How to Lasso a Cowboy (6 page)

She arched a brow. “Talk?”

He reached for a biscotti. “I hear lots of people do that on their first dates. It's all the rage.”

She chuckled, then laughed, and he could see her softening, bit by bit. “Okay, so talk.”

He waved the cookie at her. “You first. Why coffee?”

“I like…community,” she said after a moment. “And nothing brings a community together like a place to eat and talk.”

He grinned. “There's that talking thing again. Seems everyone's doing it.”

“Especially you, Mr. Radio Host.”

“I do my fair share. Seems I got the gift of gab, so I might as well get paid for it.” He chuckled.

She sat back in her chair and smiled at him. It was the kind of smile that socked a man in his gut and made him wonder what it'd be like to see her smile like that again. And again. “Well, what do you know? We have something in common.”

“We do indeed,” he said, trying his damnedest to get his focus back on work, and not on the sweet way her lips curved across her face. “It's nice to meet someone else working a job they love.”

“Even if the workload is pretty darn big.”

He tipped his tea in her direction, and waited until she clinked with him. “Even if.”

“And we have to have similar personality traits to work in our jobs. You have to be personable and know what people want. In your case, what they want to hear. And in my case, what they want to eat.”

He took a bite of biscotti, chewed and swallowed. Those darn cookies were about his favorite food right now. “Would you look at that. We're developing a whole list of things in common.”

She laughed. “I wouldn't call it a list but it's a start.”

“A start works for me,” he said softly, then recovered his wits from somewhere around his boots. “For this one date and all.”

“Oh, didn't you hear? We're not going on one date.
We're spending a whole week together. The committee decided that the Love Lottery is going to last all week, and culminate with the Spring Fling.” She gave him another smile, one that he couldn't read. “So I hope that list gets longer, Harlan Jones, because we're going to be spending a lot of time together.”

“S
HE'S
a real spitfire, I'll tell you that,” Harlan said into the microphone. He eased back into the soft, worn leather desk chair, glanced at the clock on the far wall and mentally noted the time remaining in his show. “Don't think I've ever had a date with an unbroken filly like that.”

His caller—a truck driver named Stan—chuckled. “Sounds like the perfect woman for you, Harlan.”

“Nope. I like my women sweet and agreeable,” Harlan said. “Like good cooking.”

Stan chuckled again. “You and me, man, you and me.”

Harlan thanked Stan for calling, then pressed the button to get his next caller on the line. A computer screen popped up to give him the name of the caller and a few words that gave Harlan a preview of what the caller wanted to talk about on air. Carl, who handled the phone calls and kept time for Harlan, held up two fingers, giving him the twominute warning. Harlan nodded, then leaned toward the mike. “Welcome to
Horsin' Around with Harlan,
Peter. What's your opinion on this town-wide dating thing?”

“It's a good thing, Harlan. You gotta settle down sometime, might as well be with a local girl.”

“You looking to get hitched, Peter?” Harlan sure wasn't settling down anytime soon. He had enough on his plate
without adding a wife. Still, there were times when he got mighty tired of talking to his dogs and faceless fans. A real person, a soft, sweet woman, now that—

Harlan cut off the thoughts and focused on his caller. Back to work.

Except a part of him was back in that coffee shop, enjoying his conversation with Sophie Watson. Well, enjoying it until the whole date went to hell in a handbasket. And now, he had a whole week of dates with Sophie ahead of him.

He was going to have to hold on to the reins, because he had a feeling it was going to be a bumpy ride.

“I'm already married, Harlan,” Peter said. “But I think you should reconsider. I've seen Sophie Watson. A man could do worse.”

“Well, this cowboy sure ain't getting yoked to that woman. She'd make my life a living hell. That first date, if that's what you can even call it, gave calamity a whole new meaning. Y'all heard about it. Why, I'm lucky I didn't end up boiled and baked at the end.”

Peter chuckled. “If you ask me, it sounds like she likes you. Women only get that mad when they have feelings for a fellow.”

“I don't know, Peter. I'd say the only feeling Sophie has for me is loathing.”

Harlan glanced at the clock, then cued up the closing advertisements. “Anyway, folks, that's all the time I have today. Join me tomorrow for more of my dating disasters. Because if it's me out with Sophie Watson, disaster's sure to follow.”

He signed off, then switched WFFM over to the preprogrammed music that would follow for the next few hours, until the afternoon DJ came in. He thanked Carl for another great show, then headed down to Tobias's office. It
was a small room, cramped by a desk, chair and file cabinets, but it had Tobias's spirit all over it. In the mounted marlin on the wall, the photos of him fishing with friends, the sailboat models tucked on the window frame. Tobias had lived a fun life, something Harlan was glad to see, even if sometimes he wished he'd had some of those same opportunities.

Harlan powered up his brother's computer, and opened the station's accounting program. Things were improving, but not nearly fast enough for Harlan's liking. He needed to ramp up advertising dollars, and fast.

He would not let his brother down. Not now. Not ever.

Not again.

He sat back in his chair, tapping a pen on his chin. At his feet, the dogs snored lightly. He could have left them home, of course, but in the last few years, the retrievers had become his constant companions. It was pretty much the only successful relationship he had going, which said a hell of a lot about his life. Things he didn't want to think about or hear, not right now.

The sales manager strode past Harlan's office. “Hey, Joe, you got a second?”

“Sure.” Joe Lincoln came inside the office and settled his lanky frame into one of the two visitor chairs. Joe probably only weighed a hundred and fifty soaking wet, but he had more energy than ten men his age. Tobias had done right in hiring him. “What's up?”

“I was thinking, since this dating thing is getting a lot of play on the show—”

“That's because it's hilarious. People love hearing about it. I was laughing my head off this morning. When you were talking about what happened in the coffee shop last
night…” Joe chuckled. “Man, you are a brave man to go out with Sophie Watson.”

“She's not that bad.”

“Not that bad? You made her sound like the devil in high heels.” Joe shook his head. “I feel for you, man. And I'm glad I'm not you.”

Had he really made Sophie sound that horrible? Sometimes Harlan's mouth ran away from him and his search for a joke went too far. Either way, the show was over for today. Time to focus on other things.

“I was thinking we should take advantage of the Love Lottery with our advertiser,” Harlan said.

“How so?”

“Well, so far, we've only targeted the local businesses that are participating. What if we expanded our reach, contacted some of the national dating websites, to see if they wanted to advertise during that hour?”

Joe considered the idea. “Sounds great. I'll get right on it.”

“Good. And tell them I've booked Dr. Ernie Watson for several segments and a couple of live feeds from the Spring Fling events this week.”

“The Love Doctor?” Joe arched a brow. “Now there's a coup.”

Harlan grinned. “He owes me a favor or ten.”

“Really?”

Ernie might be famous as the country's Love Doctor, but to Harlan he would always be just Ernie, the same guy he'd known when they were growing up in a small southern Dallas neighborhood. Ernie had gone on to get his degree in psychology while Harlan opted for communications. Ernie made it big when his book on finding the love of your life hit the bestseller lists. He'd become an in-demand radio and TV guest, but he always made time
for his old buddy Harlan. Harlan returned the favoring by giving Ernie's books and appearances lots of publicity. They still got together on a regular basis to toss back a beer and talk about the old days.

“We go way back. I helped him disentangle himself from a particularly messy relationship a couple years back.” Harlan chuckled. “Seems even the love doc needs a different prescription every once in a while.”

Joe paused by the door. “Well, it'll be interesting, to say the least.”

“What will be?”

“Hearing what the Love Doctor thinks about your dating adventures. Who knows, he might even say that Sophie Watson is good for you.”

 

Lulu's face, all scrunched up like a puckered lemon, told Sophie she had news to share. And it wasn't good. “Did you listen to the radio today?”

Sophie's stomach plummeted. “He didn't.”

When she'd sat down for coffee with Harlan Jones yesterday after Mildred's matchmaking stunt, she'd felt compelled to make the best of the moment, if only because half the town was watching her, along with the local reporter, and she was in her own shop. It wouldn't do to throw a hissy fit and stomp out in the middle—and it would only bring on a news story she didn't want to read. So Sophie had grabbed a latte and a cup of tea, and plopped herself across from Harlan Jones.

Things had gone okay for the first few minutes. They'd kept the conversation light, talking about work, finding they had a few things in common. Then one of his two canine terrors—she wasn't sure which one and frankly, didn't care—planted his paws on the glass of the front windows, clearly looking for his master. Harlan had found
it funny, Sophie had told him if he thought it was so cute, he could get out there with the glass cleaner and a rag. He'd called her an animal antagonist again, and she'd told him she hoped he choked on his tea. Then she'd jerked out of her chair, so fast, she accidentally spilled the rest of his tea on his lap. Well, maybe not so accidentally.

End of date.

She'd hoped—no, prayed—that would be the end of it. She should have known better. When it came to Harlan Jones, things always got worse.

Lulu gave Sophie a sympathetic smile. “Your date was the only topic of the day on his radio show. He even said something about how being yoked to you would be a living hell.” She shook her head. “And here I thought that man was cute. He's just a wolf in a cowboy hat.”

Fury raced through Sophie. That man seemed determined to ruin her life. She ripped the apron off and tossed it onto the counter. “I'm going to march right over there and tell him where he can stick his week of dating.”

Lulu rested a hand on Sophie's arm. “Maybe you should rethink that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Harlan Jones is making his living off of his little jokes on that radio show of his. Why don't you do the same?”

“Get myself a radio show and bash my neighbor on a daily basis?”

“No. Use this dating thing to your advantage. Get some promo for the coffee shop out of it.”

Sophie paused, considered Lulu's words. “That's a great idea. And certainly better than creating another public spectacle.”

Lulu beamed. “That's me, a great idea a minute.”

Sophie laughed. “Well, in a little while, I'm off to attend
a picnic in the park with Mr. Harlan Jones, so when I return, I'm hoping you have more great ideas where that one came from.”

“Don't you worry, Sophie. We'll make sure that Harlan Jones is eating his words before the week is out.”

Sophie got busy serving customers, brewing coffee and sending a few more batches of cookies through the oven. When Kevin came in around eleven-thirty, Lulu rushed off to the ladies' room to apply some lipstick. Lulu manned the counter, and Sophie watched her and Kevin pretend not to flirt with each other. A little later, the afternoon help came in to cover for Sophie and Lulu while they went on their “dates.” Before she knew it, it was nearly noon. Time to go to the Love Lottery Lunch Picnic.

And act like she didn't think Harlan Jones walked with the scum of the earth.

She stopped in the restroom, then chided herself when she checked her reflection just as Lulu had earlier. Sophie wasn't interested in Harlan Jones. Why did she care what she looked like for a date with him? He was the last man on earth she'd want to attract, and even if she did, she didn't have room or need for a man in her life. She'd learned her lesson with Jim. A man who made his living in the public eye came attached to trouble. No need to repeat that particularly painful chapter of her life.

The early-April temperature had been in the midseventies all day, rising now that the noon sun was high in the sky. A slight breeze whispered against her skin, carrying with it the scent of the ocean, so Sophie decided to walk to the town park. Edgerton Shores was a little over fifteen minutes inland from Tampa Bay, which kept the number of tourists down and preserved the town's atmosphere of a close-knit community.

Sophie rounded the corner, and found the town park
filled to capacity with chatting couples. The same reporter from the
Edgerton Shores Weekly
lingered along the fringes, camera in hand. Sophie scanned the crowd, hoping for more media coverage, but she saw no one. Damn. She'd sent out all those press releases, made all those calls, and it hadn't netted the response she'd hoped for. Somehow, she had to find a way to garner more interest from the media. Only then would they attract the outside dollars needed to turn this event into a fundraising success.

Lulu's words echoed in Sophie's head. There had to be a way to make use of Harlan Jones and his runaway mouth.

Speaking of Harlan, where was he? Not that she cared, really, but if they were going to have a date, she wanted it to be over and done before he had a chance to find something to exploit on his show.

Sophie navigated around the crowds, stopping at the picnic area set up to the far right side of the playground. She saw a familiar face, and plopped onto the bench beside her grandmother. Worry fluttered through her at her grandmother being outside in the growing heat, but surely Grandma Watson wasn't intending to stay long.

Since her hip-replacement surgery three months ago, Grandma Watson had been itching to get out and about again. Fiercely independent, she hated the confinement imposed by first her broken hip, then her recovery. She'd been missing Grandpa Watson a lot, and had tried to keep busy so she wouldn't dwell on the empty place at the table. Sophie had tried to encourage Grandma Watson to move into Sophie's ranch house three blocks away, but Grandma had refused. She liked her little bungalow, and liked calling her own shots, whether or not they were doctor-advised choices.

Although sometimes she just up and took a walk—which
drove Sophie crazy with worry—by and large, Grandma Watson would be sure to go out with a friend, usually with Mildred. The two of them were often coconspirators in Sophie's life, both determined to find Sophie's Mr. Right.

“Hey, Grandma, what are you doing here?” Sophie leaned over and drew her eighty-year-old grandmother into a quick hug. “Don't tell me you're meeting your own date.”

Grandma Watson laughed. “Goodness, no. At my age, I don't need a date, I need an electric blanket.”

Sophie chuckled. “I didn't know you wanted to come down here today. I would have picked you up and drove you over.”

Her grandmother waved off the words. “You do enough for me, dear. I wasn't going to call you. It's such a splendid day, I decided to walk here on my own.”

“Walk? All the way here?”

Grandma made a face. “The doctor told me to exercise, and so I am.”

“I know, but—”

“Don't but me, young lady. It's only two blocks and I did just fine moving under my own steam.”