Chapter Eighteen
Live country music twanged through the speakers. Hundreds of people were talking at once. Four fights had already broken out and he’d spent the last thirty minutes fending off the most persistent buckle bunnies he’d ever met.
It was only eight o’clock and Colby considered getting really drunk.
Especially when he looked over at the table where his family held court and the “surprise” his father had brought along.
A surprise by the name of Amy Jo Foster. The young woman whose family had been neighbors of the McKays for forty years. The young girl his father had stupidly decided might be a good candidate as Colby’s future wife.
Lord. And Amy Jo was just a girl of nineteen. She’d actually blushed when they’d been talking and his arm had accidentally brushed her breast.
His little sister Keely didn’t seem too thrilled Amy Jo had been invited to Frontier Days either. Even though Keely and Amy Jo were the same age and lived five miles apart, they’d never been best friends. Keely claimed Amy Jo was a goody-goody—the worst kind of insult hell-on-wheels Keely McKay could level on another person.
Colby studied his mother’s face from beneath his hat brim. Had Carolyn McKay been in on this surprise, too? Probably not. His dad had been browbeating him, claiming Colby needed a good woman to settle him down. His mother had assured Colby he’d want to settle down when he met the right woman.
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His gaze strayed to Amy Jo. It wasn’t like she was ugly as a mud fence. She was pretty in a coltish way. Reed thin, all long arms and legs.
Long white-blonde hair and a pink complexion, near as he could figure because she blushed all the damn time. Enormous blue eyes the vivid color of the Wyoming sky. When she wore her hair in a pair of pigtail braids, she reminded him of the Swiss Miss Instant Cocoa girl. Or more accurately, her younger sister. Much younger sister.
Colby sighed and glanced at the clock again. He missed Channing.
They hadn’t had a chance to talk about his stellar a*shole performance from the other night. He’d been too much of a chickenshit to call her cell phone as he’d driven Trevor’s rig to Cheyenne last night. Some things had to be done in person. Especially apologies. Then last night after they’d pulled into the campground at the opposite end of town from Frontier Park, they had to set up, take care of the horses and, by the time he and Edgard finished, it’d been damn near two in the morning.
Too late to call her. This morning he had to register for his events, pay his fees and he’d spent the afternoon with his family, leaving no time for him to wander over to Gemma’s campsite.
So…maybe if he played his cards right tonight, they could sneak outside and kiss and make up. Then he could get up the gumption to tell her all the things that’d been weighing on him before she left him for good.
“Hey, cowboy. Buy me a drink?”
Colby turned slightly. Yep. Another buckle bunny trying her luck. He shrugged and didn’t respond, hoping she’d get the hint.
She didn’t. Long scarlet nails inched up his shirt. She crowded in so he was enveloped in silicone, rhinestones and a cloud of perfume.
“Maybe you’d rather dance?”
“Maybe you’d like to get your paw offa him or I’ll bust it off, starting with those ugly fake claws,” a striking brunette said as she wrapped her arm around Colby’s waist.
“Run along, little girl,” the bunny hissed.
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“Darlin’,” she cooed sweetly to Colby, “you want this washed up old hag, or would you rather have a young hottie like me rockin’ your horse trailer?”
Colby tried not to laugh as he dropped a kiss on her temple. “I’ll take you, sweetheart.”
The buckle bunny spun on her ugly high-heeled boots the color of raspberry Kool-Aid and disappeared into the crowd.
Colby looked down at his sister and grinned. “Thanks, Keely.”
“You’re welcome. Although it totally creeps me out to have to ask you this. Are they always all over you like flies on shit?”
“Nice visual,” he said dryly. “But yeah, pretty much.”
“Dude. That sucks.” Her face brightened. “Hey, maybe there’s a way you could keep them away tonight. Pretend you’re madly in love with Amy Jo. Dance with her. Sit with her. Hold her hand and stare into her eyes. Normal nice, boring courtin’ shit that’d make me gag. But I know she’d totally go for it.”
Keely’s steely blue eyes were a bit too gleeful. “And this would be solely for my benefit?”
“Absolutely.” She ducked out of his embrace. “Ooh. I’m bailing before that hot bull fighter I’m chasing thinks I really am with you.” Keely shuddered. “Later, bro.”
Colby watched his sister saunter off and the trail of young bucks hot on her heels. Keely McKay was smart as a whip, as beautiful and unrefined as a wild horse, and held a razor sharp tongue that’d stripped the skin off of more than one unlucky cowboy. With an independent streak as wide as her stubborn streak, she considered raisin’ hell her God-given right. Woe to the man who wound up trying to tame her and win her heart.
What would Channing’s family say about their daughter? Did they even know her heart? Her wild streak? Her secret desire to be tamed and inflamed?
As Colby made his way back to his family table, he ran into Trevor, who appeared eager to get away from his own family. “Where you goin’?” 212
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“To the bar. And if I don’t come back, don’t tell them where I went, okay?”
“Okay. Have you seen Channing?”
“Ah. No.”
Panicked, he grabbed Trevor’s arm. “Something happened to her?”
“Nope.” Trevor dropped his gaze. “I just haven’t seen her since last night.”
Colby recognized his guilty expression. Jealousy roared through him like a raging forest fire. “You son of a bitch.”
“What?”
“Did you f*ck her when you saw her last night?” Trevor’s stubborn chin rose a notch. “So?” Somehow he’d expected Trevor to deny it. Or Colby had hoped that Channing knew he’d been serious about his threat that no other man touched her besides him. “That’s all you’ve got to say to me is so?”
“What’s the big deal? Isn’t that why she’s travelin’ with us? For a little variety?”
Colby loomed over his friend and growled, “I am gonna kick your sorry faggot ass right f*cking now.”
Trevor didn’t back down. In fact, he stepped up. “Back off, McKay.
I’m warnin’ you. I’m in a piss-poor mood, half-drunk and rarin’ to beat on someone. Since you’re in my face it can just as easily be you.”
“You prepared to bleed for her?”
“Probably more than you are.”
“What the f*ck does that mean?”
“Aren’t you the one who told me you wouldn’t be jealous if Channing and I spent time alone together? And now you are? Since when do you think you have the right to freak out about anything concernin’ her?
Especially when we both know the minute Channing shows up here tonight you’re gonna pretend you don’t even know her.”
“Low blow, Trev.”
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“Yeah? Well, nothin’ happened between me and Channing last night anyway. Not that it matters. You and I are both good at lyin’ to ourselves and neither of us is in a position to be makin’ promises to no one. Our families have pretty much seen to that, ain’t they?” He angled his hat toward the McKay table. “Is Amy Jo the one your dad picked for you?” Colby was livid and snapped off the first thing that came to his mind.
“It ain’t none of your business.” He turned and walked it off.
He hated this whole situation, mostly because he hated that Trevor was exactly right.
Or were he and Trevor both wrong? If they couldn’t make changes in their own lives, who could?
When Colby reached the table, he granted Amy Jo a big smile and offered his hand to her. “How about if you and me dance? There’s a couple of things I’d like to talk to you about.” Channing and Gemma had fortified themselves with a little liquid courage before they headed to the big dancehall blowout. Luckily, their campsite was within walking distance of the building, so if they knocked back too much beer, they’d have no problem stumbling back to the horse trailer.
Seemed everyone in Cheyenne had shown up. The place was loud and crowded. The tables were all full. Boots stomped. Shiny shirts and belts sparkled. Laughter rang out. Booze flowed.
Gemma knew tons of people and introduced her to everyone.
Channing felt herself retreating. Becoming quietly observant as she faded into the background.
They’d found a tall table to stand beside and a round of fresh beers had miraculously appeared. Gemma talked loudly over the music and conversations. “Opening night of ‘The Daddy of ‘em All’. What do you think?”
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Two cowboys went skidding past on the sawdust floor, fists and hats flying until some brave soul stepped in and broke it up and made them take it outside.
Before Channing could answer, a brunette placed her hands over Gemma’s eyes from behind and growled, “Guess who?”
“Justin McBride?” Pause. “Keith Urban?” Another pause. “Is it…Keely McKay?” Keely squealed and Gemma whirled around to squeeze the girl a big hug.
Even if Channing hadn’t heard the familiar last name, the family resemblance would’ve tipped her off. This dazzling, dark-haired woman with eyes the color of sapphires and big dimples was the spitting image of Colby—in petite, feminine form.
“Channing? This is Keely McKay, Colby’s baby sister.” Keely shook Channing’s hand. “Baby sister. Everyone treats me like I’m twelve. I’m almost twenty-one.”
“You’ll be twenty-one in another two years,” Gemma corrected, and knocked Keely’s hand away from her beer. “Anyway, what’re you up to besides no good?”
“I came down with Mom and Dad to watch Colby compete.” She grinned saucily. “And to find a bad cowboy who wants to lead me astray.
Can you introduce me to one or ten to save me some time?”
“Right. Doesn’t Daddy keep an eagle eye on you, since you’ve been known to get into a fair amount of trouble?”
“Yes.” Keely’s smile vanished. “An eagle eye in the form of Amy Jo Foster. We’re sharing a room, which means I have to be very quiet if I want to sneak out at night.”
“What’s Amy Jo doing here?”
“Daddy’s attempt at matchmaking.”
Gemma glanced at Channing and then away quickly. Channing knew something was up. She didn’t dare ask, because she was more than a little afraid of the answer.
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“Plus, she’s keeping the buckle bunnies away from him.” Her blue eyes widened. “Shit, here comes Daddy. You didn’t see me,” she said and squatted down, before she scooted away, ducking through the throng of people until she vanished in the crowd.
A tall, sturdy man sauntered over. He looked to be around sixty, ruggedly handsome with a square jaw, high cheekbones, those familiar compelling blue eyes. Dark hair beneath his cream-colored cowboy hat.
He flicked a quick glance at Channing and focused his attention on Gemma. “Where’d the wild child go?”
“Why, whoever do you mean?” Gemma asked innocently.
He rolled his eyes. “If you see Keely again, tell her I’m lookin’ for her.
I’ve survived raisin’ five rough and rowdy sons. That one little girl is gonna give me heart failure yet.”
“They say what goes around, comes around.”
“Her mama and me weren’t ever that wild.” Gemma lifted a brow. “If you say so. Carson, this is my friend Channing Kinkaid.”
Carson tipped his hat. “Nice to meetcha, Miz Kinkaid.”
“Same here.”
“Where’re you from?”
“Massachusetts.” Right then, Channing knew she couldn’t be more ostracized than if she’d answered Mars.
“Ah,” Carson said.
A moment of forced silence.
“Channing is also friends with Colby,” Gemma added.
Carson’s gaze narrowed. “You don’t say.” Sweat dripped down her spine in the wake of Carson McKay’s accusing stare. She waited for him to quiz her.
But he decided to ignore her. He and Gemma started dishing dirt on other rough stock contractors. Channing’s feet itched to make tracks for the door. They’d only been here an hour and she was ready to leave.
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A minute later firm male hands landed on her hips. “Dance with me.” She turned and Trevor tugged her away from the table to the dance floor.
There wasn’t much chance to talk as Trevor whirled and twirled her through three fast songs. When the power ballad “You Look So Good In Love” began, she fully expected they’d exit the dance floor. But Trevor pulled her into arms, keeping her at a respectable distance as they swayed to the beat .
“Are you havin’ fun?” Trevor asked.
“No. Are you?”
“No. Bein’ here around my family makes me realize how much I love bein’ on the road.”
Channing laughed.
“It ain’t funny. Times like today I am tempted to pack up and move to Brazil.”
Trevor danced her backward. She looked behind her to make sure she wasn’t about to plow over someone, when across the way she saw Colby, his hands clamped on the ass of a young, willowy blonde whose mannerisms and carriage screamed “real cowgirl”. They did the old bump and grind, oblivious to anything but each other.
Her breath caught and something inside her broke. Any secret stupid hope that she had about a future with Colby McKay evaporated like smoke.
Trevor noticed she’d gone rigid. He peered over her shoulder to the couple dirty dancing and froze. He whispered, “Ah hell. I’m so sorry, Chan.”
Breathe. She remembered Keely’s matchmaking comment. “Is she the one his dad brought here?”
No answer.
“Trevor?”
“Yeah, Carson brought her. Her family’s ranch borders the McKays’
and—”
“Don’t tell me any more.”
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“All right.”
Channing couldn’t stay on the dance floor, pretending her world hadn’t just crashed around her. When it felt like her heart was being stomped on by dozens of pairs of spiked cowboy boots. She stepped back away from Trevor so fast she stumbled into the couple behind her. Her clumsiness set off a chain reaction, which reached Colby and his new paramour.
Their eyes met. His registered surprise, then guilt. Hers, she knew, held nothing but desolation.
Channing fled. She thought she heard someone shout her name but she didn’t stop. She skirted the area where Gemma was fending off Cash and ran straight out the door. She didn’t quit running until she’d arrived at the horse trailer.
She madly packed the few personal items she’d brought with her. She dialed a cab company to pick her up and take her to the airport. She didn’t care where she escaped to as long as it was far away from here.
While Channing scrawled a quick note to Gemma, she sucked down a beer. She was totally unprepared for the vicious hammering on the metal trailer door.
“I know you’re in there, Channing. Open up,” Colby said.
She didn’t budge. She mouthed go away to him.
Several more ferocious knocks rattled the whole trailer. “Goddammit.
Open this f*cking door right now or I swear to God I’ll bust it down. And you know I don’t make idle threats.”
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