Blackbird Lake Read online

  “I’m sure you are.” She tried to ignore the fact that her heart had just skipped a beat. Make that two beats. Friends, she told herself. Only friends. That’s all you can handle. “This lady will have to take her chances, because what I really need is a babysitter for my daughter. Our daughter,” she amended pointedly.

  “Ouch. Then I guess that would be me.”

  The smile had faded from his face. In the late afternoon light, as the sun slid west toward the mountains, he met her gaze, his expression serious.

  “All kidding aside, I’ll be here for you,” he told her quietly. “Whenever I possibly can. All you have to do is ask.”

  His steady tone made something squeeze tight inside her. Why did he have to be so nice? So naturally easy and low-key and—okay, she had to be honest here—so utterly sexy as only a strong, laid-back, ‘I can handle anything you toss at me’ cowboy could be. One or the other or both would be hard enough, but all of those qualities combined…

  She fought the urge to fling her arms around those broad shoulders, to stretch up on tiptoe and kiss those casually smiling lips again.

  She hadn’t kissed a man since the night Jake got her pregnant and here he was in her own backyard, so to speak—the only man she yearned to kiss. Just one more time.

  But she couldn’t. Not now. Not ever.

  They’d made a deal to be friends. Nothing more. She had to stick to that and set the tone. Obey the ground rules. For Emma’s sake. Or else things could go very wrong, and Jake might leave, and Emma…

  Emma could end up devastated.

  “Just remember when you get home that night”—Jake shoved open the sliding door on the deck for her and his lips quirked upward into a grin—“if the yahoo walks you up on the porch and makes some unwanted moves, I’ll be there, too. Within calling-out distance.”

  “How would you possibly know if the moves are unwanted?”

  “Easy. We’ll work out some prearranged hand signals.”

  A huff of laughter escaped her, but she tried to make it sound like a cough. “You’ll have your hands full with Emma. I’ll fend for myself.”

  And with the words she forced herself to offer him nothing more than a cool smile before she brushed past him and into the house.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Well, what do you know.”

  Surprise charged through Brady as he drank his beer in the cavelike darkness of the Spotted Pony.

  The place was a dive. No doubt about that.

  It was small and crowded and dark, with sticky wood-planked floors, all sorts of moose and deer antlers lining the paneled walls, a jukebox and a pool table that had seen better days—and not much else in the way of decoration.

  But the music rocking the joint was a whole lot better than he’d ever expected. They’re not bad, he thought, not bad at all. Actually, they’re damned good.

  The Spotted Pony Bar and Grill perched on a cliff twenty miles outside of town, halfway up Eagle Mountain. Tonight it was packed to the rafters—which wasn’t saying much as it couldn’t hold more than fifty people, tops.

  The air was thick with smoke and filled with the smells of spilled beer and whiskey, greasy burgers and fries, all mingled with cheap perfume and too much aftershave clinging to the various bikers and truckers and cowboys and their women who frequented the place.

  Delia Craig and Eddie Chisholm sang their hearts out front and center on the small makeshift stage, belting out a vigorous cover of Shania Twain’s “You’re Still the One.” They sang with a gusto that had boots tapping and people humming along. Eddie was on fire with his guitar, and slightly behind them, Steve Tuck played the drums like nobody’s business. Even so, Brady found himself unable to keep from watching Madison. Though it was difficult to see her clearly, he could still make out her distinctive, richly spiraling voice singing backup. He couldn’t get a good glimpse of her face since she was tucked way in the back, farthest from the lights that glowed around Delia and Eddie.

  It looked like she was wearing her usual dark sweatshirt and jeans, as if she were trying to be invisible, to blend into the darkness and dingy walls. But her voice, rich and low and as pure as a starry night, penetrated the darkness and made him stare.

  She was better than good. Better even than Delia, who sang with verve and sass and power. Madison sang with soul. And heart. And the quiet grit of passion.

  It was Delia with her long, swingy, honey-colored hair, bright tangerine lipstick, tight purple T-shirt, and snug jeans decorated with glitter who got all the hands clapping, the boots stamping, and the whistles, but it was Madison’s sultry voice that gave substance to the song, that added depth and range and a touch of irresistible sexy exuberance that made it soar.

  When the song ended, their last number of the night, the Wild Critters waved to the applauding, boot-stamping crowd and quickly jumped down from the stage.

  Brady pushed to his feet and ambled around the tables toward the bar, where Madison was accepting a Coke from the bartender. He watched as she and Delia slid onto the only two empty bar stools in the place. Eddie and Steve were already starting to haul the drums and equipment out the door.

  He noticed a couple of other men looking Madison’s way, too. Several were in their twenties or early thirties, but one was a short, burly guy of about forty wearing a plaid shirt. He’d started purposefully walking toward the two women at the same time Brady had. But Brady got there first. As he paused before their bar stools, he saw from the corner of his eye that the other man had halted in his tracks, frowning.

  Sorry, bud, you’re a minute late and five bucks short, he thought in amusement, noting the other man’s gut sticking out above his belt buckle. The guy wore scuffed cowboy boots that had definitely seen better days.

  “Great show, ladies.” Brady rested a hand at the back of Madison’s bar stool. He sent Delia a friendly smile, but his gaze lingered on Madison. “You got a minute?”

  “’Course she does.” Delia smiled brightly and took another sip of her Coke, but Madison stared up at him in dismay.

  Now, what’s that all about? he wondered.

  “Only a minute.” She bit her lip. “We need to go help the guys load up—”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that.” Delia’s crimson-nailed hand lifted in a careless wave. “We’ll handle it, Maddy. You and Brady take your time.”

  She hopped off the bar stool and started toward the door to the parking lot where Eddie and Steve were loading the truck, but a young cowboy with slicked-back hair swung in front of her and asked her to dance. She practically jumped into his arms as the jukebox spun out Jason Aldean’s “Hicktown.”

  “Liked your show.” Brady squinted at Madison through the faint haze of smoke in the Spotted Pony. “You’re good. I mean, you’re really good.”

  “Thanks.” She nodded stiffly. “I’m working on writing some songs of my own. Eddie says when they’re ready we’ll try them out in a couple of shows.”

  “You know, you’re supposed to smile when someone gives you a compliment,” Brady pointed out. “Not look like you’re expecting to get snakebit.”

  She flushed. “Well, it’s not that I don’t appreciate what you said, it’s just that…”

  His eyebrows lifted as her voice trailed off.

  “I have a feeling there’s something bad coming next,” Madison blurted. “Like…” She lowered her tone, even though it would be impossible for anyone else to overhear with the jukebox spitting out music at full blast. “Like you can’t come to the auction, or you’ve changed your mind about helping me.” Nervously, her gaze searched his face.

  “Madison, no. You’ve got it all wrong. I was just about to tell you that I haven’t forgotten. I’ll be there. A deal’s a deal.”

  “Really?”

  Seeing the luminous smile break across her face, Brady felt something twist hard inside his chest. Damn if that smile didn’t make him want to move a little closer to her. Even in the baggy navy sweatshirt with her hair pulled back
from her face, she was the prettiest girl in the place, hands down. Without even trying.

  “There’s just one thing.” He tried to concentrate only on the conversation, and not on her lush bottom lip or the velvety softness of those caramel-colored eyes. “About the money—”

  But before he could explain he had no intention of letting her pay him for the date, the man in the plaid shirt suddenly reappeared and tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Excuse me, son. If you’re done jawing, I’d like to ask this pretty lady to dance, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’m not your son and I do mind.”

  The man smirked. “Well, it’s up to the lady, isn’t it?”

  “The lady’s sorry, but she’s a little too tired to dance after that long show.” Madison shot him a smile as she slid off the bar stool. “As a matter of fact, I was just leaving—”

  “Hey, c’mon now. We’re talking about one little dance.” The man stepped quickly past Brady and clamped a burly hand on Madison’s arm. “I’ve seen your picture in the newspaper. Not lately, but a few years ago. You’re the beauty queen, right? And now we know you can sing, too. I’d love to be able to say I danced with a beauty queen—”

  “The lady gave you an answer. She said no.” Brady’s gaze locked on the other man. “Now, take your hands off her.”

  “Who are you, kid? Her keeper? The lady doesn’t know all the facts yet. It so happens I know someone in the record biz. She might be interested in hearing what I can do for her and her career—”

  “Sorry, I’m not interested,” Madison told him a little breathlessly, pushing his hand away. “Come on, Brady, let’s go.”

  But as they started forward, the man in the plaid shirt darted around them and stepped in front of her again.

  “You’re making a big mistake, young lady. I know people. Important people. I could get the Wild Critters a record deal. Just like that!” He snapped his fingers. “But you and me, we have to have a private chat first—”

  He got no further.

  Brady gave him a shove that sent him toppling sideways into a table. He pitched forward, knocked over a pitcher of beer, then caught himself on the edge of the table as the three cowboys sitting there swore in annoyance. In a flash the man spun back toward Brady, his face red and his fists raised.

  But even as Brady took a giant step forward, ready to finish what he’d started, Madison jumped between them, her face white, taut, and pleading.

  “Brady, no. Don’t hit him! You can’t afford to get in any more trouble! Remember?”

  “It’ll be worth it.” Brady’s gaze was nailed to the other man’s face. “C’mon, step back, Maddy. Out of the way.”

  “Are you kidding? You could go to jail for assault this time. I’m not letting you land behind bars on my account!”

  Then Eddie and Steve ran up, their faces flushed, their arms spread as they wedged themselves between Brady and the older man.

  “Whoa, guys, what do you say we cool things down here?” Eddie was breathing hard.

  Looking worried, Steve jabbed a finger at the guy in the plaid shirt. “You need to back off, man. You, too, Farraday.”

  Delia spoke up quickly. “Our stuff’s all loaded. C’mon, guys, it’s late. Let’s get outta here!”

  She grabbed Madison’s arm and began pulling her toward the door.

  But Madison shook free. She spun back toward Brady.

  “I am not leaving here without you!”

  To her relief, he turned away from the man in the plaid shirt and fell into step beside her and Delia. No one said a word until they were outside the bar.

  “Whew. You going to be okay? Want me to drive home with you?” Delia asked Madison in the parking lot as the five of them stood beneath a star-studded sky.

  “No way. I’ll be fine.” Madison gave her a quick hug and smiled at Eddie and Steve. “You guys go on ahead. See you at rehearsal tomorrow night.”

  When Delia and Steve had both climbed into Eddie’s truck, and the three of them disappeared down the rough, dark road leading back to Lonesome Way, she turned to Grady with a shy smile.

  The cool night breeze felt good as it swept down the mountain, blowing away the heat and closeness and noise of the bar.

  “We need to get out of here before that jerk comes out the door,” she told him.

  “Yeah? You have no idea how much I wish he’d walk outside right now. There’d be no witnesses, except for you.” Then, at her exasperated expression, he grinned. Reaching out, he brushed his knuckles gently across her cheek.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not looking for trouble. Thanks for keeping me from doing something stupid. I just didn’t like the way he was talking to you. Touching you. He’s nothing but a dirty old man.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can handle jerks like that. It’s not worth you going to jail over!”

  “It would be worth going to jail if I had the chance to give him a couple of good punches right in the face.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that. My grandfather already—” She broke off.

  “Your grandfather already what? Hates me? Wants to throw me back in jail?”

  “He thinks you’re trouble.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think my grandfather is wrong.”

  “Hey, could it be? Someone actually believes in me?” He let out a low, rueful laugh that dug with astonishing force into her heart. “That would make you the only one who does.”

  “Not according to what I hear. Rumor has it Jake Tanner asked you to work on the new cabins he’s building up near Blackbird Lake. Something about a retreat for bullied kids and their families, right? And he got Denny McDonald to hire you back to your old job.”

  “Guess it’s true what they say. There really are no secrets in this town, are there?” But his tone was lighter as he walked her over to her Silverado and opened the driver’s-side door.

  “This is Lonesome Way, Brady, remember? If you want to keep secrets, move to the big city—” Madison gave a gasp as a car horn blared suddenly from somewhere on the mountain road. She jumped and nearly stumbled, but Brady’s strong hands shot out, planting themselves at her waist to steady her.

  “Hey, hey. It’s only a car horn. What’s up? You okay?”

  “I guess.” She felt herself flushing. “Maybe a little on edge.”

  “Because of that creep back there?”

  “Yes…no. I mean, partly—but that’s not the only reason.”

  She was all too aware that his hands were still clamped to her waist. When had Brady’s hands become so firm, so strong? It must be from working in construction, she thought. His grip felt good. Steady. Comforting. So did his closeness.

  She hadn’t been this close to him since they’d lain side by side in his treehouse when they were kids. Or on the floor of her living room when they were doing homework together in sixth grade. Only then they hadn’t even been touching.

  Not that she hadn’t wished they were.

  She forgot all about getting in her pick-up. For the moment, she simply wanted to stay right where she was, looking up into his eyes. He held her gently but firmly. She felt a breathless sensation being this close to him. It almost made her forget why she was feeling jumpy.

  “What’s the other reason?” His voice sounded husky. In the pale glow of starlight, his gaze was riveted on her as if they were all alone on the planet, not standing outside a bar in a gravel parking lot, with rowdy laughter and shouts streaming softly out to them from an open side window.

  “It’s nothing. Nothing important.”

  “Madison, come on. Tell me.”

  “I’ve just…had a strange feeling lately.” She shook her head. “It’s silly.”

  “My dad used to say if you speak a fear out loud, it goes away.”

  Madison swallowed. “I guess it’s worth a try….”

  When he didn’t say anything, just waited, she took a breath.

  “Sometimes lat
ely, I feel like…like someone’s watching me. It’s happened more than once.”

  Brady’s gaze sharpened. “Who would do that?” They’d been just joking around before, but this sounded serious.

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense. And it’s not as if I’ve seen anyone or anything; it’s just a feeling. I can’t explain it. Once or twice while I was walking Emma in her stroller, I was certain there was someone behind us. I kept stopping and turning around to look, and of course, Blue Bell Drive was empty, and as peaceful as always. But the other day when I took Emma to the park to meet Carly for a picnic lunch, it happened again. Oh, never mind, I’m just being stupid.”

  Brady pulled her closer. “Listen, we have instincts for a reason. I learned that a long time ago. Remember that time—the blizzard…?” His voice trailed off.

  “When you saved that little boy.” Madison nodded. “How could I forget?”

  “Well, I never told anyone, but I had a feeling that day. I can’t explain it. I just knew I had to stay up there, keep looking for him. I knew he was out there, that he was close and I was going to find him. After that, I’ve always tried to remember to listen to my instincts. You should, too—you need to be careful, Madison. I think you should mention this to your grandfather.”

  “And worry him for nothing? No way.” She shook her head, intensely aware of how close they were standing. She could feel the warmth of Brady’s strapping body and it made her shiver as the wind blew down the mountainside. Despite her sweatshirt, she felt chilled and wanted to snuggle closer to him for warmth. But that was crazy. There had never been anything like that between them—and Brady didn’t want there to be.

  She had wanted it, but Brady hadn’t seen that, and he never would. Down, girl, she told herself and forced her gaze from Brady’s eyes so she could concentrate on what she was saying.

  “If I see anything strange, I’ll be sure to tell Gramps,” she added. “But it’s probably nothing.”

  The words hung there for a moment between them.

  She sounds uneasy, Brady thought. He suddenly became aware that his hands were still wrapped around her waist. Reluctantly, he let them drop to his sides and took a deliberate step back. He dragged his gaze from her upturned face, and his mind away from the direction it kept going in.