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.”
Beside him, Honey gasped. She planted a fist on her hip. “You were out there this morning? You get one morning a week to sleep in, and you spent it at the fairground?”
Rachel’s mulish expression turned chagrined. “I put the carousel to bed for the winter.” She shot Travis a look that said, “Thanks a lot for snitching on me.”
Honey forced the plate of food into Rachel’s hands. “We’ll have our fund-raising dance in a couple of weeks, and then we’ll forget about it until spring. Got it? I know the fairground is important to you, but take it easy for a while. Take care of yourself.” Her voice had softened. “Go eat.”
“Ma’am,” Travis said to Rachel, “I’m real sorry I made presumptions where I shouldn’t have. I don’t make the same mistake twice.” He wouldn’t do it again. She had a valid point. He had no right to tell her anything. She wasn’t his baby sister.
“Would you consider eating the meal because it’s hot and ready to go? No sense wasting it.” Travis watched the moment she realized he was right.
“Okay. Thanks.” She sounded begrudging, but took the food anyway, and that was the important thing.
Honey pointed toward the back where Travis assumed the restrooms were. Rachel headed there with the plate of chicken. Honey took Rachel’s tray and filled her orders.
Rachel disappeared around a corner.
The guy named Cole kept filling orders at the bar while Honey took trays of drinks around.
Travis asked where the washrooms were and Cindy told him. He used the restroom, then returned down the hallway toward the bar. He stopped when he passed an open doorway and backtracked. Inside a cramped office, Rachel sat on a plastic chair, wolfing down the food. He hadn’t noticed her the first time through the hallway.
“I hope I didn’t get you into trouble,” he said from the doorway.
She startled, her gold-flecked eyes huge and framed by gray bruises of exhaustion. The poor woman wasn’t just tired. She was plumb worn thin enough to see through.
“No. Honey’s a good friend.” She took a bite of a chicken finger. “You were right. Both of you. I was struggling. Thank you for the food.”
Travis hid a smile with one hand. She was saying all the right things, but her tone said she still resented being told what to do.
He could relate to that.
Beside her sat a pint of milk and a plastic food container filled with something beige dotted with bits of color.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“What’s what?”
“That stuff.” He pointed to the plastic container.
“Quinoa salad.”
Shaking his head, Travis leaned against the doorjamb. “You and my sister. She likes that weird California health stuff, too.”
Rachel laughed, a musical counterpoint to the noise from the bar behind him.
She had a good laugh, clean and without guile. “Quinoa’s not from California. It’s South American, but yeah, it is healthy.”
“It’s beige. Does it taste as bland as it looks?”
She shook her head. “It’s good.”
Her worn brown cowboy boots sat on the floor next to the chair. Cracks in the leather attested to their age. Through her thin socks, her ankles looked too big for such a small woman. “Your feet swell up?”
“When I’m on them too long. It’s the pregnancy.”
If she were his sister, he would massage them for her. He used to when Sammy was pregnant with the boys and her husband was too busy navel-gazing to pay her much attention. He sensed Rachel wouldn’t appreciate a stranger touching her feet, or offering sympathy.
Nor did he have any desire to touch her again after the foolishness of this afternoon’s kiss.
She looked hesitant and then seemed to gather courage. “What’s it like inside these days?”
Huh? He stared at her. “What’s what like?”
“The house. What shape is it in? I haven’t been in for a long time. The owner was in palliative care for the past year.”
She liked his house that much? “Not great. I’ve got a lot of work to do to bring it up to scratch.”
“That bad?”
“Nothing impossible.” Her wistful tone puzzled him. “It’s just a house.”
“Just a house?” she squeaked. “It’s beautiful. It’s got great bones and huge potential. Even with the work that needs to be done, it’s perfect.” She looked so damn cute with her warm eyes and thick eyelashes and tawny braid with wisps of hair floating around her cheeks. They were filling with color now that she was off her feet and eating.
He didn’t like this attraction. It made him antsy and tense. He started to back out of the room, but she asked, “Hardwood floors still in good shape?”
“They need refinishing. Oak. Three-quarter inch. They’ll be incredible once they’re done.” Travis had a good feeling about this house for his family, if he could get the work done by Christmas. “You should see the fireplace with the carved wooden mantel.”
In her smile, he saw longing. “Still beautiful?”
“A work of art. Looks like I’ve got to strip off about twelve coats of paint, though. From all of the moldings, too.” He cocked his head. “You seem to know the place well.”
She smiled, and it was sweet and wholesome. “The owner was a special friend. Before she became ill, we had tea together a lot.”
She swallowed and looked away. He thought it was sadness choking her up.
Unsure what drove him other than a need to reassure her about himself and her mother, because it felt weird to be attracted to the daughter, even if he didn’t want to be, while having drinks with the mother, he said, “It isn’t a date.”
Her hand paused on the way to her mouth, one lonely French fry dangling from her fingers. “What?”
“With your mom? Cindy? Tonight isn’t a date. She said we were meeting other folks. I thought I could get to know some townspeople.”
She chewed her fry with a small, thoughtful frown furrowing her brow. Another aspect he liked. She had depth, this one.
“I’ll meet ranch hands while I work, but not enough of every kind of person living here. My family—”
A gasp from the doorway caught his attention, and he glanced behind him. Cindy.
“What are you two doing?” Disappointment hovered beneath her suspicious anger.
Travis really didn’t have time for drama.
“Shooting the breeze,” he said in the most casual tone he could muster. He owed this woman nothing. He could talk to whomever he wanted, but he didn’t want to make trouble between mother and daughter. “Just getting to know one of my neighbors.”
Cindy spun away and slammed into the women’s washroom. Talk about being high maintenance.
“Am I in trouble?” he asked.
Rachel’s animation about the house leached out of her. “We’re both in trouble. Cindy can hold a grudge for days. You’d better go back to your table and make it up to her.”
Travis sighed. Was one night of peace and innocent fun too much to expect?
Just as he left the room, Rachel stopped him. “She’s not a bad person, honest. She’s just...” She shrugged.
Just real needy. “Got it.”
Throughout the rest of the evening, he managed to smooth Cindy’s ruffled feathers, not really sure why he was bothering. He didn’t know the woman and didn’t care whether she nursed a good pout, but he thought of Rachel and wondered how Cindy’s anger would affect her.
Shortly after ten, a fight broke out. Travis didn’t know who the two guys were, or what their beefs were, but they came too close to his table. When one of them bumped into Rachel serving nearby, he got up and steadied her, holding a hand up to let the guy know to keep his distance.
The guy could barely stand upright, wavering on his drunken feet and grinning idiotically.
The man who’d taken over for Honey earlier at the bar came running, grabbing the second guy by the scruff of his neck and propelling him against the wall with one of the guy’s arms shoved behind him and halfway up his back.
“Goddamn it, Clint,” Cole yelled above the driving beat of the music. “I told you before. You and Jamie need to keep your fights out of public places. You want to fight, take it home.”
He whipped a pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket and cuffed the guy. Travis stared.
Cole turned to the man Travis held off with his raised right hand. Three sheets to the wind, he burped up a lungful of beer and chicken wings.
“Do I need to cuff you, too, Jamie?”
“Naw. I’m okay now. I’ll go home peacefully.”
“And you, Clint? Should I call out one of the deputies? You wanna spend the night in jail?”
Clint shook his head. “I’ll leave.”
Cole unlocked the cuffs, then watched the pair of them stumble out, leaning on each other like the best of buddies.
The man stuck out his hand. “Cole Payette. I’m sheriff here. You’re the new guy.”
Travis nodded and shook his hand. “Travis Read. What was their problem?”
“Brothers from different mothers. Every so often they take potshots at each other, but only when they’re drunk. The rest of the time, they’re good buddies.”
Payette righted a chair that had been knocked over, watching Travis with an odd smile.
“Good to meet you, Travis. Welcome to Rodeo. Usually we’re a peaceful town. Thanks for your help.” Cole’s eyes slid off to Travis’s left and then back to him. He grinned and returned to his stool at the bar.
“Um... Travis?”
The voice so close beside him startled him. Travis looked down at Rachel. “Yeah?”
“You can let go of me now.”
Cripes. The whole time he’d held off the guy named Jamie, he’d held Rachel with his other arm, tucked against his body and out of harm’s way.
“Oh...sorry...ah, I—” He didn’t know what to say because he didn’t know what he’d been thinking.
A small handful, a perfect fit, her belly hard and warm against him, she belonged in his arms.
It felt natural and good to hold her.
No! No, no, no. He didn’t need a woman in his life right now, especially not one laden with burdens he didn’t want to bear.
He didn’t want to like her.
A funny smile curled her lips. “I truly can take care of myself, Travis. I deal with stuff like this most nights.”
At least she wasn’t mad at him.
“I really didn’t know I was doing that.”
“I know. I could tell.”
The feeling of well-being, and the sense of rightness she engendered in him, shook him so badly he rushed to let her go.
Before he could, the softest of touches flitted across his ribs. Wonder filled him. The touch had come from Rachel’s big belly.
“What was that?”
Despite her obvious fatigue, this morning’s mischievous grin made an appearance.
“That was the baby,” she said. “Beth.”
“No fooling?”
“No fooling, Travis. Guess she was saying hello.”
It happened again. Wild. Amazing. That little creature inside that big bump was real and moving. “What was it? A hand or a foot?”
“Could have been. Or an elbow. Maybe a knee.” She ran her hand over her belly. “It’s pretty awesome, isn’t it?”
The baby moved again, some incredibly tiny part of her body brushing across him, like maybe the little thing was communicating with him. Saying hi. Touching. Reaching out. Whoo.
“It’s...it’s incredible.” He didn’t have words to describe the feeling. Whoo-hoo. It was about the most magical experience imaginable.
He released Rachel by increments, because he was also letting go of another creature, her baby. He’d never much thought about how real babies were before birth.
He’d only met Rachel a mere twelve or so hours ago, but she’d now bestowed on him two wondrous gifts—a child’s dream ride on a carousel, and an unborn baby’s touch.
“I’d better get back to work,” she said.
He bent to pick up the tray she’d dropped, handing it to her with his mouth open and searching for words. There were none.
Had Cole’s funny smile been about Travis holding Rachel as if she belonged to him? She didn’t. No woman did. Uh-uh. No way, no how. He had one priority—to take care of his sister and nephews and then hightail it away from here.
While he might be filled with awe, he would never think to take on the encumbrance of parenthood for himself. More power to her, but he was hunky-dory on his own.
He returned to Cindy. It was time to head home.
It took them a while to leave the bar because everyone and his uncle wanted an introduction. Friendly people. Considering the night a success, he left knowing that Sammy and her boys would find a community in Rodeo where they could belong.
He caught a last glimpse of Rachel, who was too busy to notice him leaving.
Cindy dropped him off at the garage to pick up his truck. He scooted out of her pickup the second it stopped. He wasn’t about to give Cindy ideas about kissing good-night.
Once he’d driven himself to the house, he wandered the too-quiet rooms. The echo of his boots in the stillness set up an emptiness in him that rankled.
Boots. On a wood floor.
He needed to become more refined. No carting of muck and God knew what else into his new home. This wasn’t a bunkhouse. It was Sammy’s new home.
He returned to the front door and took them off.
Tired, he entered his bedroom and made up his new bed with the sheets he’d had delivered. He unpacked his saddlebags, his belongings paltry enough, his lifestyle so simple it took him all of ten minutes to put away his clothes. He stared at the freshly made bed. He might be bone weary, but his mind wouldn’t quit. He knew he wouldn’t sleep, so there was no point trying.
He unloaded a bunch of new kid’s books onto the new bookshelves.
The house was too quiet. He hated the hollowness of the place. He’d have to get a TV soon, or a radio—anything to fill the emptiness until the boys arrived.
Christmas and his nephews couldn’t come soon enough.