She’d definitely had worse accompaniment, Lisa thought as she sang the uncomplicated melody. Calling on long-honed skills, she compensated whenever Garrett skipped a note or ran into a timing issue. As they ended the song, she smiled at him. Her breath caught as something shifted in his blue eyes in the instant before he looked away. She coughed, hoping to dislodge an unwanted reaction to the brusque cowboy. Despite her efforts, sensations she hadn’t felt in far too long shot through her, and she straightened.
“Imagine that.” Doris’s awed voice whispered into the quiet that filled the room as the last notes faded. “Sounds like LJ drifted off. He never goes to sleep that easy.”
“That was lovely, just lovely,” Sarah added from her perch on the arm of one of the couches. She glanced at the doorway, where Ty and Jimmy stood. A knowing look passed between the owners of the ranch before Sarah said, “I think she’ll be perfect for the roundup, don’t you?”
Lisa tugged her braid over one shoulder and ran her fingers through the ends. “What roundup?” she asked. And what does it have to do with me?
Ty crossed the room to his wife’s side. “People from all over the country come to the Circle P’s annual fall roundup. Each evening, after supper, we usually provide some kind of entertainment. We thought you might like the job.”
Garrett shot Ty a challenging glance. “What’s wrong with sitting around the campfire, swapping stories and singing songs like we’ve always done?”
Across the room, Doris’s lips pursed. “Someone would have to lead the group. None of the ranch hands are particularly talented. Ty’s too busy. And you haven’t touched a guitar in—” her voice faltered “—in nearly a year.”
In an admission of guilt, Garrett slumped in his chair. “Seems to me you could find someone local,” he muttered.
“Lisa here is local,” Ty pointed out.
Clearly unhappy with the owner’s choice, Garrett gave him a pointed look. “What about Dickey Gayner? He’s pretty good.”
“That kid who plays at Cowboys?” Ty’s forehead wrinkled.
“Yeah, him.”
Doris broke in again. “Word around town yesterday was Dickey landed a gig that’ll keep him on the road till Christmas.”
A tiny grin worked its way onto Sarah’s lips. “I bet hearts were breaking all over Okeechobee at that news.” She turned to Lisa and added, “Dickey’s been the cause of more than one dust-up at Cowboys on Saturday nights. Fancies himself a ladies’ man.”
Ty squared around to face Lisa. “I know you have the shop to consider, but you could stay in town during the day and join us at night.”
“That sounds like a pretty good deal, but I don’t think...” Lisa began.
“We’re willing to pay a fair price,” the owner insisted. He tossed out a figure.
Lisa blinked. The amount was more than she’d expected and would definitely help keep her store afloat until business improved. “I can bring my banjo and pick a little.” She tapped her finger against her lips, considering. “I’d still need someone else to back me up on guitar.”
“What about Garrett?” Sarah suggested.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Lisa swallowed. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Sure,” Doris chimed in. “Garrett would be perfect for the job.”
Lisa swung an appraising look at the cowboy who so clearly resented her presence. “You could do it...with some practice.”
The man uttered something unintelligible as he rose from his seat. He strode across the room to the fireplace, where he hung the guitar back on its peg. Leaning one shoulder against the rock wall, he announced, “I don’t have time. Taking care of the Circle P is a full-time job. Add all the stuff I have to do to get ready for the roundup, and I don’t have a free minute.”
Ty gave him a pensive stare. “That’s true, but you said yourself the ranch hands already know what to do. Besides,” he said, his voice deepening, “this is all part of the job you signed on for when you agreed to manage the ranch.”
Though Garrett gave his boss a hard stare, the matter was settled. Minutes later, as they hashed out the final details over coconut cake, Lisa glanced across the table to find Garrett’s gaze focused on her. The dessert turned to dry crumbs in her mouth, and she swallowed, suddenly wondering if spending any time with the rancher was worth the cost, no matter how good it was for her business.
“Get on, now.” Garrett swung his rope. A six-hundred-pound heifer could cover ground pretty quick when she wanted. This one did and joined the rest of the small herd he and the men were moving to the east pasture. Garrett frowned when two more of the prized Andalusians broke from the pack, determined to head back the way they’d come. A shrill whistle cut through the heavy air as one of the ranch hands signaled the crew of motley cattle dogs to head off the runaways.
“Stupid cows.” Dwayne swore, reining his horse in beside Garrett’s.
“Aw, they’re not the dumbest animals in the kingdom,” Garrett pointed out. “Opossums, now they’re stupid. Always trying to cross the road. Always endin’ up just plain dead.”
“Makes a body wonder how there can be any of ’em left.” Dwayne grinned, his impressive buck teeth shining white in the morning sun. The young man touched his heels to his horse’s sides and moseyed after the cows.
Another bead of sweat rolled down Garrett’s back. Even heavier than the oppressive heat and humidity, responsibility for the ranch pressed down on his shoulders. Managing the Circle P was good work, honest work, a tradition that had been passed from father to son for four generations. As the oldest of Doris and Seth’s five boys, he should have stepped into the role when his dad died. At the time, though, Garrett had been teaching in Atlanta. With a career he enjoyed, a woman he loved and a son on the way, he’d planned to stay there forever. Randy and Royce had offered to take over in his stead once they finished up their obligations in Montana. Till that happened, first Colt and then Hank had spent time managing the ranch. Now, that Garrett’s plans for the future had fallen apart, it was his turn. Eventually, though, the twins would make good on their promise to come home, and he’d have to go...somewhere. Do...something.
Where or what, now, those were two very good questions. There’d been a time when he’d made his livelihood bustin’ broncs in the rodeo. He’d set aside his dreams of gold buckles and big purses so he and Arlene could teach school when they’d gotten serious about one another. But rodeoin’ was a young man’s game, and at thirty-six, he was too old for it. Teaching—that was out, too. Expecting to see his wife’s face every time he’d walked into the teacher’s lounge or passed the classroom that used to be hers, he’d barely made it through the end of the term.
He tipped his Stetson and gazed at the sky. The brilliant blue overhead gave way to low, gray clouds on the distant horizon, and he couldn’t help wondering if his future was just as dark. Nearly a year after losing Arlene, he couldn’t get through the day without striking out at the unfairness of it all. Without wishing it had been him, not her, who’d been taken. Everyone—his mom, his brothers, Ty—they all wanted him to rise above the heaviness he carried in his heart. He wanted that, too. Wanted to be a father to his son. Wanted to feel something besides an ever-present sense of meh. But lately, the only times he’d felt alive at all had been when he was riding so close to the edge that the slightest wrong move would send him spiraling into hell and gone.
His