The Duet(50)

I wobbled back into the house with one heel intact and the other, less than intact, and passed every single person on my way to the kitchen. Derek was walking out the front door, LuAnne was finishing up some dishes in the sink, and Jason was sitting at the table trying so, so hard to keep from cracking up.

When I spoke, my voice was eerily calm, but I could hear myself getting close to cracking.

“LuAnne, could I borrow a car to head into town after I wipe the mud, and what smells like shit, off my face?”

My Skype call with my agent would have to wait.

“Oh God, Brook. How’d you manage to do that to yourself already? The day just started.”

I shook my head, and took the towel she held out to me. Pretend it’s a mud facial; pretend your skin will be flawless once you wipe it off.

“I think it had something to do with those shoes she’s wearing,” Jason said from the table. His tone was a little too light and happy for my taste, so when I wiped the towel down my face again, I made sure to hold up my middle finger. His chuckle told me he was more than aware of my gesture.

…



Thirty minutes later, I pulled up outside of Callahan’s General Store in downtown Big Timber. The parking lot was completely empty other than an old busted-up truck. The store itself looked old, but the white paint on the outside was new and a big wooden sign blew back and forth in the wind. It was cut out into the shape of a pair of cowboy boots with “Callahan’s” written in white calligraphy.

I had faith that I’d be able to find what I needed here.

A bell chimed when I pushed open the door, and a grizzly looking man stood behind the counter with his palms resting on the glass. His black eyes stared straight at me.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, his voice an octave lower than I even thought possible. This man was a bear in human form. His white beard hung low, past his chin, and I wondered if there was anyone else around to help me find a pair of boots. This guy looked like he wanted to eat me for lunch.

“Hello. I umm…I need a pair of boots,” I said, scanning his merchandise before glancing back at him.

For two seconds he didn’t say a word, but then he leaned forward, pushed off the counter and walked around toward me. “Well, then you’ve come to the right place.”

Oh dear God, I thought that was going in a drastically different direction. This man looked like he wanted to kill me, stuff my body and put me on display next to his taxidermied squirrels. I kid you not, there were like four of them sitting on the counter. One was wearing a top hat.

“I bet you’re about a seven and a half,” he said, looking down at my feet, clad in the only pair of sneakers I’d brought with me for the trip. I wore them to work out, but after the mud-in-the-face debacle, I wasn’t about to ruin another pair of heels.

“Yes, that’s exactly my size,” I gaped. “How’d you know that?”

“Ain’t the first time I sized up a foot, honey.”

Hold the phone. Did this behemoth of a man just call me “honey” like my hair stylist did back in LA? I narrowed my eyes on him, but he was glancing over the racks of boots on the wall and I couldn’t get a very good read.

“Try these. They’d look good with just about anything, although I’m a bit over the boots and short skirt trend myself, I’m sure you’d be able to pull it off well.”

I couldn’t even process his words. It’s not like I pride myself on my gay-dar or anything, but c’mon. This man screamed heterosexual male. I mean, he had on a camo-print shirt for Christ’s sake. Oh my God, that’s when I saw the Hermes belt buckle peeking out from under his shirt. He was wearing camo because it was trendy, not because he lived in the country.

“Are you going to take these boots, or keep staring at my belt like you’re wishing I had it in your size?” he asked, pursing his lips and tilting his head.

“You are the most interesting person I’ve ever met,” I blurted out as I took the red cowboy boots from him.

He laughed and shrugged. “Don’t judge a book by its cover. I moved out to Montana to open up a chic bed and breakfast, but not many people travel out here for that. So I have the store as well.”

An hour later, I walked out of Callahan’s General Store with a smoking hot pair of red cowboy boots, a new pair of cutoff jeans shorts, and a coffee date with Paulo. Yes, that was grizzly man’s name. Paulo.

…



A few hours later, after I’d returned from town, I went up to Jason’s room wearing my daisy dukes and my red cowboy boots. I had my guitar in my right hand, so I knocked gently with the left, pressing my ear to the door to see if he was inside.