How was it he knew just what buttons to push with her? “Then what compensation do you want?” she asked sweetly, fearing she already knew. “This.”
Bringing his lips even closer, he cupped a hand beneath her chin. Emily could not believe he was about to kiss her again. Or worse, that she was welcoming his attentions! What kind of fool did that make her? She knew this didn’t mean anything to him. Not what it should have anyway, for someone kissing her with this much passion.
Behind them, a bell rang.
Abruptly aware they were no longer alone, Emily turned her head slightly without actually stepping out of the circle of Dylan’s arms. To her dismay, her parents walked in the door.
DYLAN STEPPED BACK as Shane and Greta McCabe stared at him in mute amazement. He could hardly blame them. What had gotten into him? He was usually so controlled.
Whenever he was around Emily, he acted like a hormonedriven teenager—and she was behaving just as badly. Except right now, she looked as if she wished a hole in the floor would open up so she could sink right through it.
He felt the same.
This was not the way he wanted the respected horse rancher and his accomplished wife to see him. Especially given all he now had at stake, with a soon-to-be-announced deal Emily apparently knew nothing about. Otherwise, Dylan was sure she would have mentioned it.
Not about to apologize for kissing Emily—even if it would smooth over what was an incredibly awkward situation— Dylan nodded at the older couple. He said formally, “Mr. and Mrs. McCabe. Nice to see you.”
“Good to see you, Dylan,” Shane and Greta McCabe replied, in unison.
“Emily.” A cautioning lilt was in Greta McCabe’s tone as she took in her daughter. “Your father and I just met the proprietor of the new restaurant.”
“I hope he’s not the guy you’re planning to fix me up with,” Emily said.
For some reason, Dylan noted, that notion seemed to amuse them.
“Ah—no,” Shane said finally.
Unconvinced, Emily narrowed her eyes at her parents. “You’re sure?”
“Absolutely,” Greta said, her tone definitive.
“Because I can see how that would seem to make sense to you,” Emily continued, working up a head of steam. “Me and the new diner owner, becoming a thing.”
“Believe us,” her mother said firmly, “the two of you are not a match your father and I would ever try and make.”
“That’s too bad,” said a smug teenager with trendy, bleached-blond-hair, catching the tail end of their conversation as he sauntered in to join them.
He was just under six feet tall, wearing a burnt-orange Cowtown Diner T-shirt, jeans and the most ridiculously expensive and ornate pair of ostrich boots and gold belt buckle Dylan had ever seen.
Ignoring him, the kid grinned at Emily and extended his hand. “Because I would very much like to get to know…and date…you!”
EMILY’S JAW DROPPED even as she did the polite thing and accepted the proffered greeting.
“Xavier Shillingsworth, owner of the soon-to-be-open Cowtown Diner.” The teen continued holding her hand long after it would have been polite to let go. He leaned in even closer, inundating Emily with expensive cologne. “And you must be the Emily McCabe, head chef and owner of the Daybreak Café, that I’ve heard so much about.”
Emily forced a smile and wrested her hand from the young man’s grip. “Yes. I am.”
Xavier continued sizing her up with undisguised interest. “I hear we’re going to be in hot competition with each other—since our two restaurants are the only table-service establishments in Laramie that serve breakfast.”
Emily had been brought up to be courteous, even to those who were pushy and borderline rude. And that rule went double in business situations. “I’m sure there is room for both of our establishments,” she said pleasantly, injecting the situation with the down-home hospitality for which Laramie, Texas, was known.
“If not, may the best restaurateur win,” Xavier taunted. Grinning confidently, he aimed a thumb at his chest and proclaimed, “I know who my money’s on!”
The look in his eyes briefly telegraphing he’d had enough, Dylan stepped forward, putting his tall body between Xavier and Emily. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Dylan Reeves. One of the ranchers in the area. And I know a lot of people here tonight who would like to meet you, too. Especially Emily’s three brothers. So why don’t we go—” Dylan slapped a companionable hand on Xavier’s shoulder and spun him around toward the door “—and talk up your new establishment.”
Quick steps were made, and the door shut behind them.
“That was nice of Dylan,” Greta said.
“No kidding.” Emily breathed a sigh of relief.
Shane shook his head. “Shillingsworth is going to be unpleasantly competitive.”
Emily rolled her eyes. “You think?”
“So, if you need help putting him in his place…” Shane growled, all protective father.
Emily lifted a palm. “I can handle the situation, Dad. Just like I can figure out, on my own, how to rev up my personal life.”
“So it’s true?” her mom interrupted, with furrowed brow. “You do have a date with Dylan this evening?”
Talk about putting her on the spot! “In a manner of speaking…” Emily cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I know you mean well, but I really don’t need any help finding a man to hang out with. So I’d rather not hear any suggestions on who I should be seeing. And I certainly don’t want to be fixed up on any dates by anyone in the family!”
Finished, Emily braced herself for the emotional argument sure to come. Instead, to her utter amazement, her mother completely backed off. “You’re right,” Greta murmured, looking at Shane for verification, as if wanting to make sure they were on the same page.
Shane locked eyes with Greta. Something passed between them. “It would be a mistake for us to try to matchmake at this point,” Emily’s father concluded finally.
Well, that was easy, Emily thought with relief. Astoundingly…almost suspiciously…so.
“We came in to tell you that the opening ceremony is about to start,” Greta said.
“I’ll be right there,” Emily promised. “I just need to get a few trays of chocolate and lemon-meringue pies.”
“We’ll all help,” her dad said.
Five minutes later, the pies were set out on the buffet tables. Shane and Greta—the charity event’s hosts—were stepping up to the microphones. They spoke about the Libertyville Boys Ranch, and how much the facility helped juvenile delinquents turn their lives around.
“The institution has been so successful, they are expanding again. The problem is, they need more therapy horses for the kids to care for. So,” Shane said, “I’ve made arrangements with the Bureau of Land Management to purchase three wild mustangs for training. Dylan Reeves—the renowned horse whisperer in the area—is going to be doing the schooling.” Wild applause erupted. “When they are ready, the horses will go to the boys ranch, where they will be adopted into a very good home….”
Incredibly impressed, Emily made her way through the crowd to Dylan’s side. In shock, she murmured, “I had no idea you were a philanthropist.”
Was it possible the two of them had more in common than they knew?
Not surprisingly, Dylan looked irritated by her compliment. “Don’t view me as some sort of saint. I’m not,” he muttered gruffly, and then for good measure, added, “I’m being paid.”
“Just not your normal rate,” Emily guessed.
Dylan scowled. “It’s a challenge,” he said flatly. “I like working with mustangs. I like the fact the horses will find a good, loving home at the boys ranch.” He regarded her, all tough lonesome cowboy. “Don’t make more of it than that.”
HOURS LATER, Emily turned to Simone, as the after-event cleanup commenced. Emily followed Simone’s gaze to where her son, Andrew, stood talking with that same group of boys.
“You’re worried, are
n’t you?” The kids were from a neighboring town and looked like bad news.
Simone stacked serving platters onto a wheeled cart.
“I have a feeling he’s going to ask me if he can go out past his curfew tonight.”
“If it’s not a good idea,” Emily counseled, “you have every right to say no.”
“I know that,” Simone sighed. “It just seems like that’s all I say these days.”
The group of kids were edging toward a late-model pickup truck with extra lights mounted across the top. They seemed to be encouraging Andrew to ditch the cleanup, forgo getting permission and just take off.
Emily touched Simone’s arm. “Why don’t you go on?”
Simone’s posture relaxed with relief. “Thanks. I’ll make it up to you.”
“No problem.”
Emily cast a glance at Dylan, who was busy helping a group of ranchers disassemble the bandstand. Her brothers were off with her dad, in another direction, taking down the strings of banners and colored lights.
Pleased the event had turned out so well, she finished loading up her cart and wheeled it in the direction of the café.
No sooner had she gotten inside than a light rap sounded on the door. Xavier Shillingsworth stepped in, all young bravura. “I was thinking…the two of us should go out on a date.”
Emily did not like hurting anyone’s feelings. Still, this was ludicrous and she had to make her would-be suitor realize it. “How old are you?” she asked gently.
“Nineteen.” Xavier slicked back his hair with his free hand. “But that shouldn’t matter.”
She arched a brow. Was he talking down to her?
“You can’t be that old.”
“I’m twenty-eight,” Emily said drily. “That’s nine years older than you. It’s a big difference.”
Xavier shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me. I’ve always wanted to go out with a cougar. And you’re hot!”
Was he serious? Apparently so.
Emily went back to loading dishes in the machine. “I’m curious. You are obviously a smart guy with a lot going for him. Why aren’t you in college?”
Xavier seemed flattered by the attention. “I didn’t want to go. So my dad bought me a franchise restaurant to run instead.”
Of course. Can’t solve a problem so throw money at it instead. And while you’re at it, get the problem kid out of the picture, too.
Emily smiled with encouragement. “You both may want to rethink that. College can be a fun, exciting time…with lots of girls your own age who are dying to go out on dates.”
“I don’t want a girl. I want you!”
Emily sighed and walked toward the exit. “Well, it’s not going to happen.”
“See?” Xavier caught up with her as she reached the dining room. He clamped his arms around her and crowded her all the more. “That’s what I like about you. You’re a real spitfire.”
Not about to let him so much as try to kiss her, Emily stomped on his toe with all her might. “And you’re a real horse’s rear end,” she spat out.
“Ouch!” Xavier hopped up and down in pain.
The door to the café opened and Dylan strode in. It took him all of two seconds to size up the situation. “Allow me.” He grabbed Xavier by the back of his Cowtown Diner T-shirt and escorted him to the door.
Dylan let him go just inside the portal. “If you ever touch her again, you’re going to have to deal with me.”
“On what grounds?” Xavier straightened his shirt. He regarded Dylan pugnaciously, clearly spoiling for a fistfight.
She was afraid there just might be one if the kid didn’t cut it out.
“I don’t see an engagement ring!”
Eager to be rid of the callow youth, Emily swung open the door to the café and glared at the teenager. “I don’t need a ring to be his. Now go.”
“You heard the lady.” When Xavier didn’t immediately comply, Dylan shoved him out the door and shut it firmly in his face.
Emily turned to Dylan. She knew it was unnecessary and politically incorrect of her, but she really liked the idea of Dylan jumping to her defense. Unfortunately, it wasn’t an action she could let stand as precedent.
She rolled her eyes comically. “Obviously, I was exaggerating…about being your woman.”
The way Dylan was looking at her—as if he didn’t know whether to kiss her or chide her—forced Emily to remember exactly how good it had felt to be held in his embrace.
“I am aware of that,” he retorted.
“And for the record,” Emily continued stiffly, telling herself she and Dylan would not end up kissing again, no matter what, “I don’t need you to come to my rescue.”
The corners of Dylan’s lips twitched. “It would appear you did.”
Was it possible he had enjoyed defending her honor as much as she had? Emily pushed the bothersome thought away.
“No,” she corrected forcing herself to stay on track. She needed to keep her emotions under wraps. “I didn’t.”
“Uh-huh.” Dylan came closer, all sexy, determined male. “If you change your mind…”
Emily’s pulse jumped. “Why would I do that?”
“Because guys like that don’t like to be told no,” Dylan said in a low, cautioning tone.
Emily had been successfully fighting her own battles for as long as she could recall. “Well, in this case the kid is going to have to get used to it, because I am not interested in being his cougar.”
One corner of Dylan’s mouth curved upward at the notion. “He actually said that?”
So, she wasn’t the only one who found the teen’s proposal to her completely ludicrous!
“It was part of his come-on,” she explained. “I think in Xavier’s teenage fantasy I was just supposed to melt in his arms or something.”
Dylan grunted in response, his disapproval evident.
“Anyway,” Emily rushed on, anxious to put the embarrassing situation behind her, “I’m sure that after what just happened he’ll leave me alone now.”
Dylan’s expression was suddenly as inscrutable as his posture. Deliberately, he inclined his head. “If he doesn’t…you’re welcome to be ‘my woman’…anytime.”
Chapter Three
“Dylan Reeves really called you his woman?” Simone echoed in the café kitchen early the following day.
Doing her best to keep her focus on getting ready for the morning rush, Emily shrugged nonchalantly. “He was mocking me because of what I said to that boy in the heat of the moment.” The fact that Emily warmed from head to toe, every time she recalled it, was her own foolishness. “Obviously, Dylan didn’t mean it because it’s not true.” She brought an extra large pan of golden-brown cinnamon rolls from the oven, and slid in a pan of buttermilk biscuits.
Simone manned the sausage and bacon on the griddle. She winked. “He could be—if you wanted it. Seriously…he’s got the hots for you.”
Emily guffawed. “You only wish my life were that exciting. Dylan is the kind of guy who roots for the underdog in every situation and he thought I was disadvantaged in that moment.”
“Were you?”
Emily gave the hash-brown potatoes a stir. “I had just stomped on Xavier’s toes and planned to escort him to the door. But…Dylan beat me to it.”
“Wow…” Simone comically fanned her chest. “Two men fighting over you.”
Emily blushed despite herself. “I wouldn’t call Xavier a man,” she said.
“I know.” Sympathetic, Simone furrowed her brow. “What’s up with that? How old is he?”
“Nineteen.”
“That is way too young to be running a restaurant,” Simone said.
“No kidding. But I imagine he’s going to find that out the hard way.”
The bell on the service door sounded, as Billy Ray and Bobbie Sue Everett came in. The married couple waited tables at the café during the day and attended community-college classes at night. Normally very down-to-earth and unflappable, they we
re giddy with excitement. “You-all have got to see this. We’ve never seen anything like this!”
All four of them rushed to the front windows. Dawn was barely streaking across the sky, but there it was—on the opposite side of the Laramie town square—a big burnished-bronze trailer-style restaurant, with an old-style saloon front, sitting on top of an enormous tractor-trailer bed. Next to it was the enormous crane that would move the Cowtown Diner onto the lot where a gas station had once stood.
Emily’s heart sank. It really was happening.
“Can you believe it’s actually going to be open for business by the end of the week?” Billy Ray said.
Aware the customers would soon be lining up outside the door to be let in when the café opened at six o’clock, Emily went back to the kitchen and brought out the platters of homemade cinnamon rolls and sticky buns that would be on display.
“It’s only possible,” Emily said, “because the building is delivered ready to go and everything they serve in the restaurant is prepackaged and pre-made.”
“It’s still amazing,” Bobbie Sue murmured, while quickly helping her husband set up the tables.
Emily had a sinking feeling her customers were going to think so, too.
THE LUNCH CROWDS WERE finally thinning when Dylan walked into the café at one-thirty, so he was able to get a table right away. To his surprise, Emily came out of the kitchen personally to bring him a menu. After the events of the previous day, he had suspected she might try to avoid him. He couldn’t blame her; he had done as much this very morning, choosing to eat breakfast on the ranch instead of coming to the café, as usual.
But then he’d thought about it and decided that was pure foolishness. He was blowing this all out of proportion and really wanted to get back on solid ground with her.
“I don’t need to see that,” Dylan said, determined to keep the exchange as casual as possible. “I memorized the offerings on your menu the first week you opened.”
And like most ranchers in the area, he had been eating her “cowboy cuisine” frequently ever since.
“You sure? I’ve put a few new things on the menu, just today.”
One Wild Cowboy Page 3
