How to Lasso a Cowboy

by Shirley Jump

  “It would be a cold day in hell before I’d do that.”

  “Good thing we’re in Florida. No chance of any ice forming around here.” From the corner of his eye, he noticed her clench and unclench her fist. He bit back a chuckle. If he’d known it was this much fun to drive Sophie Watson crazy, he’d have camped out at her shop long ago.

  The woman deserved every bit of aggravation he gave her. She was always coming over to his house, lecturing him about his dogs, the length of his lawn, the furniture he made. He was pretty sure Sophie Watson had an opinion about every darned thing in the world.

  “I can’t have you sitting here indefinitely,” she said.

  He pretended to think that over, when in fact, he’d had a plan in mind before he even showed up. Sophie Watson had been driving him crazy for weeks. It was time for a little turnaround. Maybe then she’d get off his back and let him have a little peace. He had a radio station to run, a brother to worry about. He didn’t need the distraction of a sassy barista with a thorn in her thumb she’d named Harlan. “I’ve rethought your offer of rent.”

  “You have?”

  “I’d be mighty pleased to rent these chairs to you. I’m sure we can work out an equitable deal.”

  “If it’s money you want—”

  “Nope. Just a drink and the pleasure of your company.” He tossed her a grin, to show her he wasn’t all bad. And just because he could see in her face how much it drove her crazy when he teased her. Oh, this was going to be fun. By the time he was done, she’d be marching those chairs back to his front porch and staying out of his way for good.

  And in the meantime, he’d have a hell of a story to tell his radio listeners. A win-win all around.

  She considered his words for a moment, a parade of emotions dancing across her delicate features. “I’d say that’s a fair offer, Mr. Jones.” She turned toward the shop. “I’ll go get you a cup of coffee.”

  He popped forward, the hat slipping back on his head and exposing his eyes. “I’d say it is, except I don’t drink coffee.”

  “Everyone drinks coffee,” Sophie said.

  “Apparently not, Miss Meyers.”

  She let out a long breath. “What do you drink?”

  He grinned. “I’m a tea man. Get me a good cup of Earl Grey and I’m all yours.”

  Her gaze filled with skepticism. “You don’t look like a tea man.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving, Miss Watson. I might even be a nice guy and here you’re thinking I’m the devil in cowboy boots.” He tipped back in the chair, crossed his feet at the ankles—exposing said boots—and crossed his arms over his chest. Tenon let out a sigh and sprawled at his feet.

  “Oh, I don’t think it, Mr. Jones,” Sophie said as she turned toward the door of the shop. “I know you are.”

  “That man is the most annoying human being on this planet,” Sophie fumed as she readied the hot water and tea bag for Harlan Jones. This was the last thing she needed. She already had a business to run, a fundraiser to head and a grandmother to worry about. She didn’t need to add Harlan Jones to the mix.

  “I think he’s pretty cute for being so annoying,” Lulu said. “He’s got that cowboy butt and those big brown eyes and—”

  “I’ve seen his butt and his eyes and I am unimpressed.”

  “You are full of beans, Sophie.”

  “No, I’m not.” The hot water spigot hissed steam as she turned the knob. She dropped a tea bag into the mug, placed it on a saucer, and then loaded that on a tray, along with a tiny pitcher of milk, and some sugar. She debated adding honey, then decided a man like Harlan Jones probably didn’t like something that sweet.

  Lulu raised a brow at her. “You’ve been over to that man’s house seven times in the past month.”

  “I have had my issues with him as a neighbor and dog owner, that’s why. And because I like his chairs.”

  “You like what he puts in his chairs.”

  “I’m not attracted to him.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “He drives me crazy. Him and his damned dogs. Don’t you remember what those terrors did to the steaks I had on the grill last weekend?”

  Lulu laughed. “I never seen a dog run so fast.”

  “They were like a band of thieves. One starts digging up my lilacs—serving as the distraction, I’m sure—while the other jumps on the grill, yanks those steaks right off the barbecue. They were gone before I could do a thing. I had to serve everyone grilled cheese.” She shook her head. “I bet he trains them to be bad.”

  Lulu laughed. “They’re dogs who spied an opportunity and took it.”

  “That opportunity happened to be dinner. Yours and mine and everyone else’s.”

  Lulu shrugged. “So give them a biscuit the next time you see them and maybe then they’ll leave your lilacs alone.”

  Sophie snorted. “Those dogs would probably bite off my hand. I like dogs, but Harlan Jones’s dogs aren’t ordinary dogs. They’re…golden-coated monsters.” Not to mention, they were huge. The only dogs Sophie had ever spent a lot of time around had been her mother’s dachshunds. Energetic, but small, and eager to please. The two Goldens were big and looked ready to topple her at any moment. She’d heard that breed was supposed to be friendly and smart, but Harlan’s dogs were rambunctious giants who never listened to her.

  “Okay, so you don’t like the man’s dogs,” Lulu said. “What about his voice? You can’t tell me you don’t like that sexy drawl lighting up your mornings.”

  “I don’t listen to him anymore. You know that.”

  “I thought he was pretty funny.”

  Sophie shot Lulu a glare. “He was making fun of me.”

  Thank God he hadn’t heard the story of her breakup. It was bad enough that he recounted their every neighborhood argument on his radio show. If he got wind of the public demise of her relationship last year, Sophie could just imagine how long he’d milk that particular joke. She had no desire to be back under the media spotlight again. She’d be perfectly happy doing her job every day and not worrying about nosy reporters. “Harlan Jones doesn’t care about anything but his ratings.”

  “Oh, lighten up, Sophie. That man could make fun of me anytime, long as he used that drawl when he did it. He’s like a piece of candy in your ear.”

  “Which only makes you deaf. Honest, I don’t see his appeal.” In the weeks he had been in Edgerton Shores, Harlan Jones had seemed to convert every local resident into a WFFM fan. Women stopped him on the street just to hear him speak and men dropped by his yard to ask him what he thought of the Marlins or the Dolphins that season.

  Every resident but Sophie.

  She’d come inside to escape him, but it seemed it was impossible to do that. When Harlan wasn’t on the radio, he was on the tip of people’s tongues, or worse, he was here. And thus a topic of conversation.

  Okay, so he had a nice smile. And a sexy drawl. Didn’t mean he was the kind of guy she wanted, or needed, in her life. He was the antithesis of what she was looking for.

  “Women on the moon could see that cowboy’s appeal,” Lulu said, clearly not convinced.

  “I can’t see why. I mean, I don’t even call him by his first name.”

  “Yet.”

  Sophie scowled. What did Lulu see in that man? Or for that matter, what did everyone else see? He was too full of himself for her. All confidence and swagger, like he was God’s gift to Edgerton Shores. “Why’s a cowboy living in Florida anyway? There are radio jobs all over the world.”

  Lulu grinned. “If you ask him, you’ll know why.”

  “I don’t want to know why. I just want him to go away.” Sophie raised the tray into her arms.

  “Bringing him tea and fresh-baked biscotti is sure to accomplish that.”

  Sophie glared at her assistant and left the kitchen. Lulu was crazy. Sophie didn’t like Harlan Jones. He wasn’t her type anyway. He was obnoxious, rude and mean. And he owned the world’s worst dogs.

  If he d
idn’t make such darn nice chairs, she wouldn’t talk to him at all. Already, she regretted commandeering the furniture this morning. That’s where her impulsive streak got her—saddled with the last man on earth she wanted to spend time with.

  She had a business to run. A fundraiser to plan. Thinking about Harlan Jones would do nothing but raise her blood pressure.

  Harlan watched Sophie come out through the door, a tray balanced in one arm, a determined, no-nonsense look on her face. He could see she didn’t want to give him the time of day, much less a smile.

  Ah, he loved a challenge. Especially one that drove her as crazy as she drove him.

  A twinge of guilt ran through him. He should be at work, trying to get the radio station back in the black. Tobias was counting on him—and that wasn’t a role Harlan took lightly. But for now, for just a moment, he wanted to enjoy himself.

  “Miss Watson, I do hope you intend to join me for that cup of tea,” he said as she laid his drink and some long, thin cookies before him. The water, he could see, was steaming hot, just the way he liked it. The cookies, crisp and fresh. The woman knew her stuff. He might just have to stay a while and make himself at home, considering how tempting she made the place. Surely he could find a way to work and take some time to annoy his neighbor—and all while enjoying a cup of tea.

  “I can’t sit out here with you,” Sophie said. “I have a shop to attend to.”

  “Seeing as how I’m your only customer, I think you can spare a minute or two to sit with me.”

  “I—”

  “Have you even tried these chairs you’re so darned fond of? Might as well plop your saddle in one and see how she rides.” He grinned. “Who knows? You may want to rethink our deal.”

  Sophie hesitated a second, then pulled out the second chair and lowered herself into it. A slight smile crossed her face and he knew, as his own behind told him, that the seat had done the trick. If there was one thing Harlan Jones could do, it was make a pretty good chair. Too bad he knew better than to try to make a living at it.

  Once again, the what-if questions flitted through his mind, but he pushed them away. He’d seen how a life built on a dream ended. His father had ended up penniless, with his wife literally working herself into an early grave to put food on the table. What food there had been, that was. Harlan had ended up getting a job at fourteen. He’d handed every paycheck to his mother, and still, there’d been lean weeks, lean months. Times when the temperature on the heat was kept so low, living through those cold winter nights was barely tolerable. And more than one night when dinner was a couple slices of bread slathered with store-brand margarine.

  Now Frank Jones relied on his sons to support him for the rest of his days. Not that Harlan minded doing it, but he was smart enough not to repeat those mistakes. His mother had suffered because of her husband’s selfish quest, one that drained instead of paid. Harlan would not make the same mistake. And he would take care of his brother for as long as Tobias needed the help.

  Harlan shrugged off the thoughts. It was the end of a stressful day. For five minutes, he was going to enjoy himself and not think about the responsibilities that lay waiting for him outside of the tiny circle of Sophie Watson’s coffee shop. He could indulge in this oasis, and then go back to shouldering his burdens.

  “I have to admit you do make a nice seat,” she said.

  “Why, thank you. Though I think since you’re sitting on something I have smoothed with my own two hands, you can start calling me Harlan.”

  Pink rose in her cheeks. “You are still a customer, Mr. Jones.”

  “Technically, you’re my customer. And I don’t go for all that fancy-schmancy stuff. Harlan will do just fine, thank you.” He paused a second, then added, “Sophie.”

  The pink flush turned crimson and washed over her face at the use of her name. Damn. He’d have to do that more often. Just to drive her crazy, of course. Not because she looked so pretty when she blushed.

  She half-rose out of the chair. “I need to get back inside.”

  “What do you do when you aren’t serving coffee and…what do you call these?” He lifted up one of the cookies.

  “Biscotti.”

  “Nah. I call them bis-yummy.” He bit off another chunk.

  She laughed. There. He’d accomplished his goal. She was smiling now. Even better, she’d slipped back into the chair. “I’m afraid I don’t do much, Mr.—”

  He raised a brow.

  “Harlan,” she corrected, stumbling a bit over the use of his name. “My business takes up a lot of my time.”

  “Seems a shame, considering you’re living in paradise.” He waved an arm to indicate the sunny sidewalk, the palm trees dotting the landscape, the bay’s beach twenty minutes away. Like he was one to talk. These few minutes sitting outside were the extent of his time enjoying paradise. In six weeks, he had yet to visit the beaches or watch a sunset.

  “Don’t you have to get over to the radio station and embarrass someone else?”

  He took a sip of the tea. “Nope. I’ve already done my show today.”

  He did have a mountain of work he should be doing, not to mention a mile-high stack of financials to review. He also needed to find time to run over to Tampa General and visit Tobias. But right now he wanted nothing more than to soak up the sun. Maybe doing so would clear his head and ease that knot in his shoulders.

  “How disappointed your fans must be.” Her voice was droll, sarcastic. “To have to wait until tomorrow to hear you bash another human being.”

  His ego winced at the bruising. “I take it you aren’t a fan?”

  She arched a brow in answer.

  He chuckled. “Well, I guess I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.” He raised the mug in her direction.

  Silence extended between them. They sat there, watching the people walking by. Everyone knew and greeted Sophie, and a surprising number of people said hello to Harlan, too. That told him the show was growing in popularity. Thank goodness.

  “So what brings you to Florida from…” She let the sentence trail off, the question implied.

  “Texas.” He gave her a grin. “For someone who doesn’t like to call her customers by their first name, you’re treading on some mighty personal ground.”

  She colored and got to her feet again. “You’re right. I’ll leave you to your tea.”

  “Do you often run away from a challenge, Sophie?” If she wasn’t such an infuriating, difficult woman, he might like the way her name rolled off his tongue.

  “Me? Run away?” She parked that fist on her hip again. Given how often she did that, it was a wonder she didn’t have a dent. “If I remember right, you were the one getting bristly at personal questions. Seems I’m not the one doing the running, Mr. Jones.”

  One corner of his mouth turned up. “Oh, we’re back to that now, are we?”

  “I do think its best, don’t you?” She gave him a smile that had no hint of flirtation in it and moved her chair back until it sat in perfect alignment with his. A clear signal she was done sitting with him. “Seeing as how we have a business relationship only.”

  “Are you saying you want to keep it that way? Business only?” What was he doing? He had no time or desire for a relationship right now.

  He wasn’t pursuing Sophie Watson, he told himself. He was trying to get back at her for her constant rants about his dogs and his show.

  Sophie tucked her long blond hair behind her ears and leveled her emerald gaze on him. “I’m a smart woman, Mr. Jones, and I learned a long time ago that smart decisions are the ones that serve me—and my business—best. So the answer is yes. Business only.”

  Good advice—advice he should take himself. Harlan drained the last of his tea, picked up the lone cookie remaining on his plate, then rose. “Then I’ll bid you good day, Miss Watson.”

  “Good day, then. And kindly remember our agreement.” She picked up the tray, added his empty mug, then balanced it on her arm. She flashed him a smile that was
anything but friendly. “Because if you ruin my reputation on the radio again, you might get more than you wanted in your tea.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Why, of course not, sir.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “Just a business arrangement. I’ll speak nicely of your chairs if you don’t speak of me at all.”

  “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He wagged the cookie at her, not making any promises. “But I think I need to up my rent charge. For personal aggravation.”

  He could hear her sputtering all the way into the coffee shop. An hour ago, he’d been ready to murder Sophie Watson for stealing his chairs and forcing him off his porch. But now, she’d given him a challenge he couldn’t refuse. That woman had a breaking point and Harlan Jones intended to find it.

  Then he’d take his chairs and his bis-yummy and go back to his own little cave, and forget that sassy woman had ever marched on up his stairs and into his life.

  CHAPTER THREE

  HARLAN JONES had been coming to the coffee shop every single afternoon for a week, after he got off working at the radio station. Thankfully, Sophie had too many things keeping her busy to give him more than a passing glance. She made sure Lulu had his tea ready every day, but she avoided sitting with him again. He kept to himself, spending his time poring over stacks of documents. He seemed stressed, and she wanted to ask what was wrong. But didn’t.

  She had no room in her life for a man right now, and especially not that man. The coffee shop consumed most of her time. If there was one lesson she’d learned from her broken engagement, it was that the business wouldn’t let her down. Not like a man could.

  Despite her misgivings, she’d gone along with Mildred’s plan for the Love Lottery. They’d sold matches in the coffee shop and most of the downtown shops, with the big match event scheduled for this evening. Mildred had suggested they hold it at the coffee shop—what better place to hold a first date than a coffee shop, after all?—and Sophie had spent most of the day preparing extra baked goods and ensuring every inch of the café was spotless. She’d had to leave the Spring Fling committee meeting early so she could get ready for the drawing tonight. Hopefully, she hadn’t missed anything.