How to Lasso a Cowboy

by Shirley Jump

  The trouble was, he couldn’t think of a single funny line. Or a way to twist that moment on the Tilt-A-Whirl, or any of the other incredible ones that had followed that night and the next morning on the beach, into a joke.

  More than that, he didn’t want to. He wanted to hold those moments, preserve them in his memory, take them out from time to time. Hell, right now, he wanted to do it all again. Have Sophie crushed to his chest, then hold her in the dark and kiss her until they both had to come up for air.

  He’d spent the entire night and part of the morning with Sophie, and all he wanted right now was more time. For the first time in his life, he wanted to call in sick, ditch the show, the job, the lists, and head down to Cuppa Java Café—just to see her smile at him. He wanted to haul her out to those chairs, and spend the day right beside her, listening to her talk and seeing the world of Edgerton Shores through her eyes. And he didn’t want to share a word of it with his listeners.

  Damn, that woman sure had gotten under his skin. And he wasn’t so sure he wanted that to change.

  He sighed. Did he have a choice, really? Tobias was counting on him to bring WFFM back from the dead. Harlan couldn’t let his brother down.

  On the other side of the glass separating him and his producer, Carl gave Harlan the countdown to start. The opening music played in Harlan’s headphones, and he scooted his chair closer to the mike. “Welcome to Horsin’ Around with Harlan! Got quite the show for ya’ll today. The Love Doctor will be in after the eight o’clock news report, to answer all your questions about that pesky emotion called love. Until then, I want to hear about your favorite getaway spots in the Tampa Bay area. No Love Lottery talk today. I’m sure you’re all plumb tired of my dating jokes anyway. So call me with your getaway ideas. I’ll be right back after this word from our sponsor.”

  From inside the production booth, Carl gave Harlan a confused look. “What the hell are you doing?” Carl said into Harlan’s earpiece.

  “Shaking things up.”

  Carl shrugged, then signaled that there was a caller on the line. The commercial ended, and Harlan did his intro, then pressed the button to answer the call.

  “Welcome to the show,” Harlan looked down at the computer, “Joe.”

  “Hi, Harlan. I’m Joe Johnson, with the Tampa Bay News. I had a few questions for you.”

  Harlan chuckled. “Well, this ain’t an interview show.” He reached for the disconnect button.

  “I just wanted to get a quote or two on how your dates have been going.”

  That, Harlan figured, he could do. Maybe drum up a little publicity for the cause the Love Lottery was supporting at the same time. Sophie would like that.

  “We had a nice time.” It had been more than nice. Sexy, fun, and memorable. But he stuck to the neutrality of nice. Still keeping the memories and the highlights close to his chest.

  Joe laughed. “Nice? My readers want some details. Come on, Harlan, share a little.”

  “Sorry. I don’t have a whole lotta time to share the details anyway. We’ve got other ground to cover on the show today.” Which was a lie, because he had four hours of airtime to fill and only he chose how to fill it. Harlan had been on the air for nearly ten years now, and he had never outright lied to his audience. He might have exaggerated a detail or two, beefed up a story to make it funnier, but he’d never held back details like this. Was he getting soft? Or was he…

  Falling for her?

  Not a decision he could make right now. “We had a busy night at the carnival. Both of us working and all,” Harlan went on. “Sophie had to run the ticket booth and I had to pop in and update my listeners from time to time. That’s one of the hazards of two headstrong stallions trying to find time in the same corral.”

  “Is that what you’re thinking of doing with Sophie? Spending time in the same corral?”

  “We’re just dating for the week.” He didn’t need to give this guy anything more than that.

  “And after the week is over?”

  “I’m just taking it one day at a time,” he said, which was the truth. They’d had a great night together, one he wasn’t going to forget anytime soon, but when it came to forever…well, that was a whole other rodeo. “Now, if you have any other questions about the community wellness center or—”

  “So do you like her?”

  He bit back a curse. Somehow, the tables had gotten turned on him, and he’d become the interviewee on his own show. He glanced at the clock. Ernie wasn’t due in for another thirty minutes. Seven minutes remained in the segment, and Carl was grinning like a fool, because Harlan Jones had just sidestepped into his own hot seat.

  What was he supposed to say? The truth? Hell, yes, he liked her. But he also knew Sophie was a woman who deserved, and wanted, more than a cowboy who spun in and out of her life like a tornado. She was the kind of woman a man settled down with. Harlan looked around the studio, thinking of all the work still to be done at WFFM to get it back into the black, and knew he couldn’t promise to be that man. Not right now.

  “Sophie Watson is a wonderful woman,” he said. “I’m sure some lucky man is going to scoop her up and make her his wife.”

  Saying the words hurt. For a minute there last night, he’d imagined he could be the man who did that. Pictured himself sitting on blankets with her for the rest of their lives, watching dolphins in the morning and sunsets at night. But as soon as he’d walked into WFFM, he’d remembered his responsibilities, and every time the thought of Sophie in his arms arose in his mind, he reminded himself of where his duty lay.

  Take care of your brother, his mother had said, the last words she’d ever said, and he’d promised her he always would. Just like he had when they were little.

  If there was ever a time when his brother needed him to be a caretaker, it was now. And that meant a personal life had to go on hold.

  “Some guy almost did make Sophie his wife,” Joe said. “A local politician, in fact.”

  “Really?” This was a new fact, something he hadn’t known before. Not that he should be surprised. A beautiful woman like Sophie had undoubtedly captured more than a few hearts over the years. Nevertheless, a surge of jealousy rose in his chest.

  “I’m betting, since you’re new in town, that you don’t know the story.”

  Harlan glanced at Carl, hoping there’d be another caller waiting, which would give him an excuse to get this guy off the line. But there were no other people waiting, and six minutes of airtime to fill before the commercial break. “I’m sure you’ve got some tall tale to share, pardner, but—”

  “She ran out on her own wedding. Hurried out of the church so fast, you would have thought her dress was on fire. I know. I saw the whole thing. The media started calling her Cold Feet Coffeegirl after that.” Joe chuckled. “She got more press than a presidential election.”

  Sophie had run out of her own wedding? She’d never mentioned that to him. Cold feet? Or wrong groom?

  Surely she’d had a good reason. The entertainer in him wanted to know why. The man who’d made a promise outside the Tilt-A-Whirl held back from asking. He stared at the silver head of the microphone, and decided no amount of ratings was worth splashing Sophie’s private life across the airwaves. “I’m sure that’s ancient history. Folks, we’re still looking for your favorite Tampa getaway, so give me a call if—”

  “A year isn’t ancient history,” Joe interrupted with a chuckle. “Seems Miss Sophie gets cold feet, so I hope you aren’t planning a wedding.”

  The man’s derogatory tone sent a flash of anger through Harlan. He tamped it down. Exploding on air wasn’t the smartest career move he could make. “What I do with my private life, and for that matter, what Sophie does with hers, isn’t up for discussion. Thank you for calling.”

  “Hypocrite.”

  Harlan’s finger hovered over the disconnect button. Why didn’t he just hang up on the guy?

  “You talk about how open you are with your audience, how you want them
to know all about Harlan Jones, but when someone calls and asks you some hard questions, you clam right up.”

  “Parts of my life aren’t open to the public. Plain and simple.” Harlan signaled Carl to cue up a commercial. He didn’t care which one, as long as it got this guy off the air. “Well, Mr. Johnson, I hate to interrupt you, but I need to cut to commercial.”

  “You don’t want to hear more about Sophie Watson’s engagement?”

  Harlan hit the disconnect button on the call. That man had said damned near enough. “This is Harlan Jones, and you’re listening to Horsin’ Around with Harlan. We’ll be back in a few, so stay tuned.”

  And when we come back, we sure as hell ain’t talking about Sophie. Or me.

  That was a conversation he was going to have with Sophie herself. Damned soon.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SOPHIE gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek, catching a whiff of the light floral scent of Grandma Watson’s perfume. Sophie hated to leave, but she had to get to work. Mornings were the busiest time at Cuppa Java Café, and poor Lulu was managing the shop alone right now. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

  Grandma patted her hand. “You worry too much. I’ll be fine. Now go to work.”

  Sophie cast a doubtful eye over her grandmother’s thin, wiry frame. To Sophie, she seemed as delicate as a sapling, as fragile as a crystal vase. Grandma had called early this morning, not long after Sophie said goodbye to Harlan, to ask where Sophie had put her broom because she’d dropped a glass on the hard tile floor of the kitchen. Sophie had told her not to move, that she’d be over right away to clean up the mess. She’d run all the way to Grandma’s house, so sure her stubborn grandmother would try to clean the mess up herself, and end up slipping and falling. Just as Sophie feared, she’d found Grandma in the kitchen, wielding the broom.

  A half hour and a long lecture about being safe later, Sophie had cleaned up the mess. She’d made Grandma breakfast, and stirred together some tuna salad for Grandma’s lunch later. “Promise to call me if you need anything.”

  “I will,” Grandma said. “Now go. You have a long day ahead of you, dear.”

  Sophie gave her grandmother another kiss, then headed for the front door. Worry still nagged at her, but she couldn’t stay here all day. She did have a long day, as Grandma had said. One that would culminate with the town dance, the finale for the Love Lottery and the Spring Fling.

  And the same place where she’d see Harlan again. Her heart nearly sang at the prospect. The smile brimming inside her curved across her face. She thought of being with him last night, of him kissing her, of his arms around her on the beach this morning. Of the magical moment when they’d seen the dolphins. Over the last week, she’d seen a new side of Harlan Jones. One she liked. Very much.

  It took ten minutes to walk to the shop from her grandmother’s house, and Sophie used the time to enjoy the Florida sunshine.

  A few days ago, Harlan Jones had accused her of not taking time to enjoy her slice of paradise down here on the Gulf coast. And even though she hated to admit it, he was right, and she was darn glad he’d talked her into going to the beach early this morning. After last night, and the crazy, spontaneous time they’d had, she’d realized she had been working a ridiculous number of hours—and spending what free time she had taking care of her grandmother. No spontaneous shopping trips, no vacations, no dating. It was little wonder someone had to force her into going out on a date. She would have to remember to thank Mildred.

  She neared the shop, and her gaze settled on the two chairs Harlan had made. Beneath them sat two footstools, made out of the same wood nailed in slats that curved over an arched base. She smiled.

  He must have left them here this morning, after he’d brought her home and before he went to work. He’d never said a word that he’d been working on them or that they were done. Instead, he’d put them out as a surprise. The footstools were as beautiful as the chairs, and she wondered again why he didn’t just try to make a living at something he so clearly excelled at.

  Harlan Jones excelled at a lot of things, Sophie thought. Her fingers went to her lips. A lot of things.

  That man was starting to grow on her. Well, honestly, he was doing much more than that. In the last few days, he’d pretty much been her only thought in between steaming milk and mixing dough. Him, his sexy drawl and his electric kisses. Tonight, she’d see Harlan again. A week ago, she would have dreaded the encounter but today—

  Well, today had her wondering what she should wear. If she should leave her hair down or put it up. Whether he would smile when he saw her, whisper something sweet in her ear. How long it would be before he asked her to dance. What it would be like to take a twirl around the dance floor wrapped in his arms. And most of all, whether he would kiss her again. Or maybe do more.

  Still dreaming of the night ahead, she headed inside Cuppa Java Café. Tonight she’d wear a sexy little dress, put her hair up and pull those high heels out of her closet. She could hardly wait to see his reaction.

  “Well, Mr. Johnson, I hate to interrupt you, but I need to cut to commercial.” Harlan’s voice greeted her as soon as she walked in the door.

  “You don’t want to hear more about Sophie Watson’s engagement?” said his caller. Sophie froze.

  “This is Harlan Jones, and you’re listening to Horsin’ Around with Harlan. We’ll be back in a few, so stay tuned.”

  The words took a second to register in Sophie’s brain. Harlan’s voice. Coming from the shop’s loudspeakers. A dozen people hanging on every word, several of them laughing softly.

  Lulu came out from the back of the shop, two gallons of milk in her hands. “Hey, Sophie.”

  “Don’t hey me. Why is that station on inside here?”

  Confusion filled Lulu’s features. “I thought we were pro-Harlan now. And I thought it’d be nice for you to hear his voice when you came in to—”

  “I don’t want to hear that man’s voice ever again.” Sophie switched the station, settling on an upbeat country music tune. It could have been opera for all she cared—anything other than the man who had just betrayed her.

  Harlan had promised. He’d looked her right in the eyes and swore he wouldn’t plaster her private life all over the radio. Then he’d gone and made her fall for him, with all those kisses and his kindness to her grandmother, and that dolphin idea, and those hours of talking. She’d thought he cared. Thought maybe they were building something real.

  When all Harlan had been building was his plan to increase ratings.

  Sophie’s heart ached, the pain deeper than any she had ever known before. He had betrayed her, and she had been foolish enough to fall for him. Once again, she’d been too starry-eyed to see the truth, and ended up a media punch line. Harlan Jones was no better than a snake in the grass.

  “You okay, hun?” Lulu asked, resting a hand on Sophie’s shoulder.

  “Fine.” Sophie figured she could lie as well as Harlan. Then she headed into the back of the shop before the tears that had begun to brim in her eyes cascaded down her face.

  Harlan was sweating by the time he left the station’s booth later that morning. Every damned caller he’d had wanted to talk about the local scandal with Sophie Watson. He’d done his best to switch the subject, but these people were like ticks on a hound dog—relentless. He wondered if she’d heard the show, then remembered she didn’t listen to WFFM. Hopefully he could get over to the coffee shop today and tell her what had happened before she heard it from someone else.

  He turned down Ernie’s offer for an early lunch, headed into his brother’s office and shut the door. The work still sat in a pile on the desk—invoices to go over, bills to pay, guests to book.

  He came around the desk, sat down and started tackling the pile. The sooner he was done, the sooner he could go to Sophie’s shop and get the rest of the story from her. If that reporter was right, and Sophie’s broken engagement had been big news, that surely explained her reluctan
ce to get out in the public eye.

  He was knee-deep in work when he heard a knock on his door. He looked up to see Tobias standing in the doorway. “Hey, little brother.” Harlan took in the sweat beading on Tobias’s brow—probably from using the crutches to get all the way from the parking lot to the office at the end of the hall—and the slight flush in his cheeks. “Shouldn’t you be at home resting?”

  Tobias waved off the question and entered the room. His crutches made soft plopping sounds against the carpet, but it seemed to Harlan that he was leaning on them a bit less than before. Tobias settled into one of the visitors’ chairs, propped the crutches against the side, then leaned forward. “How long are you going to keep doing this?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Everything. I am cleared to come back to work, part-time. That means I should be sitting behind that desk, instead of you, but every time I try to put in a few hours, you send me home like I’m two years old.”

  Harlan put down his pen and let out a sigh. “I just don’t want you to end up in the hospital again. You could get another infection, or get hurt walking around with those crutches or—”

  “Will you quit worrying about me? I’m old enough to do it for myself.” Tobias put up a hand to stop Harlan’s protests. “I appreciate you coming out here to help me get the station back on track and also taking care of everything while I was in the hospital. I truly do. But you don’t have to mother hen me for the rest of my life.”

  “I’m not. I’m just—”

  “You are. When you were in Texas, you did it from afar. Called me all the time, sent me money whenever I got behind, even cosigned for my loan to buy this place.”

  Harlan scowled. “I should have done more than that.”

  “What more? You did plenty.”

  “You asked me, back when you started, to come out here and help you get the place off the ground. I was too damned wrapped up in my own show to say yes. I should have. If I had then maybe—” Harlan’s gaze went to the crutches again.