friends since childhood. After graduating from high school, they had traveled the pro rodeo circuit together.

Sweet, fun-loving Aaron.

How was it that he’d been the one to get behind the wheel of a car drunk and fatally crash into a tree when Cash was still alive?

It didn’t seem fair.

Alyssa was ashamed that such a horrible thought had passed through her mind, and yet there it was.

She didn’t want Cash here. She wanted her big brother back, with his jokes and smiles and unceasing teasing.

Ironically, there had been a time when she would have given anything to have Cash notice her. As a teenager, Cash had worked in the Emerson family’s hardware store part-time. Their store was the town catchall, not only carrying hardware, but boots, clothing, gardening supplies and animal feed. Once upon a time, she’d had a crush on the boy whose dark hair flopped over his forehead and into his impossibly blue eyes, but too much had happened in her life since high school to consider those errant feelings as anything more than childhood fantasies.

Little Lizzie Emerson had grown up. While she was still called Lizzie by a select few of her closest friends, most people now referred to her by her given name, Alyssa.

She didn’t give much stock to rumors, but from what she’d heard around town, Cash was a heavy drinker. He’d got a woman pregnant and then walked away from his responsibilities to the baby. She couldn’t respect a man like that.

She had no idea why she’d piped up with a bid at the last second.

Well, no, that wasn’t entirely true. Cash was the logical man for the job she had in mind. He’d worked at Emerson’s Hardware in his youth and already knew how she did things. She could put him straight to work without having to explain everything.

Which was why, despite everything, he was a good fit for the work she needed done. Kickfire, a major brand name in boots and Western wear, had contracted with her to sell their products in her store. That meant a lot of rearranging, building new display cases, creating a window display and, just before Black Friday, putting out the new stock.

But she wasn’t really going to trust him. Emerson’s was the one solid thing she had left in a world that had completely tilted awry.

She intended to lay down the rules and keep a sharp eye on Cash to make sure he didn’t screw up.

But first things first. She threaded her way to the front of the crowd and marched up onto the stage. This auction was supposed to be fun, and she’d been looking forward to it for weeks. Count on her to make a cheerful town event into something stressful instead of something sweet.

Nice one, Alyssa.

“Here’s your lariat, dear,” Jo said, pressing the rope into her hand. “Now, you go lasso your handsome cowboy.”

Cash wiped the sweat from his brow, then planted his hat back on his head, challenging her with his gaze.

Wonderful. He was intentionally making it more difficult for her to successfully swing a loop around him. She could adjust the lariat until it was big enough to go over Cash even with his hat on, but it wasn’t as if she was an expert roper. She owned a hardware store. If her toss was the slightest bit off, the coil would bounce right off his black Stetson.

Was he throwing down the gauntlet? Did he think she wasn’t good enough for him?

Tough bananas. She was the only one willing to rescue him today and he was just going to have to deal.

Was he expecting all the pretty single ladies to treat him as if he was still hot stuff, falling all over him as they’d done when he was a teenager?

Well, he wasn’t.

Not anymore.

He most definitely wasn’t a teenager. He’d filled out in all the right places. He’d grown a couple of inches taller. His shoulders were broader, his face a hard chisel of lines and his muscles more defined.

But for all that, he wasn’t hot stuff anymore.

Now that she was closer to him, she could see that his eyes were sunken into his head, with dark circles shadowing his gaze. His skin was roughened from the sun, which might have appeared rugged were it not for the stress lines on his forehead and etched around his eyes. The week’s worth of scruff on his face only increased the shadow.

“Do something, Cash,” demanded a man in the crowd, a voice Alyssa couldn’t identify.

Alyssa’s gaze switched to a short man in a gray suit and shiny black shoes. Everyone else in the crowd had on blue jeans.

Alyssa looked back at Cash and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Let’s get this over with, Lizzie.” Cash swept his hat off his head with a grunt and gestured for her to rope him.

Alyssa adjusted the lariat and swung it in the air a couple of times to get a feel for the weight. She was a shopkeeper’s daughter and had zero ranching experience, but she was standing all of two feet away from Cash.

How hard could it be?

She swung the rope toward Cash, mimicking the actions she’d seen her brother Eddie and her neighboring rancher friends do a thousand times. But instead of soaring in a nice loop up and around Cash, the noose tightened too early and swung off to one side.

It would have dropped to the ground, but at the last moment, Cash’s hand darted out to grab it. Her cheeks heated as Cash slowly and deliberately loosened the lariat and threaded himself through it until the noose circled his waist.

Was he intentionally trying to embarrass her?

Well, she wasn’t going to let him.

She yanked the rope tight around Cash and turned her back on him, leading him off the platform, her fashionable cowboy boots thumping loudly down the stairs. She didn’t care when the rope became taut and he appeared to be pulling back, scuffling his feet behind her.

Too bad for him that she was more stubborn than he was. If he was going to dig in his heels, she would just pull harder. He’d have to give in sometime.

She was relieved when they were finally off the stage and could pause while Cash pulled the rope off from around himself, tossing it back to Jo for use with the next bachelor.

Now, at least, they could find somewhere semiprivate to talk—not that there was anywhere on the community green, already spotted with dozens of brightly decorated picnic baskets, that could be considered truly private.

She sighed deeply.

“Follow me,” she said. “My picnic basket is over there, in the shade of that oak tree. I brought a lot of food. I hope you’re hungry.”

Cash muttered something unintelligible, but he stayed by her side as she led him to the basket she’d prepared. Thankfully, she’d arrived early at the community green, wanting to complete a last-minute check, since her family’s store, Emerson’s Hardware, had provided all the materials to make the platform.

It also allowed her to secure a prime spot on the lawn. The sun was shining brightly and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, so the shade would be welcome.

Of course, she’d made her little banquet with a cute single bachelor in mind. Never mind that she knew every available guy in town and had either already dated him or wasn’t remotely interested in doing so.

One of the woes of a single woman growing up in a small town. She longed for the special connection that was somehow missing in the few boyfriends she’d had over the years.

Not that it really mattered. After everything that had happened recently, she had neither the time nor the energy to pursue a romantic relationship.

It was all she could do to keep her head above water, between the hardware store renovation and struggling to keep the business afloat virtually on her own.

Recently, she’d also begun to make all sorts of changes according to the contract she’d signed with Kickfire.

Eddie had abandoned the shop for ranching. Her mother had walked out on the family for unknown reasons just after Aaron died. And her father had just plain given up on life.

She sighed inwardly. Just as well she’d won Cash. No chance of a romantic entanglement there. He had the skills she needed—both in sheer muscle and in the knowledge of her store. She might never trust him to serve customers at the register as a clerk, but she had plenty for him to do even without handling money.

Cash hesitated as Alyssa unfolded a red-checked wool picnic blanket and dropped onto it with her legs folded underneath her. Only then did he seat himself, leaning on his forearm and stretching out one long, jeans-clad leg. She tried not to notice the way his bicep bulged under his T-shirt, but she found it difficult to avert her eyes.

She was a woman, after all. And once upon a time, she had been attracted to Cash.

Silently, she unpacked the picnic basket, passing him a plate, utensils and a cloth napkin before revealing the meal she’d made.

She’d cooked a turkey the day before and had prepared several sandwiches stacked high with all the fixings for them to feast on. She’d also wrapped the turkey legs as an extra treat. She’d made mashed potatoes and had topped them with a brown gravy. She’d prepared a cheesy broccoli casserole as a side and fudgy chocolate brownies for dessert.

She was starving. Her mouth watered just looking at the delicious spread. It had been a long time since breakfast and her stomach growled in anticipation.

Cash picked up a turkey leg. It was halfway to his mouth when Alyssa bowed her head to offer a short, silent prayer of thanksgiving to God, as she always did before a meal. When she opened her eyes, Cash had returned the turkey leg to his plate and was staring at her, his gaze, the vivid blue of the summer sky, wide with surprise.

Guilt speared her gut. She hadn’t even asked if he wanted to pray with her, assuming, based on the rumors she’d heard, that he wouldn’t be interested in offering thanks to God.

Heat flooded her cheeks. Where was her Christian charity? She should have at least asked if he wanted to share in the blessing.

But it was too late now. She gestured for him to eat and he picked up the turkey leg he’d previously dropped to his plate. He took a healthy bite, then another.

“Really good,” he said between mouthfuls.

“Er—thank you,” she replied, not quite sure what to do with his compliment. The warmth in his gaze made her feel as if fire ants were swarming over her skin. This situation was beyond uncomfortable.

And they hadn’t even begun talking about the results of the auction yet. How was she supposed to explain what she expected from him?

They were eating in silence, which only made the situation worse. Could this be any more awkward? At least if they were talking she could try to lead the conversation toward her expectations.

A movement to her right caught her eye and she turned to see the stranger in the gray suit approaching, followed by a laid-back-looking fellow in a white T-shirt and ratty blue jeans. He carried a high-end camera with a long lens and a boxy camera case slung around his shoulder.

Without waiting for an invitation, the well-dressed man crouched next to the picnic blanket. He shifted his gaze from Cash to Alyssa.

“So. Here’s the deal,” the man said, not bothering to introduce himself. “We’re looking at a six-month hiatus while we put together Cash’s publicity campaign. Our goal is to have him back in the saddle and the public’s good graces by the National Western Stock Show in Colorado in January. With that in mind, this charity auction thing is our first event.”

The man paused for her to acknowledge what he was saying, but rather than nodding, she shook her head. Even when Aaron was in rodeo, she’d never been interested enough to follow his career, so she knew nothing about the stock show he’d mentioned.

“You don’t know of it? Well, never mind. That’s not the point. Here’s what’s going to happen. Cash does whatever you have in mind for him to do, along with some carefully orchestrated acts of charity I’ll prepare. I’ll also line up some public appearances, so his fans can meet him. Something that emphasizes his hometown roots.”

The man put an odd emphasis on “acts of charity,” as if the words didn’t mean what they were commonly meant to describe.

“I’m sorry—and you are?” Alyssa didn’t like the way this man was looking at her—or talking about Cash, as if he was a piece of merchandise and not a man.

“Martin. Martin Brandt. Cash’s agent and publicist,” Martin answered in a clipped tone.

“I’m Alyssa Emerson.”

He waved aside her introduction and continued as if she hadn’t spoken.

“Our goal is to photograph Cash in the best possible light, capturing him working hard and doing good—for the sake of his new sponsors, of course.”

Cash scoffed loudly, and Martin narrowed his deep-set eyes on him.

“What new sponsors?” Cash growled.

“Potential new sponsors, then,” Martin corrected. “You’ve burned a lot of bridges, but I still think with the right publicity campaign we can get you back on track. You were once at the top of your game. You do exactly what I tell you, and I see no reason for you not to recover from your fall from grace.”

“I’m sorry—photograph?” It was a lot to take in all at once, but the first part of the stranger’s statement was what grabbed Alyssa’s attention.

The guy with the camera just shrugged and smiled sheepishly.

Alyssa had won Cash in the auction, paying her hard-earned money for his services—not the other way around. So why did she suddenly feel like they were expecting, no—demanding—all take and no give?

This whole thing felt very much like they were ganging up on her, these three men, and she didn’t like it one bit. If they thought she’d be a pushover, they had better think again.

“Yes. Photographs. By a photographer,” Martin repeated. “Pete Drexler here is from Rodeo Times, the top rodeo magazine in the world. He’ll be tailing Cash over the next few weeks and taking pictures we can use for good publicity. Which he desperately needs,” Martin added.

Cash scoffed.

“The benefit to you being three months of free labor,” Martin pressed. “More, if I think it’s necessary. I’m sure you’ll see it my way when you consider all the facts.”

Oh, yes, indeed. She could see. The picture was becoming increasingly clear. She snorted under her breath, but there was nothing funny about this situation.

She was being used. They intended to play upon her kindness to bring Cash back into the good graces of the rodeo world.

Not to mention she was now in possession, so to speak, of a sullen cowboy who clearly didn’t want to be here in the first place. This was obviously not Cash’s idea. It didn’t take a genius to see Martin was twisting his arm, forcing him to do something he would rather have rejected.

It didn’t matter what Martin said. This was never going to work.

Between keeping the store running, taking care of her ailing father and committing to a renovation that she now realized might be perfect on paper but in execution was going to be more complicated than she’d imagined, she was already in way over her head.

The last thing she needed was to worry about a photographer getting in the way all the time. The guy would be blocking the merchandise. Customers who might come into the store to browse wouldn’t want Pete standing in their way.

She was worried that the mess and chaos of renovating the store for Kickfire was already causing her customers to look elsewhere for their hardware, outdoors and clothing needs. With most of the work still ahead of her, she couldn’t afford to lose even a single sale, which might very well happen. Even if the townsfolk dared to brave the maze of new displays and boxes of stock around the store, she was certain they wouldn’t want to be caught on camera for all the world to see.

They lived in a small town for a reason.

And she didn’t even want to get started on Cash using charity for his own purposes.

Alyssa pressed her lips together into a tight line and narrowed her eyes on Martin before sliding her gaze to Cash, whose stony expression revealed nothing.

“I see,” she said in a dry monotone. “But I’m going to have to decline.”