Cedarwood Cowboy Read online

  “No way.”

  “I did. We talked a week ago.” He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. “For your information, she told me to leave Cedarwood and chase my dreams. She encouraged me.”

  “Liar. She’s needed help. The farm doesn’t run itself,” Mick snapped.

  “She’s down to four calves and forty acres. The kids from the vocational school take care of the land and animals for credit.” He’d helped set up the deal.

  “She’s lonely.”

  Oh, so Mr. Mick Ryan, Mr. Uppity Tight Pants, knew about the kids helping and he still had the balls to get pissed? “Apparently, she’s had you.” He tamped down his irritation. He’d hide his feelings any other time, but Mick seemed to draw him out. “Mick, you have your life. I had mine. My grandmother got out a lot. She loved going to her bridge club, bingo and her book club. I’m sorry I wasn’t there as she battled cancer. I’ve been down this road twice already with my parents. I dropped the ball and you can hate me all you want. I get it. But don’t jump on my ass because you don’t like the way I’ve lived my life.”

  “Fine.” Mick growled again.

  Evan folded his arms. This wasn’t how he’d planned to spend his first day in Cedarwood. He stole glances at Mick. Mick had aged well. Despite the early hour, Mick looked put together. He smelled good, too. Why does he have to be so handsome? The lines at the corners of his eyes accentuated his appeal. The weathered thing worked for him. It added to his sexiness.

  God, it wasn’t fair. Mick had been out since they were in school. He probably had a relationship. If he didn’t, he should. Mick deserved to be happy—even if he was an ass.

  Mick would laugh or hate him more when he learned the truth—Evan was gay and afraid to come out. So not like Mick.

  Gay. Why was he so scared to admit that out loud?

  He’d lose his career, that was why. He wouldn’t be as appealing to his fans if they knew the truth. Jesus. He wanted to be himself—and get away from Mick. He’d crushed on Mick in school. Hell, he was still attracted to him.

  He groaned. If Mick was a lawyer and handling Martha’s estate, then they’d be together a lot. Nice, but Mick hated him.

  What a way to spend the next few weeks of my life.

  Chapter Two

  Mick scrubbed both hands over his face as he rode the elevator to the seventh floor. He’d spent the last two days in and out of the hospital with Martha and Evan. So far, she’d held on longer than he’d expected. Part of him looked forward to their visits, because Martha had so little time left. As he spent more hours with Evan, he realized the guy wasn’t so bad. Evan was going through hell and deserved a break. Plus, he was there. Some of Mick’s clients didn’t have family around during their final hours.

  Part of Mick wasn’t fond of Evan. He couldn’t pinpoint why. Because Evan had left Cedarwood? Because he’d tried to chase a dream and fame? Maybe. Fame seemed to elude Evan. He was still playing dive bars, county fairs and smaller venues. If he made a bigger venue, he only managed third billing. How was that famous?

  A little bit of Mick was jealous. He’d never been able to leave Cedarwood. His family had needed him and he toed the family line. Why couldn’t Evan do that, too?

  Evan walked down the corridor toward Martha’s room. His heart ached for Martha. He’d miss her when she was gone. Besides, no one deserved to be diagnosed with cancer. But she’d be reunited with her husband, Clem. She loved her husband and missed him so much.

  Jess Cutter, one of the nurses who worked on Martha’s floor, hurried up to him. “Mick.” She crinkled her eyebrows and frowned. “Honey, didn’t you get the call?”

  Mick tipped his head. “What call?” His heart sank deeper. He had a pretty good idea what she had to say and was trying to avoid saying it. “How long ago?”

  “An hour.” She hugged Mick. “I haven’t been able to console Evan.” She rubbed Mick’s back. “Maybe you can help him.”

  The last thing he wanted to do was be with Evan. He’d crushed so hard on Evan in school, only to be ignored. He winced. He disliked Evan because he’d been rejected. They were different people now and Evan needed him. Evan was the only Conley left. Tears pricked his eyes, but he ignored the instinct to cry. He wasn’t permitted to lose control. He had to be professional and strong. “I’ll sit with him.”

  “Good.” Jess let go of him. “He’s been here all night. Try to get him to eat something and help him get some rest. He’s exhausted.”

  “I’m not his parent.” He allowed Jess to escort him down to the waiting area near Martha’s room. Evan sat on one of the chairs with his head in his hands.

  Mick steadied himself and approached Evan. He knelt in front of the man. “Hi.”

  Evan said nothing and didn’t acknowledge him.

  “There’s nothing I can say that will help. I’m hurting, too.” He hugged Evan. “Why don’t we go to the farmhouse? I’ll stay with you.”

  Evan nodded and said nothing. He allowed Mick to herd him out of the hospital to Mick’s car.

  “Do you have clothes or a bag?” Mick asked. He noted Evan was wearing the same clothes he’d donned when he’d met Evan at the airport. “Evan?” He opened the car door for him. “Where’s your bag?”

  “My manager took it to the farmhouse and left. Said he couldn’t stay around with a loser,” Evan mumbled. He faced away from Mick.

  Mick wanted to be irritated, but he understood. Everyone grieved in different ways. He rounded the hood and climbed behind the wheel. “I’ll take you home.” He assumed Evan had heard him, since he hadn’t answered.

  Mick refused to push Evan. The situation would be smoother if he let Evan come to him. If Evan wanted to talk, then he’d listen. Mick drove to the farm. Truth be told, he hadn’t come to terms with what had happened. His friend was gone. No more conversations or advice or nudges from her to date the guy she’d picked for him. A lump formed in his throat. He’d miss her, but was thankful for the time he’d had with her. He’d learned a lot from Martha, mostly to never accept less than what he deserved. He pulled into the gravel lane and sped back to the farmhouse. He parked by the barn.

  Mick patted Evan’s thigh. “Come on. We’ll make sure your bag is in the house.” He left the vehicle and rounded the hood. When he opened the door for Evan, he asked, “Who is your manager?” He’d have to talk to this person when it came time to sorting out the finances.

  “Lawrence Crowse.” Evan left the car. “He’s a user, but he gets me gigs.”

  Mick nodded. A shyster, no doubt. “Sometimes you need a tenacious fellow to help with the work.” He walked with Evan up to the house and spotted a bag by the front door. “Is that yours?”

  “Yeah.” Evan scooped up his bag. “Thanks.”

  Mick unlocked the door and allowed Evan into the house first. “Want me to order something to eat? We get deliveries out here.”

  “Not hungry, thanks.” Evan wandered through the house. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “I missed a lot. Those phone calls didn’t mean shit.”

  He wasn’t in the mood for a pity party, but Evan was hurting. He’d made choices and ‘oh, well’ for him. Mick stood in the doorway to the dining room.

  “When I was fifteen, she knew the truth. I hadn’t figured it out yet,” Evan said.

  “What truth?” He had a pretty good idea, but if Evan wanted to talk, he wouldn’t interrupt.

  Evan touched one of the picture frames. “She knew I was gay.” He wiped his face with the back of his hand. “She told me to be myself. She said I’d do better if I did. I couldn’t. No one wants to dance to the music of a gay cowboy. I’m supposed to have sex appeal. No appeal equals no work.” He faced Mick. “Do you know how hard it is to keep your true self quiet? All I wanted to do was sing and talk about my life. I can’t.” He shook his head. “You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine and I can tell you’re ready to leave.”

  “You just lost someone you love. You shouldn’t be alone.” He left the doorway. He
could be heartless, but Evan needed him. “I don’t mind. It’s not like I have anywhere to go. Besides, Martha was important to me, too.”

  “Yeah?” Evan wiped his face again. “Good.”

  “I’m going to order a pizza. Is there anything you don’t like?” He pulled his phone from his pocket.

  “I’m good.” Evan left the room.

  “Pepperoni and cheese? Will that work?” Mick asked. He tapped the order into the little app for Cedarwood Pizza.

  “Sure,” Evan called.

  Mick stayed in the front room of the house and kept an eye out for the delivery driver. According to the notification, the order would be there in less than half an hour. “Martha said she wanted us to share stories about her. Fond ones.” When Evan joined him in the front room, Mick rubbed Evan’s shoulders. “Come sit with me. Tell me about your grandmother.”

  Evan shook his head, but followed Mick to the sofa.

  “I’ll start,” Mick said and sat beside Evan. “After my grandmother got sick, Martha would have me drive her to town.”

  “She could drive,” Evan murmured.

  “She wanted company,” Mick said. “Anyway, she’d make sure she brought those mint candies. I must’ve eaten a hundred of them that year. I don’t like mint, but I’d take those because it made your grandmother happy.”

  “She loved butterscotch, too.”

  “Yeah?” He rested his arm on the back of the sofa. “I always got those blue mints she carried in her purse. If she had butterscotch, I never saw them.”

  “She had a candy dish she’d fill with butterscotch because my grandfather loved them,” Evan said. “I’m not wild about hard candy, but when I see those little discs, I think of him.”

  He smiled. He’d never known she liked the other kind of candy, and he liked getting Evan to talk. “Do you know Martha used to grouse at me about my clothes?”

  “No.” Evan’s mouth quirked into a tiny smile. “Did she try to recruit you to work on the farm?”

  “Yes.” He touched Evan’s shoulder. “She thought I should’ve helped bale straw and feed the cattle. I’m not a farmer.”

  “I couldn’t tell.” The smile grew a bit. A fresh tear slid down Evan’s cheek. “She encouraged me to play for her. I had to help with the chores, but she’d let me stay up when I stayed over, so I could play and practice.”

  “Guitar?” He wondered if Evan was any good. Must’ve been, if he took the stage.

  “Yeah. Piano, too.”

  “I’ll bet you’re great.” In his mind, he could see Evan on the stage, working the crowd and rocking with his guitar. He was probably electrifying.

  “She wanted me to play bebop like when she was a kid.” Evan rested his chin on his folded hands. “Said if I would, she’d add a dollar to my getaway fund. She gave me some money when I left for Nashville. I don’t know if that was all from me playing the music she loved, but I hope so.”

  “You played her music?”

  “Yeah.” Evan chuckled. “Did she request bebop music for her funeral?”

  “She wrote up an entire itinerary and it involved you playing a hymn and a song… Ivory Roses?” He’d never heard the song, but if Martha wanted it, then he wouldn’t argue.

  “My biggest hit?” Evan frowned. “It’s about lost love.”

  Mick shrugged. “It’s what she wanted. She planned everything out.” He placed his hand on Evan’s shoulder again. Why did he keep touching Evan? He liked the strength in Evan’s body, but did Evan appreciate his forthright approach? He hadn’t pulled away, but so what? Mick spotted the car. Good. He’d have a break for a second and could compose his thoughts. “Pizza’s here.”

  “That fast?” Even peeked out of the window. “Wow.”

  “It’s not far and Cedarwood Pizza liked your grandmother. She and I would order a pie every other Friday.” Mick stood. “I’ll get it.” He hurried through the house to the door, then out to the driveway where he met the car and tipped the driver. “Thanks.”

  Evan stood at the door. “Is that Callie Jenkins?”

  “The driver?” Mick met him on the porch. “She picks up shifts driving pizza when she’s short on cash. She and Dan divorced and it’s been rough.”

  “Didn’t they have kids?” Evan asked.

  “No.” He carried the box into the kitchen and placed the pizza on the table. “I’ll get the plates and such.”

  “Why don’t we eat out of the box?”

  Mick paused. Martha demanded that every time. All he had to do was retrieve the napkins.

  “Then there aren’t any dishes to wash,” Evan said.

  Shit. Evan was more like his grandmother than he’d thought. “Sure. I’ll get napkins.”

  “Cool.” Evan sat back on the sofa and sighed. “I owe you.”

  “Nah. You’re back in town and still getting your head screwed on. God, you just lost someone important to you. It’s been a crazy time. I’m not surprised you’re all turned around. Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind helping.” He retrieved the napkins, then sat opposite Evan on the armchair. He hadn’t wanted to assist any longer, but he enjoyed giving Evan a hand. “I wish Martha hadn’t died, but in a way, it’s got positive notes.”

  Evan’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?”

  “Yeah. We got to talk. I’m better when I can talk through my grief.” Mick stuffed a piece of pizza into his mouth. He liked to chatter when he got nervous or sad.

  “She’d say we found the silver lining,” Evan said. “Well, you did.”

  When Evan smiled, warmth shot through Mick. He was still crushing on Evan. Crazy. When Evan met his gaze, he wanted to smile back. He wanted to touch him again. Evan didn’t seem to be pulling away, either. Could they sort themselves out and maybe be friends? Something more? The desire to avoid him wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. At least they’d come full circle and could be on friendly terms. He just wished he wasn’t attracted to Evan James.

  Evan ate in silence. He could listen to Mick talk for hours. Mick’s chatter helped him. When he needed to be quiet, Mick talked. Where he wanted to escape into himself, Mick forced him to stay present, which was good. If he got lost in his head, then he’d have a hard time getting back out.

  He wasn’t in a good place. His grandmother was dead. But, in her wisdom, she’d forced him and Mick to be friends. He could lean on Mick. He hadn’t had someone to trust like that in forever. Most everyone wanted something from him. Not Mick.

  “What’s your favorite memory? Or your favorite story involving your grandmother?” Mick asked. “I can tell mine if you want me to go first.”

  “Go ahead.” He wasn’t in the mood to talk. He had plenty of good stories, but would rather just exist for a while. He had no desire to fiddle with his phone, play guitar or much else. The numbness overwhelmed him. The only reason he was eating was because the food was there.

  “My favorite Martha story involves her getting her hair colored. She’d gone to choir practice and one of the ladies had a purple stripe in her hair. Martha decided she’d like one, too. She drove to the salon—Glynnis now calls her shop a salon—and told Glynnis what she wanted. I got a call at seven that night. She’d managed to get a flat tire and needed help. Well, the service station was closed and she was stuck. I left the office and met her in front of the salon. She had a hat and sunglasses on. You know Martha. She wasn’t the type to hide behind anything. I helped her with the tire and asked if she needed anything else. I wanted to ask about the hat, but I kept that to myself. She said no and refused to remove her disguise. I couldn’t help but worry about her so I pushed her to ditch the hat and glasses. Here Glynnis had misunderstood her and given her rainbow hair. She was ashamed to show anyone, but then her tire blew and she couldn’t hide so she used the hat and glasses. I said, ‘girl, you’re just in time for pride month. Rock it.’ She brightened right up and sported that rainbow through June. She was so proud. The next year she had her hair done that way on purpose and rode with me in the pride pa
rade. I loved it.”

  He grinned. His grandmother was good at encouraging. He would’ve loved to have seen her all dolled up for the parade.

  “She looked good with rainbow hair.” Mick put his balled-up napkin down. “I’ll miss her.”

  Evan hesitated. The words were there. Could he vocalize them? “When I was a kid, my grandmother told me she wasn’t fond of funerals. They were too depressing.” He stared at Mick. He’d never told anyone this story. “She said when she passed, she wanted to be propped up and waving. I know it sounds terrible. She wanted a recorder added so she could have conversations with the mourners. It sounds so ridiculous and I know she knew that, but it made the heaviness of my father’s funeral easier.”

  “We were lucky to have her as long as we did.” Mick switched seats and settled beside Evan on the sofa. He grasped Evan’s hand. “We were.”

  “Yeah.” He clung to Mick. He needed the anchor. “I’m going to have to stay here.” Part of him didn’t want to—he wanted to go back on tour. The rest of him looked forward to putting down roots.

  “In Cedarwood?” Mick asked.

  “Someone has to run the farm.” He’d worked on the land and could do it a second time. Besides, he had to do something to keep him occupied.

  “We’ll have to go through the will, but you’ve got two boys from the vocational school who help, so you’ll have extra hands,” Mick said. “But you knew that. You’ll have to figure out what you want to do with them, but I’d suggest keeping them on.”

  “It’s so they get experience, so I’ll keep them on.” He had few choices otherwise. He needed the help.

  “Well, let’s make sure you’re getting the farm. I know what she wrote in her will, but we have to go over it later when you’re feeling up to it. Then we have to file it.”

  “I assumed I’d get the farm.” He hadn’t expected her to do anything else.

  “You do, but she had plans for the property.”

  “Oh.” Well, shit.

  “Evan, she wanted you to stick around. No selling it off, no walking away. She wanted you to settle down, work the land and be a part of Cedarwood,” Mick said. “Maybe she thought she’d live longer, but she wants you here.”