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A BWWM Cowboy Romance Preview
Jake Authur unfolded his six foot, lean frame from the big off roader and stretched. It felt good to be back home, although he had only been away two days for meetings with his new management team. He moved with a cat like grace towards the back door and knew she hadn’t heard the car pull in. “Hi Gorgeous,” he said quietly and his wife jumped with surprise and then threw herself across the room and into his arms.
He swung her up and around and when her feet touched the ground enfolded her in his arms. His lips ravaged hers, found them open and ready to return the passion. Two years of marriage had not dimmed the feelings these two felt for each other. It had been a classic case of their eyes meeting across a crowded room and everything else had faded into the background.
Cherelle pulled back from the kiss and stated, “Okay, I want to know what they said.”
She picked up a coffee pot and he sank into a chair.
“They want me on tour. They say I can be the next sensation.” He paused. “The band as well if they want to do it.”
“What’s the catch?” She asked.
“They want me to go without you and pretend to be single. I said ‘no’.”
“But I don’t mind, Sweetie. I know you’ll come back in one piece,” Cherelle told him.
“It’s the big chance. The one you’ve worked so hard for. All these gigs over the last two years and now it’s happening.”
Jake shook his head. “I told them it was non negotiable. If I go you come as my stylist or I don’t go.”
“What did they say?” She asked. Jake smiled at his beautiful wife.
“They caved and we go together.” Cherelle threw herself at him.
“Magic,” She said. “Magic.”
Jake’s arms closed around her and their lips met. “It’s been too long,” he said and she laughed. “Two days.” But the explosion that still happened when their bodies met sizzled between them. His lips claimed hers and she responded with hunger and then they were tangled together on the sheepskin rug in front of the fire. He slid his hands under her sweater and found her breast. She moaned with need as he circled the nipple and then found it with his tongue. His need was as great as hers and they met with fire and hunger. Their hands grasped at each others clothing and they met flesh to flesh. This was no time for slow teasing, but a deep and total desire that was the same for them both. There was no world but this, no feelings but these, and he drove deep inside her. Her response was to grasp him in red hot heat and move with him stroke for stroke and beat by beat until they plunged together over the precipice and lay sated and limp, legs tangled together on the floor of their living room.
“Nobody but you,” he murmured, and stroked her long, dark hair. Cherelle moved against him and sighed. “I love you so much Jake.” He closed his eyes and thought how lucky he was. This wonderful woman and his music. He wanted nothing more from life than that.
He watched her slender form as she started to dress. Her dark skin was smooth and soft. Her figure slender and breasts small but beautiful. “If I was an artist, I’d want to paint your picture to keep forever.”
“You are an artist, Sweetie,” she said as he started to dress as well. “You play like an angel- or sometimes a devil- and your singing charms the birds off the trees.”
Jake grinned and went to pick up his Les Paul. There were guitars all around the house and he played whenever the mood was there. His music could bring tears at one moment and then screech to a Jimi Hendrix crescendo the next. His fingers flickered over the strings and he smiled at Cherelle.
“If you only knew how sexy that is when your fingers fly over the guitar and the music begs for a response. I could jump you again right now.” She laughed, but turned to head for the kitchen. Laughing chords followed her retreating back and then he ran gently down the semitones of Parisienne Walkways and changed the mood again.
“When this tour is over, maybe we could go to Paris and wander down those Parisian Walkways.” He followed his wife into the kitchen.
“That’d be special,” she said. “Two Texans in Europe.”
“We’ve moved a long way from the cowboy days,” he answered.
“It’s what the audiences love though, isn’t it? The tall, handsome cowboy, ten gallon hat, boots and all.”
Jake nodded. He had been a capable cowboy and loved the feel of riding a strong horse across the wide and rolling Texas plains but the music was always his main love. He played over campfires and at the ranch and eventually at hoe downs, parties and then gigs. A guitar had always felt like an extension of his body somehow. As a twelve year old, he’d found an old one with three strings. It was battered and so out of tune it was unbearable, but he had picked it up and teased a tune of sorts from the remnants of what had been an instrument. He had known instantly that this was what he wanted. He copied other guitarists and singers, but found the need to write his own brand of country music was paramount. Maybe the fact that he had been a real cowboy added to the authenticity. There were plenty of good country singers and musicians out there who’d never been near a horse or a cow. Jake could blend melody and words and catch a mood so well. Music was as important to Jake Authur as breathing air. He had thought he would never need anything or anybody else until the gig when his eyes raked the audience and saw her standing at the side of the room.
It’s a cliché, he thought, remembering that night. But their eyes had met and the flash of recognition had taken their breath away. After the set he had gone looking for her and she was talking to a man in the next room. He had felt a sudden tug of disappointment, but she turned, saw him and simply walked away from the other man. He had smiled at her and said. “I’m Jake.”
“I know that,” she replied. “Your name is on the poster. I’m Cherelle.”
Anyone watching would have thought it was a standard pick up. He took her for a drink and asked to see her again the next day. A tall, sinewy cowboy with lean hips and long legs, Jake had a mop of dark blonde, sun streaked hair that he wore tied back in everyday life but had it loose when he was on stage. His gray eyes were steady and quite serious and he loved his music with a passion. Female eyes followed him appreciatively whether on stage or off and although he knew it, he never consciously used it. He had never been short of female admirers, but since the moment he set eyes on Cherelle Davis he had never even looked at another woman.
Neither of them could deny the attraction they felt. Sparks of electricity sizzled whenever they even brushed against each other, but Cherelle fought against the permanent relationship despite wanting the man with every part of her. She was the daughter of a mixed marriage and she knew full well the problems that would follow. Jake simply ignored her worries and acted as though he had not heard what she said. He dated, kissed, talked and played music to her until she caved in and let her emotions take over.
The two were very rarely apart and married a matter of weeks later. Jake was still a working cowboy and the music had to be written and played in his spare time, but Cherelle was content to listen and allow him to do what he loved. She was his biggest fan, but also found she could be a useful critic and he ran every song past her for approval. She had an ear for the little things that could be changed to just give an extra dimension. They were living on the ranch and she managed to take the truck each day and still be a hair stylist and of course, took over looking after Jake’s tumbled blonde locks and his general appearance.
Yes, there were remarks from one or two that hurt and hit home, but Jake was well liked on the ranch and although when they were out working he took a fair bit of friendly banter, it was not nasty. Jake was easy going and let most things roll over his head until one man called Cherelle something hideous. Mal Dennis felt the full force of Jake’s fists after his remarks and was left in no doubt what would happen if the words were repeated. Jake’s friend Bert pulled him off and they went for a drink together. Bert knew how Jake felt about Cherelle and sympathized, but there was no point in getting into trouble when it was the other man’s fault. Jake saw the sense of it and put it out of his mind. Dennis was not a well liked man on the ranch and it was plain he was going to be fired so he moved on to another job. The rest of the crew tended to agree with what Jake and Cherelle suspected but said nothing. All in all life, was full of hope for the future.
One step at a time the gigs became more frequent and better paid. He was building up a following and began to see himself featured in local newspapers.
“Sweetie,” Cherelle told him. “Go for it full time. I’ve got a job and you can spend all your time on the music.”
On stage Jake had the company of a drummer, a bass guitarist and a keyboard player.
Dru Toms on Keyboards, Colly Malone on Bass and Gaz Deline on drums.
He had been at school with Dru Toms and Colly Malone,although Colly was a year ahead of him. Gaz Deline was drumming for another band, but their music wasn’t to his taste so he switched and the band got a natural drummer. In music circles it’s well known that these are as rare as hen’s teeth, but you had to be a bit of a showman as well and Gaz was definitely that. From his glittery clothes and hair band to his tattoos on well muscled, bare arms, Gaz worked the audience like a pro. He had tight curly hair and until Cherelle took over it was a mess. Now it was an artfully designed mess and bounced along with the beat.
Dru was Jake’s backbone and the two had messed around together with music all the time when they were growing up. Dru knew Jake’s music inside out and added extras of his own without losing the original feel. He was the quiet man of the band and always looked serious, but then some fans really liked that so it worked as well. Colly had told them he played bass and could he sit in sometimes. None of the others had known he even had a guitar so it was a surprise all round when it turned out that practicing in his bedroom had made him really quite good. Like all bass players, Colly played those low, grinding riffs that made the bottom end of the music sound strong and as it tended to be the same thing repeated constantly, it gave him the chance to move around on stage and play to the audience. Colly was sensitive to atmospheres and, although he didn’t talk about it, he had a sixth sense and connection to what people called ‘the spirit world’. His dark, Italian type looks didn’t hurt when he was on stage either, although he had a partner, Francine, who came with Cherelle and helped out backstage. Francine was a full on sort of person who said what she thought straight out. She had a dry wit and Cherelle found it was quite good to have another woman to sit with as the band played. The two women had become good friends. Fran had seen Colly when the spirit world connected to him and she was his solid counterbalance.
Jake was always the star and they never even suggested a different name for the band. It was Jake Authur and nothing more. They had built up a following locally and found that fans were now tweeting about them. The video they had put on Youtube had more and more hits, which encouraged them and mostly they enjoyed themselves. One or two gigs, as could be expected where at venues that were not great, but they took it all as experience. The more women in the audience the better, of course, and at one as Jake scanned the people listening he thought he saw the cowboy Mal Dennis go out of the door. “Well, he would leave,” Jake thought. “Wouldn’t want to listen to the guy who punched him.”
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