A Cowboy's Luck (The McGavin Brothers Book 8)

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Thanks!” He turned to Kendra. “Ready to saddle up?”

  “Absolutely. What do you want to work on today?”

  “Think the ground’s dry enough to canter the horses?”

  “Feeling the need for speed?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Jake would probably like that, too.” She started toward the barn. “Are you doing okay?”

  “Sure, why?”

  “Your face looks a little pinched, especially around your eyes. I just wondered if you’re feeling the responsibility of Bryce being out of town.”

  “No, that part’s going well.” He winced. You didn’t use phrases like that part with a perceptive woman like Kendra.

  “Are you worried about the initial outlay for the shirts?”

  “No, ma’am. We’ll make money, no problem.”

  “Maybe I’m imagining things, then.”

  “I appreciate you thinking about me.” She was nothing like his urban professional mom, except sometimes her loving concern reminded him of his mom. Made him a little homesick.

  “Have you considered doing a special promo, like any customer who comes in wearing one gets a benefit of some kind?”

  “That could work. Maybe once a week on a typically slow day, like T-shirt Tuesday. Wear your shirt for Happy Hour and get ten percent off your bill.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’ll run it past Bryce.” He followed her into the barn and took the lead rope she handed him. “I’ve been meaning to thank you, by the way.”

  “For what?”

  “You get the credit for sending Roxanne and her dad into the GG last month. That was the first time I’d met her.”

  “No kidding? I didn’t know that.”

  “When I found out she was a graphic designer, I asked her to come up with a logo.”

  “Well, how lucky is that? I had no idea. I just happened to be in there that day when her dad arrived. He seemed like a nice guy.”

  “I thought so, too.” Although he’d been so focused on Roxanne he hadn’t paid much attention to her father. “Did you know she has three older brothers?”

  “Hadn’t heard that, either.” She gazed at him. “Are you two becoming friends?”

  “You could say that.” Damn. Heat climbed up from his collar. The barn wasn’t dim enough to hide the fact, either.

  She smiled. “How nice for both of you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He hoped to God it would be. Eventually.

  Chapter Eight

  Roxanne swore and rolled her desk chair away from the monitor. Five effing hours she’d wasted on the brochure for Les Montagne, a luxury resort in the French Alps. It wouldn’t come together. She hated it more now than when she’d started this morning.

  She’d tried every tactic in her creativity playbook—soothing music, hard rock, scented candles, jumping jacks, meditation, caffeine, chocolate, even chewing gum because exercising her jaw was supposed to stimulate her brain.

  Pacing the confines of her apartment didn’t work, either, but she couldn’t sit in that chair another second. She’d considered taking a long walk, but in a small town like Eagles Nest she’d meet people and she didn’t want to meet people.

  Not people in general, anyway. One certain person. She’d come up with a theory as to why she was fixated on Michael.

  They’d had sexual contact, but they hadn’t had the full experience. Like taking a challenging course and leaving before the final exam, their interaction, though intense, remained incomplete, lacking the grand finale.

  Ingrid had said that Michael probably wouldn’t brood about it, but Ingrid didn’t know the particulars. What they’d shared had been like the Mona Lisa without her smile, a stirring line from Romeo and Juliet without an exclamation mark. A gnawing sense of unfinished business could be bothering Michael, too, which was doubly unfair because he hadn’t created the problem.

  The solution was obvious and she was the only one who could implement it. Whether she had the nerve was another matter, but one variable required immediate action. Pills and Pop closed at two on Sundays. It was currently one-thirty.

  Buying condoms didn’t obligate her to follow through, now, did it? She put on her boots and her denim jacket, then located her keys. She could have walked to the drugstore, but driving would lessen the chance of seeing someone she knew.

  At the last minute, she grabbed her phone. Another text from Wes. He’d responded to hers about the shamrock cookie and she hadn’t followed up yesterday. She’d text him later, after she ran this critical errand.

  All the parking spaces were open in front of Pills and Pop. Good. Maybe no one was in there. She got out of the truck, pocketed her keys, and walked through the door.

  She almost bumped into Michael. “Oh! Fancy meeting you here!” Dammit. Of all people. Her cheeks grew warm.

  “Hi.” He looked uncomfortable, too. “I figured you’d be hard at work.”

  “I was, but I needed…gum.” He looked wonderful and smelled even better. The scent of his aftershave was tied in with some hot memories. Her body started to overheat and she unbuttoned her jacket.

  “Gum?”

  “Chewing stimulates the blood flow to your brain.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Scientific fact.”

  “I’ll have to try it sometime.”

  “Why aren’t you at work?” Where you belong.

  “I was. I ducked out for a few minutes to get…toothpaste.”

  Might be true. He had a small bag in one hand. Although it was a weird thing to run out of and he seemed like an organized guy who wouldn’t let that happen. “Baking soda works in a pinch.”

  “Thanks. I’ll remember that. How’s the work coming along?”

  “Terrific. Very productive day. How about you?”

  “The same. Getting lots of stuff done.”

  “Excellent. Glad to hear it.” She was lying, so he could be, too. Or maybe Ingrid was right and he wasn’t brooding.

  “Are we still on for Monday night?”

  “Unless you have a conflict.” She wanted to give him an out. After last night’s debacle, he might be sick of dealing with her. If he cancelled their date, that would tell her something.

  “No conflict, but if you—”

  “I’m available.” Then he wasn’t ready to give up on her. Encouraging.

  “Does five-thirty sound good?”

  “Perfect.” So much could happen between now and then. Monday’s date had become immaterial.

  “Did you find a movie you’d like to see?”

  “Not yet, but I’ll let you know if we need to adjust our timeframe.”

  He nodded. “Sounds good.”

  “Listen, about last night, I—”

  “Don’t give it another thought. It wasn’t a problem.”

  Yes, it was. “Good. I’m glad. Guess I’ll see you on Monday night, then.”

  “Looking forward to it.” He touched the brim of his Stetson, and walked out the door.

  She spent a minute getting her bearings. When she glanced around, Ellie Mae Stockton stood a short distance away, hands folded. Chances were good she’d heard every word of the conversation with Michael, not that it mattered. They’d talked about work and a movie date.

  That couldn’t be interesting to someone who’d reportedly lived in Hollywood and hobnobbed with the stars before moving to this little town. At least that’s what Ingrid had said. Evidently the eighty-something woman had become a fixture in Eagles Nest.

  She sure didn’t look eighty-plus. She colored her hair a soft brown and wore classic outfits that had never gone out of style. Working at Pills and Pop seemed to please her and she often took the shifts nobody else wanted. It made sense she’d be here on a Sunday.

  She smiled at Roxanne. “Can I help you with anything?”

  “Probably.” She cleared her throat. “I’m here to buy condoms.”

  “Hm.” Her eyes sparkled. “Intriguing.”

  Okay
, now the conversation with Michael about a movie date might interest Ellie Mae. Roxanne blushed but held the older woman’s gaze. “It shouldn’t always be up to the guy, right?”

  “Certainly not.” She led the way to the back of the store where the pharmacy was located, although it was closed today. “Do you know what the gentleman prefers?”

  “Unfortunately I don’t. This is a somewhat new relationship.”

  “We sell quite a few of this brand.” She pointed to one of the packages. “Judging from what I’ve observed, you couldn’t go wrong if you got that.”

  Something in her tone made Roxanne glance at her. She still had that knowing twinkle in her eyes. Wait a minute. Michael’s package had been small. What if it hadn’t been toothpaste in the bag? “The man who was just here…”

  “Michael? Isn’t he a handsome son-of-a-gun?”

  “Yes, he’s very good-looking.” She hesitated. “I don’t suppose you can tell me what he had in the bag.”

  “That would be unprofessional.”

  “But it wasn’t toothpaste, was it?”

  “I can’t tell you that, either, although after listening to your exchange with him just now, I do have a suggestion.”

  “Which is?”

  “Save your money.”

  * * *

  What were the odds? Michael threw himself into his work at the Guzzling Grizzly, but every so often he’d pause and shake his head. Something karmic was going on between him and Roxanne. Otherwise how could she have waltzed into Pills and Pop to buy chewing gum at the very same time he’d decided to stock up on condoms?

  He didn’t expect to use them any time soon, but he’d learned his lesson. Whenever he spent time with Roxanne, he’d be packing. She hadn’t figured out what she wanted, but when she did, assuming it was him, he would be ready.

  She might be frustrating the hell out of him, but he got it. She had her reasons for not trusting him or their powerful attraction. He’d never been slammed to the mat the way she had. If some woman had hurt him that badly, he might react the same way.

  He’d be patient. She was worth it.

  Sunday afternoon was relatively slow at the GG, which had given him a chance to run over to the drugstore before it closed. It also allowed him time to fiddle with the website on his laptop until business picked up around Happy Hour. He’d hoped to get more done.

  Truth was he wasn’t working to capacity. Couldn’t concentrate the way he normally would. Friday night had messed with him. He’d told her he could dial it back but he might have been kidding himself.

  As distracted as he was, it was a blessing that he wouldn’t be dealing with a big crowd tonight. Revenue would be down, though. Normally Nicole and Bryce played on Sunday and Monday nights, which brought in the customers.

  If they ended up taking out-of-town gigs more often, a new act should be booked in for the times they’d be gone. Recorded music didn’t provide the same juice and he wanted to maintain momentum.

  He was in favor of live music every night if the quality was there. The GG could afford it now, and the area had plenty of musicians looking for a place to play. He’d talk it over with Bryce sometime this week.

  A half-hour before closing, the bar was nearly empty and Jenny had cleaned all the tables but two where customers continued to linger over their coffee. Frank had closed the kitchen and gone home.

  Tansy was clearly bored. Michael was ready to send her home, too, but before he could suggest it she pulled out her phone.

  “Let’s see what I can find that I haven’t made yet.” She clicked on a website and started scrolling. “Butterscotch Mocha looks good.” She flipped the screen toward him so he could see the multi-layered combo of Kahlua, butterscotch schnapps and Baileys tucked into a shot glass.

  “Anything with Baileys has to be primo.”

  “Because you’re Irish.”

  “And proud of it.”

  “We have what I need to make it.” Her expression turned hopeful.

  “Then go ahead. It’s as good a time as any to practice.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. Maybe someone will show up who wants it.” She set to work.

  Jenny came over to watch. “You have the touch, girl.”

  “I love doing this.” She poured the butterscotch schnapps over the back of a spoon and added the Baileys. “There you go.” She picked up a coaster and set the shot glass on it. “Not bad for a first attempt. Who wants to try it?”

  Jenny shook her head. “Looks wonderful, but I’ll be driving home soon.”

  Tansy sighed. “Yeah, me, too. Michael?”

  “I’d better stick to black coffee if I’m going to work on the website after we close. I’d like to have the page with the link ready to go by tomorrow and I’m not happy with the layout.”

  The front door opened. He didn’t have to look to identify who’d come in that door. Only one person was likely to show up at the bar right before closing—the same person who was driving him around the bend. She’d come in for a reason, but he probably wouldn’t find out until everyone left.

  “Roxanne! Great timing!” Tansy held up the drink. “Want a Butterscotch Mocha?”

  “Sure, why not?” She walked over to the bar, cool as a slice of lime on the edge of a margarita glass. Even her hair looked calm and controlled. She must have ironed it. “Hi, Michael. Hi, Jenny. Where is everybody?”

  “We don’t have live music tonight.” He met her gaze. Okay, not so cool and controlled. Those brown eyes told a different tale. She was agitated about something. “Makes a difference.”

  “Guess so.” She glanced around as she took off her denim jacket and laid it on the stool beside her. The long-sleeved t-shirt underneath was yellow.

  Yellow for caution.

  “Try the drink.” Tansy gave it a subtle nudge in her direction. “I need someone to tell me if it’s any good.”

  “I almost hate to drink it. It’s a tiny work of art.”

  “I know.” Tansy smiled. “It’s like Native American sand paintings. It’s not meant to last.”

  “Then here goes.” She brought the shot glass up to her lips, ruby red like last night, and tossed the drink down in one swallow. “Whew. Delicious!” She licked her lips.

  His jeans began to pinch. Not good. Unless…nope, better not speculate.

  “I thought it would be.” Tansy sounded proud of herself. “I’m glad you showed up.”

  “Yes, that was lucky.” Jenny studied Roxanne as if trying to gauge her intentions. “We’ll be closing in about fifteen minutes, so you just made it.”

  “Want another one?” Tansy looked eager to try it again.

  “I wouldn’t,” Michael said. “Not if you’ll be driving anytime soon.”

  “Oh.” She seemed hesitant. “Actually, I need to talk with you, but I thought I’d wait until you’re finished here.”

  “Tell you what.” Tansy started putting together another Butterscotch Mocha. “I’ll make it and stick it in the bar fridge. It’ll be there if you want it.”

  Jenny surveyed the remaining customers. “I’ll find out if they’re ready to pay so we can wrap up this little party.”

  “Thanks, Jenny.” Michael looked over at Tansy. “You’re free to go home whenever you want.”

  “Then I’ll get my stuff and bug out.” She came out from behind the bar and hurried toward the office.

  Michael turned to Roxanne, eyebrows lifted in a silent question.

  “I’d rather wait until everyone’s gone, if that’s okay.”

  “All right.” Don’t get your hopes up, Murphy.

  “I’ll understand if you can’t spare the time, though. I don’t want to—”

  “I have time.” Technically he didn’t. He’d hoped to put the final touches on the website page tonight, assuming he could get his head on straight enough to accomplish that.

  The woman he couldn’t seem to forget was sitting in front of him, though. If what she wanted to discuss would calm the frantic
buzzing in his brain, it would be time well spent.

  She lifted her head to look at him. “Good. Then I’ll stay.”

  “I have to take care of a few things if you don’t mind waiting.”

  “I don’t.”

  He went through his routine as best he could, considering.

  Tansy came out wearing her parka and a backpack. “See you tomorrow night.”

  “No, you won’t. Bryce’ll be here tomorrow night.”

  “That’s right. Then enjoy your night off.”

  “I will, thanks.”

  She shot a quick glance in Roxanne’s direction before mouthing good luck. Then she took off.

  He smiled. Tansy had a good heart and she loved bartending. He didn’t know why she’d left the East Coast, but maybe for the same reason he’d left Chicago. She’d wanted something different.

  He was at the cash register when Jenny came over and handed him the last of the night’s take. The customers from both tables headed out the door, loudly debating a recent basketball playoff.

  “You need to get a TV in here, Murphy!” one of them called out good-naturedly.

  Michael laughed. “Not happening, Alfred!” He and Bryce had discussed it at length. Thank goodness they agreed. Live music. No TV.

  Jenny lowered her voice. “You okay, son?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Take care, then.” She patted him on the shoulder and walked back to the office for her things.

  He appreciated her concern. And Tansy’s. They’d both had a ringside seat for Friday night’s celebration and last night’s weirdness. They must wonder what the devil was going on. So did he.

  After Jenny left, he locked the front door and came back to sit on the stool next to Roxanne’s. He nudged back his hat. “So?”

  She turned to face him. “This isn’t easy to talk about.”

  “Must be a weighty topic.”

  “Maybe not in the grand scheme of things, but to me it is. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about Friday night.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “You have?”

  “Couldn’t seem to help it. Tried not to, but…” He shrugged.

  “Same here. When we met at the drugstore, I lied about the progress I’ve made on my work. I’ve been spinning my wheels.”