The Bachelor Cowboy

by Jessica Clare

  She looked over at the big man, but his jaw clenched and he remained silent. After a long moment, he shrugged.

  “Daddy tried to help,” Libby said brightly. “But I didn’t tell him about the gum for two days and he said that was bad.”

  Two days? Well, that explained the rancid knot atop Libby’s little head. “I see.”

  “Late night,” the man said in a gruff voice. “Sick cattle.”

  “I wasn’t judging,” Becca replied gently. She moved to the counter and grabbed a large bottle of hair oil. “Sometimes it’s hard to get away from work. Trust me, I know.” She crooked a smile at him, trying to put him at ease. “Emergencies come up, even at a hair salon.” And she gestured at his little daughter.

  He just stared at her.

  Right. Okay, so that was awkward. She turned back to Libby. “Daddy was off to a good start with the peanut butter,” she told the little girl. “We’re going to put more oil in your hair and see if we can’t work some more of this gum out, all right?”

  “Okay,” Libby said brightly.

  “Why don’t you tell me about yourself,” Becca continued, dousing the girl’s head with oil and trying not to worry about how the heck she was going to salvage this little one’s hair without shaving it down to the scalp. “You’re a big girl of four. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “I have two uncles! They’re big and hairy like Daddy.”

  “Two uncles,” Becca repeated, grinning. This was definitely one of Doc Parson’s nephews. From the rumors around town, all three had come down from Alaska. “What about your mommy?”

  “I don’t have a mommy,” Libby said, kicking her legs some more. “It’s just Daddy and Uncle Caleb and Uncle Jack and Grampa Ennis.”

  “I see.” She discreetly glanced over at the girl’s father, but the man didn’t make eye contact with her. Kept his gaze on his daughter as Becca tried to work the hair tie free. Her heart squeezed with sympathy, just a little. A single dad with a young daughter? No wonder he hadn’t noticed the gum in her hair until it was a disaster. She imagined that raising a child alone was hard, and with no women to lean on? He was doing a great job.

  Libby rattled on and on as Becca picked and fussed at the knot on her head. Long minutes passed, but Libby wasn’t much of a squirmer compared to some of the other kids Becca got in her chair, which was a good thing. She was content to talk and talk, asking about all the hair products on Becca’s counter and if she liked cartoons and flowers and everything else under the sun.

  “Is this your daddy’s shop?” Libby asked as Becca’s oily fingers worked out another strand of hair.

  “No, it’s my shop. I started it myself.”

  “So you can play with people’s hair all day?”

  She chuckled. “Yes, that’s right. I like playing with hair. Especially little girls’ hair.”

  “Do you have a little girl?”

  Her heart squeezed. “No.”

  “A little boy?”

  “I don’t have any family,” she said brightly. “No kids, no husband.”

  “Daddy doesn’t have a wife, either.”

  “Libby,” the man growled.

  Becca chuckled. “It’s fine.” Her cheeks were heating, though. She peeked at the man again. He was big and brawny, and under that crazy beard, he just might be handsome. Not that it really mattered all that much—she hadn’t paid attention to any man but Greg for the last while, so her radar was off. This particular guy wasn’t much of a talker, but maybe he was just shy. He did have a cute daughter, though.

  Maybe . . . maybe this was a step in the right direction. Maybe she should take the bull by the horns and rustle herself up a date. Then everyone would realize she was over Greg and they weren’t getting back together, and they’d stop treating her like the bastion of lonely spinsterhood. She could show everyone she’d moved on.

  All it would take was one date. They wouldn’t even have to have chemistry. It just had to be dinner, enough to show that she’d continued on with her life and everyone should forget about the Wedding That Wasn’t.

  She didn’t jump on the idea right away, though. She needed time to mull over it, and working on Libby’s hair was the perfect distraction. The gum was so entangled that she’d spent a good half hour on the child’s hair and was just now starting to work the hair tie out of the knot. She was pretty confident she could get this done, but it would take a while.

  Unless he’d rather shave her head and be done with the mess.

  Pursing her lips, Becca wiped her hands on a towel. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Mr. . . .”

  He didn’t offer his name, just got to his feet and followed her as she headed to the far end of the salon, by the front door. It was getting dark outside, the chill seeping in through the windows, and it was long past time for her to close up shop. She kept wiping her hands on the towel, her thoughts all over the place.

  The man just kept watching her, waiting.

  Okay, she was clearly going to have to carry the conversation. “I think I can get most of the gum out of Libby’s hair, but it’s going to take a while.”

  He grunted.

  “Like, hours. I have to go slow because her hair’s very fine and I don’t want to pull on it. The other option is to shave her head, but I’m not sure how you feel about that.”

  The big cowboy looked over at his daughter, then back at Becca. He rubbed his bearded jaw. “She won’t like it shaved.”

  “Well . . . I have time if you have time.” She gave him a bright smile.

  He paused. “Is . . . this an inconvenience?” The words seemed as if they were being dragged out of him.

  “No, like I told Libby, I don’t have anyone waiting at home for me. It wasn’t how I planned on spending my evening, but that’s all right.”

  The big man grunted again. “Appreciated.”

  They both paused, and Becca took in a steeling breath. This was her moment. This was the chance she should take. She could ask him out on a date and shake off the specter of Greg and the Wedding That Wasn’t once and for all. So she toyed with a lock of her hair and hoped he found her reasonably attractive. “Is it true what Libby said? That you’re not married?”

  The dark eyes narrowed on her. Intense. Scrutinizing. He glanced at her, up and down, as if sizing her up.

  Becca flushed. She charged ahead. It wasn’t about this guy in particular. It was any guy, just to change how the town viewed her. She needed to change the conversation, period. “I know I’m being forward. I hope you don’t mind. But . . . I figure now’s as good a time as any to ask. Want to go on a date?”

  He stared at her, up and down again. There was a long, awkward pause. Then he spoke a single word.

  “No.”

  About the Author

  New York Times bestselling author Jessica Clare writes under three pen names. As Jessica Clare, she writes erotic contemporary romance. As Jessica Sims, she writes fun, sexy shifter paranormals. Finally, as Jill Myles, she writes a little bit of everything, from sexy, comedic urban fantasy to zombie fairy tales.

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