“I’d switch with you if you asked,” she said mulishly.
Tanna tapped her fingers on the counter. “Fine. I’ll switch with you. But when I need to swap a shift, I’d better not hear you bitch. At all. You don’t get to pull that Oh, I’m sorry, I’d really love to fill in for you, but I’ve made plans bullshit. Understand?”
“I understand. Geez. You’re a real hard-ass.”
“No, I’m just older, wiser and I’ve worked with people like you before.”
“People like me?” Harlow repeated snippily. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You skate by with the minimum amount of work, but you expect to be treated with the same respect as those of us who work our asses off and do our damn job.” Tanna realized how harsh that’d come out and backed off. “I like you, Harlow. I think we’ll work well together as long as you act like you need this job, not that you’re entitled to it.”
“There goes my chance to fuck off and use the experience in my master’s thesis on how I spent my summer vacation,” she said breezily.
Tanna rolled her eyes. “Get to work, smart-ass.”
Harlow smirked and flounced off.
God. If she didn’t throttle that kid it’d be a miracle.
She’s not really a kid. Remember what you were like at that age?
Worse than Harlow. Spoiled when she went home, pampered at events by her sponsors, hell on wheels on the road. Not giving a shit about anyone else’s issues. Doing whatever she wanted and answering to nobody.
It was hard to stomach that she used to be like that. How long would she have gone on that way if her life hadn’t changed so drastically?
Pointless to ponder . . . but she found herself thinking about it off and on all day.
Late Friday afternoon she counted out the till and secured the money and the day’s receipts in the safe. After locking up, she exited out the side door.
The air had a bite—surprising for May—and she hustled down the hill to her trailer. So much for her plan to sit out on her deck and enjoy the end of the day. Texas had nothing on Wyoming when it came to how hard the damn wind blew.
Inside her trailer, she grabbed a beer and settled on the couch. Déjà vu hit her. Then it occurred to her it wasn’t déjà vu—she’d done this exact same thing the last four nights. Parked her ass on the couch. Popped a top. Flipped through crap on the TV. Then she crawled between the sheets.
Was this how her days would play out over the next three months? She’d work hawking clothes or booze, return to her quarters, knock back a beer, and eat a sandwich while she watched the boob tube and then toddle off to bed?
Fuck that.
She was Tanna Barker. She didn’t have to go balls to the wall crazy. No impromptu wet T-shirt contests. No dancing on the bar. No showcasing her pole dancing skills. But she could head to the closest watering hole. Soak up a little local culture. Check out the claim that Wyoming cowboys were a breed apart from Texas cowboys.
You already know that firsthand. Didn’t one night with the good doc prove it?
Yes. And he claimed he wanted to prove it over and over again.
So why hadn’t Fletch called her about their coffee date this week?
Tanna knew he was busy. She ought to cut him some slack.
Then again, when had she ever waited for a man to make the first move?
Never. And she wasn’t about to start that meek and mild routine now.
She drained her beer and changed into a lace cami the color of ripe raspberries and a long-sleeved cream-colored Western shirt decorated with vines of hot pink roses. She slipped on her favorite pair of Miss Me jeans with the white angel wings on the back pockets and big rhinestones on the front. She opted not to wear one of her championship buckles. She shoved her feet in a short pair of orange and pink Old Gringo cowgirl boots decorated with cacti.
Tanna fluffed up her hair—making it big, Texas style. She added more eyeliner, more mascara, more lipstick and spritzed on her favorite perfume. She debated on putting in a pair of colored contacts. Growing up with brown eyes, like everyone else in Texas it seemed, she’d wished for an exotic eye color. When she’d discovered colored lenses, she’d bought a set in every funky hue. Most people couldn’t tell when she had in her “fake eyes” and it amused her when they tried to figure out what was different about her.
Ready, she hit the road. She didn’t need her GPS to find the closest bar—Buckeye Joe’s was the only one in town.
Inside, Tanna saw one familiar face—Kyle’s mom, Sherry.
The smiling redhead hugged her. “Tanna! I was hoping you’d come into the Buckeye for a drink. We didn’t get to chat much at the branding.”
“That’s understandable since you were busy running the chow line.”
Sherry smiled. “I appreciated everyone coming out and helping Kyle and Celia. The last two years I’ve seen firsthand how much hard work goes into running a ranch. So, what can I getcha tonight?”
“I don’t suppose you’ve got Lone Star?”
“Nope.”
“I’ll take a Corona.”
Sherry reached into the cooler, then popped the top on the bottle and slid it over. “First one is on me.” She lowered her voice. “But keep that under your hat or the locals will think I’ve gone soft.”
Tanna grinned. “Thank you.” She took a sip of the icy brew. “You own this place?”
“Part owner. I bought in when I knew Kyle was settling here permanently. Owning a business has been more work than I’d imagined, but I love it.”
“Do you see much of Celia and Kyle?”
“As much as I can. They don’t go out much anymore and in a few months it’ll be even less.”
“This baby stuff is so exciting. They’ll make great parents.”
“And I’ll be one of those annoying grandmas who goes on and on about the precious grandchild.” Sherry wiped a spot down the bar. “How’s it going up at the Split Rock?”
“So far, so good.”
“And . . . here they come. That didn’t take long.” Sherry’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t turn around, sweetie, but a few guys are headed this way.”
Tanna groaned. “The ‘see a single woman in the bar and assume I want company’ type of guys?”
“No, they’re friends of Kyle and Celia’s you met at the branding.”
Butterflies took wing in her belly. Was Fletch with them?
Ike, the fast-talking cattle broker, sidled up and offered her a sly smile. “If it isn’t my favorite Texas transplant.”
The man was so easy on the eyes. Blond-haired. Tall and lanky. Dressed casually, but impeccably. Blue eyes, which wavered somewhere between devilish and intense. Tanna knew there’d be no leading this guy around by a string. “Ike, you slick operator.”
His eyebrows rose. “Alls I do is say hello and I’m slick?”
“Dude. You’re a salesman. You’re always selling something.”
“But I’m not,” came from behind her.
Tanna faced the darker-haired man. Shorter, stockier. More mellow. “Heya, Holt. You flying solo tonight? Or are you Ike’s wingman?”
“Both. Come sit with us. Max secured a table. Damn crying shame we didn’t get to talk to you much at the branding. But Devin, Fletch and Eli hogged our newest, most beautiful resident.”
“Lordy, lordy, darlin’ . . . You sure you’re not a salesman?” she asked Holt.
“If you’re buying it, then I’m a better salesman than I thought.”
She laughed.
“We’re your captive audience, hanging on every word that comes out of your mouth,” Ike said. “I could listen to you talk all night with that hot accent. But if you just wanna sit there and look pretty, that’s good too.”
She wasn’t immune to flattery from two attractive guys. She winked at Sherry and
picked up her Corona. “Check on me in an hour to see if I’m drowning in their sweet bullshit.”
Chapter Nine
Fletch had intended to ignore Ike’s voice mail that asked if he was around Muddy Gap and had time for a beer. He’d had a long day. Two horse surgeries—one a major repair job on a colt that’d tangled with a mountain lion. All he wanted was to hit the road for home, jump in the shower and wear clothing that didn’t reek.
But he had neglected his friends lately. Most of the guys in their group had paired up and married off. Between his unpredictable schedule and the demands on his friends’ time, it was a rare night they were all in the same area at the same time, so Fletch agreed to meet them at the Buckeye if he finished his last call before eight o’clock.
Despite his buddies being used to his “fresh from the farm” scent, he scrubbed himself up as best as he could and switched out his sweaty, stained ball cap for a summer-weight cowboy hat.
More people crowded the bar than he’d anticipated—then he remembered it was a Friday night. Man, this week had been such a time suck he didn’t even remember what damn day it was. Kyle’s mom was busy mixing and pouring at the opposite end of the bar. He saw Ike, Max and Holt at their usual table.
His heart leapt at seeing Tanna sitting with them.
His sarcastic side pointed out that of course Miss Sexy Thang would be here on the night he looked like shit. His practical side reminded him that Tanna liked to have a good time and her bar-hopping choices were limited in Muddy Gap, so he should’ve expected to run into her. And guaranteed a beautiful woman like her would be surrounded by male admirers.
So why did he have an immediate flash of jealousy and the urge to rip her away from the guys who’d been his friends for years?
Rather than curbing that urge, he gave in to it. After the cocktail waitress brought him a beer, he sauntered over, taking note that Ike hung on her every word. Max’s attention was firmly focused on Tanna’s cleavage. Even Holt, a confirmed bachelor, seemed mesmerized by her.
Join the club, guys.
Tanna’s surprised gaze hooked his as he took the empty chair right next to her, causing a little hiccup in her conversation with Max. Then she was back to telling whatever story required her hand gestures and beautiful smile.
She finally acknowledged him. “Dr. Fletcher.”
“I know I told you to call me Fletch, darlin’. No need for formal titles between us, is there, Miz Two-Time World Barrel Racing Champion?”
She cooed, “Would it be bitchy of me to point out I’ve won three world titles?”
“I stand corrected.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You gonna make me pay for that oversight?”
Tanna laughed. “Of course. I like seeing a big man squirm.”
Goddamn, she had a laugh that pulled him in, a carefree sound that was sexy as sin.
Max gave him a once-over. “I see you’re still wearing your barnyard clothes. Finish your last call late?”
Leave it to Max to point out Fletch’s less than stellar appearance. “Yeah. If you sat a little closer you could get a whiff of barnyard. Welcome to my world.” His eyes met Tanna’s. His job was messy and smelly. No reason to pretend it wasn’t. Most days he fared a helluva lot worse than this. Question was: would she balk and move away?
“All’s well in the world of veterinary medicine?” Ike asked.
“I’m busy as all get-out—not that I’m complaining. But I didn’t get home before ten o’clock a single night this week. Those five a.m. starts make for a really long day.”
Tanna blinked at him. Hopefully she understood he’d directed that answer at her. Pushing her to have coffee with him and then not contacting her this week . . . not cool.
“How long have you guys been here?” he asked Ike.
“An hour and a half. Ran into this lovely lady right after we arrived. She was sitting all by herself up at the bar.”
Fletch kept his focus on her. “Getting wild on a Friday night?”
“No. I’m on clothing store duty tomorrow and I’ve been warned that Saturdays are busy,” Tanna said.
“No wildness for me either,” Holt said. “I’ve got a roofing job to finish tomorrow. Which means I’ll be up at the ass crack of dawn before it gets too damn hot.”
“I assume you’re on animal patrol even on weekends?” Tanna asked Fletch.
“Most Saturdays are busy. Was kind of a fluke last weekend that I didn’t get called away after the branding.”
“You get called away on Saturdays and Sundays, sometimes night and day,” Ike scoffed. “I can’t remember the last time you talked about having a full day off. He’s a regular workaholic,” he added to Tanna.
Fletch felt his face heat. Was it his imagination, or were his friends trying to make him out to be the type of guy who preferred four-legged animals to the two-legged variety? He opened his mouth to protest, but Tanna beat him to the punch.
“You must love your job if you work that hard at it,” Tanna said. “Your clients are lucky you’re so dedicated.”
“Fletch wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he wasn’t working,” Holt said.
“That’s not true. I just have to prioritize who I want to spend time with when I do get a break—which didn’t happen at all this week, unfortunately.”
“So we should consider ourselves lucky that you graced us with your presence,” Ike joked.
“I consider myself lucky that you guys haven’t written me off as a lost cause when I’m so lousy at keeping in touch.” His eyes never wavered from hers.
Tanna’s gaze turned thoughtful but she didn’t speak.
That’s when Fletch noticed her eyes were brown tonight. Not gray like the last two times they’d met. Interesting little quirk, that she changed her eye color.
The music kicked up a notch and Max held out his hand to Tanna. “You promised me a dance.”
She tore her gaze from Fletch’s and stood abruptly. “So I did. Let’s hit it.”
Three pairs of eyes followed the couple to the dance floor. Fletch’s fist tightened on his beer can when he saw just how close Max pressed his body to Tanna’s right off the bat.
“So that’s how it is,” Ike said.
“What?” Fletch answered distractedly, keeping his focus on the too-close couple on the too-crowded dance floor.
“You. And her.”
Fletch offered a halfhearted shrug.
“Don’t give me that bullshit innocent act after how you were when you first sat down.”
“And how was that?”
Holt leaned forward, snagging his attention. “Like you wanted to crack our skulls together for even lookin’ at her. And she gave off the vibe that she’d like nothin’ better than for you to bend her over the table.”
Fletch choked on his beer. Then he looked at Ike, who nodded agreement with Holt’s comment. What the hell? How had these guys picked up on that?
Because you’re usually the most laid-back guy in the room and tonight . . . you’re not.
Ike sighed. “Why does this always happen? You get there first. I really like her.”
So do I.
“What’s goin’ on between you two?”
“We’re just friends,” Fletch said with a slight snarl.
Ike’s eyes narrowed. “Her choice? Or yours?”
“Let it be,” Holt warned Ike.
That shut Ike down immediately.
So they’d drifted into a neutral conversation by the time Max and Tanna returned. Well, Ike and Max had. Fletch had gotten intercepted by another person requesting animal care advice. He attempted to end the conversation, but the guy didn’t get the hint.
After five minutes, Tanna drained her beer and looked pointedly at Fletch. Then at the stoop-shouldered interloper. “Come on, Doc. You’re off the clock and you promised to prove that yo
ur barbecue skills put Texas boys’ skills to shame.”
For once Fletch’s blank look wasn’t feigned. “Shoot. How could I have forgotten?” He pushed back from the table and the old-timer finally shuffled away.
“Devin wasn’t kidding when he said that happens to you a lot,” she said softly. “And yet, you never act like it’s an intrusion.”
Half-embarrassed, he shrugged. Then before she could comment on that, Fletch stood. “Sorry to cut this short, but I’m whupped. Good seeing you guys.”
“No worries,” Holt assured him. “We’re about to head out shortly.”
Tanna rolled to her feet and offered his friends a smile. “I’ll be taking off too. Thanks for the company and the beer. First round is on me next time.”
When she glanced up at him, Fletch’s heart raced. “I’ll walk you out.”
If his buddies made sarcastic comments, he didn’t hear them. He had eyes only for the petite cowgirl. He placed his hand in the small of her back to navigate through the crowd, trying like hell to ignore the warmth of her skin heating his palm.
Tanna didn’t attempt to dislodge his touch or put distance between them as he escorted her outside. “Where’d you park?”
“Close to the exit.”
He chuckled. “Planning your escape route before you even entered the building?”
“That’s how I roll.”
They didn’t speak again until reaching her truck. “Tanna. Look. I’m sorry I didn’t call you this week about that coffee date.”
She faced him and his hand fell away. “I know you’ve got a busy practice, Fletch. But I will point out that you’re the one who insisted we be ‘friends’ and it was your responsibility to let me know a coffee night wasn’t in the cards for us at all.”
Chastised, he softly bit off, “Waiting by the phone, were you?”
“Maybe.”
“Then I promise it won’t happen again. I’ll call you even if it’s ridiculously late.”
“Deal.” Tanna stepped closer.
Fletch automatically backed up two steps. “Ah, you probably don’t wanna get that close to me, sugar twang.”
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