Free Counterfeit Cowboy by Gail MacMillan Page A

on his jeans she’d hung over the end of the bed and went to the window to look out toward the fields and barn.
    In the corral a beautiful charcoal animal with silver mane and tail was prancing, accompanied by a jet black one, while another the color of cinnamon watched sedately. Fancy. The charcoal one was called Fancy. The others he knew he’d meet shortly. He hoped he’d prove a good student. He couldn’t afford to let that movie deal fall through.
    But this place.
    It was special.
    The sea, the horses, the house, but most especially the two people who lived there.
    He turned back to the bed and found a fresh white T-shirt waiting for him. Travis’s, he guessed as he pulled it on and it settled tight across his chest. Man, these people really did their best to take care of a client, didn’t they?
    ****
    “Shel, I’m heading over to Will’s to jam, okay? I’ll be back around ten thirty.”
    “Okay, but no later.” She muted the television and dropped the remote on the coffee table. “We have a big day tomorrow. I’ll be working with Jake, so you’ll have to take on those two mares I’ve been handling.”
    Jordan overheard the exchange from the kitchen, where he’d just finished cleaning up.
    “No problem. See ya, Jake.” Travis brushed past him as he headed into the living room doorway, a dish towel over his shoulder.
    “See ya, Travis.” He watched him go, then turned to Shelby. “Kitchen all spick and span, ma’am.”
    “Thanks, but you didn’t have to clean up, not after being sick today.”
    “I’m fine now. If I stay away from junk food, I’ll be okay.”
    “ I’m watching the news. Care to join me?”
    “Sure.” He took a chair across from where she was curled up on the couch. “By the way, this is a great house.”
    He looked around the room with its polished oak floor, comfortable chintz-covered furniture, knotty-pine walls, and cozy fireplace.
    “We’ve always liked it.” Shelby hunched her shoulders. “It’s cozy on cold or rainy nights with a log fire blazing. By the way, that will be one of your chores…keeping the woodbox over there filled.” She pointed to the container to the left of the hearth.
    “Will do. So that’s horse-turning-loose, manure shoveling, and wood provision.” He stretched his legs in front of him. “Just keeping a mental note of my duties.”
    “More importantly, you have to appear to know what you’re doing.”
    “Point taken. You and Travis will have to give me a crash course.” He grinned over at her. “I’m here to learn.”
    “Have you ever ridden…at all?” She settled herself comfortably.
    Man, she’s pretty. Hard to believe she’s a vet, patching up animals, operating…
    “Draft horses, when I was a kid, but they never went beyond a plodding trot. And actually that was only a few times.”
    “So we’ll start from scratch.” She returned her gaze to the television and snapped on the sound. “Oh, my, look.”
    He did and saw a film clip of him and his band performing.
    “Ann Wise, agent for county music superstar Jordan Brooks, announced today that her client will be taking a six-week hiatus from the stage. Brooks will be resting at a private estate in Bermuda, as a guest of friends. Recently, there’s been speculation that Brooks is suffering from stomach ulcers, but Wise has refused to confirm the rumors. Her only comment is that he will be back in the limelight this fall and on the road well before Christmas to promote his new movie.”
    “Hell!” Jordan snatched the remote lying on the coffee table and snapped off the television. “Now where did that pile of garbage get started?”
    “You mean the bit about you being in Bermuda, or the stomach-ulcer part?”
    “Both, but it’s the last that’s eating me. I don’t like lying to anyone. Fans deserve better than that junk. Sure, I can see the part about my being in Bermuda…helps my cover here. But now cards and e-mails and all kinds of stuff will start pouring in