With every step, her feet screamed for attention.
Too bad. As long as there were customers, she would continue to work and bring in tips.
She set a heavy tray of mugs of beer onto the table next to the front door and handed them around. She was just making change when she felt a draft. New arrivals. Good. More tips.
She glanced up...and froze. Cindy walked in with Travis, the man freshly shaved and movie-star handsome, the tips of his hair still damp from a shower, she guessed.
Why couldn’t Cindy have taken him to the diner for dinner? Why come here? But Rachel knew. Her mom was showing off that she was with the handsome new cowboy in town, and Honey’s would be a lot more crowded than the diner. Cindy liked an audience.
She wore even more spangles tonight and had put on her sparkly eye shadow.
When he saw Rachel, Travis raised one eyebrow as if to ask, “You work here?”
Rachel suppressed the part of herself that found him attractive.
Fantasizing about a handsome stranger when she looked like a beer barrel on legs was just the type of daydreaming she had to quit.
Anyhow, Cindy must be his type. He’d asked her out on a date pretty darn quickly, hadn’t he? Which meant he wasn’t Rachel’s type. And why was she having those kinds of unlikely thoughts, anyway? He was dating Cindy, and he had bought Rachel’s house. Cindy was welcome to him.
Rachel’s dating days were long over.
Then why, in the middle of a crowded bar surrounded by people she’d grown up with and loved, did Rachel feel so lonely? So in need of someone to talk to? Of someone who would listen? Or who would just hold her hand so she didn’t feel desperately alone?
Travis and Cindy sat at one of her tables, and Rachel left them with menus while she finished delivering drinks to another couple of tables.
When she returned, she pointed to the hooks lining the walls on either side of the door. “You can hang your hat there.”
Travis raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t notice them. No one will take it?”
Rachel’s grin might have been tired, but she dredged up a ghost of this morning’s sass. He needed to understand what kind of town he’d moved to.
“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.
He
ad 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.”
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