Cowboys Last All Night

by Jennifer Ashley

  “The hell with that. I said I’m taking you out, so I’m taking you out.” He grabbed her hand, wrapping his fingers tightly around hers. “Come on.”

  “You must be new in town,” the hostess said as she led them to a table in the middle of the bustling diner. “And you’ve already caught the eye of the most eligible bachelor around. Lucky you.”

  “Come on, now, Tracey. I’m hardly that eligible.” Cole winked at the young woman and Sunshine felt a stab of emotion she couldn’t identify. Surely it wasn’t jealousy.

  “You’re cute as a button. That’s all I require.” Tracey winked back and strode away to greet her next customers.

  “Cute as a button?” Sunshine repeated. To her delight, Cole reddened.

  “I’ve known Tracey forever. She lives in one of the apartment buildings out back.”

  “Is some kind of a cowgirl posse going to ambush me now that I’ve caught the eye of the most eligible bachelor in town?”

  Cole didn’t say anything, but his glance flicked over her in a way that let her know that she had caught his eye. At least a little. Now her face felt warm. “What’s good to eat here?”

  “Good luck on finding anything vegan.”

  “I can always find something vegan.”

  She did this time too, although it took some work. She ended up with a salad, minus the dairy-rich house dressing, and some garlic toast made especially with margarine rather than butter.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had someone request margarine before,” Tracey said when Sunshine ordered. But she wrote down her request, and Sunshine’s careful taste test of her food when she received it told her the kitchen had honored it.

  “You take the cake,” Cole told her, biting into a thick piece of meatloaf.

  “Why?”

  He chewed and swallowed. “Little thing like you giving out orders left and right. ‘Move my furniture, deliver my tables, give me margarine instead of butter.’” He chirped his recital.

  “I don’t give orders. I make requests.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” But he was looking at her as if he was somewhat proud of her determination. How strange was that?

  “It’s busy here.”

  “People like diner food.”

  “You think I’m going to fail, don’t you?”

  He put his fork and knife down. “Here’s the thing, Sunshine. I know you’re going to fail. That should make me happy. But it’s kind of like watching a puppy face off with a steamroller. You’ve got to feel bad for the dog.”

  “Are you calling me a dog?” She glared at him. “Or is that your roundabout way of saying I’m a bitch?”

  A few people from surrounding tables looked their way. Cole leaned forward. “I didn’t say anything like that. I called you a puppy. Puppies are cute.”

  “And stupid.”

  “Inexperienced,” he countered.

  “You really don’t think I know anything about running a restaurant?”

  “Well, do you?”

  “Yes.” She toyed with her fork as she remembered the disaster back in Chicago. It wasn’t the food or the location or her inexperience or anything she’d done that had made it end so badly, though. That was all Greg’s fault. He’d broken her heart.

  “Didn’t go well, did it?”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  He leaned back. “Oh, yeah? What was it then? Too much tofu?”

  “Too much cheating.” She shut her eyes, wishing she could take those words back.

  “Someone was pilfering money?” Cole straightened up.

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You mean someone cheated on you. A boyfriend?”

  He obviously wasn’t going to give up until he knew the story. “I invested in my boyfriend’s restaurant. I gave him all my money. I thought we were partners and that we’d build the place together and for a while it was like that. We were talking about marriage and kids and…” She trailed off. “I found him with another woman.”

  “I’m sorry.” Cole sat back in the booth. He did seem sorry. “Tough break.”

  “Yeah.” She pushed the heartache and humiliation that still burned inside her away. “It was a tough break. Now I’m moving on. Alone.”

  Chapter Nine

  When he unlocked the door to the apartment, giving the heavy panel a shove with his shoulder, Cole thought about the things he’d learned at dinner time. No wonder Sunshine had such a chip on her shoulder when it came to men—and to sharing the range building. She’d been screwed over before—and the truth was she would be screwed over again when he won and reasserted his right to the premises.

  He couldn’t allow himself to care about her feelings, though. Not in this instance. In order to preserve his own income and keep his tenants off the street, he had to win this contest.

  Sunshine trailed inside after him and went to perch on the sofa. He realized she couldn’t go to bed until he’d cleared out of the main room, so he said good-night, used the bathroom and retired to his room.

  He could hear her moving around the apartment, getting ready for bed herself. It took all the strength of will he had not to picture her undressing and sliding between the covers on his couch. He thought he’d struggle to fall asleep but he must have dozed off fairly quickly because when he woke again, the clock read half-past three in the morning.

  He’d heard something—something which registered as not belonging to the normal sounds in the apartment at night. He didn’t want to scare Sunshine, or make her think he was spying on her, but he had to check it out. Easing out of bed, he slid his boxer briefs on, crossed the room, opened the door a crack and peered out. Sunshine was sitting at the dining room table, a pad of paper in front of her and a pen in her hand. The overhead light was on but the rest of the apartment was dark. Relief coursing through him, he pushed the door the rest of the way open and walked toward her.

  “Can’t sleep?”

  Sunshine started, then caught herself and nodded. “I’m revising my menu.”

  He came to stand by the table, noticed Sunshine wouldn’t meet his eyes and realized his lack of clothing was disconcerting her.

  Or maybe it was the lack of her own. She wore another barely there nightgown that was appropriate for the Montana heat, but not appropriate for a middle-of-the-night conversation with an almost stranger.

  Still, he appreciated it.

  When Sunshine raised her gaze and caught him appreciating it, he grinned. “Are you adding steak?”

  “Steak?”

  “To your menu. That’s what will pull in the customers around here.”

  “No. I’m not adding steak.” She tapped her pen on the paper. “I will add chili and at least one stew, though. Vegan chili and stew.”

  “Sounds delightful.”

  He thought she would scowl at him but instead the corner of her mouth quirked up. “It is delightful. I’m a terrific cook.”

  “Know what? I bet you are. But you’re a lousy businesswoman. You don’t get rich by deciding what customers want. You get rich by asking them what they want and giving it to them.”

  “Says the man with the failing rifle range.”

  “It’s not failing.”

  “Really? Then why not take it somewhere else?”

  “Because…” Because she was right; after paying his mortgage he barely made enough to pay the bills. “Because it’s always been right here. I’m honoring my father’s memory.” And keeping Tracey, Scott and William off the street.

  “People will like the food I make.” She didn’t sound entirely sure, though. Cole expected that now that she’d met his customers she was forming a new idea of the clientele she might expect.

  “Suit yourself.” He shrugged. “The sooner you shut down and leave, the better for me. Goodnight.”

  But he didn’t leave. In fact, he didn’t know what came over him as he rounded the corner of the table and dropped a kiss on top of Sunshine’s head.
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br />   And as he strode back to his room and shut the door behind him, he had no idea why she let him.

  Chapter Ten

  Sunshine wasn’t sure how Aunt Cecily had managed it, but when she went to get the paperwork and inspections for the restaurant, it turned out she’d somehow greased the skids, and everything went more smoothly and quickly than she’d dreamed possible. Now three weeks later she was ready for opening day—as ready as she could get.

  The local paper had done a write-up of her new venture—and of Cole’s rifle range—and she hoped that translated into hordes of patrons coming to try out her food. She’d prepared a couple of dishes for the reporter to try, which the reporter did, after a lot of coaxing. He’d seemed pleasantly surprised, although he’d written up her chili as a bit bland. She’d come up with a new, spicier mix, and on a whim added a full-bodied beer to the recipe to give it more heft. Plus, she had a feeling that adding that beer’s name to the description of the dish might just draw in a few meat and potatoes types who otherwise wouldn’t be impressed.

  At eight in the morning, she decided to call Kate for a last-minute pep talk. They’d only spoken a couple of times in the past few weeks, once when Kate let her know there was no clear way to challenge Cecily’s will, and again one night when Kate’s date was late picking her up. Both times Sunshine felt their conversation was stiff and awkward, mostly because she kept remembering Kate thought she was a drama queen, but she decided to give it another try. They’d been friends for years, and just because she’d left Chicago, that shouldn’t change, even if Kate’s characterization of her did sting. She grabbed her phone and headed for the back deck for privacy, only remembering as she shut the door behind her that Kate wasn’t all that receptive to talking about her problems anymore.

  Was she being dramatic this time, calling for help to boost her spirits? Sunshine didn’t think so. She dialed Kate’s number before she could second-guess herself.

  “Hi,” she said as cheerfully as possible when Kate answered. “It’s been ages since we chatted. How are you?”

  “It hasn’t been that long.” Kate was obviously at work, and Sunshine’s resolve began to fade.

  “My restaurant opens today. I just wanted to let you know.”

  “That’s terrific. How do you think you’ll do? Did you run a splashy advertising campaign?”

  Sunshine’s spirits sunk further. Kate knew she had no money for ad campaigns. “I did what I could.”

  “I’m sure that’ll be fine.”

  She held back a sigh at Kate’s lack of interest. “You sound distracted. I better let you go.” In the old days, Kate would have been all apologies and they’d end up talking for the better part of a half-hour, work or no work. Not today, though.

  “I do need to go. All this dating has made it impossible to work nights, which means I’m behind all the time.”

  “Of course. I’m glad you’re having fun.”

  “You know what? For the first time in ages, I am having fun.” Kate’s voice took on a dreamy tone and Sunshine felt a stab of jealousy. “I guess I’m not being a very good friend, though, am I?” Kate suddenly added. “I know you’re used to a lot more of my time. I really am sorry.”

  “It’s really okay.” It was, Sunshine decided as they said their good-byes and hung up. Kate needed the balance of love in her life or she’d work all the time. She wasn’t responsible for Sunshine’s happiness.

  That was her own job and Sunshine decided from now on she would handle it herself. She was starting a business, making a new life for herself, showing the world she could stand on her own two feet. She didn’t need Kate or anyone else to prop her up.

  That didn’t make her feel any less lonely, however.

  Sunshine decided to throw herself into her work. This was first-day jitters, nothing more. As soon as things got started and she was busy, she wouldn’t miss Kate at all. The range opened at ten in the morning and she planned to open her restaurant right along with it today. She left the apartment and let herself into the front of the building. Cole was in the range, doing whatever it was he did to prepare for his days. She decided to give the tables a final polish.

  They’d fallen into a kind of armed truce over the past few weeks. They kept to their portions of the business and circled around each other warily when they were at home. There’d been no more late-night trysts in their undergarments, for which Sunshine told herself she was grateful, but which left her somehow disappointed. Every day Ethan, Jamie, Rob and Cab made their appearances to try to improve their scores for the contest. Every day they made various plays for her attention, which was kind of fun. And every day Cole chased them out again.

  But he didn’t flirt with her in their place.

  Why did she wish he would?

  The front door swung open at five minutes to ten and Kerri strode through. She, too, had become a regular. Sunshine had grown to look forward to her visits. She was funny, practical and artistic all in one, and she’d been a great help with the décor of the café. She wasn’t Kate, but she was proving herself to be a good friend.

  “All set for the big day? Yum—it smells great in here.”

  “Thanks.” Sunshine indicated all the empty tables. “Take your pick. I’ll bring you a menu.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  “I’ll give you a minute,” Sunshine said when she handed the menu to Kerri. The door swung open again and Jamie walked in. Cole emerged from the range and lingered by his counter.

  “You must be ready to work on your scores.”

  “In a bit,” Jamie said. “First I want some lunch.”

  “At ten in the morning?”

  “I’ve been up since four.”

  Cole frowned.

  Jamie spotted Kerri. “Darn it,” he said, pulling a huge bouquet of flowers out from behind his back. “I wanted to be Sunshine’s first customer. I guess you had the same idea.”

  “That’s right,” Kerri said, “but I didn’t think to bring flowers.”

  Jamie offered them to Sunshine and chose a table near Kerri’s while she went off to find a vase. A minute later Ethan arrived and joined him. Sunshine fetched them both menus. Happiness swooped through her; she was doing it. She had opened her own restaurant and two minutes before her official open time, two tables were occupied. She squashed the fear that these would be her only customers.

  She busied herself behind the counter for a minute, filling glasses of water for everyone to give them time to make up their minds about what to order. When Cab and Rob came in and headed straight for Ethan and Jamie’s table, she beamed at Cole triumphantly.

  Kerri was smiling and humming to herself, reading over the menu with interest. The men seemed to be in close consultation and another pang of fear zipped through Sunshine. Was she making a colossal fool out of herself by trying to interest her customers in vegan fare? Was Cole right—was she going to crash and burn? She engaged in deep breathing exercises until she had the sense that everyone was ready to order. Then she brought her tray of water glasses around, gave one to each of them, and pulled out a pad of paper.

  “What can I get you?” She started with Kerri, hoping the woman would lead the way boldly, and the men would fall in line behind her.

  “I’ll try the mock taco wraps.” Kerri smiled. “They sound great.”

  Sunshine scribbled a note on the pad. “How about you, Jamie? What’ll it be?”

  The cowboy scanned the menu again. “I guess I’ll try the burger, although I don’t get how you can have a burger without beef.”

  “You’ll be pleasantly surprised,” Sunshine assured him.

  “At the very least you’ll be surprised.”

  Sunshine whipped around when Cole spoke. Was he going to heckle her? That wasn’t fair.

  “It’s really good,” Sunshine said. “Rob? How about you?”

  “Bring me the biggest bowl of chili you got and a slice of cornbread about this wide.” He held up his hands to demonstrate and smile
d. Sunshine had been on the receiving end of that smile many times. She had to hand it to Rob—he was cute. So were all of them for that matter. Still, it was only Cole who set her heart beating fast. It figured.

  “Will do.”

  “You can’t go wrong with chili,” Rob explained to the others, dampening her good will toward him a little.

  Cole snorted. “When chili goes wrong, though, it really goes wrong.”

  Sunshine ignored him.

  “I’ll have the Linguine Alfredo,” Cab said.

  “Would you like to order a side of vegetables?”

  Before she could list them, the big man shook his head. “Vegetables and me keep our distance for the most part,” he confessed.

  She bit back a laugh at his sheepish grin. “I’ll have you eating lots of vegetables before I’m done with you.”

  “Good luck with that,” Cole called over. “Cab wouldn’t know a cauliflower if it bit him on the butt.”

  The sheriff turned slowly around in his chair and fixed Cole with a look. “I’m not the ignoramus in the room.” He turned back to Sunshine. “Honey, you cook me up any vegetable you like. I’ll eat every last bit.”

  A glance told her Cole was seething. He was shuffling papers around his counter, his jaw hard. She touched Cab’s arm. “Thank you, Sheriff. You won’t regret it.”

  “I’ll take the pizza,” Ethan said, handing her his menu. “Even if there ain’t any meat on it.”

  “Perfect. I’ll be back with your orders as soon as I can.”

  She had only gone three steps when chaos erupted behind her.

  “Hey!” Jamie leaped to his feet. “Damn it, Cole—that’s not fair!”

  “For God’s sake!”

  “Cole, stop it!”

  She turned to see Cole scrubbing furiously at the whiteboard he’d placed on the wall, erasing the men’s scores one by one and replacing them with new ones that were substantially lower.

  “From now on, anyone who eats at Sunshine’s gets ten points off. Per meal.”

  “That’s low, even for you,” Sunshine declared, putting her hands on her hips. “Are you afraid you can’t win any other way?”