Debbi Rawlins - Her Cowboy Reunion

Ron studied her for a long, unnerving moment. “Nah, I kind of like this arrangement,” he said, tightening his arm around her.

It took all of her willpower not to react. “Maybe you should go back to Denver. I’m sure there’s another assignment better suited to your taste.”

He shook his head. “Hicksville is starting to grow on me.”

Savannah reared back when it looked as if he might try to kiss her. “Don’t you dare. And if I hear Hicksville one more time, you are going back to Denver whether you like it or not.”

His mouth curved in a cocky smile. “Don’t let that supervisor title go to your head. The only reason I haven’t moved up the chain is because I don’t want the headache.”

She wondered if he resented her promotion—the one she’d worked hard for and totally deserved. “You’re being unprofessional. I don’t care if you think this job doesn’t matter or that no one will pay attention to your snide remarks. In a place like this? Everyone knows everything, and what they aren’t quite sure of, they’ll fill in with information that will fuel the best gossip. No matter who they harm or what they—” She stopped and took a breath when she saw how oddly he was looking at her. “Anyway, we don’t need our impression tainted or our recommendations not taken seriously.”

“That’s some insight,” he said in a slightly mocking tone. “How do you know so much about it? Where are you from?”

She rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows how small towns operate.” She picked up her mug before she mouthed off again.

As she took a sip, she saw Mike emerge from the back room, his gaze sweeping the bar and briefly lingering on her before he turned away.

Her stomach did a complete somersault.

Chapter Three

Mike set his beer on the bar and smiled at the dark-haired woman sitting two stools away and eyeing him as he waited for Mallory. She didn’t look familiar, but the woman who’d bumped into him earlier sure did.

“Hey, it’s good to see you, Mike,” Mallory said as she walked up. “Sorry I couldn’t talk before. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yep, been busy. So have you, I see.”

“Business is great. I’m only closed one day a week now. And that’s just for the sake of my sanity.”

“Glad to hear it.” Mike had gotten to know her a little when he’d done some carpentry work for her. He’d already quit doing side jobs by the time she’d moved to town, but he couldn’t say no. Frankly, had she been available, he would’ve asked her out. “Listen, the woman I almost ran over earlier, do you know her?”

Mallory glanced past him and shook her head. “I’ve never seen her before. Probably a tourist. She’s sitting with a guy, though.”

Mike smiled. “I was just curious. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her.”

“Ah.” She stared past him again. “Well, for what it’s worth, she might be sitting with the dude, but I’m guessing she’s not thrilled about it.”

Mike choked out a laugh. “Thanks. I’ll pass.” Picking up his mug, he stepped back, remembered what happened before and checked to see if he was clear.

The woman on the bar stool smiled. “What’s going on back there?” she asked with a glance toward the pool tables. “Anything interesting?”

“Besides pool, there’s darts and a mechanical bull.”

“Sounds fun.”

He looked at Mallory, who hadn’t strayed far and was wiping the counter. “Is the bull working?”

“Should be.”

The woman laughed. “I meant the pool. The bull...not so much.”

“If you want to play, you won’t have any trouble finding someone to go up against.” He hoped that didn’t sound like a brush-off, even though it was.

“I’m waiting for someone,” she said with a small shrug. “Maybe later.”

Mallory dropped the rag as Mike turned to leave. “Want another beer to take back with you?”

“Nah,” he said, holding up the half-full mug. “This should do me. I gotta get up early tomorrow.”

“Well, don’t be a stranger. Winter should slow you down some at the ranch.”

“You’re right.” Mike fought the urge to glance over at the blonde before he disappeared into the back. It wasn’t just that she was attractive. It was driving him nuts not being able to place her. But it was also obvious she wasn’t from Blackfoot Falls or anywhere nearby. She was most definitely a city woman. So not much chance he knew her at all.

Ah, hell.

He sneaked a look.

And damned if she wasn’t looking right back at him.

Trouble was, she wasn’t just sitting with the guy. They were so close to each other a stiff breeze couldn’t slip between them. Mallory was right, though. The woman didn’t look all that happy with the setup.

He headed back to the pool tables. Chip stood in the corner chalking his cue and frowning. “I was wondering where you were,” he said. “We’re up next.”

Mike set his beer down next to Chip’s mug on the ledge then picked up his own cue. “I haven’t played in a couple of years so don’t expect much.”

“Bet you’re still better than me.” Snorting, Chip downed half his beer in one pull.

“You drink like that when you play the Circle K boys?”

Chip’s sheepish expression was his answer. “How’s your pitching arm these days?”

“My what?”

“I heard about you,” Chip said. “You played ball in high school and in college, too. I ran into Kenny Edwards at the pawnshop the other day. When I told him I was working for you, he said he used to be your high-school coach.”

“That was a long time ago.” Mike watched a lanky young guy in a camo T-shirt sink two stripes on the break. His cocky grin wasn’t doing him any favors. Another tip for Chip—don’t get cocky, especially when booze is involved.

“Kenny said you should’ve gone pro. You were that good.”

“Yeah, well, Kenny’s wrong.”

“Wait,” Chip said. “Weren’t you scouted for a farm team? I can’t see Kenny lying about something like that.”

The other table had only four balls plus the eight ball left, and the two guys from the Lone Wolf seemed evenly matched. He and Chip would be up in a couple minutes. Sooner if the guys would quit showing off for the three women cooing words of encouragement.

They had to be tourists, sipping their fancy drinks and flirting shamelessly. Mike couldn’t listen to them or talk about baseball without thinking of Ellen. He’d known his ex-wife most of his life. Or at least, he thought he had. They’d married the summer after graduating from college. Turned out, though, being married to a professional ballplayer was more important to Ellen than being married to him.

“So? Did Kenny exaggerate?”

“No,” Mike said finally. “I could’ve played for the Billings Mustangs. Just like a whole lot of other guys.” In his heart, he’d known he didn’t have what it took to play pro ball. And it wasn’t as if he didn’t like ranching. Hell, it was in his blood.

Chip’s thick brows lowered into a frown. “A lot of guys? I don’t think so.”

“They’re only a farm team.”

“Yeah, for the Cincinnati Reds. Do you know how many major-league heavy hitters came out of farm teams? Most of ’em, probably.”

“Why are you bringing this up? It’s all history. You should be watching these guys and learning a few tricks.” Mike nodded at the kid in the camo T-shirt. “He’ll need to use inside English on this shot. If he does it well, the ball will curve right into the hole.”

After the shot—perfectly executed—he realized Chip was back to staring at him.

“You know,” Chip said, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. “Sometimes the Circle K guys play softball. How about if you—”