Rodeo Father

“Not in this town. A man’s hat is sacred around these parts. All the establishments in town have their cowboy hat hooks.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“What can I get for you two?”

“A gin and tonic and a bacon burger with fries,” Cindy said.

“I’ll take a Corona,” Travis said, “with an order of the hottest wings you got, a bacon double cheeseburger and a side of onion rings. You have coleslaw?”

Rachel nodded.

“Creamy?”

“Sharp vinaigrette.”

“The way I like it. I’ll take a side of that, too.”

The way she liked it, too. “I’ll make sure it’s slurpy.” She smiled.

Travis’s returning smile might have been small, but moonbeams dazzled.

Get your head out of the clouds, Rachel.

Cindy sniffed.

After Rachel picked up the menus and walked away, she heard Travis say, “She looks tired. Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. She’s tougher than she looks.”

So are you, Mom. Tough as nails. She bit down on that thought. It was uncharitable. Mom had a right to her fun, but Rachel was filled with jealousy, a mean-spirited emotion unworthy of her, but undeniable. She wouldn’t mind sitting down for a carefree evening in a bar for drinks and a burger with a handsome man.

Hey, you chose your life. You need to live it without regrets.

A good philosophy, just hard to hold on to when she was dog-tired.

Chapter Four

Travis delivered his hat to the row of hooks on the wall at the front of Honey’s Place.

Cowboy hat after cowboy hat graced the wall, most in muted blacks and tans, but a couple in white. Seemed to be the only kind of hat here.

He glanced around at the Western decor with its twin themes of old and new. Big old wagon wheels lined the walls along with huge modern landscapes of local scenery, not overly sentimental stuff, but rugged and true to nature. Local artist, maybe?

Hundreds of white fairy lights illuminated the rafters.

The people were loud, but Travis heard not one discordant note, just a lot of folks having a good time. The huge space rang with laughter. Denim and Western shirts abounded, along with plenty of silver jewelry on the women. He didn’t doubt a good portion of the hats on the wall belonged to those same women.

My kind of town.

A country and western band belted out hits from a small stage at the back end of the long room. He tapped his fingers on his thighs.

He returned to the small table Cindy had chosen, a table that fit only two, snugly. She’d said they were meeting up with a bunch of her friends.

“So where are the friends we’re supposed to meet?” Travis asked. He had to make sure she got his message loud and clear. This wasn’t a date.

He wasn’t looking for romance. Besides, she wasn’t his kind of woman at all.

“They’ll be along soon,” she said, her gaze darting about the bar and her knee doing a quick jig. “Do you dance?”

Before he could respond, she was hauling him out of his seat and to the dance floor where they joined a crowd of line dancers moving to a Brooks and Dunn cover.

Just as the second song started, he spotted Rachel carrying a tray of food and drinks to their table. He dragged Cindy off the dance floor. “I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

When Rachel put the tray down, it wobbled. He ran to grab it.

“I’m okay,” she said, but his beer tipped over the edge and landed on the floor. The bottle shattered, sending suds all over his boots.

Rachel gasped. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll clean it up.” She rushed away.

He still held the tray with the food. He spread the plates and Cindy’s drink on their table, and left the empty tray on the bar.

“Rachel’s always been clumsy.” Cindy looked unhappy. Thunderclouds formed on what had been a clear evening. Travis didn’t know what went on between these two women. The last place he needed to be was stuck in the middle.

“The tray was heavy. No problem. A little beer never hurt a pair of boots.” He waggled his eyebrows comically to ease Cindy’s pique. “These’ve survived a hell of a lot worse.”

Cindy seemed to relax.

Rachel returned with a broom and mop, her stomach leading the way. “I’ll get you another beer, but I need to clean this up before someone slips and falls.”

“You go get the beer. I’ll do this.” He tried to take the broom away from her, but she held on.

“Nope.” Rachel shot him a look of grim determination. “It’s my job.”

“I don’t mind. I can do it.”

“No.” The woman had a strong grip, and even stronger willpower.

Travis let go, and she swept up the glass.

“You look pale. You okay?”

Her back stiffened as though maybe he’d offended her. Note to self. Don’t show this woman pity.

“I’m peachy,” she said, struggling to smile, but tense lines bracketed her mouth.

The sexy good humor he’d found so attractive this morning had crawled home to bed early, leaving behind an exhausted shell.

Someone called from another table. “Rachel, we need another round here.”

“Be right there, Lester.” She rushed to the bar and placed their order, returned with Travis’s beer, then disappeared into the back. A minute later, she returned with a freshly rinsed mop and finished cleaning up. Then she hurried to the bar and picked up a full tray of drinks.

Head spinning from the whirlwind, Travis asked, “You worry about her at all?”

Cindy sighed. “Yeah, I do, but she chose to marry a lazy loser. Whatever trouble she’s in, she brought on herself.” She pointed a French fry at him. “Before you start thinking I’m heartless, I took her back in after her husband died.”

“Shame he died. Man, that’s tough.” He couldn’t imagine how hard it would have been for his sister if her husband had died before Colt was born.

Cindy nodded. “I babysit her daughter when she’s working.”

“Except for tonight.”

“I needed a night out.” He’d put her on the defensive.

Careful to keep censure out of his voice, he asked quietly, “There are no friends coming, are there?” She’d assured him she was meeting people, and he was welcome to join them. The woman had misrepresented the evening.

“No.” She smiled with the barest hint of hope in her eyes. “Being out with me isn’t so bad, is it?”

“No, it isn’t.” Which was mainly true. Cindy had a lot of perky energy. “I gotta be honest, Cindy. I’m not looking for romance. I just need to get settled in. This isn’t an official date.” He softened it with a smile. “It’s good to be out on a Friday night with a pretty woman, though.”

Mollified, she sipped her drink.

Just after he’d taken a bite of an excellent charred bacon double cheeseburger, a hand settled onto his shoulder. It belonged to Artie Hanson from the auto shop.

“Brought the keys to your truck.” He dropped them onto the table in front of Travis’s plate, axle grease ground into every crack and wrinkle of his clean hands. “It’s sitting in front of the shop.”

Travis had phoned Artie to make sure the mechanic could finish the work by tonight so he’d be spared the ride home with Cindy. He liked to be independent.

Travis swallowed. “That’s great, man. Thanks.” He reached for his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

Artie waved it away. “Boss lets me off duty on Friday nights.” The man laughed. An inside joke. He owned the shop. He could set his own hours. “You going to be in town on the weekend? Stop in and settle the bill then. Or on Monday.”

Artie clapped his back and walked away.

“Is he always so trusting?”

“Most people in this town are.” Cindy’s tone was only half admiring. The other half sounded resentful to Travis’s ear, but he wasn’t about to ask why.

While he ate, his gaze roamed the bar. He stopped when he realized he was keeping an eye on Rachel.

She’s no concern of yours.

It seemed that the habit of caring for others, after years of taking care of Samantha, was ground into him. Quit it.

He’d finished his burger, wings and onion rings, all while Rachel’s steps slowed and her face grew paler.

Not your business, man. Let it go.

He couldn’t. He fought the urge to help. It didn’t matter. Guess he’d spent too many years taking care of his younger sister to see a woman go so far into a bad case of hurt without helping her. He had to do something.

He excused himself and walked to the bar where he squeezed in between two old guys drinking whiskey. Behind the bar, a beauty hustled to fill drink orders. This town sure had a lot of pretty women. A mass of curly blond hair flowed down the bartender’s back to her waist.

“Hey, you’re Travis, aren’t you?” she asked. Laughter lurked in her china-doll blue eyes. At his surprised look, she answered his unspoken question. “It’s a small town. Everyone knows your name by now. I’m Honey, by the way.”

Ah. The owner.

Friendly smile as well as pretty. Nice. He handed her a twenty. “Can I order a burger or something for Rachel? She needs a break.”

Honey’s gaze sought out Rachel. Her lips compressed.

“She still hasn’t stopped? Honestly, that girl. Talk about being stubborn.” Honey removed a towel from her shoulder and tossed it onto the bar. “I told her to take a break well over an hour ago. If she’s not careful, she’ll hurt my future godchild.”

While Travis went back to the table, she slipped from behind the bar into the back hallway.

“Honey’s gone to get Rachel some food,” he told Cindy. He figured he should explain why he’d left.

Cindy cocked her head to one side. “You’re a nice man, aren’t you? That was a real kind thing to do.”

Since he’d told her it was good to be out with a pretty woman, Cindy’s mood had mellowed some. The second gin and tonic helped, too.

A guy got up from the bar and walked behind to pull mugs of draft and fill orders while Honey was gone.

“Who’s that customer who’s serving drinks now?” he asked Cindy.

She checked out the bar. “Cole Payette. He likes to help Honey sometimes.”

“I hope I didn’t get Rachel into trouble with her boss.” He finished his beer.

“Honey’s her friend,” Cindy said. “She won’t fire Rachel.”

A few minutes later, Honey returned to the big room with an order of chicken fingers and fries and handed them to Rachel. She pointed to Travis, probably telling Rachel who’d paid for them.

Rachel shot him a look full of brimstone. Oh, shit. Clasping her hands behind her back, she refused to take the plate from Honey. The gesture made her stomach stick out a mile.

She stormed over to their table. “I don’t know why you think you can tell me when I should be eating. I can figure out my own breaks.”

“Sorry, I—”

“Of all the paternalistic, presumptuous things to do. I don’t need your charity. Go buy dinner for someone else.”

He shot his hands in front of himself, palms out. “I didn’t mean to offend,” he said. “You’re looking more exhausted with every step. Considering how early it was when I saw you at the carousel this morning, you’ve put in a long day already and this bar doesn’t close for another few hours.”

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