Rodeo Father

“A gin and tonic and a bacon burger with fries,” Cindy said.

“I’ll take a Corona,” Travis said, “with an order of the hottest wings you got, a bacon double cheeseburger and a side of onion rings. You have coleslaw?”

Rachel nodded.

“Creamy?”

“Sharp vinaigrette.”

“The way I like it. I’ll take a side of that, too.”

The way she liked it, too. “I’ll make sure it’s slurpy.” She smiled.

Travis’s returning smile might have been small, but moonbeams dazzled.

Get your head out of the clouds, Rachel.

Cindy sniffed.

After Rachel picked up the menus and walked away, she heard Travis say, “She looks tired. Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. She’s tougher than she looks.”

So are you, Mom. Tough as nails. She bit down on that thought. It was uncharitable. Mom had a right to her fun, but Rachel was filled with jealousy, a mean-spirited emotion unworthy of her, but undeniable. She wouldn’t mind sitting down for a carefree evening in a bar for drinks and a burger with a handsome man.

Hey, you chose your life. You need to live it without regrets.

A good philosophy, just hard to hold on to when she was dog-tired.

Chapter Four (#u9b9ea7e3-d0c7-524b-be5e-e86853cd70c9)

Travis delivered his hat to the row of hooks on the wall at the front of Honey’s Place.

Cowboy hat after cowboy hat graced the wall, most in muted blacks and tans, but a couple in white. Seemed to be the only kind of hat here.

He glanced around at the Western decor with its twin themes of old and new. Big old wagon wheels lined the walls along with huge modern landscapes of local scenery, not overly sentimental stuff, but rugged and true to nature. Local artist, maybe?

Hundreds of white fairy lights illuminated the rafters.

The people were loud, but Travis heard not one discordant note, just a lot of folks having a good time. The huge space rang with laughter. Denim and Western shirts abounded, along with plenty of silver jewelry on the women. He didn’t doubt a good portion of the hats on the wall belonged to those same women.

My kind of town.

A country and western band belted out hits from a small stage at the back end of the long room. He tapped his fingers on his thighs.

He returned to the small table Cindy had chosen, a table that fit only two, snugly. She’d said they were meeting up with a bunch of her friends.

“So where are the friends we’re supposed to meet?” Travis asked. He had to make sure she got his message loud and clear. This wasn’t a date.

He wasn’t looking for romance. Besides, she wasn’t his kind of woman at all.

“They’ll be along soon,” she said, her gaze darting about the bar and her knee doing a quick jig. “Do you dance?”

Before he could respond, she was hauling him out of his seat and to the dance floor where they joined a crowd of line dancers moving to a Brooks and Dunn cover.

Just as the second song started, he spotted Rachel carrying a tray of food and drinks to their table. He dragged Cindy off the dance floor. “I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

When Rachel put the tray down, it wobbled. He ran to grab it.

“I’m okay,” she said, but his beer tipped over the edge and landed on the floor. The bottle shattered, sending suds all over his boots.

Rachel gasped. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll clean it up.” She rushed away.

He still held the tray with the food. He spread the plates and Cindy’s drink on their table, and left the empty tray on the bar.

“Rachel’s always been clumsy.” Cindy looked unhappy. Thunderclouds formed on what had been a clear evening. Travis didn’t know what went on between these two women. The last place he needed to be was stuck in the middle.

“The tray was heavy. No problem. A little beer never hurt a pair of boots.” He waggled his eyebrows comically to ease Cindy’s pique. “These’ve survived a hell of a lot worse.”

Cindy seemed to relax.

Rachel returned with a broom and mop, her stomach leading the way. “I’ll get you another beer, but I need to clean this up before someone slips and falls.”

“You go get the beer. I’ll do this.” He tried to take the broom away from her, but she held on.

“Nope.” Rachel shot him a look of grim determination. “It’s my job.”

“I don’t mind. I can do it.”

“No.” The woman had a strong grip, and even stronger willpower.

Travis let go, and she swept up the glass.

“You look pale. You okay?”

Her back stiffened as though maybe he’d offended her. Note to self. Don’t show this woman pity.

“I’m peachy,” she said, struggling to smile, but tense lines bracketed her mouth.

The sexy good humor he’d found so attractive this morning had crawled home to bed early, leaving behind an exhausted shell.

Someone called from another table. “Rachel, we need another round here.”

“Be right there, Lester.” She rushed to the bar and placed their order, returned with Travis’s beer, then disappeared into the back. A minute later, she returned with a freshly rinsed mop and finished cleaning up. Then she hurried to the bar and picked up a full tray of drinks.

Head spinning from the whirlwind, Travis asked, “You worry about her at all?”

Cindy sighed. “Yeah, I do, but she chose to marry a lazy loser. Whatever trouble she’s in, she brought on herself.” She pointed a French fry at him. “Before you start thinking I’m heartless, I took her back in after her husband died.”