How to Lasso a Cowboy (7 page)

Sophie wanted to argue that her grandmother should take more precautions. Her hip was still a fragile thing, and walking even a block alone wasn't necessarily a good idea. Particularly as the days grew warmer. It may be the first part of April, barely spring, but the sun wasn't paying attention—as the day moved into afternoon, the Florida temps were bumping at the bottom edge of the eighties. Too hot, in Sophie's opinion, for her fragile Grandma. They'd had these arguments a hundred times in the past, though, and it hadn't gotten Sophie anywhere.

“So, are you here with your intended?” Grandma asked.

“I'm meeting the match Mildred gave me,” Sophie said. “I wouldn't call him my intended anything.”

Grandma laughed. “Well, you never know, dear, where love might find you. And I happen to think Mildred has excellent matchmaking skills. She's been pairing up people for sixty years. Did you know she introduced Joe and Ellen? They've been married for forty-five years now.” Grandma wagged a finger at Sophie. “That could be you.”

Sophie put up two hands to ward off the possibility. She was in no mood to get serious, or committed, to anyone. The end of her engagement to Jim had been a learning lesson and a half about how impossible it was to have it all—a fledgling business that demanded most of her time and meaningful relationship. The last straw had been Jim's words after the rehearsal dinner—
you're going to have to choose, Sophie, because I refuse to be second banana to a cup of coffee. And in a public career like mine, I don't need people joking about my working wife and her little coffee shop.

They'd had a fight, and Jim had apologized, but by the next morning, Sophie knew she couldn't go through with the wedding. The blinders had fallen off, and she'd finally seen the faults she'd been missing for so long. She could never marry a man who didn't support her—then or now. And worse, a man in the public eye, who made his living catering to the very media that had hounded Sophie after she'd run out of the church. But she kept those thoughts to herself, because Grandma seemed determined to get Sophie married off.

“So how are you feeling lately?”

Grandma patted Sophie's knee. “I'm just fine, dear. You don't need to worry about me.”

“I worry all the same.” Sophie lowered her sunglasses and eyed her grandmother. “Are you doing your physical therapy exercises?”

Grandma's nod was less than convincing.

“You know you have to do them if you want to get your hip back up to speed.”

Grandma sighed. “I know, I know.”

“I can come over there—”

Grandma's short gray curls bounced when she shook her head. “You have enough on your plate, my dear. You already drive me to my appointments, and Lord knows that takes enough time out of your day. Plus you make me dinner all the time, even though I tell you I can manage just fine on my own. Don't you worry about me.”

But Sophie did, and would. Once again, she wished she had the money to renovate that building and turn it into a community center. The location, just a block away from her grandmother's house, would make those trips easier—and give her a comfortable place to practice her exercises in between. It would be a wonderful central location for monthly checkup clinics, and weekly community dinners. Not to mention, it would be a great social venue for bingo games and picnics, something the whole town could use.

“I'm going to sit here and soak up some sun,” Grandma said. “And you need to go find your intended. So, go. Have fun.”

“Okay.” Sophie gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek, then crossed the park. She might as well get this second date thing over with—and as quickly as she could without giving Harlan Jones anything to talk about on the radio. If she put a good enough face on it, maybe he'd even say something nice.

Uh-huh, and Florida would get an ice storm before the end of the day, too.

As she headed toward the gaily decorated booth where the couples were supposed to meet, she saw Mildred. The co-chair of the event was cozying up to Art Conway. Mildred was smiling and giggling like a schoolgirl, which made Art break out into a wide grin. The two of them were as giddy as teenagers. A little to their left, Lulu and Kevin were sharing a blanket under a tree, with Kevin working hard to make Lulu laugh. Sophie smiled. It was nice to see her friends so happy.

Then Harlan Jones came striding into the park, a red plaid blanket draped over one arm, and Sophie's smile faded. His canine terrors trailed along at his feet, tongues lolling and tails wagging. The dogs looked pleased as punch to be among all the people, plants and food. Plenty of opportunities for trouble.

For a second, Sophie considered leaving, ditching the entire event. Probably not a good idea, considering she was co-chair, and her hurrying out of the park and evading her date would undoubtedly be a gossip's dream. She could just see that splashed across the front page. She wanted people to see her as a serious businesswoman, not the girl who ran out on grooms-to-be and dates. So she held her ground and steeled her gut.

Harlan stopped before her and tipped his cowboy hat up a bit. “Howdy, Sophie.”

How could he act all friendly like that, as if he hadn't just torn her apart on his radio show this morning? She was about to utter a scathing retort, then she remembered Lulu's advice. Turn this to her advantage, even if it drove her crazy to feign niceness.

“Why, good afternoon, Mr. Jones,” she said with as much saccharine as she could muster. She even added a smile.

“Looking forward to our lunch?”

“Of course.”

“Really?” He arched a brow. Clearly, he didn't believe her sweetness act for a second.

“All right, everyone, time to grab your partner and find a place to sit,” Mildred said into the loudspeaker set up on the podium. “We'll start serving in just a minute. Remember, free-will donations are accepted. And
encouraged.
” She leaned forward and eyed the crowd. The people standing nearest to Mildred stuffed several dollars into the offering bucket, then hurried away.

People began pairing off, like ducks in a pond. Harlan gestured toward a shady spot beneath a nearby maple tree. “Shall we?”

Sophie worked up that smile again. “Of course.”

He unfurled the blanket and laid it on the ground. The instant the plaid hit the grass, Harlan's dogs began to turn in a circle and settle on the knitted surface. Sophie shied away from their massive paws and bad intentions.

“Hey, hey, this is for people only,” Harlan said, shooing the retrievers off. The dogs laid against the tree, letting out twin sighs that spelled their dissatisfaction, but they stayed off the blanket. So they
could
behave.

Harlan gestured toward Sophie. “Ma'am.”

“Thanks.” She dropped to one corner of the blanket, settling on her knees. Harlan took up space on the opposite corner, and for a moment, the two of them stared at everything but each other, the silence between them thick and heavy. What was she supposed to say to this man, her nemesis? How was she ever going to pull off the facade of happily dating him? One of the teenage boys who worked at Mike's Deli came by and dropped off a bag containing sandwiches and drinks. At the same time, he held out a bucket for a free-will donation, and both Harlan and Sophie dropped in several dollars.

Mortise and Tenon, apparently thinking at least one sandwich should be for them, bounded over and pranced at the edge of the blanket, and Sophie leaned away, out of the line of paw fire. The dogs began to whine in concert.

“You guys are scavengers. Get back, and go lay down.” Harlan shooed at the dogs.

They wagged their tails. And held their ground.

“They're stubborn,” Sophie said.

Harlan grinned. “Like anyone else you know?”

“Of course not.”

He chuckled, then fished in his pocket for two dog bones. He turned to Sophie. “You want to do the honors?”

She moved back, waving them off. She could only imagine the mad frenzy the two dogs would get into if she handed them the bones. She'd already seen what they could do to perfectly good rib eyes. “They'd probably bite off my hands.”

“Nah, they like you.” When Sophie refrained from taking one of the bones, Harlan tossed them to the dogs, who caught the treats midair, then ran off to the other side of the tree, and started gnawing. “Mortise and Tenon are just a couple of babies. They love everyone they meet.”

“Yeah, sometimes too much,” she muttered.

“So,” Harlan said, draping an arm over one knee, “I think we should get to know one another a little better, don't you? We started yesterday, but we had a bad ending to our little talk. Let's try again.”

“Why? Are you looking for some tidbit to exploit on your show tomorrow?” Damn. That had slipped right out. So much for her be-nice plan. She worked the smile up again, hoping it tempered the bite of her words.

“I thought you didn't listen to my show.”

“I don't.”

“Really? Then how do you know what I'm talking about?”

“Oh, people talk,” Sophie said. “A lot.”

“Which is exactly my goal.”

She bristled. How dare this man think he could use these events—and her life—as fodder for his show? As a way to boost his ratings? Her resolve dissipated, right along with that smile. “Harlan Jones, you are the most—”

Sophie cut off her sentence when Mildred bustled over to them. The older woman's bright pink floral dress swung around her ankles like a bell. “My, my, don't you two make a handsome couple?”

“Thank you, ma'am,” Harlan said, sending Sophie a teasing smile that she wanted to swat off his face. “And might I say you and Mr. Conway are quite the good-looking pair, too?”

Mildred blushed, and a titter of laughter escaped her. “Why, thank you, Mr. Jones.” She started to walk away, then turned back. “My goodness, I almost forgot the reason I came over here. Sophie, would you be a dear and make an announcement during lunch?”

“I thought you already did that.”

“I did, but I think everyone's tummies were rumbling so loud, they didn't hear a word I said. I'd like you to get up there and tell everyone how wonderful this dating extravaganza is. And what a great opportunity it is to build a relationship with another person.” Mildred danced her fingers in a little wave directed toward Art.

“Miss Meyers, I truly think you're better suited to that,” Sophie said.

“Oh, my, not me. I get positively petrified speaking in front of groups. Couldn't you tell? My knees were knocking like little drums. I'm sure you'll do fine. Why, it's just like riding a bike, isn't it, Harlan?”

“What is?”

“Getting over your fears. You get up, you fall down, you get up again and before you know it, you're riding in the Tour de France.”

Sophie didn't agree with that logic. “But—”

But Mildred was already gone, the dress clanging back and forth as she made her way through the crowd. Sophie groaned and leaned back, tipping her face toward the sun. “How do I get roped into these things?”

“By putting your hand up.” Harlan chuckled.

“I thought it would be easy. Send a few press releases out, the media picks up on it, and before we know it we have lots of publicity for our events. But so far, the only interested paper is the
Edgerton Shores Weekly.
With its circulation of, like, ten.”

He laughed. “You could always come on my show.”

“Right. So you can bash me in person?”

He put up three fingers. “Scouts' honor. You come on my show to drum up some interest in this week's events, and I won't say one bad word.”

“You promise?”

He wiggled the fingers. “I do indeed.”

She considered his offer. Across the park, a cluster of people she knew from high school and the shop were seated together. They were chatting, and one woman pointed at Sophie. “Yep, that's her,” the woman said, her strident voice carrying across the park, “can you believe she ran out on her own wedding?”

“Right out of St. Michael's,” a second one concurred. The others laughed.

Damn. They were still talking about that day, and it had been more than a year. She even heard whispers of the nickname people had given her after her very public run. Cold Feet Coffeegirl.

No way was she getting on that stage. Maybe she could get someone else to do it. Harlan, perhaps—

No. He'd undoubtedly turn it all into a joke and make things worse. Mildred had refused, and Lulu got tonguetied just announcing the band that played in the shop on Friday nights.

Sophie glanced at the group again. For a year, her friends had been telling her the best way to get over what had happened was to counteract it with positive steps. She'd thought she'd been doing that with the coffee shop, but clearly, if speaking in public bothered her so much, she hadn't done enough.

And if people were still talking about those dozens of newspaper articles, she hadn't done enough to counteract that damage, either.

Sophie's gaze went to her grandmother, still sitting on the bench, watching the goings-on with a bemused smile on her face. That decided it.

She needed to make a change in her life—and one that benefited the thing that mattered most to her. The community wellness center. As Mildred had said, Sophie was the most passionate person about that cause. That meant she was the best person to encourage people to give.

“Seems I've got a speech to deliver,” she said to Harlan, then got to her feet. A wave of nerves hit her, but she tamped them down. She could do this. She would do this. No, she had to do this. “And please try not to embarrass me while I'm up there.”

He reached for her hand before she left. It was the first time Harlan Jones had touched her, and when his fingers met her palm, fire raced through her veins. Sophie's steps stuttered and for a second, she couldn't breathe. She wanted to pull away.