His Country Cinderella

“Mommy! Zane! I found a book.”

Rising to her feet Jeannette said, “My guess is he picked the longest one he could find.”

But when they reached Jonah’s room, Jeannette found he had picked one of his favorite books rather than the longest. It was a funny book with silly pictures and lots of rhymes.

Sitting on the bed beside Jonah, Zane put expression into the words without half trying. Jonah laughed and so did Zane, and her heart ached with everything Jonah needed that she couldn’t provide. A dad’s love was different than a mom’s. Her gaze fell on the photograph of Ed on Jonah’s bedside table. He would have loved his son and done anything for him. He’d proven that when he’d taken two jobs and worked so many hours she’d hardly seen him. That had been her fault. If she hadn’t missed so many days of work because of morning sickness, if she hadn’t started spotting…if she hadn’t gotten pregnant…

She had switched from birth control pills to patches and one week she’d simply forgotten to change it. When she discovered she was pregnant, she hadn’t known how Ed would react. They’d been together for three years and he’d been dragging his feet about commitment. They’d been living together, but sometimes she still felt he could walk away at any time. Yet when she told him she was pregnant, he’d said they should get married. However, he kept putting it off, finally pushing the event until after the baby was born. She would have liked to have gotten married before Jonah was born. But she was just so glad Ed was finally ready that she hadn’t questioned him and hadn’t pushed, although a part of her had always wondered if he was doing it out of duty or out of love.

She still didn’t know. She’d never know.

“All done,” Jonah suddenly said, slapping the covers of the book together. “We could read it again.”

“Or not,” Jeannette said firmly. “Say good-night to Zane and I’ll help you get ready for bed.”

Jonah’s good-night for Zane came accompanied with another hug. Her little boy was getting attached very quickly. Maybe if Zane were an ordinary man, she’d let it continue. But how could she when she knew who he was? When he didn’t have a normal life? When his interlude in Thunder Canyon might not last very long? When he could be gone tomorrow?

Tonight when she finished Jonah’s bedtime ritual and left his door open a crack, she found Zane pacing the living room. “What’s wrong?” she asked, knowing something was.

“I have no business being here. If a journalist got wind of what I was doing and where I was, I’d be dragging you and Jonah into everything that’s going on.”

“You call that tripe written about you journalism?”

He grimaced. “Well, at least you could see it wasn’t that. Some people can’t see through it. They think an article in a publication that writes about alien abductions is the same as one in the New York Times.”

She eyed him thoughtfully. “Would you like a beer?”

“Yes, I would.”

“Did you have supper?”

“I ate one of those frozen dinners you stocked my freezer with.”

“How about a Southwestern omelet? I bought salsa on sale at the grocery store and Woody, my manager, was going to throw away perfectly good containers of sour cream. The waitresses divided them up.”

“That sounds great. But if you’re too tired to cook, I don’t need anything.”

“This will take five minutes. And from your pictures six months ago and the way you look now, I’d say you need to eat a little more than you’re eating, too.”

“You sound like Dillon.”

“With good reason. How much weight have you lost?”

“About fifteen pounds. But I often lose ten when I start a new tour.”

“Really?”

“It happens. My hours aren’t regular and I’m a perfectionist. I work in my bus, not only writing music, but staying on top of the business, promotion with my publicist, gigs with my manager, money flow with the accountant. I delegate, but I still oversee everything. I don’t want any unhappy surprises when I least expect them.”

Jeannette took eggs from the refrigerator and pulled out the jar of salsa. The frying pan, though clean, was sitting on the stove from that morning. “Is any part of your life normal?”

“Normal becomes what we make it, don’t you think?”

“Is that an excuse for saying no?”

“You cut right through it, don’t you?”

“I have to, Zane. I’m a single mom. I can’t lie to myself and I can usually read evasive tactics in others. It’s a gift,” she added teasingly, trying to lighten the conversation a little.

Shaking his head, Zane took a spatula from a utensil crock on the counter and handed it to her. “Do you need anything else from the refrigerator?”

“There’s some grated cheese in there. If you could get that—”

In five minutes the omelet was finished and divided in two. Jeannette had popped bread into the toaster and grabbed the strawberry jelly from the fridge. “Edna made it. It’s good.”

Zane ate like a man who was enjoying his food. After he finished, he said, “That hit the spot. Maybe I just enjoy food more when I have someone to eat with.” He motioned to her empty plate. “It might be the same for you.”

“It might be. I eat more with Jonah, or when we have a Sunday dinner with Edna and Mel.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Not lately. With this job at LipSmackin’ Ribs, my hours are all over the place. I work weekends whenever I can.” She didn’t have to say because of the tips. He knew that already.

Zane picked up his fork and hers with both their plates and loaded it all into the small dishwasher.

“You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do. You cooked. I clean up. It’s an unwritten contract.”

“I think there are a lot of men in this world who are unaware of that contract.”

Zane closed the door to the dishwasher. “Let’s go sit on the sofa and talk. You deserve to know the truth about what happened at my last concert.”

In the living room they settled on the sofa a few inches apart. Jeannette thought about sitting in the matching chair, but she wanted to be near Zane for a reason other than her attraction to him. Maybe he’d give off signals that would tell her if he was being glib or guarded or dishonest. She also had to admit she just wanted to be close to him. Because he was a star? Actually, no. It was because there was something about him that made her heart race and her skin tingle and her stomach flip-flop.

Zane glanced at her, then raked his hand through his thick brown hair. With the table lamp beside him, she realized there were burnished strands in it. He wore a Stetson so much of the time that she hadn’t noticed them before.

“I began promoting my new CD last September when I performed at Frontier Days. I had written a lead song—‘Movin’ On’—and performed it for the first time here at the arena at the fairgrounds. When my CD was released last year, sales skyrocketed and the tour started off with a bang.”

“How many concerts do you do a week?”

“That depends. I’d rather do several close together, and then give everybody a break for a week or two. That’s easier on their family life. But spring through summer is our busiest time.”

“You said you have a bus?”

He frowned. “Yep. I used to call it my home away from home. But now—”

“Tell me what happened,” she requested, knowing the bus was involved.