A Cowboy's Heart (The McGavin Brothers Book 4) Read online

  “See you soon.” She hurried back to the porch. Then she was inside.

  He checked the time on his phone. Jimi was just a cat, not some panther ready to rip his throat out. Besides, his mom had confidence in his ability to finesse this situation.

  Wouldn’t be much different than working with horses, really. The same common sense should apply. No sudden movements or loud noises. Don’t let them sense your fear. He could do this.

  Time was up. He walked across the porch with its gingerbread flourishes painted a pristine white. At the door, he paused to take a deep breath and glanced down at the doormat. An image of a crouched black cat glared back at him. The words Attack Cat on Duty were stenciled in red.

  He’d bet the people who made these mats thought they were cute and funny. They weren’t, not if an actual attack cat lurked behind the closed door. He thought about the gloves he kept in the truck and almost went back for them. Then he shook his head. Not walking in on a warm fall day wearing gloves. Talk about telegraphing fear.

  Opening the door, he stepped into a house filled with sunshine. It spilled through the windows and poured down the stairway that led to the second floor. After he closed the door he glanced around. Rainbows were everywhere, sliding over the delicate antique furniture that he’d be afraid to sit on for fear he’d break it. A ceiling fan on low stirred the crystals of various sizes hanging in every window.

  Two things in the room were not antiques – a flat screen TV mounted on a wall papered in pink and green stripes, and a fancifully designed cat tree positioned by the front windows. Jimi rated the best. This one was made of gnarled branches and displayed fine craftsmanship in the careful positioning of green carpeted platforms tucked into the branches.

  Near the ceiling a shelf ran around the perimeter of the room before cascading down a series of steps to the floor. Judging from this setup alone, the cat had it made.

  Then a yowl pierced the silence. It came from the back of the house and he shivered. No wonder the plumber had been desperate to get away. The yowl came again but this time Nicole’s voice was woven through it. She was singing Little Green Apples.

  Jimi continued to yowl but he toned it down some. That was progress, right?

  Nicole kept singing but changed the lyrics to Bryce McGavin, come on back here, Jimi Hendrix wants to meet you in the summertime.

  Bryce had serious doubts that Jimi wanted to meet him during any season of the year, but he’d come this far. He walked through a formal dining room with a lace tablecloth on the oval table and a bouquet of flowers in the center. The living room and dining room furniture showed no signs of cat scratches. Either the cat tree worked like a charm or Jimi preferred sharpening his claws on people.

  The kitchen fit right in with the rest of the house. Appliances, countertops, cupboards and sinks were either vintage or made to look that way. He wished his mom could see it. Hell, he wished everyone he knew could see it because it was a showplace. A showplace guarded by the beast who’d ramped up the volume but was still behind the small opening between the frame and the pocket door. Mostly. He’d stretched his paw out as far as it would go and was scratching at the black and white tile.

  Nicole sat on the floor next to the sliver of space and leaned against the wall. She stopped singing long enough to reach over and pat the spot on the far side of the opening.

  Bryce lowered himself down. Jimi went a little crazy at that point, bumping against the door and adding some menacing hisses to his yowling routine.

  Leaning against the door, Bryce glanced over at Nicole and lifted his eyebrows.

  She gave a little shrug and continued with her song.

  He’d been practicing more in the truck and Little Green Apples wasn’t a huge challenge, range-wise. Rather than sitting like a bump on a log, he’d sing along with her.

  The brilliant smile she gave him would stay with him forever. Even if he still sucked a little and didn’t hit every note as cleanly as he’d like, he no longer cared. He had his reward.

  She moved on to King of the Road and Red, Red Wine. At some point in that one, she gave him a nudge. At first he thought he was off-key, but then she tilted her head back toward the laundry room. Jimi had quit yowling. Bryce was having so much fun singing oldies with Nicole that he hadn’t noticed.

  He gazed at her and kept his voice low. “What now?”

  “I vote we fix breakfast. I could eat my weight in hash browns.”

  “Me, too.” He followed her lead and stood after she did. “Can I help?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll make the hash browns ‘cause they’re my specialty. And tend the bacon. You can scramble the eggs and make coffee.”

  “I’m on it. Just point me in the right direction.”

  She told him where to find the coffee and the pan for the eggs. Once they had everything started, she glanced at him. “I’d forgotten that Aunt Henrietta and I used to sing to him. He might think somehow you’re her.”

  “I sound like a seventy-five-year-old woman?”

  “Watch your mouth. Aunt Henrietta had a great voice. True pitch.”

  “Sorry. I’m a bit self-conscious about how I sound after the layoff.”

  “Keep working on it and any day now you’ll sound as good as she did.”

  “I deserved that.”

  “Bryce, I’m teasing. You sound great, especially considering how long it’s been.” She gave him a challenging glance and tossed out the first lines for Jackson. He picked up Johnny Cash’s part and flung it back to her. She turned into a redheaded version of June Carter and used her spatula as a mic. He made do with the wooden spoon he was using to stir the eggs.

  It was a damned fine show, if he did say so, himself. She was on a roll with duets and came up with Islands in the Stream. He countered with Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue.

  They damned near ruined breakfast and finally called a halt so they could eat at the kitchen table. He’d never enjoyed food more than that lightly scorched serving of eggs, bacon and hash browns. Jimi was silent through the entire meal.

  Bryce glanced at the one-inch crack in the door. “Should we let him out?”

  “God, no! This morning’s been a huge victory.” She polished off the last of her breakfast and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “We could ruin everything if we let him out and he sees you’re not Aunt Henrietta.”

  “See, I do sound like her!”

  “Don’t take it too hard. She had a bit of a smoker’s voice.”

  “Cigarettes?”

  “No, pot, back when she lived in Haight-Ashbury.” She gazed at him. “She really did know Jimi Hendrix. And several of the other big names of the day, like Eric Clapton.”

  “They’re still big names.”

  “I don’t dare take you in to show you the guitar.”

  “I didn’t expect it.” Although he’d hoped.

  “We’ve achieved some kind of miracle in this kitchen, but any little thing could upset the balance.”

  “Then I should go while we’re still ahead.”

  “I hate to admit it, but you’re right. Besides, Mandy’s shower is at one this afternoon and I have a few chores to do before then.”

  “Oh, right. That is today.”

  “I’ll see you tonight, though.” Her warm gaze rested on him.

  “I’m counting on it. And thanks for breakfast. It was fun.”

  “Sure was.”

  He pushed back his chair. “I should at least help you with the dishes.”

  “I’ll use the dishwasher. You can quietly exit, stage left.”

  “Okay.” He stood. “Walk me to the door?”

  “Sure.” She left her chair and held out her hand. “My pleasure.”

  He enjoyed being led back to the front door by the lady of the house while rainbows danced around them. “I like this place.”

  “Isn’t it great? It reminded Aunt Henrietta of a Victorian she’d admired in San Francisco. She had it painted to match that one and then she spent much
of her time and money making the inside fabulous.”

  “Yet she didn’t have visitors except you.”

  “From what I could tell, she didn’t care about showing it off. It was the only house she’d ever owned. My theory is she decorated for the pure joy of it.”

  “Maybe that’s what I’m seeing—joy.”

  She paused as they reached the front door. “I’m so glad I asked you over.”

  “Me, too. I hate to leave.”

  “But it’s for the best.” She stepped closer and slid her palms up his chest. “I have a request.”

  “One last kiss?” He nudged back his hat and wrapped her in his arms. Man, wasn’t that as natural as breathing?

  “A kiss would be sweet, but I want your shirt.”

  “My shirt?” He stared at her. “Why?”

  “I want to wear it.”

  “To Mandy’s shower?”

  She laughed. “Is that a bad idea? You said you wouldn’t mind if your brothers stopped thinking of you as celibate.”

  The teasing light in her eyes clued him in. “That’s not why you want it.”

  “No. If I wear it when I’m hanging out here at the house, then Jimi will get used to my scent mingled with your scent. If we combine that with more singing, we might eventually be able to have you two in the same room without bloodshed.”

  He winced. “I was feeling all warm and fuzzy until you mentioned bloodshed.”

  “In the spirit of full disclosure, I should let you know that Jimi has made people bleed.”

  “Ray?”

  She made a face. “He was the most recent and I’m sure he deserved it, the self-serving creep.”

  “I’m sure he did. Who else got nailed?”

  “I wasn’t here for this one, but Aunt Henrietta said it was dramatic. A woman selling makeup insisted on coming inside to try out some samples, despite Aunt Henrietta’s warnings. Jimi raced down the stairs, sailed through the air and landed on the woman’s back, claws out.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Aunt Henrietta drove her to the ER. The puncture wounds were small and easily treated, but the woman got a prescription for anti-anxiety medication. Luckily she didn’t take legal action against Aunt Henrietta or report Jimi as a menace.”

  “She brought it on herself, though, by forcing her way in. Do you think that’s why Jimi attacked?”

  “Maybe. But he wanted to tear apart the plumber and that guy wasn’t obnoxious. I don’t know what sets him off. Aunt Henrietta is fairly sure he was abused before he found his way to her front porch.”

  “But he’s never attacked you?”

  “Never. Aunt Henrietta and I decided his first human friends were a grandmother and her granddaughter. They were nice to him, but somehow he ended up with mean people. When I first met him, he was skittish but eventually he warmed up to me. Since then he’s become…”

  “Guardian of the castle.”

  “Yep.”

  A soft meow came from the back of the house.

  She chuckled. “Guess he agrees.”

  “Was that him? That didn’t sound like the same cat.”

  “That was him, and he wants attention.”

  “Then you should go. I want him to stay mellow.”

  “I’ll leave in a minute. First I need your shirt.” She began unsnapping it.

  “I wish this could be in a different context.” He let go of her so he could unfasten the cuffs.

  “It will be tonight.”

  “Oh, boy.” He sucked in a breath. “That’s going to fire me up for the drive back.”

  She glanced at him with a flirty smile. “I know. I’m having so much fun.”

  “So am I.” He stepped back, took off his shirt and handed it to her. “Keep it as long as you want.”

  She held it to her nose and sniffed. “That might be quite a while.”

  Jimi meowed again.

  “Okay, I’m not going to lose ground with that cat.” He pulled her into a quick embrace, poured all his longing into a kiss, and let her go. “I’ll see you tonight.” Then he hightailed it out of there before he grabbed her again. She looked like she wanted him to.

  Chapter Twelve

  Even though Nicole was a newcomer to Eagles Nest, working at Shear Delight meant she knew a large portion of the female population. Consequently, most of the twenty or so women gathered in Kendra McGavin’s living room were clients, friends, or both. The few she didn’t know well were at least familiar faces.

  Kendra met her at the door with a smile and a hug. Bryce’s mother. That would take some getting used to after what had transpired last night. A group setting might be just the thing to move beyond a slightly awkward feeling. It wasn’t like Kendra knew anything. Not yet, anyway.

  Everyone called out a greeting when she came in. A quick glance told her this bridal shower wouldn’t be like any she’d been to. Several women were sipping wine, including the bride-to-be, who sat in a wing-backed chair and wore a tiara.

  The food didn’t look like the bridal shower food she was used to, either. Instead of sugary treats, the coffee table was loaded with cocktail party finger food – little sandwiches, a large cheese plate with different kinds of crackers, and platters of baked hors-d’oeuvres. On a far wall hung a life-sized poster of a naked man who lacked a penis. A stack of numbered paper ones sat on the coffee table beside the cheese plate.

  But the one-story rambling log house was exactly what she’d expected of a ranch where five active boys had grown up. The furniture looked comfy and was scaled for guys who were six-foot-plus. The beamed ceiling and large rock fireplace were rustic and manly, but late-season wildflowers sitting in colorful vases around the room added Kendra’s feminine touch.

  The living area flowed into the dining area where a massive wooden table was piled with shower gifts in bags and boxes. After checking with Jo, Nicole had bought Mandy a silky white robe and sparkly flip-flops for her wedding morning preparations.

  “I can take that for you.” Kendra relieved her of the gift bag. “The bar’s set up in the kitchen, which is to your left. You can leave your purse in there, too. There’s red and white wine, iced tea in one jug and lemonade in the other.”

  “Thank you.” She left her purse on a counter with the others and served herself lemonade.

  When she returned to the living room, she found a place on the floor next to Faith, a delicately featured woman who could double as Rapunzel with her long, reddish-gold braid. From conversations in the salon with Kendra, Nicole had gleaned some background. Faith worked at the ranch, was a tomboy, and had stolen Cody McGavin’s heart.

  Nicole stuck out her hand. “You must be Faith. I’m Nicole.”

  “I knew that.” She had a firm grip and her smile revealed a small gap between her front teeth. “Your performance Monday night was amazing. I could have listened longer if Bryce hadn’t told us to let you go.”

  “Good thing he did. I was ready to drop.”

  “You didn’t show it. You were—” She paused to glance over at Deidre, who had put down her food and moved to the center of the room. “Looks like we’re starting the games.”

  Deidre clapped her hands and all conversation ceased. “Ladies and…ladies. For some reason Kendra put me in charge of entertainment.”

  “Shocker!” Christine, a tall blond, was a member of the Whine and Cheese Club.

  “But evidently in charge doesn’t mean total world domination,” Deidre continued. “She vetoed my stripper.”

  That was greeted by groans of disappointment from some and shouts of support from others.

  Deidre fluffed her salon-enhanced red hair. “It’s only fair to tell you he was ripped and tanned and eager to please.”

  More groans.

  “But Kendra pointed out that our blushing bride is hitching up with the exceptionally well-muscled Zane McGavin. Consequently…” Deidre paused. “She don’t need no stinkin’ stripper!”

  Nicole clapped and cheered with the rest of them. Sh
e hadn’t seen Zane shirtless but her lady parts had stirred this morning when Bryce had shrugged out of his. The memory still got her hot. Time to banish it, though, in case her expression might give Kendra a clue.

  “Denied the chance to tantalize you with male pulchritude,” Deidre continued. “I was forced to consider my options. Here’s how we’ll start off. I’ll play a group dance number from the eighties, nineties, and beyond. First one who guesses the dance gets a point. If you can perform that dance for five seconds, you get five bonus points. Winner gets her choice from a bag of sex toys I have in the other room.”

  “Whoa, Deidre!” Jo acted scandalized. “Does your main man Jim know you have a supply of such items?”

  Deidre looked coy. “I’m not sayin’ if he does or he doesn’t.”

  “Oh, he does,” Faith said. “He just can’t figure out why.” During the laughter that followed, Faith turned to Nicole, totally deadpan. “If you haven’t guessed, Jim’s my dad.”

  Nicole cracked up. “I thought so. But thanks for the confirmation.”

  “And here we go!” Deidre started the first tune.

  Nicole opened her mouth but April, looking sassy in her long beaded earrings, beat her to it.

  “Macarena!” Leaping up, she executed the moves perfectly. “My sis and I practiced that for hours when we were kids.”

  “Excellent,” Deidre said. “Who’s keeping score?”

  Jo waved her hand in the air. “Me. I’m the numbers gal.”

  The next one was easy but the person who called out YMCA screwed up her letters and got no bonus points. Mandy and Jo simultaneously called out Madonna’s Vogue and almost smacked each other doing their five-second dance.

  Nicole finally got a shot. She claimed Beyonce’s Single Ladies, did the dance and nabbed her points.

  Then Deidre cued up Thriller.

  “Hang on, hang on, stop the music.” April hopped up. “The Whine and Cheese Club is not allowed to play. I happen to know they all are experts at dancing this.”

  Deidre nodded. “We can stand down, give the rest of you a chance.”

  “Or.” Mandy paused and put a regal finger in the air. “Since everyone’s guessed it by now, we push back the furniture and all dance to it. As the bride, this is what I would prefer.” She glanced around. “Can we make that happen?”