How to Lasso a Cowboy (14 page)

He'd told Sophie Watson a lot of things tonight, but not the truth about his childhood. Harlan sipped at his coffee, watching the surf, wishing a dolphin would come along and save him from answering.

None did.

“I just don't think it's smart to build a career out of a hobby,” he said.

“Why not? I did. I love to entertain and I love to cook. And, breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. Voilà. Coffee shop.”

“That's a viable business. Making furniture is too…iffy.”

“Plenty of people do it.”

“Yeah, well, not me.” He sipped at the coffee and watched the surf. And hoped she'd drop the subject.

She didn't. “Not everyone is as talented as you are. I
mean, that furniture you've built is just incredible. And unique. In fact, I was talking to Tobias the other day—”

Any basking in her compliments drew up short when he heard Tobias's name. “You saw my brother?”

She laughed. “Harlan, this is a small town. I see him all the time. He likes coffee and breakfast, too, you know. Specifically mocha lattes and cranberry-orange muffins.”

“I didn't know that.”

“That's because you only think about work, cowboy. Not breakfast. Me, I think about breakfast almost all day.” She pushed her sweatshirt hood back off her face, exposing the golden curls of her hair to the warming sun. Far down the beach, the dogs danced in and out of the water, nipping at the spray bursting off the waves. “Anyway, I never knew he was your brother, not until the other day when he mentioned that his brother was hosting a show on WFFM. We got to talking—”

“About me.”

A pink flush filled her cheeks. “About you. And, well, other things.”

The flush made him happy in a way he couldn't remember being for a long time. Damn, this woman was starting to grow on him. He knew it was a crazy idea to stay up all night just to see the dolphins swimming by, but every time he'd thought about going home, he found another reason to stay with Sophie.

“Other things?” he teased.

“Other things that are none of your business,” she said, a smile curving wide across her face. “Tobias said nobody can make furniture like you can. That the dining-room table you made him gets compliments all the time and deserves to be in a museum.”

Harlan shook his head. Tobias had always loved Harlan's
work. He was the only one Harlan ever shared it with, the only one he'd made something for on demand before Sophie Watson came marching into his life, taking his chairs and putting his hobby on display.

That damned dining room table. He'd told Tobias not to say who'd made it, but his little brother, clearly proud, had gone and told Sophie. “My brother is biased.”

“I've seen what you've created in that woodshop of yours, and I've been pretty impressed.”

He refused to let the praise stick. He had to be smart about his future, and smart didn't involve taking a risk like that. “Thanks, but I think I should stick to my day job.”

Her green eyes locked on his. “You're scared.”

His gaze went to the surf. Where the hell were those dolphins? “I'm just practical.”

“I thought cowboys weren't scared of anything.”

“We're scared of plenty. But mostly of mad bulls and demanding women.”

She laughed. “Good thing there's none of those here right now.”

He arched a brow. “I'd have to disagree. You're about the most demanding woman I know.”

“Oh, yeah?” A tease lit her eyes again. For the last few hours, she'd been the Sophie he'd glimpsed throughout the week. And he liked that. Very much. “How about if I demand you kiss me again right now?”

Desire roared through his veins, thundered in his head. He wanted her—wanted her more than he could ever remember wanting anyone before—and he wanted to do a hell of a lot more than kiss her. But they were on a public beach, and he was, at his core, a gentleman. So he leaned over, and gave her a fast, hard kiss. “That's it?”

“Patience, pardner.” He trailed a finger along her lips,
and curbed the urge to press her onto the blanket and taste a lot more than her mouth. “Later, we'll finish what we started.”

“Is that a promise?”

He grinned. “That's a date.”

Sophie laughed, and curved into his arms. They faced the sea, and a second later, they were rewarded with a trio of dark gray fins, followed by curved, sleek bodies. “The dolphins,” Sophie whispered, as if the animals could hear. “They're so beautiful.”

“They are,” Harlan said, and the two of them leaned forward, watching the graceful animals slice through the water, their backs curving in rhythm, as if they, too, were waves. In seconds, they were gone, disappearing into the deep blue of the ocean.

“We should go,” Sophie said. “We have to get back to the real world.”

For a while, Harlan had forgotten about his responsibilities. Forgotten about his job. Forgotten about his family. He'd just enjoyed the time with Sophie. “I reckon you're right,” he said. But as they packed the picnic away and folded the blanket, he wished she wasn't.

T
HE
microphone sat in front of Harlan, small, dark and accusatory. He had thirty seconds until he was on the air, and he knew his listeners were going to want a full recap of the Love Lottery day at the carnival.

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.