Cowboy Sing Me Home Read online

  “It’s Dusty.”

  “Okay, Dusty. Tanner really is a great guy. Kind of a goof, and a terrible poker player, but he’s a great guy.”

  Toby moved to a table and, when Luke tossed a questioning glare at him, he gave him the thumbs up sign. He mouthed the words, “you’re in.” and grinned.

  The rest of the band trickled in, laughing and joking the way they normally did. Luke checked his cords and chatted with some of the guys as they wandered in. When Rodney brought over their customary pitcher of beer and stack of cups, Luke reached for one.

  For nothing. Dusty picked up the pitcher and handed it back to Rodney. “The band’s not drinking during rehearsals.”

  There was a stunned silence, until Stevie said, “We’re not?”

  “No drinking during rehearsals. You did get the instructions I sent two weeks ago.” She didn’t bother to phrase it as a question.

  “Mmmm, well…”

  “Rodney always gives us a free pitcher during rehearsals,” Tommy, the drummer, said.

  “If you want to be in this band, you’re going to go by the rules. No drinking during rehearsals, and no drinking during a performance.”

  Luke cleared his throat and gave her a conciliatory smile. “We only have the one pitcher. It works out to one mug apiece, maybe two for a couple of us. It’s not enough to hurt any.”

  Dusty blinked, stared at him, then silently and slowly turned her head to take in the rest of the band.

  Luke swallowed and took a step back. “Okay then. No drinking during rehearsals.”

  Stevie sat back at his guitar and watched Rodney take the pitcher back to the bar. Toby snatched it out of his hands on the way and helped himself to a cold mug. He held it up to the band in salute. Luke mouthed something not particularly complimentary to him. Stevie looked like he wanted to cry.

  “Okay, everyone warmed up?” Dusty asked.

  No one was warmed up. They were too disturbed by the thought of coming into Tumbleweeds and not getting a beer to think of anything else.

  “Whiskey River, from the top, just the instruments the first few times through. We’ll work on vocals next. One, two three…”

  She started off alone because no one else was ready, her fingers flying down the neck of her guitar like tiny, beautiful machines. Luke jerked his attention away from her hands and back to his own. He managed to jump in at the third or fourth measure and catch up, if somewhat clumsily. Tommy rushed to get behind his set, tripped on his snare stand and crashed to the floor, taking a cymbal and a tom-tom with him.

  Luke glanced over at Stevie, sitting wide-eyed behind his steel guitar. His hands shook as he started to play. Unfortunately, it wasn’t anywhere close to what he was supposed to be playing. The bass player wasn’t even trying. He just stood there looking around as if he’d forgotten exactly how the thing in his hands worked.

  The whole train wreck finally became derailed about fifteen seconds into the song. As the rest of the band fell apart, Tommy managed to right himself, plopped down on his stool, and gave his bass drum a loud thump. It echoed in the suddenly silent room.

  Dusty swiveled her head and took a long, slow look at the group. Silence ticked off the seconds as the men hung their heads in collective shame. Luke looked out at Toby, who was laughing so hard he was about to beat himself half to death.

  “I hope Aloma County isn’t relying on this band to bring any rain. Okay.” Dusty talked slowly, as if to a small child. “From the top. Whiskey River. One. Two. Three.”

  It was almost like being back in high school, sweating out football practice with Coach Steck, Luke thought. Next thing they knew, she’d be in their faces, yelling that she’d never seen such a sorry excuse for a band in all her life.

  Luke found it nearly impossible to hide his grin.

  They struggled through Whiskey River. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t even close to good. Luke had never seen the guys so rattled. They’d been playing together for months – some of them years – and they usually had a fairly easy time of working tunes out together. But then, they’d never been struck with this combination of lust and fear before, either.

  Dusty rolled her eyes and shook her head. “That was like something from a nightmare. Okay, let’s give something else a shot. Does everyone know “Walking After Midnight”?

  They knew “Walking After Midnight.” They’d played it a hundred times before. It was one of their usual crowd’s favorites.

  Luke wondered how badly they were going to butcher it tonight.

  Pretty badly, it turned out. They sounded like a group of ten-year-olds that had been playing for two weeks. Luke looked over at Stevie, who was still staring at the back of Dusty’s head. Tommy sat bug-eyed behind his drum set, every line of his body tensed. He’d dropped his sticks three times during the short song. The bass player couldn’t find the beat with both hands.

  As the song ended, Dusty remained silent, chewing her lower lip and tapping her fingers against the top of her guitar. She flipped through a song list, and Luke could practically see her trying to figure out how she was going to get out of this gig. He moved quietly among the other band members and tried to chat them up a little, get them relaxed so they could find the rhythm.

  He wasn’t sure how effective he was; Stevie nodded at everything Luke said, but his awestruck gaze remained on Dusty. Tommy was braced for attack. And the bass player appeared to be one more insult away from walking off the job.

  Luke cleared his throat. “We’re a little rough tonight because we’re caught off guard. We weren’t expecting to work with such an accomplished musician, who also happens to be breathtakingly beautiful.” A little flattery couldn’t hurt.

  It didn’t help, either. Dusty merely rolled her eyes and thumbed through her song list.

  “Anyway,” Luke went on. “Sometimes we start out with just the guitar and singer, and then the rest of the band comes in as they get the beat.” They’d never done that before, but surely the guys would get with it sooner or later. Luke’s pride wouldn’t let him allow her to think they were really this bad.

  “Whatever will get this … thing off the ground. Okay, let’s do “Walking After Midnight” again, just you and me.”

  Luke waggled his brows at ‘just you and me.’

  Dusty stared back at him, blinked slowly, and waited.

  Luke cleared his throat and began the song.

  He’d heard her talk. He knew what her voice sounded like. Still, he wasn’t prepared for the deep, husky voice that poured like warm brandy through the room. He wasn’t prepared for how the tone of it filled the room, or how the fullness of it arrowed straight to his center, and quivered there.

  He held onto the song, but just barely. After a few bars, the drums joined in, then the bass player, then Stevie. All this Luke heard, and knew they were finally coming together, but he only took note in a peripheral way; his focus was completely taken by the amazing sound of the honeyed voice at his side.

  The song ended, and the room fell silent. A few people had wandered in, and Toby still sat at a table in the middle of the room. Luke looked around at the faces, and knew they were feeling the same thing he was.

  She wasn’t just talented. She was phenomenal.

  “Man,” Stevie breathed.

  That about summed it up, Luke thought. He didn’t know what to say. He felt like he’d just experienced a pivotal moment. As though he would never be the same after this moment.

  He felt like he might be, just a little, tiny bit, in love.

  Toby Haskell started to clap, slow, loud slaps of his palms that cracked in the silent room. Luke echoed it, and Tommy began to grin widely.

  Toby whistled. “Now, that’s a voice that will work some miracles.”

  They pulled out the rest of the rehearsal without any more embarrassing mishaps. Just hearing Dusty’s voice seemed to galvanize the guys, because Luke didn’t think they’d ever sounded better, once they got going. He knew he was playing better than he eve
r had, simply because he wanted to do justice to the woman beside him.

  They were only scheduled to rehearse until 9:30, but it was a full hour later before anyone felt like leaving. After reminding them to be on time and ready to play the next day, Dusty told them all to go home.

  Luke hung around after the rest of the band left and helped Rodney straighten up the bar. He watched Dusty pack away her equipment carefully and methodically, protecting the items like the valuable tools they were.

  He walked up to her after everyone was gone and Rodney had retreated to his office. “Do you know how talented you are?” he asked.

  “Talent is just another name for hard work,” Dusty replied, not looking at him. “I work hard at what I do.”

  “It shows. You’re amazing.”

  “Yeah, well, like I said, I try. Do you think we can get started at the right time tomorrow?”

  “Talented, but doesn’t know how to take a compliment.” He stepped close to her, subtly blocking her against the stage. “Yes, Ms. Rhodes, I think you have four guys in mortal fear of you, and we will probably all be an hour early tomorrow. Do you need help getting your trailer set up?”

  “I’ve been setting up that trailer by myself for years, Cowboy. I think I can manage tonight.”

  Luke nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He hung there for a moment, breathing the same air she did, watching as the breeze from the open door teased the fine hairs at her hairline. Filling his senses with her.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she said calmly.

  “What?”

  “You’re thinking about trying to cop a kiss. Wondering if you could risk it without drawing back a nub.” The gaze that met his was cold and hard as steel. “The answer is no.”

  An hour later, once she had set up camp, cleaned up, and worked her way through a turkey sandwich and Granny Smith apple, Dusty dropped into a lawn chair outside her trailer, propped her feet on the canvas folding stool, leaned back in her chair, and gave a gusty sigh.

  About a hundred yards away from her spot in Trailertopia – honestly, this really was the corniest town! – sat a farmhouse with what looked like at least a dozen kids. The place had only stopped crawling in the past half hour or so, and even now as lights winked out inside, she could hear faint voices and see an occasional head poking around outside. A screen slammed, the mother called out, and the screen slammed again, along with what sounded suspiciously like an assurance of innocence, even from this distance. This, presumably, was the family who dressed up their tree stump to look like Uncle Sam. Luke Tanner was right; she could see the tree from her spot on the hill. As well as a pile of tangled bicycles, bare spots in the grass, and various other toys she’d be loathe to identify.

  Dusty shifted irritably in her camp chair and wished they would let the quiet take over the night. Big families were alien to her. When her parents were alive, it had just been the three of them. The Three Amigos, they’d called themselves. As much fun as they’d had, she’d never experienced the cacophony of a large family dinner or an evening arguing over who was going to play with what toy or watch which program on television.

  She was glad of that, she told herself. Bedlam got on her nerves. She liked quiet, and calm, and being the one to call the shots.

  She sipped the glass of wine that was growing warm in her hand and frowned. The family across the way wasn’t what was bothering her. And neither was it the strange town she’d landed in.

  Luke Tanner bothered her. And the fact that, ridiculous as he was, not all of his flattery had missed its mark.

  Dusty was a firm believer in being honest, with herself and everyone else. Speaking purely clinically, the man wasn’t exactly ugly. In fact, if she had a type, he would be it, with that black hair combed back from a high forehead, those piercing blue eyes, and those wide lips that brought to mind long, slow kisses.

  Dusty sighed and stretched her toes. Obviously if she was thinking along these lines, she’d been on the road too long. It happened from time to time, and she’d come to recognize the signs. A body needed companionship every once in a while, even when the mind attached to the body didn’t particularly want it.

  But needs were needs, and she’d learned long ago that ignoring them was a waste of time and energy. It was impractical, if not impossible, for her to have a normal relationship with a man and go through the dance of courtship. She never stayed in one place for more than a few weeks. That was her life, and she liked it that way.

  So the logical choice, when she found her fancy turning to physical attraction, was to measure the logistics of the situation and, if practical, act on it. She made the decision, she set the rules, and she called the shots. She retained the upper hand.

  It didn’t sit well with her that he was so cocky. He knew he was good-looking, and as a rule her only objective with guys like that was to knock them down a peg. But he was also funny, and he seemed like a nice guy, from what little she could tell. He was pretty quick on his feet, too. She’d deliberately thrown the band as many curves as she could, and he kept up better than most. She had high hopes for the weekend, although she would never let the band know that.

  As she locked up and turned out the lights, she smiled to herself. She’d been getting that itchy feeling again, the one that popped up from time to time and had her questioning her lifestyle, wondering if it was time to get off the road. But the road was her home, her only home and her only way of life. Except for a brief attempt at domesticity a thousand years ago, it was the only life she’d ever known.

  Rather than making her long for the domestic life, a fling with one of the cowboys she met up with usually confirmed to her that the nomadic life was the only life for her. Confirmed that she wasn’t, actually, missing anything.

  She could do with a reminder, she thought tiredly as she gave the farmhouse one last look before turning in for the night. And since Luke Tanner seemed to be chomping at the bit, she might as well let him be the one to do it.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Dusty may have threatened him with ‘drawing back a nub’ if he tried to kiss her, but that didn’t mean Luke wasn’t still contemplating the possibilities the next day. He had the afternoon and evening off, since it was his turn to spend the night at the jail to watch their prisoner. He decided that sitting in the shade of his back porch, drinking iced tea and giving serious thought to just such a kiss, was a very productive way to spend his free time. He was just getting good and involved in scenario number three (in which Dusty – for reasons not entirely clear in Luke’s mind – sat on a stool onstage at Tumbleweeds, completely nude except for a pair of red stiletto heels, and played her guitar).

  Luke’s fantasies came to a halt when Toby Haskell walked around the corner with Cade, his tow-headed eighteen-month-old son. Luke had a soft spot for Cade, and since he figured this was the closest he would ever get to having a kid of his own, he made use of every chance he had to play with the boy.

  Luke grinned and pointed his finger at Cade. “Hey, Pardner.”

  Cade grinned and held up a crooked finger. “Aayyy, Pohnuh.”

  “What are you up to, Tanner?” Toby asked as he shifted Cade on his hip and dropped a diaper bag on the table beside Luke.

  “I am celebrating a triumphant victory over my destructive tendency toward overachieving.”

  “I’m serious. You have any plans for the afternoon?”

  “Just fantasizing about Dusty. Want a glass of tea?”

  Toby shook his head. “I was going to see if you can watch Cade for a little while –“

  That was as far as he got. Luke had played this game before, being tricked into looking after Cade for ‘a little while.’ The very memory made him shudder. Lulled into a false sense of security after fairly successful sessions of play with Cade, Luke had erroneously believed he could handle the tyke on his own, without the watchful eye of an actual parent or other qualified adult around to turn to for help. Almost a half a year later, he still woke up with
night sweats after that ordeal.

  Luke stood. “Nope. No way.”

  “Come on, Luke. Corrine’s in Abilene. Mom’s gone to the coast with her new boyfriend. And you know Colt and Becca won’t be back until tomorrow morning.”

  “What about Mrs. Perez? She’s his babysitter. And she knows what the heck she’s doing.”

  “She had to take her husband to the dentist. She should be back in two hours, and you can take him to her house then. Come on, Tanner, don’t be a chicken.”

  “I made a solemn vow that I would never, ever be alone with that kid again. Don’t get me wrong. I love the kid. He’s adorable. But no way am I going to be alone with him. I still have scars from the last time.”

  “That was a long time ago. And he’s a lot better now. Hardly ever bites, even. And he already ate. All you’ll have to do is play with him.”

  “He tried to nurse on me last time.”

  “He’s weaned now. The worst you’ll have to do is fight him for your iced tea.”

  Luke sighed. “I swore I was never going to do this again.”

  Toby handed Cade over to him. “Thanks a lot, Tanner. I’ll repay you someday.”

  Luke snorted. “You could never even come close.”

  “Wait till about 1:30 or 2:00, then call over to Mrs. Perez’s and see if she’s home yet. She said she’d be happy to watch him when she got back.”

  Luke nodded, silently deciding to start calling about 12:45. “Okay, any special instructions?”

  “Just keep him alive till you get over to Mrs. Perez’s. That’s all I ask.” Over his shoulder, he called back, “I already put his carseat in your pickup.”

  “Of course you did.” Luke frowned and sat back down with Cade in his lap. Cade stared solemnly back. Luke sighed. “Okay, kiddo. It’s you and me. How ugly do you think this is going to get?”

  Cade put his lips together and blew spit bubbles at him.

  “Yeah, that’s my opinion, too. What do you want to do? I might be able to find some cartoons on. Your mom ought to love that.”