The Bride Wore Starlight (18 page)

“Dang right,” Vince said, no apology to be seen anywhere in his face. “Rodeo needs a hero. What better than two old adversaries, one an ornery victor, one a newly hardened war veteran who doesn't let adversity stop him? It's pure gold.”

“It's pure fantasy.” Alec smiled, cocky in his answer, clearly certain his friend could talk all day and not move him.

“Wouldn't that be a little insensitive?” Joely insisted.

“No more than the guy on TV who danced,” Vince said.

“Doesn't matter. Be as insensitive as you like.” Alec shrugged. “It isn't going any further than right here.”

“
Could
you ride him?” Joely asked.

“Nope. I told you. There are certain motions, gripping movements, and other things even the best prosthetic won't do. I've never had a death wish.”

“You wouldn't die, you idiot,” Vince said. “You'd fall on your ass and the whole place would cheer itself hoarse. No pun intended. It wouldn't matter if you stayed on half a second or all eight—you'd be a hero for just showing up.”

“I don't want to be anybody's hero, Vince. Do you understand?” For the first time since arriving at the Bucking V, Alec allowed true anger to show. He jabbed his finger toward his old friend's face and glared.

Vince wasn't fazed. He spoke nonchalantly as Alec turned away from him.

“Okay, okay. I knew that would be a tough sell. Then how about simply showing up? A couple of times. No riding. Just tip your hat. Hell, tip Buzz's hat and let's do a tribute. Then introduce the younger generation taking your place and let old GP there do his thing.”

Alec spun back so quickly on Vince that Joely gasped. He poked his finger physically into Vince's chest and balled the opposite hand's fist.

“Don't you bring Buzz into this. He rests in peace, got it? And I gave you permission to use an old picture of me—but I'd better not see Buzz's image anywhere. I'll cripple you, Vince. I swear.”

“Hey.” Joely put her hand on Alec's chest. “I don't know anything about this, but no need to get violent. I didn't come with you to watch two cowboys get into a fistfight.”

“Not your business, Joely,” Alec said.

“It is if you get your butt kicked and I have to hitch-hike home.”

He turned to her and stared. She gave him a beatific smile, and he rolled his eyes. “You're insane,” he said.

“You've got it backward. I'm the sane one.”

Vince laughed. He grabbed Alec around the back of the neck and dragged his head forward until their foreheads met. Then he slapped his cheek as he'd done before.

“I know you're not over Buzz, man. I'm not either. But this was his life, and all I'm saying is it doesn't hurt to remind people that he's a hero, too. You both are. Fine, we don't have to do anything. I'm just looking for a little rodeo love. When I found Ghost Pepper there was only one person who came to mind.”

Oh, he was good, Joely thought. Very, very good. And yet his eyes shone enough to convince her he was also sincere.

“Snake oil salesman,” Alec mumbled, and cuffed him on the cheek, too.

They pulled apart. To Joely's surprise, Alec smiled sheepishly at her and reached for her hand. He tugged carefully and she stepped with equal care into an embrace, moving her crutches out of the way. He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her forehead. “Thanks,” he said.

She transferred her weight in to his hold and leaned against his long, muscular frame. Every nerve fiber in her body cheered with excitement at the contact, and she clung to him, not wanting to let go.

“Come on inside,” Vince said. “I'll show you what I've been thinking about. You can say yes or no after you've looked at the mock up.”

“It'll still be no,” Alec said.

“Don't be a curmudgeon.” Joely squeezed his middle as if she had an actual right to advise him. Touching him was heady, but the truth was she didn't even have the right to stay in his embrace. Still, he didn't let her go either. Instead, he followed Vince and let her hobble beside him the way he'd done on the church steps at the wedding two weeks before, and she couldn't help thinking how nice it was to have him take the crutches from her and carry them through the barn to the house.

Wendy Newton was a former buckle bunny, or so Joely had been told, and a tiny vestige of that personality remained. She had sunny, open facial features and a flirty friendliness that drew people in to her personal circle, even though she carried herself with the genuine naturalness of a woman who'd found her bliss. Alec and Joely were greeted like old friends and plied with lemonade and cookies while they looked through the photos Alec had brought.

“These are fantastic.” Vince tapped on two pictures he'd chosen. I'd like to borrow them and bring them into Jackson, see if the resolution is high enough to use for posters. That okay?”

“Sure. Fine.” Alec pushed the pictures to him, and Vince handed him a mocked-up show bill.

Jackson Hole Rodeo: Your summer rodeo nights are about to heat up,
read the first.

We're cooking with Ghost Pepper
, read the other.

“I've got endless terrible slogans,” Vince said. “But this is the gist. No problem focusing on just the horse, if that's what you insist. I also have this dude.” He flipped out a picture of a gargantuan Brahma bull. “Honkin' mean sucker named Ignition Wire. He's going to be famous—but he's not a draw yet. Ghost'll help advertise him, too.”

“All right then.” Alec said. “Looks like you've got all you need.”

“I just need you to sign a release for the photos. Don't worry. It'll only give me the right to use them as promotion for the Jackson Hole rodeo.”

“Yeah, it's no problem.”

Alec seemed more relaxed now that he was inside and away from whatever memories Ghost Pepper evoked. His eyes hadn't lost their haunted shadow, but he no longer had his fists tightened into human brass knuckles.

“And so my work here is done.” Vince sat back and closed the file folder that held his examples, prototypes, and now Alec's pictures.

Alec eyed him with suspicion. “That was too easy.”

“Why?” Vince shrugged. “You told me how it was when we talked last week. I tried.”

“So I can walk out of here and you won't harangue me about riding the horse?”

“Did I slap handcuffs on you?” He turned to Joely. “Do you see handcuffs?”

She chuckled. “No, of course not.”

“So. Have some more lemonade and visit a while. Catch up. Hey, I know. Tell her about the hat.”

Every bit of progress made toward relaxation disappeared from Alec's body, and once again he was a living ball of tension. “You really are a sonofabitch, Vince.”

“Maybe. It's a good story, that's all.”

“You are not setting a finger on that hat.”

“I don't want the hat.”

“What hat?” Joely asked.

“Come on.” Alec stood. “We're leaving.”

She wanted desperately to call him out for the ridiculous petulance and tell him to stop letting Vince get under his skin. But she remembered how angry he'd made her by telling her what to do about her feelings. There'd be time to question him later. Now she had to support him.

“Okay.” She pushed herself from the chair as well, and met his eyes.

He closed his and pressed his fingers along the bridge of his nose. Under his breath he let out a rude expletive. “Hell, you're only going to ask me about it later,” he said.

“Not if you don't want me to.” When he scoffed at her, she shrugged. “Okay. Yeah, I probably will.”

He sank back down into the chair and toyed with his mug. Finally he sighed.

“My cousin Buzz rode with us. We were four at the beginning: Vinnie here and Reece Hanson rode the bulls; Buzz and I rode the broncs. I don't know how it happened, but each pair had a good guy and a bad guy—personas kind of like professional wrestling. Dumb. Meaningless. Reece had the sweet, loveable reputation and Vince the tough guy persona—that was accurate enough. When it came to Buzz and me, though, he wore the white hat and I became the dark, mysterious, no-holds-barred bad boy. Damnedest thing is, I won the championships—enough so the tough cowboy image stuck, but Vince and Buzz were the true hell-raisers.”

She looked to Vince and he grinned. “So far, he's got the story right.”

“Fast-forward to 9/11,” Alec continued. “The short version is, Buzz and I got all up in your face patriotic and went to fight the terrorists. I finished my tour, but Buzz had decided by then that military life was far more exciting than bronc riding. Over in the Middle East he was high all the time on adrenaline and righteous anger, and he stayed once I left. On his last leave home, he had no end of fun razzing me about my constant losses to the horse I couldn't ride. Drunk at a bar the night before he shipped out for his third tour, I told him . . . ”

He shot Vince an evil-eyed glare to keep him quiet, and for the first time Vince complied. He simply nodded while Alec continued.

“I told him I'd bet my black hat against his favorite white one that before he got back for his next leave, I'd ride the damn horse or die trying. He was half a dozen tequila shots to the wind when he took the bet. He told me if I didn't stick to the back of the horse at least once he'd give the white hat to Vince, take my spurs, and I'd have to buy our beers for a year.”

“It was a great bet,” Vince said finally. “Funniest bet I ever made.”

“It was a drunken bet that meant nothing. And it's null and void because the two principle participants no longer exist.”

The story only left Joely with a dozen more questions, but the dull, haunted light in Alec's eyes had turned to a green-gold flash that warned her and everyone else to keep their distance.

“That's not true,” Vince said with surprising gentleness. “You're here. And you know you never gave up on that bet.”

The tension in the room swelled until Joely was sure the walls would burst from its thick, pressurized heat. Then, to her utter shock, Alec eradicated the strain with a near-maniacal laugh. He slapped his thigh and leaned across the table to clap Vince on the cheek twice before finishing with a friendly slap.

“You almost did it,” he said. “You almost got me to lose it, but I'm older and wiser so it flopped. Here's the way it is, Vince. I have the hat. I'm keeping the hat because it was my cousin's, but we're the bad guys, Vince. We don't either one of us get to wear the white hat.”

He wiped a few remaining tears of laughter from his eyes and looked at Joely. “See what I mean? He's smart as a beady-eyed Wall Street tycoon. He got me to tell a story I never tell anyone, but do you know? I'm glad. Now you've heard it, and we can put it to rest. Vince, go ahead and advertise Ghost Pepper. Usher him into a new era, and I can go on with my life. I'll buy the beer next time you come into town.”

“How about we make that the day after GP's first appearance?” Vince nodded. “You have to admit, you want to come and see if the horse still has it.”

“I do not.” Alec shook his head.

“You haven't been back to the grounds at all, have you?” Vince seemed astonished, as if he hadn't actually put that piece of the puzzle together before.

“No need,” Alec replied, a little too blithely. “And no desire.”

“So, you won't come and have one picture taken with the horse?”

“Nope. Why ruin a good portrait?”

He grinned as if it were a joke, but for the first time since she'd met him, Joely saw a chink in Alec Morrissey's got-it-all-together armor.

H
E FULLY EXPECTED
to be pummeled by questions on the way home from the Bucking V. Alec stole glances at Joely, waiting for her barrage, prepared to be calmer than he'd been with Vince. He wouldn't blame her for anything she might say or ask, but he didn't have the energy to start the conversation himself. Weakness permeated every muscle, as if he'd run a marathon—or spent eight seconds on a bronc that was trying to shoot him fifty feet across an arena. He hadn't known talking about Buzz would affect him this way, although he'd suspected, which was why he never did it.

And after the way he'd acted? Yeah, Joely would rightfully have a lot of questions. He'd dragged her along “as a buffer,” and she'd definitely earned a medal of valor for that job today. He'd kept himself from punching Vince at least twice because of Joely. And punch Vince for what? For telling the truth? For being himself?

He shifted his gaze to the woman beside him, unable to figure out why her presence didn't agitate him. She watched out the window as they traveled back to Wolf Paw Pass. Serene, comfortable, patient—her lovely face gave no indication that she wanted anything from him. There was no anger or tension in her. In fact, she filled the cab of the truck with a peaceful aura he couldn't explain.

After ten minutes his heart stopped hammering from anticipation of an interrogation. It thrummed, instead, in anticipation of a chance to hold her—any part of her: hand, shoulders, waist. He wondered what it would be like to have all of her against him, and a flash of erotic desire sluiced through his body, lodging low and hot in his groin. But sex, while an arousing fantasy, wasn't what he really wanted this minute. What he craved more than sex—as much as it maybe signaled the end of the world—was to make the healing serenity she exuded part of himself. If only he knew how.

He should never have gone to Vince's. Never should have set eyes on that horse. He definitely should have walked out before he'd told the story of the bet.

On the other hand, he'd faced the specter of having to attend the rodeo, and he'd beaten it back. Vince would try new angles of persuasion—but his biggest gun hadn't worked. Alec relaxed slightly and took one hand off the wheel to flex it. The motion relieved an unexpectedly high amount of tension. He repeated it with the other hand.

“There,” she said. “You look better.”

The words surprised him even though he felt their truth. “I do?”

“Yes. I'm sorry.”

“You? For what?”

“For not realizing from what you told me before we went to Vince's how hard it was going to be for you. I should have said it was all right not to go.”

She wasn't going to do it—ask a million questions and make him tell her the rest of the Iraq story or the leg story or even the hat story. Against all logic, she would not hound him.

“You had nothing to do with how hard this was or wasn't,” he said. “I'm grateful you were there.”

“It was interesting. Vince Newton is like someone out of a comic book. A fast-talking nice guy with no boundaries.”

He laughed for the first time since his mentally unstable bout with laughter at Vince's. “He's not a bad guy. He's just a . . . ” What was he?

“An annoying friend.”

“Understatement. Look, Joely, I'm the one who needs to be sorry—”

She reached across the space in the cab and laid her hand softly on his bicep. “I told you. Don't be sorry.”

He wanted to argue with her, because that's where he was most comfortable in their relationship, but he kept his sarcastic replies in check. In response, she stroked lightly down his arm. There was nothing sexual about the touch, and yet his body disagreed. His awareness of her scent—like fresh air and faint flowers—and of the energy in her warm, feminine-soft body, even with a slight distance between them, grew with each passing mile. She shifted in her seat and faced him more fully, her seatbelt pressing between her breasts, defining each as clearly as if she intentionally showed them off. He hardened like an undisciplined teenager. By the time he reached the front of the old stone store that housed her apartment, he wished with all his heart he had the cover of darkness for his walk to her door.

Or covers on a mattress.

That wasn't fair. This was so far from asking for sex. She was only being kind.

“You really don't have to get out you know,” she said as he moved to unbuckle his seatbelt. “It's broad daylight. I can get to my apartment fine.”

He shifted in his seat, tempted to let her go just so he wouldn't have to move. He couldn't make himself end the nondate that way. It may have been only a field trip, but he'd gotten her into it, he'd acted like an idiot, and he needed to at least end it like a gentleman.

“It's okay,” he said. “It isn't because I think you can't do it or even that I'm worried about you. I'm starting to think you could even handle the homeless dude if he was there.”

“I hope he's not. I don't want to handle him. But, yeah. I could.”

Alec went for honesty. “I just want to end this not being a jerk.”

“Who said you were a jerk?”

“Doesn't matter. Let me walk you to your door.”

She laughed. “Okay.”

He managed to get himself under control and follow her slow progression along the sidewalk. No Mayberry camped on her porch. No husband waited for her to produce papers. She turned the key in her lock, pushed open the door, and faced him with a satisfied smile.

“I have to say, that's always kind of a rush. No lobby, no night nurses, no check-in routine. Nobody but you knows I was even out. I guess I was living in a cocoon.”

“Told you, you could do it.”

“You did.”

He truly didn't know what to do without the mocking banter between them. It left him lost for a course of action.

“Well, thanks . . . ” he began.

“Would you like to come to Sunday dinner at the ranch tomorrow?”

Her request came out of nowhere. For one instant he almost said no, and then he comprehended that accepting meant he'd see her again.

“I wouldn't be intruding?”

“Hardly. The more the merrier at Paradise. Not even lying.”

“Okay. Can I give you a lift?”

“Why do you think I invited you?'

She stood there so casually with the little bit of early June breeze lifting stray curls of her honeyed hair and flipping it across the impish smile on her lips. She brushed the strands away with a sexy little flip of her hand. Her eyes shone a pretty ocean blue in the sun, and she set her crutches inside the apartment so she could lean back against her door jamb, her hands behind her. The pose thrust her breasts forward again and tipped her pelvis in his direction, but she had no clue she was striking a provocative pose. Staring at her long legs encased in well-worn denim, and her slender, sexy torso in a heathery blue T-shirt that matched her eyes and hugged her like a whisper didn't help his imagination or his body any. His fingers suddenly itched to slip around her and pull her close so he could trace up her spine and burrow into her wind-blown hair.

Her smile softened as they stared at one another, turning as warm as her eyes, as kind as her thank you, and as sexy as the cowboy-booted foot she set flat-soled against the door frame. His body mutinied once again, and he fought for a long moment to come up with an appropriate good-bye. He failed.

Aw, hell, so much for gentlemanly behavior.

He reached without warning her, without any kind of finesse at all, and hauled her into his arms. He stole the kiss and thrilled when her lips gave way beneath his, soft but motionless. Too late guilt at the callousness tugged at him, and he drew back, but then her mouth firmed and molded to his, pulling him back into the kiss. Thrills sliced down his body and settled as hard flutters in his stomach. She tasted his mouth, opening and closing her lips on his once, twice, and a third time. He caught her bottom lip gently between his, then worried the soft, hot inside of it with a scrape of his top teeth.

She touched his lip with her tongue and licks of fire flew down the back of his neck.

Fast, unplanned, sweeter than hard cider and smoother than good whiskey, they kissed until sense finally returned and Alec pulled away.

“Okay,” he said, breathing hard and licking his lips.

She mimicked him, and the sight of her tongue sealing in his kiss, dampening the spot his mouth had just conquered, took the strength out of his knees.

“Well, that was unexpected,” she said.

“Unplanned.” He tried to apologize, but he wasn't sorry for the moment of magic.

Taking a step back, he cocked his wrists and held his hand up in a gesture of surrender. “I didn't mean—”

“You could come in.”

He shook his head. No way would he trust himself in that small space with her. The only place more dangerous would be back in his truck. “Thanks. I think I need to let that be good-bye.”

“Yeah.”

He turned, knowing he should say something but having nothing to say that wouldn't just aggravate the situation. She didn't look angry. She didn't even look confused. Her clear, blue eyes simply searched him as if looking for answers.

“Tomorrow?” he asked.

“Can you pick me up at one o'clock?”

He nodded and left her in the doorway, turning around one time just before he took the corner around the building. She had already gone into her apartment. Well, hadn't he just screwed that up royally?

The occasion for dinner, Alec discovered, was Harper and Cole's return from their honeymoon. They greeted him as warmly as if he were family, and he discovered the open friendliness he'd experienced at the wedding wasn't reserved for special occasions. He also discovered where Joely had acquired her talent for the quick comeback. Ribbing was a way of life at the Crockett dinner table. If you couldn't toss a verbal dart, you got left behind. And yet there was respect and deference to the two family matriarchs, Sadie and Bella. Alec knew for a fact both women were strong and needed no coddling. Nonetheless, they were treated like queens, especially by Cole and Gabe. The new sons-in-law missed no opportunities to step and fetch for their mother- and grandmother-in-law.

He compared the picture of the Crocketts' TV-family perfection with what he remembered of his early childhood and then life with his aunt, uncle, and cousin. His mother had been a high school math teacher and his father an over-the-road trucker. They'd seemed happy enough, but when his father was home, Alec remembered his mother scrambling to make his dad comfortable or happy or relaxed. She'd always lost the crisp efficiency and silly game playing they'd shared when Dad was gone.

Once he'd moved in with Buzz's family, life had been less of a roller coaster, but it had been all hard work and little play. His Aunt Christine had been a sturdy, no-nonsense farm wife who gardened, canned, cooked, butchered chickens, and kept house without complaint. Meals were served on time and without fail, and to this day she took great pride in her cooking. His Uncle Rick had been jovial enough, but he'd kept to his up-at-dawn, in-bed-by-dark schedule so that the days rarely varied in their routine, and Alec's junior high and high school years blended together in his memory. He had few memories of joyous, free-for-all Sunday dinners like this.

“We're getting our new house by my birthday in August!” Mia and Gabe's son Rory announced halfway through the meal.

“You are?” Harper stopped a forkful of thick, gooey lasagna halfway to her mouth and looked from Rory to Mia. “That's pretty cool.”

“We finally got the loan secured the way we want it and the plans finalized. It took a lot of finagling, but they'll break ground as soon as we return from California.”

“Where I get to ride Pirates of the Caribbean,” Rory announced. “Pirates and a new house. Pretty cool honeymoon.”

His audience seated around the massive dining room table burst into laughter. The boy was known for his precocious observations, but Joely had told him the kid could still crack up even the most staid adults.

“I'd better hear you behaved yourself on this amazing honeymoon,” Sadie told him, waving her fork at him. “Most children don't go on those.”

“I know. It's a fake honeymoon,” he replied. “The real one will be in six months.”

He garnered more laughter.

“And we know everyone thinks we're crazy,” Mia added. “But we all three got married, so it's only right that Rory comes along.”

“But I want to go to Disneyland, too.” Harper adopted a high-pitched, whiny voice and held up her fork like a miniscule fencing blade. “No fair.”

“Then you should have married my mom and dad.” Rory crossed his spoon with her fork, and the two twisted the utensils, clashing like musketeers over the colorful placemats beneath their plates.

“I'm so glad you're home again to teach him manners,” Mia said to Harper.

“I'm bucking for the best aunt award,” Harper replied, the shaft of her fork clinking faster with Rory's spoon.

“Just wait until you have kids,” Mia said under her breath.

Alec caught Harper's wink at Joely. “Want to join in, Jo-Jo?” Harper asked. “I could use a little help. This kid's pretty good.”

“Hah!” said Rory.

“I'm afraid I'd hurt one of you,” Joely replied. “I'll get the next duel.”

“You looking forward to a passel of kids you can let fence at the table?” Alec leaned close and whispered in Joely's ear.

It was the closest he'd let himself get to her all afternoon. His impulsive actions from the day before had turned out to have consequences of severe awkwardness. Neither of them knew exactly what to do or say, and he hated the feeling. He was no Clint Eastwood, or his kid, or the dude who played Thor, or whoever else women swooned over these days, but he'd always had plenty of luck with women. He'd been Mayhem Morrissey after all. As of yesterday, however, this woman had him completely off-kilter and flummoxed.