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Authors: Katie Lane
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her. “I want coffee.”
Rachel’s smile faltered, but only for a second. “Well, of course, you do. I’ll just start another pot.” Except she didn’t move to start one; instead, she set the pitcher down and rested one big man hand on her hip and the other on the edge of the counter.
“Now I bet there’s a lot of men out there in Hollywood who ain’t got no idea how to treat a lady, especially someone as sweet as our little Hope.” She leaned closer. “I bet you knew a few fellers like that, didn’t you, Hog?”
The clink of forks on plates halted all at once, and Hope could’ve sworn the entire place leaned in. Even Colt’s gaze settled on her.
She sent him a scalding look before she answered.
“A few.”
“A few, like two?” Rachel asked. “Or is that a couple? I always get those two mixed up.”
“A few is three,” Cindy Lynn enlightened her from a table behind them. “And a couple is two. Like Ed and me are a couple.”
“Unless she’s at Bootlegger’s,” Shirlene mumbled under her breath. “Then her couple can expand to any man willing to give her the time of day.”
“A few.” Rachel’s eyes turned worried. “That many, huh? Are you sure you couldn’t narrow it down some?”
Harley leaned over from his end of the counter. “Well, now, I’m sure Hope doesn’t want to talk about all the men she dated out in California. After all, there had to be a slew clamorin’ for an opportunity to date the prettiest homecomin’ queen we ever had.”
Colt snorted.
“But what Rachel was askin’,” Harley continued, “is if there was any one special. Anyone that might’ve made an impression on our little sweetheart.”
With a pair of steel gray eyes pinned on her, Hope really wanted to come up with a name of someone really special. A name that would wipe the cocky smirk off Colt’s whiskered outlaw face. But since she had been toobusy in California trying to make ends meet, the only man she could come up with was her old roommate. Sheldon had only been a friend, but Colt didn’t need to know that.
“Well… there was this one guy—”
“A movie star?” Twyla jumped in.
“Matthew McConaughey?” Cindy Lynn’s voice almost wept with envy.
“Tommy Lee Jones?” Rachel Dean breathed.
“Sandra Bullock?” Kenny added. When everyone in the room shot him a surprised look, he smiled sheepishly. “Faith had an on-counter with her. I just figured it was worth a shot.”
Hope didn’t have a clue what Kenny was talking about, but then again, she never did. So instead of getting sucked into the craziness, she kept it simple.
“No, Sheldon is not a movie star.”
“A pro quarterback?” Sheriff Winslow asked, and Hope couldn’t help but smile at the mental image of Sheldon on a football field.
“No.”
“A country western singer?” Cindy Lynn leaned around her poor whipped husband.
“Afraid not.”
“Is he at least a Texan?” Harley said, and when Hope shook her head, he heaved a sigh and slumped back on the bar stool. “Well, I guess that settles that.”
“It’s not the end of the world, Harley,” Rachel Dean said, as she slipped two plates down in front of Hope and Colt. “He can’t be all that bad if our little Hope likes him.” She pointed down at the plate and prodded. “Go ahead, honey, Josie made it just the way you like it—the eggs runny and the chili hot.”
While Colt attacked the food like the starving convict he was, Hope stared at the two fried eggs swimming in a sea of brilliant red chili. The same red chili that had burned a hole in her stomach two weeks earlier.
God, she
had
become a wuss since leaving Texas.
She pushed the plate away. “I’m not feeling like chili today, Rachel.”
Rachel only looked confused for a second before she jerked the plate back up, and then reached out and patted Hope’s hand. “Take a few deep breaths, honey. It will pass.”
“What will pass?” Colt turned to her, his fork poised in midair. “Are
Rachel’s smile faltered, but only for a second. “Well, of course, you do. I’ll just start another pot.” Except she didn’t move to start one; instead, she set the pitcher down and rested one big man hand on her hip and the other on the edge of the counter.
“Now I bet there’s a lot of men out there in Hollywood who ain’t got no idea how to treat a lady, especially someone as sweet as our little Hope.” She leaned closer. “I bet you knew a few fellers like that, didn’t you, Hog?”
The clink of forks on plates halted all at once, and Hope could’ve sworn the entire place leaned in. Even Colt’s gaze settled on her.
She sent him a scalding look before she answered.
“A few.”
“A few, like two?” Rachel asked. “Or is that a couple? I always get those two mixed up.”
“A few is three,” Cindy Lynn enlightened her from a table behind them. “And a couple is two. Like Ed and me are a couple.”
“Unless she’s at Bootlegger’s,” Shirlene mumbled under her breath. “Then her couple can expand to any man willing to give her the time of day.”
“A few.” Rachel’s eyes turned worried. “That many, huh? Are you sure you couldn’t narrow it down some?”
Harley leaned over from his end of the counter. “Well, now, I’m sure Hope doesn’t want to talk about all the men she dated out in California. After all, there had to be a slew clamorin’ for an opportunity to date the prettiest homecomin’ queen we ever had.”
Colt snorted.
“But what Rachel was askin’,” Harley continued, “is if there was any one special. Anyone that might’ve made an impression on our little sweetheart.”
With a pair of steel gray eyes pinned on her, Hope really wanted to come up with a name of someone really special. A name that would wipe the cocky smirk off Colt’s whiskered outlaw face. But since she had been toobusy in California trying to make ends meet, the only man she could come up with was her old roommate. Sheldon had only been a friend, but Colt didn’t need to know that.
“Well… there was this one guy—”
“A movie star?” Twyla jumped in.
“Matthew McConaughey?” Cindy Lynn’s voice almost wept with envy.
“Tommy Lee Jones?” Rachel Dean breathed.
“Sandra Bullock?” Kenny added. When everyone in the room shot him a surprised look, he smiled sheepishly. “Faith had an on-counter with her. I just figured it was worth a shot.”
Hope didn’t have a clue what Kenny was talking about, but then again, she never did. So instead of getting sucked into the craziness, she kept it simple.
“No, Sheldon is not a movie star.”
“A pro quarterback?” Sheriff Winslow asked, and Hope couldn’t help but smile at the mental image of Sheldon on a football field.
“No.”
“A country western singer?” Cindy Lynn leaned around her poor whipped husband.
“Afraid not.”
“Is he at least a Texan?” Harley said, and when Hope shook her head, he heaved a sigh and slumped back on the bar stool. “Well, I guess that settles that.”
“It’s not the end of the world, Harley,” Rachel Dean said, as she slipped two plates down in front of Hope and Colt. “He can’t be all that bad if our little Hope likes him.” She pointed down at the plate and prodded. “Go ahead, honey, Josie made it just the way you like it—the eggs runny and the chili hot.”
While Colt attacked the food like the starving convict he was, Hope stared at the two fried eggs swimming in a sea of brilliant red chili. The same red chili that had burned a hole in her stomach two weeks earlier.
God, she
had
become a wuss since leaving Texas.
She pushed the plate away. “I’m not feeling like chili today, Rachel.”
Rachel only looked confused for a second before she jerked the plate back up, and then reached out and patted Hope’s hand. “Take a few deep breaths, honey. It will pass.”
“What will pass?” Colt turned to her, his fork poised in midair. “Are
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