Cowboy Fever Page 10

  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.

  Some things never change. She resolved not to look at him anymore, in spite of the hot flush that told her his eyes were still smoking holes in her shirt.

  “Oh, Teague, that’s terrible,” Courtney was saying.

  “What?” He turned away from Jodi and blinked, obviously confused. “Sorry. I was thinking about—something else.” He looked back at Jodi, the sneaky coyote smile returning.

  “The way you risk your life every day training them to buck,” Courtney said. “I knew it was more complicated than you said! I hate to think of you endangering yourself like that.”

  Judging from the way the girl’s breasts were heaving, she actually enjoyed thinking of Teague risking his life. Obviously, the idea turned her on. Jodi figured she was probably the kind of girl who went to rodeos to see the wrecks.

  On second thought, she’d probably never been to a rodeo.

  “The horses buck on their own,” Teague told Courtney. “It’s, um, automatic.”

  Courtney gave Teague a gentle slap on the arm. “Oh, you cowboys. So modest. I know it takes a lot of training to make a good bucking horse.”

  Mercifully, the group’s president was at the podium banging a gavel, so the game was at a halt. The speaker droned through the minutes from the last meeting, eliciting a bored “aye” from the group when he asked for their approval. Then everybody sang a couple songs. They always sang. It was goofy, but it was a long-standing Rotary tradition.

  Today the songs were “Home on the Range” and “Don’t Fence Me In.” As usual, Darla’s dramatic soprano sailed above the crowd, giving the simple songs an operatic boost. Teague moved his mouth along with the words, but Jodi could tell he wasn’t really singing. She could hear Emmett’s passable tenor beside her, and did her best to keep her own voice on key. Courtney made a game effort, but she didn’t know the words and soon fell silent.

  Her purse was another story, though. As Darla’s voice rose into a high tremolo, the purse let out a single, soaring note, high-pitched as a police siren. Courtney gave the bag a nudge with her foot and the noise stopped.

  “Some ringtone,” Teague whispered as the song ended.

  “Oh, no, that’s Honeybucket,” Courtney said. She opened the purse and tilted it forward, showing its contents to her tablemates. Her tiny apricot-colored puffball of a dog nestled inside. Courtney made a kissing noise and his bright-eyed, smiling face thrust itself out of the purse.

  “Honeybucket,” Jodi said, trying not to laugh. “Such a cute name.”

  “He’s a teacup Pomeranian,” Courtney said. “I take him everywhere.”

  Jodi imagined Teague taking Luna with him to Rotary meetings. The collie would have all the members rounded up in a corner by now.

  “What does it do?” Bucky asked dubiously, nodding toward the tiny dog. Ranchers expected a pet to have a purpose—like herding cows or keeping the rabbits down. But this little guy looked useless.

  “He loves me.” Courtney smiled and tucked the little dog’s head back down into the purse. “Shh, baby. You’re not supposed to be here,” she whispered. She wagged a warning finger at the pup. “Don’t you get us in trouble now!”

  “And now our speaker for the day,” the president intoned. “I’m sure you all remember Jodi Brand from her days as Miss Rodeo USA. She’s starting a non-profit venture I think you’ll all be interested in supporting. Jodi?”

  She stood and brushed imaginary crumbs off her lap, then put on her best rodeo queen smile and headed for the front of the room.

  Time to shine.

  Chapter 15

  Teague watched Jodi go, smiling to himself. Somehow, she’d gotten herself pushed to the front of the list of speakers waiting to pimp their causes to the Rotary crowd. Even after all these years, the girl had pull.

  She stood and made her way through the crowd to the front of the room, smiling and nodding, patting old friends on the shoulder and squeezing proffered hands as she passed. Stepping up to the podium, she adjusted the microphone and smiled, scanning the crowd.

  “Well, hello, Purvis!” she said. “I’ve missed you!”

  The attendees burst into applause, accompanied by cowboy hoots and much foot-stomping. Obviously, Jodi was still their hometown sweetheart. After a few gracious nods that reminded Teague of her rodeo queen days, she began to outline the benefits of horseback riding for the handicapped. She was eloquent and impassioned, and by the time she finished, Teague was ready to bankroll the project all by himself if he had to. It sounded like a winner to him.

  “So what I’m looking for is a small grant to buy feed and supplies. And if anybody’s kids have outgrown their boots and saddles, we could sure use some child-sized tack. We’re a registered non-profit, so you’d get a write-off for the donation.” She scanned the room, obviously hoping for a response. “We need horses, too. Older ones with good manners. If you’ve got a retired roping horse on your hands, or an old barrel horse, it’s a great way for them to be useful in their later years.”

  A man at the front table stood and Jodi nodded toward him.

  “I wonder if you’d go talk to my daughter’s Girl Scout troop,” he said. “I think you’d be a great role model for them.”

  “Sure.” Jodi smiled, and Teague couldn’t blame her. Finally, she’d be a role model for what she was doing, instead of what she was wearing. Much as he’d teased her during her reign over the rodeo, he’d known she wasn’t a superficial person. This had to feel good.

  “I’d love to,” she said. “We could even do a field trip to visit the horses and show them the exercises. What grade is Beth in now, Mr. Haines?”

  Count on Jodi to know everybody’s name. She’d always been like that.

  “She’s in sixth grade. But I wanted you to talk about being a rodeo queen. How to carry yourself, how important good grades are, all that.”

  Jodi’s face fell, but she pasted the smile back on. “Sure, I could do that.” Her voice was a little flat, but Teague doubted if anyone noticed.

  “Next Friday? They meet after school.”

  Reluctantly, Jodi nodded. “Sure. I’ll be there.”

  “And could you wear your uniform? You know, your queen clothes? I’
m sure the girls would love that.”

  “Sure.”

  Another member stood up, and another. Jodi had trouble keeping up with all the requests for her rodeo queen expertise, but not another word was said about funding the clinic.

  She headed back toward their table when the questions stopped, but one person after another demanded her attention. At the rate she was going, it would take her half an hour to get back to her seat.

  Courtney nudged Teague’s shoulder. “She was a rodeo queen?” She gave Jodi an assessing look. “She looks like a field hand.”

  “Jodi wasn’t just any old rodeo queen,” Teague said. “She was Miss Rodeo USA. She modeled for Wrangler, too.” He couldn’t believe he was spouting Jodi’s pageant accomplishments like they were good things. He’d hated the whole rodeo queen thing. Jodi had always been from another class—another world, even—but her crown had really taken her away from him. Rodeo queens were all about old-fashioned Western values—home, family—all the things the Treadwells were hopelessly bad at.

  “Well, she sure doesn’t look like a rodeo queen now,” Courtney sniffed. “And if she’s a model, what’s she doing here?”

  “She just told you.” Teague spoke sharply, and Courtney narrowed her eyes for half a second before she caught herself and pasted on a flirty smile

  “Well, she said she needs older horses. Already trained ones. I guess she’s not a real cowgirl. Not brave, like you.” She squeezed his arm again. “Training those big, mean bucking broncos the way you do. I just can’t get over that.”

  “Well, working with handicapped kids is a lot more of a contribution to society.”

  Courtney shrugged. “But you need funding for something like that, and it doesn’t look like she’s going to get anything out of this group.” She looked up at the ceiling and tapped her chin with one manicured finger, pantomiming deep thought. “What she needs to do is a fund-raiser.”

  “Like a spaghetti dinner? Or a raffle?”