Rocking the Cowboy Read online

  “Hard to imagine this was Buddy’s home for so long. I can’t see him here at all.”

  Jed stiffened. “It’s not his home now. It’s my home.”

  “Right. I know that. I just meant—Buddy is about artists and parties—he’s such a social animal.” Remy’s shoulders slumped. “Shit. I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. God, I’m being a total prick—it’s been a rough time…. Forget it. Please?”

  He wasn’t smiling easily now. Jed liked that better. He didn’t want Remy to smile at him unless it was a real smile.

  “Forget it.”

  Remy nodded, but his teeth sank into his lower lip. Jed felt like a jerk suddenly. It wasn’t Remy’s fault the mere mention of Buddy’s name set Jed on edge.

  “Hungry?” The word came out softer than Jed wanted.

  “I don’t have much appetite these days.”

  “Why not?” Jed wondered if Remy was on one of those weird Hollywood diets where they drank cayenne pepper or some shit. He was skinny enough already in those clingingly tight jeans. Did he peel them off at night?

  And why did Jed care that for a second Remy looked scared and young? Two Remys stood in front of him—one brash and spoiled and the other young and vulnerable.

  Jed guarded his own expression. “Come on in the house and eat.”

  Remy was about to reply, when Hagrid, who’d been chasing a squirrel, chose that exact moment to appear. His crazy dog bounded for Remy, nearly knocking him off his feet.

  Jed gave a sharp whistle. “Off, Hagrid.”

  Hagrid dropped to all fours, his tail thumping the ground, his eyes already full of love for the stranger.

  “Is this a dog? Or a horse?” Remy made a slight face and wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. “I have enough drool on me to fill a lake.”

  “He’s part Akita and part shepherd and maybe something else. I’m not sure.”

  “Akita? Jesus, should I worry about getting my hand bitten off? Why isn’t he on a leash?”

  “This is the country. Dogs aren’t usually leash trained.”

  “In LA you’d be fined for having him loose. You, um, sure he doesn’t bite?”

  “Hagrid hurts no one.” Jed narrowed his eyes. “Unless I say to.”

  “Got it. Don’t piss you or the dog off.” Remy offered Hagrid a tentative palm. “Hello there, Hagrid. Can we please get along? I need my arms and legs.”

  Hagrid thumped his tail, then slurped Remy’s open palm with his pink tongue.

  “Huh. I think he likes me.”

  “He does, so try and relax.”

  Remy’s lips twisted. “I’ll take your word for it since I’m more of a cat person.”

  “Cats? They’re only good for catching rats. Tell me you don’t have one.”

  “I got one. He’s in the car. What do you have against cats?”

  “Nothing. You’re the one who just insulted my dog.” Jed tried to keep from grimacing. Everything about Remy Sean made him uncomfortable. He wished he could slide into a saddle and ride away, not stand there while Remy talked to his dog.

  “I didn’t insult you, did I, fella?” He soothed a drooling, happy Hagrid. “I noted his size. He’s intimidating. Has Hagrid been around any cats?”

  “My sister has one,” Jed admitted. “They interacted a few times. Mostly ignored each other.”

  “Then he’s going to love Oscar. Trust me.” His voice deepened to the smoky rasp Remy was famous for. The one that sounded like dirty sex.

  Trust him? Like hell.

  He watched as Remy walked to his car. Like so many musicians, he moved with a natural sexy saunter. Did they teach that to them somehow? Jed ignored the current of awareness taking hold of him. He had allowed Remy here only to see to his sister’s happiness and get his land, not to indulge in some ridiculous lust for a spoiled pop idol. Even one with a surprisingly full ass. Quickly Jed squashed the direction of his thoughts as Remy opened his car door and an oversized cat emerged in his arms.

  “Say hi, Oscar.”

  The cat gave a twitch of his tail. Remy lowered him to the ground, and Oscar stretched lazily. He wore a collar with dazzling jewels spelling out his name. Underneath the ridiculous collar was a small bell that no doubt would drive Jed nuts.

  Hagrid went to the cat for a welcoming sniff. Jed braced himself for Oscar to swipe or Hagrid to instigate a chase, but to his surprise, Oscar only stiffened for a second before deciding the giant dog was okay and letting out a small purr. He actually rubbed up against Hagrid’s legs.

  “He likes dogs?”

  “I told you. Oscar likes everybody. But yeah, some of the guys in the band brought dogs with us. Oscar has been used to dogs since he’s been little. My bandmate Jason had a golden. They grew up together. Oscar imitated his every move, even begged at the table like a dog.”

  “You sound weirdly proud.”

  “Begging is underrated. It’s a skill he mastered as a small kitten.”

  Jed wondered if Oscar had ever been a small anything, given the cat’s bulk, but he had to admit Hagrid was making fast friends with the cat. Unlike Jed and Remy.

  AFTER settling the animals with some food, Jed served his homemade stew to Remy. He’d seen the meat on sale and decided it was just the thing to cook, but now Jed was tense. From the way Remy smiled, he clearly wanted to make friends, but Jed was equally determined to keep it a business arrangement. He needed to pound something out of frustration for being in this situation at all.

  Remy asked Jed a few more questions about the ranch, which Jed gave one-word answers to, and then Remy gave up. Jed could see uncertainty in his eyes for a moment, but if Remy was surprised at Jed’s refusal to converse with him, he hid it quickly and began to eat.

  Remy ate one spoonful of stew, then another. And another.

  “I thought you had no appetite,” Jed commented as Remy ate more rapid bites.

  “That was before I tasted this. Man, you can cook.”

  “I have to. The food won’t cook itself.”

  “No, I mean it. This is delicious. Why is there this amazing, smoky flavor?”

  “Paprika.” Jed blushed.

  “Well, it was the perfect amount of hot. And I know hot.”

  Was Remy flirting with him? People didn’t normally flirt with Jed.

  “My family grew up on takeout, even though my mom’s Italian. She’s always joked she’d get kicked out of Italy if she ever returned, for making boxed pasta.” Remy gave him a friendly look and took another bite. “God, I love that it’s salted just right. I’m not kidding about how delicious this is.”

  A reluctant smile tugged at Jed’s lips. “It’s kosher salt. And I sear the meat first. That’s the secret.”

  “Well, it’s fucking awesome.”

  “Thanks,” Jed stammered.

  Was Remy being sincere? He couldn’t recall the last time somebody had praised him. Not that he needed anybody’s compliments. Still, it felt good.

  “My personal trainer never lets me have much salt. Got something to drink with it? Vitamin water?”

  “Sorry, no.”

  “Water is fine, then. Thanks.” His eyes lit with a natural warmth that couldn’t be fake.

  Could it?

  “You’re welcome,” Jed said, his voice stilted with awkwardness, as he grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

  Jed examined Remy’s face. It was flawless, perfect. His skin was golden, eyes deep set and the color of dark chocolate, his mouth full. Remy was too pretty—not Jed’s type.

  Right, as if gorgeous wasn’t a type.

  And as if Jed had even had enough relationships to earn a type. Jed knew better than to try and flirt with Remy. The ranch kept him in decent shape, but Jed wasn’t a handsome man. He didn’t much care, but he had no illusions either.

  Remy had followed him all around the kitchen as it was. Jed thought Remy’s interest in him would wane after the introductions, but no. He’d pulled out a seat near him as Jed fixed their me
al, chattering away, asking questions about the town, which Jed mostly ignored. Worse, he kept smiling at Jed, trying to be friendly or something. Jed didn’t trust those smiles.

  He didn’t trust how those smiles made him feel.

  Jed took a sip of his beer to fortify himself. What did Remy want? Jed was giving him a place to crash, not offering him a Grammy. Yet Remy appeared ready to jump to his feet at any second. He was all nervous energy.

  Would he be like that in bed? Would all that energy be directed just at him? Jed imagined holding his slender hips and nibbling at the skin below his ear. Imagined those large dark eyes pleading with him for release as Remy bucked beneath him. Their chairs were so close, Remy’s thigh mere inches from Jed’s. Jesus Christ! Was he actually sitting here and contemplating fucking Remy Sean, pop god to tweens everywhere?

  He should never have agreed to this bullshit, and he was going to do his best to get Remy gone as soon as possible.

  Jed reached for a piece of bread, but Remy snagged it first. He tried to summon up some annoyance about it, but watching Remy shut his eyes and sigh over the garlic bread made it difficult. He needed to get rid of Remy, all right, for a whole lot of reasons.

  Remy licked the upper corner of his mouth, where butter gleamed. Was he doing that on purpose? Pushing Jed’s buttons for fun? Jed wasn’t sure.

  “Here.” Jed handed Remy a napkin. “Since you’re not using this, you can autograph it.”

  “You want my autograph?”

  “I heard they sell on eBay.” Smartass Jed could manage. The attraction? Not so much.

  Remy laughed, not at all offended. His ego clearly could take it.

  Jed took another sip of beer and jerked his gaze away from Remy. Remy had refused a beer earlier, mentioning something about too much champagne. Fucking champagne? What guy drank that? Except at weddings? And only for the toast. Clearly, the gulf between them was huge. Jed spent the next few minutes in total silence, not bothering with small talk, fighting the urge to glare at Remy for some reason. They sat and finished the stew.

  “Dessert?” Remy asked hopefully, breaking the quiet.

  “I have chocolate cake. I’ll cut you a slice.”

  He sliced a thick, gooey piece and handed the plate to Remy.

  Remy chewed some cake and gave a happy sigh. “Worth the calories I’ll have to dance off for this. You been to one of my concerts?”

  “No,” Jed said.

  “Oh well, it’s not so glamorous.” Remy licked the chocolate from his fingers. “Mostly I sing under the lights that are hot as fuck and try not to sweat my makeup off.”

  “Bet the crowd loves it. Sweaty makeup or not.”

  An odd look flashed over Remy’s face before his features went blank. Then Remy masked it as he gave Jed a breezy smile. “Sure, they’re amazing. A lot of them know the dances better than me. And they love me after the shows too,” he added with a suggestive wink.

  Jed’s mouth tightened. He could tell it was an act of some kind, and it pissed him off.

  “I’m hardly ever home to cook.” Remy spoke through a mouthful of cake.

  “How about your laundry? Hotels do that for you?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Must be nice.” Jed couldn’t help the sarcasm in his voice. Remy probably thought everybody from the fans to the hotel staff were there to jump at his beck and call. Jed doubted he gave their lives a thought.

  Remy lowered his spoon with a clank. It was clear he heard the censure in Jed’s tone and didn’t like it. “If you think I can’t help out here to earn my keep, you’re wrong. I’m willing and able to do some household chores. I can’t promise the food will taste this good, but I’ll get the job done.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll spare my taste buds.”

  “Give me a chore list,” Remy insisted.

  “What? No. Forget it.”

  “I’m going to be so fucking bored doing nothing. Come on, man. I can’t stand being bored.”

  “Yeah, because there’s nothing worse in life than boredom,” Jed grumbled.

  “I admit I’m spoiled. Okay? I’m used to being entertained or doing the entertaining. And I won’t be getting much entertainment here, will I? My cell phone has like one bar. And if there was a club in town, I must have missed it. So I need to do something. You seem happy to give orders, so give me some.”

  Jed wanted to give him orders, all right. In the bedroom. On his knees.

  He gritted his teeth. Anything he said right now would clue Remy in to his feelings, which Jed wanted to stay safely hidden. He wasn’t about to make an idiot of himself.

  “Give me a list. Are you worried you might have to admit I’m not a bad houseguest, after all? Even if I’m an unwanted one. Why did you agree to take me in?”

  “None of your business.” Jed stood abruptly and backed away. What was wrong with him? He should never have agreed to let Remy stay here. One night and already Jed was far too emotional. One minute he was baiting Remy, the next he wanted to kiss his smug, smiling mouth.

  “Fine, don’t tell me. Whatever the fuck is the reason you agreed to help Buddy and me, I’m sure it isn’t out of some decent emotion. So forget it…. I don’t really care why you took me in. I’m here now.”

  “We’re stuck with each other,” Jed agreed.

  “Don’t sound so happy.”

  “You can scrub these stew dishes. There. The first thing on your list.”

  “See you bright and early,” Remy called cheerfully.

  Deliberately trying to aggravate him, Jed was sure of that. Jed liked people who got to the point. He didn’t like cheery people. He didn’t trust them.

  As Jed escaped the kitchen and retreated to his room, he felt like a damn fool. But really, he needed to set some boundaries. It was his house. He wasn’t going to be anybody but himself.

  Uneasy, Jed flung open the door and stomped inside his bedroom. He’d barely been able to stop staring at Remy through dinner, and it wasn’t as if Remy would be interested, not in him. Boring ranchers did not have hot flings with famous pop stars.

  Had Remy even picked up on the fact that he was gay? Not that Jed ever went around hiding his sexuality, but he didn’t advertise it either. It was more a need for privacy. Sex was private. Or it should be. Jed sometimes wondered if anybody knew what intimacy even meant these days.

  He snorted. For somebody who valued privacy and was awkward in social situations, Jed sure had been ready to forget all that the moment Remy began licking his chocolate-stained fingers. Remy was infuriating. He must have known the way he sucked the tip of his thumb would look sexy. Hell, he probably practiced those moves on everybody he ate with.

  Not happening.

  With a muttered curse, Jed decided to get ready for some television and then bed.

  A knock on his door startled him.

  “Sorry to bother you, but I’m not sure what bedroom I should take…?” He shrugged.

  “I’ll show you.” Jed felt like an idiot and a terrible host. Even if Remy had annoyed him back in the kitchen, he should have shown the guy to the guest room. Silently he moved past Remy to lead the way to the corner room. Although the biggest of his guest rooms, Jed suddenly viewed it through a stranger’s eyes—narrow bed, dusty ceiling fan, no real storage.

  “So, this is it.” Jed folded his arms. “I’m no decorator, as you can see.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “I’ll get you some fresh sheets,” he said, his voice still defensive.

  Remy blocked his path. “So is this how my time here will go?” he demanded.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The two of us are bickering. Or misunderstanding each other. And we’re not some old married couple. Fuck this. If you don’t want me here, I can go. I’ll fetch Oscar and—”

  “Hold on. I never said—”

  “I can leave.”

  “Slow down a second—”

  “It’s probably for the best. My memories of this place were goo
d, and I thought—well, it hardly matters what I thought, does it? I can see now you don’t want me, so—”

  “Will you hang on a second? Give a guy a chance to breathe? Shoot.” Jed rubbed at his neck. He towered over Remy, yet he felt smaller. How was he supposed to handle this? Remy had his emotions in a whirlwind in less than twenty-four hours. Jed had never met anybody who changed moods as fast as Remy.

  “Look, no sense deciding anything tonight. I have some good sheets. I’ll go get them, okay?”

  He turned before Remy could answer and quickly retrieved his best sheets. Jed felt a bizarre urge to apologize, despite not seeing exactly what he had done wrong. He had almost replied I do want you. But the words got jammed in his throat.

  When he returned, the mattress was bare, and Remy crouched in front of the bed, stroking Hagrid behind the ears and murmuring to him. It was nothing really, a small gesture toward his dog when Remy thought Jed was occupied elsewhere. So why did it warm Jed inside?

  “Do you like a hard pillow or a soft one?” Jed held up the two choices he’d fetched from the closet, along with the fresh set of sheets. “I got both kinds here.”

  “Soft.”

  “Here, then.” Jed fluffed the softer pillow with the heels of his hands before offering it to Remy. He was glad Hagrid and Oscar were between them as he laid the sheets down. Together, they quickly made the bed, Remy taking one corner, Jed another. Although he might have hotel staff doing it for him these days, it was clear Remy had made a few beds in his life.

  Jed jammed his hands into his pockets. “G’night.”

  “Night, Jed. Thank you for the sheets and pillow.”

  Remy wasn’t meeting his gaze. His pop-star persona seemed suddenly as stripped as the bed had been. A vague memory of Remy shadowing his footsteps on the ranch came to Jed. Remy had been a boy, that much Jed remembered, with chewed-down nails and a painfully scrawny build. And he had always averted his gaze, never quite looking Jed in the eyes. Was this sudden memory even real?

  The problem of the bedding, at least, was easily solved. The puzzle of Remy Sean, not so much.

  JED slept fitfully, but he still rose at his usual time. He made coffee and got ready for the day, all while Remy snoozed. Predictable. What grown adult slept this long? Jed marched to his guest bedroom and flung open Remy’s door. “Rise and shine! Your chores start with caring for the chickens, and it’s past their breakfast time. Then it’s mucking out the horse stalls and—” Jed stopped abruptly.