How to Lasso a Cowboy (13 page)

His hand dropped away. He stepped back. “I, uh, believe I promised you an elephant ear.”

“Oh, yeah. There's a booth, um, over there.” Did he hear disappointment in her tone? Or regret? He didn't ask.

They crossed to a squat white trailer, manned by two women wearing bright pink aprons. The scent of cinnamon and butter filled the air around them, so thick, Harlan could nearly taste the dessert on the breeze. “Two elephant ears and two iced teas,” Harlan said, handing over some money.

“You don't have to pay for me,” Sophie said. She reached
into her pocket, pulled out some bills and handed them to him.

He pressed the money back into her palm. “Of course I do. This is still a date. And when I'm dating a lady, I take care of her. Let me take care of you, Sophie.”

Even under the muted lights of the trailer, Harlan could see a pink flush rise in Sophie's cheeks. “Well, thank you.”

“Anytime, darlin'.” What was he saying? Did he mean taking care of more than just the cost of a snack? For longer than this week? Every time he knew the right thing to focus on, he came right back to focusing on Sophie.

What was wrong with him? A week ago, he'd rather have spent time wrestling a pig than tangling with Sophie Watson. Then they'd shared a couple of dates, a couple of kisses, and one carnival ride, and his mind was traveling down paths that definitely lead down the road of Like. Maybe something more.

No, there'd be no more. Harlan thought of the work waiting in his car, the brother still recovering from an accident, and the people depending on him, and told himself he should leave.

He didn't.

The woman in the trailer handed them their drinks, followed by two steaming fried dough circles. The elephant ears—so named because their large, irregular shape mimicked that of the animal's—glistened with butter, as if begging to be eaten. He inhaled the scent of fried food—the decadent, heavy fragrance that only came with something battered and cooked in a hell of a lot of grease.

“I like mine loaded,” Sophie said, crossing to a small table set up with a variety of condiments. “I only get these once a year, at the Spring Fling, and when I do, I go all out.”

“You must have mighty strong self-control to resist these all year.” Harlan tore off a chunk of warm dough and popped it in his mouth. It melted against his tongue, smooth and rich.

She sprinkled cinnamon sugar on her fried dough, followed by a heaping spoonful of apple slices. Then she forked off a bite and ate it, pausing to smile at the taste before speaking again. “You should see me when we pull a fresh batch of biscotti out of the oven. I have to practically tie myself to the counter to keep from eating them all.”

He wagged another piece of dough at her. “Those don't count. As far as I can tell, those bis-yummies don't have a calorie in them.”

“Maybe I'll put that on the advertising literature.” She laughed again, and Harlan decided he liked the sound so much, he'd do whatever it took to hear it again. They began to walk the fairgrounds, eating their fried dough and admiring the scenery.

“We'd make quite the team,” Harlan said, tossing his trash into a bin.

“That could be dangerous. Us working together.”

They had reached the end of the carnival area. There were few lights here—only a couple strings of multicolored bulbs looped between the trees. The music had dropped into background noise. They were alone, in a shadowed, quiet area. The kind of place where anything could happen. He took her trash out of her hands, tossed it in the bin. Then rested his hands on her hips and met her gaze. “I like danger. Very much.”

“Do you?” A sexy tease lit the notes of her voice, a flirt danced in her eyes.

That was all it took to push Harlan over the edge. “Hell, yes,” he said, his voice nearly a growl as he lowered his
mouth to hers and did the one thing he'd promised himself he'd never do again.

Kissed Sophie Watson. And kissed her good.

S
OPHIE
didn't want the night to end. After that kiss—a fiery, no-holds-barred kiss that would go down in history as one of the top ten kisses in the world—she had found reason after reason to justify staying with Harlan long after the carnival had shut down for the night.

They'd wandered the town park, talking about everything and nothing. She'd heard about his childhood in Texas, how he met Ernie, his first radio job and more about how his loud mouth had landed him on the air. She'd told him about living in the same town all her life, and finding no place else like it in the world, about opening the coffee shop because she believed in supporting the local economy, and about how close she'd grown to her grandma since her parents moved to northern Florida a few years ago.

She could feel them growing closer, feel the threads of a relationship knit between them. It scared her and thrilled her all at once.

Around midnight, they'd headed over to O'Toole's Pub, a small bar on the east end of Main Street. They'd shared a pitcher of beer, a heaping platter of wings, and more conversation. So much, Sophie was sure her voice would be hoarse in the morning. They'd laughed and flirted, and bumped into each other a hundred times, charging the air with sexual tension and desire.

Before they knew it, the clock struck two in the morning and the bar was closing. Sophie should have been tired, but she could hardly think about sleep. Maybe it was all the conversation. Or the simmering attraction between them. Either way, when they hit the sidewalk and turned toward home, she tried not to look disappointed that the night was over.

At the corner, Harlan paused. His blue eyes gleamed in the soft light cast by the globe-shaped lamps lining Main Street. “I have an idea,” he said. “Let's go watch the dolphins.”

“But it's dark out,” Sophie said. “We can't see anything.”

He glanced at his watch. “In a few hours, they'll be swimming along the shore. Let's go down to the beach and wait for them.”

She laughed. “You're crazy.”

“Maybe. Okay, definitely. But I've lived here for almost two months now and haven't set foot on the sand. I lived in Texas forever and rarely got over to the coast.”

“Hmm…a fellow workaholic.”

“You know what they say about that, don't you?” She shook her head. “All work and no play makes for grumpy ranch hands.”

She laughed. “Is that what we are? Ranch hands?”

“Close enough. We both work sunup to sundown, and deal with more crap than we should.”

She laughed again. Why had she never noticed before how funny Harlan Jones could be? How enjoyable spending time with him was? The hours had seemed to fly by, and the thought of having even more hours with Harlan filled her with anticipation.

She liked him, genuinely liked him.

“Let's do it,” she said, putting her smaller hand into
his large, warm one. All the while thinking she was crazy for doing this, crazy for spending time with a man who could—and probably would—broadcast every detail of her life on the radio. But all she saw right now, all she felt, was Harlan's warmth, his strength, and his touch. “So what will we do between here and sunrise?”

He grinned. “I'm sure we'll think of something.”

The innuendo sent a rush of heat through Sophie. Half of her wanted him to suggest spending those hours at his house. The other half was afraid he would—and she would get even more wrapped up in him than she already was. If they took this further than kisses, Sophie knew without a doubt she'd tumble down a rabbit hole she might never escape. Because if his kisses were any indication of his ability to please a woman—

Well, she'd never leave a bed or Harlan again.

“Do you mind if we stop at my house first?” he asked.

Oh, God, he'd said it. Stop at his house. Take the next step.

She could say no right now and head home. It was the wisest choice, really. The one that kept her far from all temptation.

“I have to let the dogs out,” he said when she hesitated, and Sophie felt silly for even thinking he'd meant anything else.

She thought back to those amazing, one-of-a-kind, earth-shattering kisses. Had that been a fluke? Or did he want more?

More that that, did
she
want more? All the way back to his house, she tried to decide. And couldn't. Instead, she opted to part ways when they reached his house, telling him she wanted to run home and change into something warmer since the temperature had dropped during the
night. She took the time to pack them a picnic breakfast, and grab a thick blanket to use on the beach. By the time she met up with Harlan again, it was after four. He was waiting in his truck in her driveway, a clear sign that he hadn't intended to take her back to his house and up to his bedroom.

A part of her was relieved. Another part was very disappointed.

“We're crazy,” she said after she climbed inside his truck. He had the dogs in the back—something she wasn't thrilled about—so she kept the cooler and the blanket up front with her. Knowing Mortise and Tenon, breakfast would be devoured before the truck reached the end of the street. “We both have work in the morning.”

“We'll be back in time.” He put the truck in gear and turned out of her driveway. “Why? You tired?”

“No. I really thought I would be. I can't remember the last time I stayed up all night. I'm always in bed by eleven, up by five, off to work by six. It's almost like…doing this is wrong, you know?” She traced the outline of the house on the corner in the light coating of steam on the window. “I never, ever ditch my responsibilities to go to the beach, just because.”

Instead of taking a right, Harlan turned to Sophie, leaning across the truck's interior until he was inches away from her. He tipped her chin, bringing her lips just below his. Sophie's heart hammered in her chest and her pulse began to race. He was going to kiss her again, and the anticipation nearly drove her mad.

“I think you should do more things just because,” Harlan said, his voice low and gruff.

“Things—” she let out a breath “—like what?”

“Like this,” he said, and lowered his mouth to hers. This kiss was more like a slow waltz, with his lips drifting over
hers, his fingers dancing along her jaw. She leaned into him, inhaling the clean, strong scent of him until all she knew, all she cared about was Harlan.

He drew back, but didn't release her. “Now
that
I think you should do all the time.” He grinned. “Just because.”

She could hardly breathe, hardly think, and yet every ounce of her wanted him to do that again. And again. “That could be dangerous.”

His gaze met hers, and even in the dark, she could feel it penetrating beneath the layers of her soul. “Anything between you and I could be dangerous.”

 

They took the Tampa Bay Bridge across the bay, driving all the way over to the Gulf side of Florida. By the time they reached the public beach in Indian Rocks, the sun was just coming up. There was only a handful of cars in the parking lot, and a couple of die-hard beach walkers striding along the sand.

Harlan got out of the truck, grabbing the blanket and cooler as he did. He came around to Sophie's side, and opened her door. All night long, he'd been doing things like that—holding the door for her, pulling out her chair, waiting for her to order first. Grandma Watson would be thrilled. She'd always said the only man worth a woman's time is a gentleman, and tonight, that defined Harlan Jones. Once again, she wondered about the many dimensions to Harlan. As she did, she felt her heart begin to open to him. Dangerous, was the word they'd used before, and that was the only word that came to mind now.

They kicked off their shoes, then walked barefoot on the cool sand, pausing a few feet from shore. A little further down the long expanse of pale, soft sand, a half dozen fishermen stood knee-deep in the water, casting their lines
for sharks, flounder and mackerel. Herons and seagulls paced the beach behind them, hoping for cast-offs.

The surf curled in and out with a gentle whoosh. The sun climbed higher in the sky, kissing the water. The tips of the waves glistened in response. Harlan spread out the blanket, settled the picnic basket on one corner, then waited for Sophie to take a seat before he dropped down beside her. Mortise and Tenon bounded off toward the shore, barking and chasing seagulls, and running in and out of the surf.

“This reminds me of mornings in Texas,” Harlan said as he leaned back on his elbows. “I've always been an early riser. I like the way the world gets all quiet and…” His voice trailed off as he searched for the right word.

“Hopeful,” Sophie said.

“Hopeful,” Harlan repeated. “Exactly.”

Sophie drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I do too. Most mornings, I walk to work, just to watch the world come awake.”

“And help it do that with a whole lotta coffee.”

She laughed. “That, too.”

They sat there for a while, in a comfortable, pleasant silence, broken only by the occasional cry of a seagull and the soft song of the ocean. The dogs tired of chasing the birds and bounded over to them, sending a spray of water over Sophie. Then they pranced around the blanket, nearly knocking her over in their quest to get closer to the humans.

Harlan laughed. “They like you.”

She pushed Mortise back, just before he plopped his big golden tush in her lap. “Too much.”

He grinned. “Just give them a chance.” He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small bag of dog treats. “Here. Make friends.”

“Oh, I don't know if—”

“They don't bite, I swear.” He pressed the bag into her hands. “And maybe they'll behave better if they think you're a friend.”

Sophie hesitated, then finally relented and took the bag of dog treats. As soon as she opened the top, the dogs caught the scent of the beef-flavored goodies and started dancing all around her, their big bodies practically on top of hers. Being at their level was overwhelming, because it made the dogs seem as big as her. “Whoa, whoa.”

Harlan leaned in to her. “Tell them to sit.”

“They're not going to listen to me. They never do.”

“You have food in your hands. That's a mighty big motivator for a dog. They'll listen.”

She cast Harlan a doubtful look, then turned back to the canine terrors. “Uh…sit.”

“Say it with authority,” he whispered in her ear. “Like you're ordering me around.”

She laughed. “You never do what I tell you to either.”

“Maybe I haven't been properly motivated.” His breath was a warm caress against her neck. Her skin prickled beneath the heat. Damn, that man was sexy.

The dogs barked, jarring Sophie's attention away from Harlan. She fished in the bag for a treat, then looked at Mortise. He seemed to tower over her, and she was sure he weighed at least eighty-five pounds, maybe more. Sophie swallowed hard, then eyed the big dog. “Sit!”

And just like that, Mortise dropped to his haunches. Tenon, seeing there was a reward about to come for her companion, did the same. The two dogs looked at her, panting happily.

Sophie turned to Harlan. “They listened to me!”

“I hate to say it, darlin', but I told you so.” He nudged
her elbow. “Now reward them, and they'll be your friends for life.”

She flattened her palm and held the treat toward Mortise. He slobbered it right off her hand, then wagged his tail. She did the same for Tenon, who promptly dropped to her paws beside Sophie and put her big golden head on Sophie's knee. “Did you see that?”

“I did indeed.” He moved until his chest was against her back, then reached past her to give Tenon an approving pat. “Rub her ears. She likes that.”

Sophie reached out a tentative hand, then caressed Tenon's right ear. The dog let out a soft groan and turned her body into the touch. Mortise, jealous of the attention, shoved his snout under Sophie's arm. She laughed and gave him a head rub.

The dogs stayed there for a good ten minutes, lapping up the attention and the occasional treat, until the bag of goodies was gone. Then they scrambled to their feet and went running off in search of more seagulls.

“I had no idea those dogs were so sweet,” she said, leaning into Harlan's embrace. “I think I kinda like them.”

“As much as you like their owner?” Harlan asked.

She could tell him the truth. That she'd begun to like him more and more over the last few days, that when they finally did have to say goodbye and head off to work, she'd miss him. But she didn't trust these feelings yet.

After all, the Harlan Jones she had spent the night with was the same Harlan Jones who made a living off of embarrassin' moments, as he called them. She tried to keep that front and center in her mind, but every time he touched her, or said her name, or looked at her with those ocean-blue eyes—

She forgot.

“Maybe I should carry biscotti in my pocket,” Sophie said. “Then I might get better results with the owner.”

“If you did that, darlin', I'd be so obedient and loyal, you'd start calling me Rover.”

She laughed. “I'll keep that in mind…Rover.”

They sat there for a while, silently watching the surf, looking for the telltale dark hump of a dolphin. So far, the ocean was quiet. Down the beach, one of the fishermen reeled in a foot-long silver fish. A pair of walkers passing by cheered his catch.

“Tell me something,” Sophie said.

Harlan reached into the cooler, removed two paper cups, then unscrewed the top of the thermos Sophie had packed and poured them each a cup of coffee. “What?”

“Why are you so dead set against selling that furniture you make?” She thanked him for the coffee, took a sip, then shifted on the blanket until she was facing him. “You're really good, you know.”