One Night with the Cowboy Read online

  * * *

  Caleb Gilmore had been back to Las Vegas a handful of times since his impulsive trip with Brielle Channing seven years earlier. But each subsequent journey inevitably brought back memories of the first time.

  And of Brie.

  Of course, it was rare for a single day to pass without him thinking about her, because in Haven, there were reminders every way he turned. Driving past the high school, he couldn’t help but think about the first time they’d danced together. Riding up to Eagle Rock to herd a lost calf, he was reminded of their first kiss. And returning to Las Vegas brought back memories of the promises they’d made to each other so long ago. Promises that had obviously meant more to him than to her, since she’d broken every one of them within a few weeks of their return to Haven.

  This time, he’d made the trip at the request of his childhood friend Joe Bishop, to serve as best man at Joe’s wedding. They’d arrived late the night before and checked into The Destiny—a newer luxury hotel on the strip that Joe had chosen because he was certain he was about to meet his destiny.

  “Do you have the ring?” the groom-to-be asked, for the tenth time in as many minutes.

  Caleb nodded. “I’ve got it,” he confirmed, as he’d done each time before.

  “It was my grandmother’s,” his friend said. “She wore it every day for almost sixty years.”

  And now he was ready to put that ring on the finger of a woman he’d known for less than six hours.

  “You know this is crazy, right?” Caleb felt compelled to ask his friend.

  “I know you think so,” Joe acknowledged. “But me and Delia have been chatting and gaming online for almost seven months, and I knew I loved her even before I saw her. Now that we’ve finally met, I have no doubt that she’s the woman I’m destined to be with for the rest of my life.”

  “The rest of your life is a long time,” he warned.

  “I hope so,” his friend said sincerely. “But if you’re not comfortable standing up for me, I can—”

  “No,” Caleb interjected. “I want to do this. Because even if I do think this is more than a little impulsive, it’s obvious that Delia is just as smitten with you as you are with her.”

  “Then why are you scowling?” Joe asked him.

  He shook his head. “If I tell you, you’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  “Tell me anyway,” his friend said.

  Caleb slipped his arms into his jacket, then buttoned the front, tugged on the cuffs. “I caught a glimpse of a woman in the hotel lobby downstairs,” he finally admitted. “And I thought—for a minute—that it was Brie.”

  “Brielle Channing?”

  He nodded.

  Joe considered the admission for a moment before responding. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. I’m crazy for falling in love with a woman I met online seven months ago, but it’s okay that you’re still in love with the woman who walked away from you more than seven years ago?”

  “I’m not still in love with her,” Caleb denied.

  “Then forget about her,” Joe advised. “Because what happens in Vegas—”

  “Stays in Vegas,” he finished, the marketing slogan being truer than even his buddy realized.

  The groom-to-be grinned. “That’s right, my friend. And after the ceremony, I will be escorting my bride to the honeymoon suite, which means that this room is all yours.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Caleb said. Although the idea of spending the night with a random stranger held absolutely no appeal, admitting as much to his friend would only result in more questions about Brie—and he definitely didn’t want to go there.

  “Good.” Joe adjusted his tie in the mirror. “Do you have—”

  “Yes,” he interrupted. “I have the ring.”

  “Okay.”

  Caleb glanced at his watch and decided they had some time before they needed to head down to the chapel. The thick carpet of the luxury room muffled his footsteps as he crossed to the bar to retrieve two bottles of beer from the fridge.

  “Do you have any idea what they charge for those?” the anxious groom asked, his preoccupation with his grandmother’s ring momentarily forgotten.

  “No,” he admitted, as he uncapped both bottles and handed one to Joe. “But undoubtedly less than the champagne, and I thought you’d prefer to toast your marriage this way.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” his buddy decided.

  “To you and Delia,” Caleb said, lifting his bottle in the air. “May you have a long and happy life together.”

  “And to my best friend,” Joe said, raising his drink. “I hope that someday you find your perfect match and feel as lucky as I do right now. In the meantime—” he grinned again “—I hope you at least get lucky.”

  They tapped their bottles together and drank, then Joe went to escort his bride while Caleb headed to the chapel.

  On his way, he passed one of the hotel’s three pools and lingered for a minute to admire the crystal clear water sparkling in the afternoon sun—and the numerous shapely female bodies in and around it.

  He felt an unwelcome tug in the vicinity of his chest when he saw her there: the same woman he’d caught a glimpse of earlier. The woman he’d believed—for the space of one endless, aching heartbeat—was Brielle.

  Of course, it wasn’t her. There were more than fifty hotels on the strip, and the odds that she might be vacationing in Las Vegas and staying at this particular hotel on the same weekend that he was here were...incalculable.

  Whoever the woman was, she wasn’t Brie, and he had to stop imagining otherwise.

  * * *

  Brie stepped out of the water and reached for one of the thick, fluffy towels provided by the hotel.

  Then her gaze lifted to his face, noted the light brown hair that showed hints of gold in the sun, the tanned skin and square jaw, the hazel eyes framed by thick lashes—eyes that seemed to be staring right into hers even through the dark lenses of the sunglasses perched on her nose.

  Her breath caught in her throat and her heart actually skipped a beat before it resumed its rhythm, albeit a little harder and faster than before.

  “It is you,” he said, in a low voice that was achingly familiar.

  She ignored the racing of her heart and reminded herself that she wasn’t a teenager anymore. She was a twenty-five-year-old woman who could handle an unexpected encounter with a former lover without falling to pieces.

  Buoyed by this quick internal pep talk, she managed to respond casually, easily. “Hello, Caleb.”

  Though she couldn’t take her eyes off him, she was aware that both of her friends were avidly watching the interaction. She felt the weight of their stares—and their unspoken questions.

  “I wasn’t sure it was really you at first.” He settled on the edge of her lounger, so that he could look her in the eye—despite the fact that hers were still shaded.

  She was grateful for the protection, because Caleb had always been able to see too much of what she was feeling. And his sudden and unexpected appearance here had brought to the surface too many feelings that she’d thought were long forgotten—or at least deeply buried.

  “I saw you waiting for the elevator earlier,” he continued, “but by the time I crossed the lobby, the doors had closed, and I decided that it couldn’t have been you, anyway.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that—or if she was even capable of forming a coherent sentence. So many thoughts and questions were swirling through her mind, so many emotions battling for dominance inside her heart.

  Her friends came to her rescue now, with Lily shoving her hand toward him. “I’m Lily—one of Brielle’s roommates in New York.”

  Deeply ingrained manners forced him to shift his attention and accept the proffered hand. And Grace’s, too, when she followed the initial introduction with her
own.

  By then, Brie had recovered sufficiently from the shock of the unexpected encounter that she was able to string enough words together to say, “Caleb and I grew up together in Haven.”

  “So the two of you are...old friends?” Grace guessed.

  Caleb looked at Brie again, waiting for her to answer.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “Old friends.”

  He gave the slightest shake of his head then, as if he was disappointed by her response.

  “We’re a little more than that,” he said, and though he was answering Grace’s question, his eyes never left Brie’s face.

  “How much more?” Lily asked curiously.

  He settled a hand on Brie’s knee, the casual gesture of a man accustomed to touching a woman.

  Her breath caught in her throat as the contact caused her blood to heat and race through her veins, the effect of his touch exactly the same as it had been so many years before.

  The barest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he registered her body’s instinctive response to the contact before she drew her leg away. Then he shifted his attention to her friends and finally responded to Lily’s question.

  “Actually, Brielle is my wife.”

  Chapter Two

  “Ex-wife,” Brielle said through gritted teeth.

  But her short-lived marriage was a detail she’d never shared with anyone outside of her immediate family, so it was no wonder her friends were looking at her with nearly identical expressions of shock and disbelief right now.

  However, it was Caleb’s focused gaze that unnerved her. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” he said.

  “So do we, apparently,” Grace murmured.

  “I can’t believe you never told us you were married.” Lily sounded not just stunned but hurt.

  And justifiably so, Brie acknowledged, as the two women had been not only her best friends but her surrogate family for the past seven years.

  “It was a long time ago,” Brie told them. “And over almost before it began.”

  “It was a long time ago,” Caleb agreed. “But over...well, I’d have to disagree with you on that, darlin’.”

  “I’m not your darlin’,” she protested.

  “Well, this might finally explain why she hardly ever goes out,” Lily remarked to Grace.

  “And why she rarely goes out with the same guy more than once,” Grace added.

  “That’s not true,” Brie said to her friends. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t analyze the intimate details of my love life in front of a stranger.”

  “Our point is that there are no intimate details,” Grace said.

  “And how can you refer to your husband as a stranger?” Lily chided.

  “Ex-husband,” she said again. “And he’s a stranger to both of you.”

  “Any friend of yours is a friend of ours,” Grace said, and turned to smile at Caleb. “So how far back do you and Brie go?”

  “We went to school together, though I was a couple years ahead.”

  “You were high school sweethearts?” Lily guessed.

  “Secret high school sweethearts,” he clarified.

  One of Grace’s perfectly arched brows lifted. “Why the secrecy?”

  “There’s some...history between our families,” he explained. “And we knew they wouldn’t approve of our friendship—or our dating.”

  “The Montagues and the Capulets,” Lily murmured, obviously recalling what Brie had told her when they were packing for this trip.

  “Or the Hatfields and the McCoys,” he suggested.

  “Tell us more,” Grace urged.

  “I wish I could,” Caleb said, rising to his feet again. “But Brie will have to fill in the rest of the details, because I’ve got a wedding to get to.”

  She’d thought nothing could surprise her as much as seeing him standing in front of her, but the way Brie’s stomach dropped in response to his words proved otherwise. “You...you’re...getting married?”

  He sent her a look that she couldn’t begin to decipher. “I’m not the groom. I’m the best man.”

  “Oh,” she said, and exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

  “We’re definitely going to find out from Brie if that’s true,” Grace teased.

  Caleb grinned, appreciating her friend’s flirtatious humor.

  It was the same familiar cocky grin that had always made Brielle’s heart pound and her knees weak. And it was frustrating to discover that, seven years later, its effect on her was undiminished.

  “Joe Bishop’s getting married,” he said to her now.

  She knew Joe, because he’d been friends with Caleb for as long as she’d known him, prompting her to ask, “Is the bride anyone I know?”

  “The bride isn’t anyone he knows,” Caleb remarked dryly. “They met online seven months ago and in-person—” he glanced at the watch on his wrist “—about nine hours ago.”

  “I never thought Joe was the impulsive type.”

  “A lot of things can change in seven years,” he said, holding her gaze. “Then again, some things never do.”

  “I’m so glad you wanted to come to Vegas.” Lily’s comment to Grace cut through the heavy silence.

  “I just wanted to get drunk and lose some money at the tables,” Grace replied. “This live show is so much better than anything I could have anticipated.”

  “Show’s over, ladies,” Caleb said apologetically. “I’ve got Joe’s grandmother’s ring, so I can’t be late.”

  “Maybe we could just consider this an intermission?” Lily said hopefully.

  He chuckled at that, but his expression grew serious when he turned to Brie again. “Will you meet me for a drink later?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. We’re here to celebrate Grace’s birthday and—”

  “Just one drink. Six o’clock?” He glanced at her friends, as if to enlist their cooperation. “I’m sure Grace and Lily can manage to occupy themselves for an hour or so.”

  “It doesn’t matter whether they can or can’t,” Brie said. “I’m here with my friends and we’ve got plans for dinner.”

  “Plans but no reservations,” Grace piped up helpfully. “So we’re not on any particular schedule. And if we’re not still here after the happy couple say their ‘I do’s,’ we’ll be in room 1268.”

  He nodded to Brie. “I’ll find you there later, then.”

  Of course, she watched him walk away. She couldn’t help herself. And she couldn’t deny that he looked as good now as he’d looked the last time she saw him, seven years earlier. Maybe even better.

  She suspected that her friends were watching him walk away, too, because it was only when he’d disappeared through the doors and back into the hotel that they turned to her.

  “Oh. My. God.” It was Lily who spoke first. “I can’t believe you were married.”

  “And didn’t tell us,” Grace added.

  “Because it was for a very short while a very long time ago,” she said again.

  “I don’t care how short it was or how long ago,” Grace said. “That’s not the kind of secret you keep from your best friends.”

  “So maybe we’re not her best friends,” Lily suggested, sounding hurt.

  “You know you are,” Brie assured them sincerely.

  “And yet, you didn’t tell us about your hunky husband,” Grace remarked. “Not a single word.”

  “Actually, she said a few words,” Lily noted. “But only after you told us about this trip. And there was definitely no mention of a wedding or a husband.”

  Brie sighed, resigned to the imminent interrogation—and maybe a little relieved that she’d finally have the opportunity to unburden herself of the secrets she’d held on to for so long. But aware that her emotions w
ere already running high, she’d prefer not to do so in public. “Can we continue this conversation upstairs?”

  “Stalling for seven years wasn’t long enough?” Lily challenged.

  “I’m not trying to stall,” Brie denied.

  But she wouldn’t have minded a few minutes under the spray of the shower to clear her head and organize her thoughts. Except that after unlocking the door to their suite, Grace pointed to a chair, a wordless command to her to sit.

  Her dark-haired, dark-eyed friend with the take-charge personality had always been the unspoken leader of their little group. The other two women sometimes teased her for being bossy, but they were mostly content to follow her lead.

  And because Brie accepted that she owed her friends an explanation, she sat. Lily and Grace settled side by side on the sofa, facing her.

  “So...you were married,” Grace prompted, when Brie remained silent.

  “I was married,” she confirmed.

  “Before you moved to New York?” Lily asked, seeking clarification.

  She answered with a slow nod.

  “Which means you were barely eighteen.”

  Brie nodded again. “I was eighteen and—” her voice wavered and her eyes filled with tears “—pregnant.”

  * * *

  The silence that followed her announcement was so complete, she could almost hear her friends’ jaws drop.

  Grace recovered first and asked, “You had a baby?”

  Now Brie shook her head and pressed a hand to her chest, as if to assuage the ache that had never quite gone away. “No, I... I lost the baby.”

  “Oh, sweetie.” Grace breached the distance to embrace her.

  If anyone had asked, Brie would have said that she’d finished crying for her unborn baby years earlier—but the tears that spilled onto her cheeks now proved otherwise.

  “Oh, crap.” That remark came from Lily, because any outpouring of emotion inevitably brought on her own tears of empathy. “We didn’t know...we didn’t mean... Oh, Brie, we’re so sorry. Oh, please don’t cry.” She shoved a box of tissues into Brie’s lap, after plucking a couple out for her own use.