Cowboy Fever (9 page)

She wrung her hands and looked so distressed he knew this wasn't anything he could fix.

“It's not really about you. It's about your father. She—she thinks that kind of thing runs in families, like with Cal.” She held up a hand to stop his response. “I know you're not like that, but you asked for her reason, and that's it. And given Cissy's situation, it's a hard one to argue with.”

He stared down at the floor again, thinking. About the past, and how it haunted his present and shadowed his future.

“You know, you don't owe her anything,” he said. “You did all that rodeo queen crap for her. You were the perfect daughter, and I know you hated that stuff.” He raked his hands over his hair. “When are you going to start living your own life?”

She hunched her shoulders, refusing to meet his eyes. “Now,” she said. “I'm living it now.”

“No you're not. You're still trying to please everybody but yourself.” In an exaggerated gesture, he raised an admonishing finger and lowered his brows. “You'd better settle down in the suburbs and have two-point-five kids, or everybody'll be disappointed. And don't do it with that Teague Treadwell. He's not
worthy
.” He lurched to his feet. “To hell with it, anyway. I'm never getting married. Never having kids. That's for other people.”

He spun and stalked past the two narrow stalls. “I guess your mom figured that out.”

***

“Hey,” said a voice from outside the trailer. “What're you guys doing?”

“Nothing.” Teague slumped against the wall and ran a hand over his face as if he could erase his anger with one swipe. “Just talking.”

Jodi sprang from the bed and picked up her polishing rag just as Troy passed through the stall area and stood in the doorway of the tiny bedroom. “I got all the way to the tree line,” he said, waving his pliers like a warrior's sword. “I bet I can finish the job next time I come.”

“Good,” she said. “We'll finish it tomorrow. I'll help.”

“Not tomorrow,” Troy said. “I'm busy.”

“Doing what?”

“I got another job,” Troy said.

Jodi turned to look at him, startled. “Troy, are you quitting on me?”

“No. It's mostly going to be real early in the mornings, so I can still work for you after. But tomorrow I have training all day.” He puffed out his chest. “I'll be making a lot of money.”

“Who are you going to be working for?” Jodi was careful to keep the surprise out of her voice. Of course someone else had hired Troy. He was a good worker, and loyal. Or at least, he used to be loyal.

“Mr. Skelton,” he said. “He called last night.”

“What?” Teague looked shocked. “You're working for Skelton?”

Troy nodded so enthusiastically Jodi was afraid he'd jar his brain loose. “He says I'm just the man he needs to take care of his horses. I won't be able to tell you much about it, though. Mr. Skelton said his operation is strictly confifluential.”

“Yeah, I know. Everything that guy does is top secret.” Teague turned to Jodi. “He keeps the horses locked up, trains in an indoor arena—it's crazy.” He looked at Troy. “Did he tell you why it's confidential?”

“Because we can't let the competition see what we're doing.” He winked, contorting one half of his face. “When we talk about secret stuff, Mr. Skelton winks. Like this.” He winked again.

“What the hell.” Teague's brows lowered, and his eyes took on the same hard, angry look he'd worn when she talked about her mother. Jodi remembered that expression from high school.
Teague against the world,
she thought. It was a non-stop battle.

“It's no big deal,” she said. “He just doesn't want Troy to talk about how they train the horses.” She shoved back the worries poking at the back of her brain. Skelton was apparently embroiled in some kind of cloak-and-dagger routine with his horses. It made her uncomfortable.

Teague stood and shoved his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders to keep his head from hitting the low ceiling.

“We'd better go, Troy,” he said. “Start dinner.”

She followed the two men down the steps and across the yard, Luna trotting in circles around them. Teague didn't look at Jodi or the dog until he'd hoisted Troy's bike into the bed of the pickup and opened the door to the truck cab.

“Well,” he said. “See you.”

He turned away and climbed into the truck, his Wranglers tightening over his trim behind, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he grabbed the steering wheel and climbed into the high seat. Jodi watched his profile as he started the engine. He looked more hurt than angry, and her heart went out to him. He got under her skin like no other man ever had. She'd never met a man who gave off sparks like Teague did—but she didn't need that distraction right now. Right now, she was going to mend what little family she had left.

“Come on, Luna.” Teague leaned from the window and gestured toward the tailgate. “Hop up.”

The dog stood by Jodi's side, staring at Teague like she'd never seen him before.

“She wants to stay with Jodi,” Troy said. “She wants to visit longer.”

Teague glared down at the dog.

“It's okay,” Jodi said, bending down to stroke Luna's head. “Let her stay. I'll send her back with Troy tomorrow. Or you can pick her up later.”

“You sure?” His eyes still had that hard, angry look. “I thought you promised your mother you'd stay away from me.”

“I can
talk
to you.”

“Well, hallelujah.”

“Teague, we can be friends.”

“You know, I don't really think so,” he said. “I don't see how that could work.”

He cranked the engine to life, hanging onto the key a little too long so the truck made an awful grating noise. Then he spun out, the pickup spitting gravel as it careened down the driveway.

Jodi shoved her chair back from the tiny desk in her mother's cramped back room and clicked “shut down.” As the computer screen went dark, she rubbed her knuckles in her bleary eyes. She'd rather shovel out twenty horse stalls than spend another minute crouched over the computer.

“The PayPal link works,” she told her mother. “Now I just need to take some pictures of the merchandise and post them, and you'll be up and running.”

“Wonderful. I'll model.” Peggy Brand did a quick happy-dance in the doorway to the back room. She was wearing a vest dripping with beaded fringe, so her dance was accompanied by a click-clacking backbeat. “Then we'll just wait for the money to roll in.”

“Right,” Jodi said. Her mother had no idea how complicated Internet business could be. Neither had Jodi, until she started setting up the site. A well-thumbed copy of
Building a Web Site for Dummies
had given her the basics, but she had no idea if the thing was going to bring in any business.

She stood up and slipped into her denim jacket. Wyoming summer weather varied from ninety degrees down to forty. Today was a forty day.

“I'm off,” she said. “Going to the Rotary lunch. I should be back by two or so.”

“Who's taking you?”

Jodi rolled her eyes. She'd hoped to get through this without naming names. “Emmett Sage.”

“Oh, honey, that's…”

“It's nothing.” Jodi held up her palm in a traffic-cop gesture to stop her mother before the rhapsodizing got out of hand. “I went to him to get some release forms done up for the clinic, and he happened to mention that the speaker for today's lunch had backed out. It's a fund-raising opportunity, not a date.”

“Well, at least you're not going with Teague.”

Jodi laughed. “Teague in Rotary? Yeah, right.”

“Oh, he's a member.” Her mother's brows arrowed down in disapproval. “It's part of his plan to make himself over, I guess.”

“Wow. You're kidding. Teague in Rotary?” Jodi cocked her head and stared at the ceiling, trying to picture Teague mingling with the pillars of Purvis. “I can't picture it.”

“I know. Like I said…”

“Mom, stop.” Jodi did the traffic cop thing again. “I promised not to see him, and I won't, but I'd appreciate it if you'd stop talking trash about him.”

“Okay. Just remember what I told you. Like father, like son.”

“Mom…”

Her mother made a zipping motion across her mouth and threw away an imaginary key.

“It's not like it's a big sacrifice anyway,” Jodi said, tossing her hair as she headed for the door. “He's impossible to get along with.”

***

Teague hated Wednesday afternoons. The sheriff had insisted he needed to join Rotary if he was going to overcome his lousy reputation, but the weekly Wednesday lunch meetings made him remember why he'd been so ready to start trouble back when he spent his days stuck in school. There was still a part of him that wanted to raise hell when things got dull. Maybe if he stood up and shouted “fire” things would liven up a little.

He ran his index finger around the inside of his collar, tugging it away from his neck and stifling the urge to gag. The restaurant was way too warm. It didn't help any that Courtney had turned up. She'd commandeered a seat beside him, and kept rubbing up against him like a cat in heat. The girl was sex-crazed or something, and she was hardly subtle about it.

He wondered if she'd come with her father. He didn't see why she'd be a member herself; she didn't seem to do any kind of work besides dressing up and lugging that little dog around. Maybe she'd crashed the luncheon. He wouldn't be surprised. She'd been turning up everywhere he went for the past two weeks. He'd been nothing more than polite, but she took everything he said the wrong way. She seemed to think they were something more than friends.

He shifted away from her as Darla Black entered the room. The pharmacist stood in the doorway a beat too long once her eyes lit on him and Courtney. She watched them like the big bad wolf watching piglets at play, eating up the sight of them and no doubt planning to spew it onto the sidewalks of Purvis in a torrent of gossip and speculation.

Hell, the way Courtney was plastering herself to his side, he couldn't blame anybody for talking. All he could do was make it clear he was an unwilling participant. He picked up Courtney's hand and gently removed it from his thigh, but she flipped her hand over and intertwined her fingers with his, giving him a lash-fluttering smile. Now they were holding hands. How the hell had that happened? He shook himself loose, then saw her downcast face and gave her what he hoped was a brotherly pat on the leg.

He eyed the door, hoping somebody would come in and sit at his table. The sheriff's was already full, so he'd claimed an empty one rather than intrude on some other group. He wasn't exactly welcome here, despite the fact that he owned a successful business he'd started from scratch. For some reason, instead of seeing him as a self-made man to be admired, the people in Purvis seemed to see him as an upstart to be discouraged. Most people were barely civil, and a few were downright rude.

Okay, he'd been rude himself most of his life. Probably half the town had been on the receiving end of his teenaged acting-out. But he'd changed. Couldn't they see that? Reform school hadn't done the trick, but taking responsibility for his brother had made him a new man.

Darla sailed over to his table, her massive bosom thrusting through the crowd like the prow of a tall ship. Bucky Maines floundered in her wake, his face red from exertion—or from embarrassment; Teague couldn't tell which.

“May we join you, Mr. Treadwell?” Darla glanced back at Bucky, who flushed a little redder and pulled out the chair across from Courtney without waiting for Teague to answer. Darla lowered herself like a queen claiming her throne and folded her hands on the table. Leaning forward, she addressed Courtney.

“Hello, dear. I don't believe we've met.”

“Oh!” Courtney offered a limp hand for shaking. “I'm Courtney Skelton. Of the Syracuse Skeltons. My father bought the Hunt ranch.”

“Lovely to meet you.” Darla licked her lips, no doubt anticipating the font of gossip she'd glean from this encounter. “I'm Darla Black. Of the Purvis Blacks. My family has been influential in this town for three generations.”

Teague coughed, suppressing a guffaw. And he was Teague Treadwell, of the Purvis Treadwells. His family had been pestilential in this town for two generations.

He scanned the crowd again, seeking a rescuer. He didn't mind talking to Darla Black, but he'd never manage to keep a straight face if she and Courtney took to one-upping each other in some weird social status contest. Maybe Emmett Sage would show up. Emmett had been the Purvis High valedictorian well before Teague graduated, and went on to law school before coming back to take over his father's practice. Their social circles didn't exactly mesh, but they got along, which was more than Teague could say for just about anyone else in town.

Besides, Emmett was single and rich, so maybe Courtney would shift her attentions for a while and give Teague a break. Evidently, the place she came from was hard up for cowboys, and she thought Teague was some kind of shoot-em-up Western hero. She kept talking about something she called “the cowboy code” and acting like he was some exotic species. He'd had about enough of it.

Catching his eye, she flashed him a flirty smile. She had on a neon green Western shirt with white nylon fringe dangling off the yoke that shimmied every time her boobs bounced—which was often. Her jeans were white, and so tight he wondered how she could breathe. She'd tried for an additional cowgirl touch by tying a bandanna around her neck. It reminded him of the one he put on Luna once in a while, except that instead of old-fashioned paisley it was decorated with letters. Some designer's initials, probably.

There were initials on her purse, too, and the dang thing was enormous. He couldn't figure out why any woman would need to carry around a suitcase full of stuff everywhere she went.

“So tell me about those bucking horses you raise,” she said. “How do you train them to buck?”

Teague stifled a snort that made him sound like one of his own horses.

“Comes natural,” he mumbled.

Courtney creased her forehead as if she'd been hit with a sudden headache, but apparently, it was just a thought. From his limited experience, he thought that was probably a rare and possibly painful occasion for her.

Actually, he was pretty sure her clinginess and dim-witted comments were an act, but he couldn't figure out why anyone would want to seem helpless and stupid.

“So you don't have to teach them how?” she asked in her breathy, little-girl voice.

He was spared from answering by the appearance of Emmett Sage at the table. “Mind if we join you?”

Teague was nodding enthusiastic assent when he caught sight of Emmett's date.

Jodi Brand.

Perfect
, he told himself bitterly. Emmett was just the guy for the town sweetheart. Smart, respectable, and a good guy to boot. He looked just right with Jodi, who was dressed in a crisp, clean chamois shirt that brought out the clear sky blue of her eyes and cowboy cut jeans that clung to her trim hips. There wasn't a shred of fringe to be seen, but she looked like the perfect cowgirl to Teague. Understated. Classy.

Real.

She looked comfortable, too—not nervous, like when she was with Teague. No doubt she knew that by going out with Emmett, she was playing her part, just like she was supposed to.

That was the difference between the two of them: She cared what other people thought, and Teague didn't. He'd done his best to break out of the mold they put him in, but he had no doubt Jodi would make every effort to fit into the cookie-cutter life everyone expected her to live.

And that was wrong. Just wrong. It was okay to try and please your parents, but some things were too important to leave up to other people. Nobody got to tell Teague who to love, and Jodi shouldn't let anybody tell her, either.

Well, she was obviously taking that promise to her mother seriously, but that didn't mean Teague had to abide by it. He hadn't made any promises to anyone, and he didn't see any reason why he shouldn't do his damndest to get Jodi to break hers.

***

Jodi slid into the chair Emmett pulled out and glanced over at Teague. He was looking from her to Emmett, his eyes narrowed. She'd expected him to be upset when she turned up with Emmett, or even mad. Instead, he was smiling—but it was a predatory smile, the kind a coyote has when he notices the door to the chicken house is hanging open.

She didn't know what he was up to, and she didn't care. Courtney Skelton was snuggled up beside him like a kid with her favorite stuffed toy, flashing adoring glances his way every twenty seconds. He seemed to be ignoring her, but hey, he must have done something to get her stirred up. Jodi had seen him holding her hand when they walked in, but now he was acting like he barely knew her.

Teague really had changed. The old Teague would never have lied about having a girlfriend. She gave the girl a polite smile, and Courtney cleared her throat loudly, looking at Teague.

“Oh,” he said. “Courtney, this is Jodi. Jodi, Courtney.”

Jodi nodded. Courtney did the same, but her expression was enough to make icicles drip from the chandelier.

“There are other people at the table,” she said.

“Oh. Sorry.” Teague looked around wide-eyed, as if he'd just noticed everyone else, then introduced Darla and Bucky, and finally Emmett.

“Nice to meet you,” Courtney said, addressing Emmett. She shifted in her chair so the fringe shimmied off her boobs. “Are you a cowboy too?”

“No.” Emmett smiled, displaying his perfect teeth. “I'm a lawyer.”

“Oh.” Courtney looked down and fiddled with her fork. Jodi smothered a smile. Emmett probably wasn't used to girls being disappointed to hear about his lucrative profession.

“Well, I just think Teague's work is so interesting,” Courtney said. “I've been asking him about how he trains his bucking horses, but he's too modest to tell me.”

Jodi glanced at Teague. The girl was gazing up into his face like he'd just sprouted wings and a halo, but he was pretty much ignoring her. Jodi didn't blame him. The girl was hard to take seriously.

So why had he taken her to lunch? There was no way someone like Teague could have a real relationship with someone that shallow. And stupid. And fake.

Jodi wasn't jealous or anything. She had no right to be. But the girl was all wrong for Teague. Maybe he'd lied because he was ashamed of himself for dating her.

“Yeah, he works awfully hard on those horses,” Bucky said. “Teaching them to buck is one thing, but teaching them to spin is really tough.” He tapped his temple. “Gets you dizzy.”

Darla started to say something, but Bucky gave her a nudge and she pursed her lips and clammed up. Hazing Easterners was a traditional cowboy sport, and he wasn't about to let her spoil the fun.

“Yeah, it gets tiring, running around and around like that,” Jodi said. “And that's nothing compared to all the wrecks you have once the horse starts to get good. Teague must hit the dirt fifty times a day.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “He lands on his head a lot.”

She was totally gunning for Teague, and he was looking right at her—but for some reason, he didn't react to her jibe. He just stared, to the point that Jodi looked down to make sure she still had her clothes on. When she looked back up, a slow smile was spreading over Teague's face and she wanted to slap him. He'd done that all through school—looked at her like her bra was showing or something, or tapped his mouth like she had something on her lip. Then he'd laugh when she reacted.