Cowboys Last All Night

by Jennifer Ashley

  And strangely turned on.

  “I bet you’re going to tell me.” He leaned against the counter, and Sunshine blinked. Tell him? Tell him what?

  “About what I’m eating,” he prompted.

  She dug her fingernails into the wood of the chair. She had to stop focusing on this man’s hands and shoulders and focus on the fact that she wasn’t going to have a bed for the next four months unless she persuaded him to get the hell out of her apartment.

  “Not only are you eating some poor defenseless animal, you are also filling your body with chemicals and preservatives guaranteed to destroy your liver and your immune system and take years off your life. Which you deserve,” she added, “for not packing up your stuff and leaving right now.”

  “Imagine that.” He took another bite.

  Her stomach recoiled. How could he put that toxic waste into his mouth? And how was she supposed to survive with carrion in her kitchen? “This isn’t going to work.”

  “Glad you finally figured that out. Here’s your sixty bucks.” He stuck the jerky in his mouth, pulled his wallet out of his pocket and made a show of counting out three twenties.

  She stifled a growl. “I didn’t say I was going anywhere.”

  “Well, I know I’m not leaving.”

  She wanted to slap his handsome face. She doubted that would be a good start to their living or working arrangement, however. And besides, Kate was working on a solution. Kate would fix everything.

  She hoped.

  Counting silently to ten, she faced the man whose existence was the proverbial fly in the ointment of her happiness. “Fine. I’m going out for several hours. When I get back I’ll get settled in. I would prefer some time alone while I do that. Do you think that’s possible?”

  His shit-eating grin stretched wider. “Anything’s possible, Sunshine.”

  Thirty minutes later Sunshine sat at a metal table in the deli section of a supermarket, picking at a three-bean salad she couldn’t eat. Her throat was too thick with unshed tears to swallow it down, and even if she managed it, her stomach was tied in knots. Only one day in her life had been worse than this one—the day Greg kicked her out of their apartment, out of the restaurant and out of his life. She’d felt just like this, as a matter of fact—like the rug had been pulled right out from under her feet. She’d assumed giving Greg money to pay for renovations and buy supplies meant they shared ownership of Chez Rosetta. She’d assumed when she moved in with Greg it was as good as being engaged. When her parents asked where the ring was, she’d berated them for their old-fashioned attitudes. “Do you two have some kind of contract for that business of yours?” her father had asked and she’d laughed his question off.

  She’d been so stupid.

  Now she’d done it again—assumed that when Aunt Cecily said she’d left her a restaurant, she’d meant a real restaurant, not some empty shell inside a shooting gallery. And she’d assumed the apartment she inherited would be hers—not a shared situation with a lunatic.

  A hot, gorgeous, capable... sarcastic, barbaric, thief of a lunatic.

  She dropped her fork onto her plastic tray and pushed her food aside. Face it, she was totally screwed. She might as well give up and go home. Her parents wouldn’t mind if she moved back into her old bedroom.

  No.

  She was not going to go crying to her parents just because she was having a bad day. Plenty of people were way worse off. She had her health, her strength, a little money in her pocket, a rent-free situation for her restaurant and a place to live. Sunshine lifted her chin. She’d focus on the future. In four short months, she’d have everything she ever wanted. As long as her restaurant made more money than Cole’s rifle-range.

  Her thoughts flashed to the man. What had Cecily been thinking, setting her up in a situation like this? She narrowed her eyes. Cecily hadn’t been trying to play matchmaker, had she?

  Oh, for heaven’s sake. She stood up, disposed of her trash and left the market, heading for a furniture store she’d seen a block down the road. Cole could take a flying leap off a very tall building for all she cared.

  Several hours later, thoroughly exhausted, she was back in a cab. Decorating an empty apartment would have been easy and fun. Figuring out how to squeeze her things into the tiny box she had to share with Cole was a complete nightmare.

  She didn’t even want to think about how she’d manage to run a restaurant in the reception area of that travesty of a rifle range.

  To his chagrin, Cole found himself watching the street outside the rifle range for Sunshine’s return later that afternoon. An image stuck in his mind no matter how hard he tried to turn his thoughts to something else—Sunshine’s face when Abe the Lawyer began to explain the meaning of her aunt’s will. He’d been able to tell the exact moment when she realized the building and the apartment weren’t hers, because a look of sheer defeat had twisted her beautiful features before she could school them into outrage.

  He didn’t like seeing that kind of pain on Sunshine’s face, but he told himself a little rich girl like her could find a hundred places to house her café. He was the one in a real fix.

  “It’s gonna take a lot of work to turn this place into a café,” Jamie said, waving an arm at the waiting room. Usually he and the rest of the men would be long gone by now back to work, but evidently they were as curious as he was to see how things turned out.

  Cole had been thinking the same thing. There was a kitchen of sorts here behind the counter, but little else. How serious was Sunshine about opening a restaurant? She hadn’t even checked the place out before rushing off to shop. Typical rich girl. He hadn’t used the stove in here for years. The fridge held bottles of water and soda he sold to his patrons for a buck a pop. The cabinets were mostly empty except for the oil, cleaning cloths and tools he used to repair any firearms that needed it.

  “Never gonna pass a health inspection,” Rob said.

  “Got a broom?” Jamie stood up.

  “What for?”

  “To sweep, idiot. When’s the last time you cleaned this place?”

  Cole stared at him in surprise. Why would the cowboy want to help…?

  Clarity hit him like a thunderclap. Jamie had set his sights on Sunshine, and why not? She was a beautiful woman. New to the area.

  Single.

  He pressed down the anger that swirled up within him at the thought of Jamie making a play for her. Jamie could have Sunshine—it wasn’t like Cole needed a fling with a hothouse flower like her. Without a word he fetched the push-broom he used to sweep the range and handed it to Jamie. Jamie leaned it against the wall and began to stack the plastic chairs that lined the room.

  “This place is a little rough around the edges,” Ethan ventured, surveying the small space.

  “It’s a dump,” Cole said. “Once she takes a good look around she’ll turn tail and run.”

  “Does the stove work?” Ethan got up from his chair so Jamie could stack it, sauntered over to the counter and peered behind him toward the old range.

  “Beats me,” Cole said. “I don’t think I’ve ever tried it.”

  “Who the hell puts a kitchen in a rifle range, anyhow?” Rob said, coming over to join them.

  “I think it was a bowling alley at some point. Come on back.” Cole waved them around the counter, and Rob and Ethan both came into the area behind it to inspect the tiny kitchen. Ethan shifted some paperwork off the burners, twisted a dial, and when nothing happened turned it off again and bent to look behind the stove.

  “Probably isn’t even hooked up. You’ll have to call the gas company.”

  “She’ll have to call the gas company.”

  “Better get this stuff cleared away,” Rob said and started moving clipboards, receipts, tools and more paperwork off the kitchen counters.

  “Hey! Stop screwing around with that, you’ll mess up my system.”

  “What system?” Rob kept going. “Time you cleaned up your act anyway. You can never find an
ything the way you run this place.”

  What the hell? Had Rob decided to throw his hat in the ring, too? Rob had always been one for the ladies and currently he didn’t have a girlfriend. Ethan did, however. His intentions toward Sunshine had better be platonic.

  He noticed Cab had stood up, too, and was pacing off the dimensions of the room. Was he calculating how many tables would fit? Cole couldn’t believe these turncoats. One look at Sunshine’s lithe body and pretty face and they were ready to burn a trail through his rifle range like Sherman on his way to Atlanta.

  Jamie kept stacking chairs. Rob and Ethan faced Cole, waiting. Holt cackled softly in his corner of the waiting room. “Hope she makes a good cup of coffee. Your brew tastes like pig slops.”

  “That’s it. Everyone out!” For good measure he pointed at the door. “You heard me—go on! Bunch of traitors.”

  “But—”

  “Now. I’ve got work to do.”

  Jamie let go of a chair and it fell to the ground with a metallic thud. The others hesitated, then retreated toward the door. “All right, man. See you soon,” Rob said. The four younger men filed out onto the sidewalk and dispersed toward their cars. Holt took a while longer to unfold himself from his chair.

  “I’ve got a little advice for you, Cole,” he said when he finally managed to straighten up. “Might sound familiar.”

  “Oh yeah, what’s that?” He tried to keep his voice even. He had a lot of respect for his father’s old friend, a hardened rancher from one of the oldest families in town.

  “If you want to catch a rabbit, don’t bait your trap with a bear.”

  “I’ve never heard that saying, old man.”

  “Then use your head and figure it out. You don’t need to fight that little girl to get what you want. That’s what she’s expecting you to do, and if you fight, she’ll fight back.” He shook his head. “Kill her with kindness. Let her have her café. Hell, put on an apron and flip the burgers for her.”

  “She’s a vegetarian,” Cole said. Holt wasn’t making any sense at all.

  “Then flip the tofu. Whatever it takes. Look around you—who the hell is going to come to eat at a rifle range? She’ll spend her money, work herself silly and fall flat on her face.” Holt jabbed him in the shoulder with a bony finger. “And then she’ll take your sixty bucks and go back where she came from. Or not.” He grinned.

  “What do you mean, or not?”

  “Maybe you’ll convince her to stay.”

  Holt left without another word, leaving Cole to stare after him with his mouth hanging open. He wasn’t going to convince Sunshine to stay. He was going to salute her backside with a bottle of beer as she walked out the door. Whatever Cecily thought, Sunshine wasn’t his type.

  But the more he thought about it, the more he realized Holt was right about one thing. She was just the type to settle in for a good fight if he provoked her. Far better to help her along to her own demise. He ducked under the counter, grabbed the broom and got to work.

  Chapter Three

  An hour later he had made substantial progress. He’d swept the floor and knocked down the cobwebs within easy reach. He’d found a pail and squeegee and cleaned the inside of the plate glass window. Now he was mopping the floor. Cole took a break to swig a pop and admire the fruit of his labor. Even if the benefits of it would accrue to a woman who stood to steal his father’s shooting range out from under him, he was enough of a man to feel the pride of accomplishment in his work.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  The angry female voice froze him in place.

  The front door slammed and Sunshine walked in, laden down with bags and boxes. Cleaning supplies, Cole realized.

  “I said, what the fuck are you doing?” She dropped everything on the damp floor where he had just mopped and stared at him, pale with anger. She was still beautiful, Cole thought, her blonde hair framing her face, her breasts heaving with each furious breath, but she looked ready to flay him alive and roast him in her still-filthy oven.

  “Just thought I’d lend a hand,” Cole said cautiously.

  “Lend a hand? Without asking? How do you know what I want done in here? Huh? It’s my building, my café—I don’t need anyone’s help, certainly not yours. What were you thinking coming into my space without permission, rattling around and... and...”

  “Mopping the floor?” Cole supplied.

  “Mopping the floor!” Sunshine strode over to him and yanked the mop out of his hand. “I didn’t say you could mop my floor.” She jabbed a finger into his chest, “You might think that just because you’ve been a tenant here for a few years that you own the place, but...”

  “Twenty years.”

  “What?” She stopped mid-sentence and blinked at him.

  “Twenty years. My father owned the rifle range before I did. He’s the one who sold the building to Cecily. We’ve been in business here twenty years.”

  She tightened her lips and when she spoke again, her voice was quietly furious. “You may think you own the place because you’ve been a tenant for twenty years, but you are wrong. I own this building. I intend to live and work here for the next four months, and then I will kick you out on your ass. From now on stay on your side of the room.”

  Cole waited long enough for a deep, highly uncomfortable silence to settle over them before he turned around and quietly walked through the door into the rifle range. Inside, he was fuming, but he was glad he’d managed to keep a handle on his temper. She was the one who had to be embarrassed now when she looked around and realized all he’d done was help.

  Sunshine’s arm ached and her eyelids drooped. She was standing on top of the back counter, cleaning out the cabinets in the kitchen area. She deeply regretted that there was no back room in this place except for the shooting range itself. The kitchen was wide open to the front of the café, so she couldn’t even daydream about sleeping here on a regular basis instead of in the apartment. Besides, that would probably violate the terms of the will, and she wasn’t going to do anything that might result in Cole buying the building for a lousy sixty bucks.

  She crouched down and jumped off the counter, landing unsteadily on the linoleum floor. She was exhausted and she hadn’t eaten any dinner. Hardly any lunch, either, she thought, remembering the bean salad she’d thrown away. Time to face the music. She was so embarrassed by her behavior this afternoon. How could she have blown up at Cole when all he’d done was clean up his mess? It was amazing he’d go to the trouble in the first place. If she’d been in his place she’d be shoveling manure into the store, not rolling up her sleeves and mopping the floor.

  At first she’d convinced herself that it was some sort of trick and she’d worked tensely, waiting to discover the joke. After an hour had passed, however, she had to admit that all he’d done was clean her floor. Now she felt like a jackass.

  Several of Cole’s clients had wandered through and she’d directed them into the back. They’d taken a moment to check out her progress—or maybe they were checking her out, she wasn’t sure—but they didn’t seem to think it strange that they might have to find their own way through the rear door into the range without Cole there to greet them. Now and then she heard bursts of male laughter and she wondered if she was the topic of conversation. She hoped Cole wasn’t relaying her fit of hysterics when she caught him cleaning up, but from the amused glances one or two sent her way when they exited the range again, she thought he might be.

  The gunfire that erupted now and then put her on edge. She had no experience with firearms. It was unnerving to think that men with loaded weapons were just feet away from her, but somehow even though she disliked the man, she trusted Cole to run a safe operation.

  She rubbed the small of her back where it ached from the unaccustomed work she’d been doing, her mind traveling back to the scene she’d made. Cole had done a terrific job on the parts of the store he’d cleaned, and saved her some work, and then she’d burst in like a harpy, shriekin
g and swearing at him. Her cheeks burned just thinking about it. It was Greg’s voice she’d heard in her ear when she’d walked in and saw Cole working. “It’s my restaurant, Sunshine. You like to pretend to work here, but we all know you’re just play-acting. You and your associate degree. You’re not a real chef. You’re just a cook. You don’t know the first thing about running the place.”

  The last thing she needed was another man taking over her café and telling her what to do. Still, maybe that wasn’t what Cole had intended. Maybe he was just being nice.

  She put away the cleaning supplies and hesitated. It was time to return to the apartment, but how should she behave when she saw Cole again? Should she apologize, or assume that he’d try to undercut her at some point and so deserved to be yelled at?

  She glanced at the time. It was late, but not that late. Kate would be up. All afternoon and evening she’d told herself she wouldn’t run to her friend with yet another sob story, but she needed to tell someone about her crazy day, and who else but Kate would pick up the phone at this hour?

  “Good, he didn’t shoot you yet.” Kate’s voice rang out over the phone as confidently as usual when she answered, and Sunshine sighed, wishing she had her friend’s stamina.

  “You’re not still at work, are you?” she asked. She could swear she heard a murmur of voices in the background.

  “I’m on a date, actually.”

  “A date?” Kate hadn’t mentioned anyone new, although Sunshine realized she hadn’t given her friend much of a chance to talk about herself these past few weeks.

  “Yes, so talk fast.”

  “It’s not important. Just been a rough day.”

  “I’m not surprised.” But Kate sounded more distracted than usual. Sunshine had hoped to give her a blow-by-blow description of what had happened, but that obviously wasn’t going to work. “It’s Cole Linden. He’s not going to go away easily.”