The Cowboy Who Got Away

Since Juliette sent so much business Lucy’s way, she’d given Juliette a key to the place so that she could come and go as she needed. No sense in both of them being at the mercy of the gaggle of bridezillas who contracted Juliette to create the wedding of their dreams.

Lately, it seemed like every single bride she worked with turned into a bridezilla.

Juliette took a deep breath as she pondered the possibility that if every one of her brides seemed like a bridezilla, maybe they weren’t the problem; maybe she was the one who’d gone off the rails. Or something like that. Maybe she was mixing her metaphors. She was so burned-out lately, it was a wonder she could even think. It didn’t help that Jude was standing right there in front of her.

“I thought the homecoming queen would’ve been in the middle of organizing the ten-year reunion,” he said.

Juliette frowned and hitched up the garment bag onto her arm. “So, you think the homecoming queen should plan the party, and the homecoming king should just be able to show up? And until today you weren’t even sure if you could make it. Can you please explain the logic in that?”

Jude was silent for a moment and it took everything in Juliette’s power not to fill the stillness, until finally, he spoke.

“Was there ever any logic when it came to you and me, Juju?”

Juliette’s stomach clenched.

“If you are here to see Lucy, she’s not in right now. You might want to give her a call on her cell phone. There’s not an event tonight, so she and Zane were taking the day off.”

“I’ve already talked to my sister. I stopped by because I saw your car out there.”

She tried to ignore the satisfaction his confession brought her and almost asked him how he knew it was her car, but stopped short. He’d seen it when he was home for the wedding. Jude had taken a break from the professional bull riding circuit to come home for the wedding of his older brother, Ethan, to Chelsea Ashford Alden. Of course, that’s when he’d seen it. The wedding had been the first time that she’d seen Jude in the nearly ten years since the two of them had broken up before she’d gone to college and he’d gone off to try out his skills on the PBR circuit.

He was fresh off a world championship win. A hometown hero. Of course he’d want to come home and bask in the glory.

“How long are you home?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Two or three weeks? A month? Depends.”

All kinds of questions filled her head. It was the beginning of October. The PBR circuit usually ran through the end of the month. She wanted to ask him about work, but a sixth sense warned her that might be shaky territory. Really, it was none of her business. If he was still in the running for this year’s championship, he wouldn’t be hanging around Celebration right now. It stood to reason that she was better off not asking.

“Where are you staying?” she asked instead.

“At the cabin on the lower forty of my folks’ property—my property,” he corrected.

Jude and his siblings had inherited the ninety acres that had been in the Campbell family for three generations. They’d subdivided the property into three equitable shares. Ethan and Lucy each had working businesses on their respective properties.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve been out there,” Juliette said. “Are you comfortable there? Does the place even have electricity?”

“I have no idea. I’ll be fine,” he said. “If it’s too bad, I can always crash at Lucy’s.”

“I wasn’t offering you a place to stay,” she said. She meant to be funny, but it came out sounding defensive.

“No? Too bad, because I just realized that Zane is probably crashing at my sister’s. Ethan and Chelsea are newlyweds. You were my last hope to save me from being a third wheel.”

He winked at her and she wasn’t altogether convinced that he was kidding.

“Yeah, well, I have two words for you—Celebration Inn. I’m sure they have a vacancy. But wait. Have you not even been to the cabin yet? Otherwise you’d know if the electricity was turned on.”

“Just rolled into town and saw your car.”

He smiled at her, holding her gaze for a few beats too long as she realized that he’d stopped to see her first, before his family, before getting settled in.

“It’s good to see you, Juju.” He shifted from one foot to another. “If you’re free, want to go grab a beer?”

Yes.

She shook her head. “It’s eleven thirty, Jude. And don’t tell me it’s five o’clock somewhere. If I drink now, I won’t get anything done today.”

He nodded. “Fair enough. How about a cup of coffee then?”

* * *

Whoever said you can’t go home again didn’t know what the hell they were talking about, Jude thought as he opened the door to the Redbird Diner for Juliette. The place hadn’t changed a bit. Same red vinyl booths and light gray Formica tables. The bar that separated the grill from the dining room was done in the same red-and-gray color scheme it had always sported. Large framed posters of the food offerings—burgers, fried chicken, tuna melts, French fries, sodas and shakes, coffee and pie—lined the walls, and on top of each table, small jukeboxes waited for diners to choose their own music at the same bargain price they’d charged for as far back as he could remember—a nickel a song.

An old Johnny Cash standard filled the diner, which was uncharacteristically empty except for them and a busboy he didn’t recognize cleaning a table.

The homey smell of the food made his stomach rumble. He realized it had been a while since he’d eaten. He’d been so eager to get back to Celebration, he hadn’t bothered to stop and eat.

The sameness of it all warmed him in a way he hadn’t expected. It must have been at least nine years since he’d been here. There’d been no time to stop in at the diner when he’d come back for Ethan and Chelsea’s wedding.

The last time he’d been home before that had been for his mom’s funeral.

His dad had died from injuries in a drunk driving accident ten months before his mom had passed. His dad had been the careless drunk. The wreck had left his mom in a wheelchair and she’d never fully recovered.

Jude had been there to bury his mother, but he hadn’t bothered to come for his old man’s funeral.

He had no idea why he was letting the old drunk haunt him now. They hadn’t gotten along. During their last bad blowup, he’d punched Jude in the face and had sent him packing. Jude hadn’t pressed charges because his mother had begged him not to. It was the first time the old man had ever turned violent. That was the only reason Jude hadn’t taken it to the sheriff. But even though he hadn’t involved the law, he had left town, not giving them a chance to talk it out or make amends.

Jude hadn’t kidded himself. He’d deserved his father’s anger. He just hadn’t expected the black eye.

There was nothing he could do about it now. So, he blinked away the thought and put his hand on the small of Juliette’s back as they walked to the booth in the back corner and seated themselves in the very same place they had spent many hours when they were in high school. Being here with her felt like stepping back in time. The diner was virtually unchanged and Juliette looked almost exactly the same as she had all those years ago—only better, if that was possible. His gaze swept over her face, taking her in. Her olive skin had the same healthy tanned glow. Her long dark silky hair hung loose around her shoulders, tempting him to reach out and touch it. And he could still get lost in those sky blue eyes that were intently watching him watch her. Yeah, definitely better. She was even more beautiful now than she used to be back then. It was a more seasoned beauty—a confidence that suggested she was comfortable in her own skin.

Time had definitely been good to her.

He smiled at the thought.

“What?” she asked, picking up the menu but not opening it.

He shook his head, dismissing her question.

“From my vantage point,” she said, “that looked like a whole lot more than nothing.”

This was definitely the same Juliette—the one who never let him get away with anything.

“I was just thinking,” he said, “it’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too.” She sounded a little shy.

He rubbed his nail over a piece of worn duct tape that appeared to be covering a rip in the booth’s red vinyl seat. The sensation grounded him, bringing him back to something that was hard and real and a little rough around the edges after standing the test of time. He identified with that. There was something both comforting and disquieting about finding himself in this diorama of the past.