Winning The Cowboy's Heart

And what was wrong with wanting to make people happy?

“Like when?” Clint scooped peanut shells into a pail.

“Ummmmm...” Heath’s brow creased as he searched out an example. “I didn’t let Pete Stoughton borrow my bike.”

“Dude, that was in eighth grade,” Clint laughed.

“Still counts.” Heath positioned the last chair and hustled back to his half-finished beer. The empty bar top met his eye. He bit back a request for another when Kevin pressed a hand to his back as he straightened from the mini fridge.

“What about Nashville? Are you saying no to that?” Clint tossed his dishrag into a bucket filled with cleaning fluid.

“Nashville?” Remmy ended what’d sounded like an argument on his cell phone and joined them. “What’re you talking about?”

“Clint’s been posting our videos on YouTube. Some Nashville person saw them and wants to give me a tryout.” Heath propped a hip against the bar, his tone casual, as if this wasn’t the biggest thing that’d ever happened to him.

“Some Nashville person? It’s Andrew Parsons!” Clint grabbed a cherry from the garnish bin and tossed it in his mouth.

Remmy’s eyes bulged. “You’re fooling, right?”

Heath shook his head and despite his best effort to act unruffled, the movement was jerky, tense.

“He owns Freedom Records.” Remmy shoved his longish hair from his face. “They’re the biggest country music company in America. Heath’s gonna be famous.”

Heath held up a hand. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s only a tryout. A snowball in hell has a better chance than me earning a contract. I’m not sure if I’m even doing it.”

Clint jabbed his index finger into Heath’s chest. “You gotta do it, dude.”

“You want me to leave the band?” Heath shoved his balled hands into his jeans pockets.

Clint shrugged. “Once you make it, you’ll bring us with you.”

Heath scuffed floor dust with his boot tip. “What’s wrong with just gigging?”

“Nothing if you want to get paid in beer and pocket change and never have anyone except Carbondale hear your originals. You’ve got talent. Don’t waste it.” Clint ambled behind the bar and popped the tops off some longnecks when Kevin disappeared into the back room. “Wouldn’t you like to make real money?”

Heath lifted the offered beer and sipped. Writing and performing music had never been about money. He understood the grasp music had over people, what they needed it for, how it got them through and the role he played. He lived his life in service to song. Freedom Records would help him reach more people, millions of lives to touch...to move. He wanted the chance as badly as he wanted his next breath.

Remmy waved a hand. “Once he marries Kelsey, he’ll be plenty rich.”

Heath bristled. “Who’s saying that?” Locals had accused Pa of marrying Heath’s now-deceased mother for her money. The rumor mill revived last week when he married Joy Cade, the well-off widow and matriarch of their feuding neighbors, a rivalry that began over 130 ago with a suspicious death, vigilante justice and a priceless jewel theft.

Remmy chortled. “Just about everyone in Carbondale.”

Clint nodded. “Quit being so sensitive.”

Heath raised his bottle to cover his red face. His brothers had dubbed him “The Sensitive Cowboy” when he’d been the only one able to soothe their disturbed alcoholic mother with music. He’d been the family peacekeeper and her minder, keeping her from calamity until he’d made one selfish decision and it ended in tragedy. He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood.

Clint cocked his head, studied Heath a long moment, then shoved his shoulder. “Lighten up, dude. And what was with that solo? Must have been one of them scouts in the audience.”

“Yeah,” Remmy chimed in. “That was triple time.”

Jewel’s magnetic brown eyes returned to Heath. “Just thought I’d shake things up.” He donned his leather jacket.

Clint blocked Heath’s path to the door. “So, are you going to Nashville?”

Heath fumbled with his zipper. “I have to talk to Kelsey first.”

Remmy shrugged into a plaid jacket smelling faintly of hay, feed and manure. “If she loves you, she’ll support you.”

“Yeah, right,” Clint scoffed, guffawing, then sobered when he met Heath’s scowl.

Sure, Kelsey was a bit traditional. The only child of wealthy parents, she wanted the kind of respectable, conventional life she’d grown up with...white-collar parents who toiled at desks, not on microphones or in the saddle. People who sipped champagne at charity benefits rather than slugging beer in a stifling honky-tonk.

Kelsey was used to getting what she wanted, and she worked hard to get it. He’d always admired that about her, especially as she gave even more than she took. Before they’d graduated from high school, she’d fund-raised nonstop to create a college scholarship in his ma’s name for students studying psychology with a focus on addiction.

Classic Kelsey. Sweet, generous and focused.

She always knew exactly what she wanted. Seeing as Heath didn’t sweat the small stuff, he had no problem letting her have her way until recently. She’d given him an ultimatum: set a wedding date by the end of August or else.

Just a couple of months away...

“Promise you won’t let this pass by because of everything going on at the ranch.” Clint folded his arms over his chest.

Heath grimaced. With money issues dogging the ranch, as well as an unrelenting drought, Loveland Hills struggled. They’d secured an extension on their overdue mortgage until fall. If they kept their herd intact through the summer, despite dried-up watering holes and the Cades’ refusal to let them access the Crystal River through their property, they had a final chance to earn enough at fall cattle auctions to prevent foreclosure.

“They can do without you for a week. Heck, I’ll take off work to fill in for you,” Clint offered.

Heath pulled off his hat and tossed back his damp hair. “Thanks, man.”

Clint’s mouth turned down in the corners. “I know you, buddy...if something comes up at the ranch, you’ll bail.”

“You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t take a chance.” Kevin called from behind the bar.

Heath’s pulse kicked up as the idea of chasing his dream settled inside...like it had a right to be there. The image of Jewel Cade’s rapt face returned to him. Usually she had a chip on her shoulder, a hard exterior and closed-off expression screaming “back off.” Yet tonight, his music had transported even her, an exhilarating experience he wanted to repeat with millions of others. He drew in a long breath, then released it. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Clint clapped Heath on the back, and Remmy shot him an approving nod.

“Don’t forget us when you’re a big shot,” Remmy joked.

“This head ain’t getting any bigger.” Heath donned his hat, pulled the brim low and sauntered outside with his buddies.

After waving them off, he rounded the corner to the rear parking lot. A petite redhead, struggling to haul an enormous spare tire from beneath the bed of her dually, pulled him up short.

“Need a hand?”

His heart did a funny kind of flip when the woman turned, and deep brown eyes met his. Instantly, her surprised expression turned into a scowl.

Jewel Cade.