was quite possibly the last thing on this earth that she’d wanted to do.
She now cast around for something intelligent to say. But could only think of the same topic she’d brought up earlier. “So, you’re here for your father’s wedding next Saturday?”
He nodded and shifted on the stool, finally blinking his eyes and glancing away. But only for a moment. One moment when she could breathe normally, and then he looked at her again, and she simply forgot how. She nudged at her slipping glasses, then pushed her hands into her pockets once more. “I’ve met Gloria Day.” She felt the tips of her ears go hot at the way the words seemed to blurt out of her. “She’s very nice. I, uh, hope your father and she are very happy.”
He nodded, not replying. His long fingers wrapped around the cup and he tilted it, as if to drink. Hope automatically reached for the coffee pot and refilled his cup. “Did you want to see a menu?” She ignored the fact that she was due at her friend’s house in less than ten minutes. She’d promised to watch Evan, Jolie’s son, while Jolie and Drew Taggart drove to Gillette.
“I remember when Ruby used to just write the specials on that chalkboard over there.” Tristan glanced at the square board that was propped on a high corner shelf.
“She still puts the specials on the board.” Hope pulled a menu from beneath the counter and slid it across to him. “But we offer more these days. I could fix you a sandwich or something.”
“Coffee, tea or me?” Tris wanted to retract the suggestive words as soon as he said them. But they were already out there and hectic color was staining the waitress-teacher’s cheeks. Personally, he found the blush charming. How many women did he know anymore who blushed?
But he’d obviously embarrassed her.
“No. I guess not.” He was oddly disappointed. She wasn’t at all his type of woman. Hell, she looked barely old enough to vote, much less be a teacher. Besides, the only energy he had right now was expended simply by lifting the coffee cup to drain it of its life-giving liquid. He set the empty cup down, closed the menu and pushed to his feet, dropping a few bills on the counter as he did so.
He wondered when he’d become so jaded that he couldn’t recognize a naive girl when he met one. Not that he expected to see her again. He had a week to catch up on his brothers’ lives, then there was the wedding to get through. After that, he was due to meet Dom to finish up the case that had kept them all occupied far longer than anyone had expected, thanks to the mess made by a love-sick fool on their very own team. He didn’t have time to dwell on Hope’s innocent appeal. “Thanks for the java.” He headed to the open door. “It was just what I needed.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
He looked back at her painfully polite words. Her ivory cheeks were nearly as pink as the uniform-dress thing she wore. Behind her gold-rimmed glasses, her eyes were wide and so violet they looked like crushed flowers from the lilac bushes that bloomed around the big house at the ranch. If it weren’t for the glasses, he’d have figured that she was wearing some colored contact lenses to achieve that vivid color. But they were obviously the genuine article.
He cupped his hand tightly around the metal edge of the glass door as his attention drifted from her eyes to the rosy fullness of her lips. To the gentle, rounded curve of her jaw and the smooth line of her throat where the delicate links of a fine gold chain disappeared beneath the ill-fitting uniform. Behind him, a dog barked and he reeled in thoughts that could get him arrested in some states. Apparently, he wasn’t as beat from the last week as he’d thought. “Give my regards to your grandmother.”
“I will.” Her tongue peeped out, leaving a distracting glisten on her lower lip. “It was nice meeting you.”
“You too. Hope.”
The color in her cheeks flared again, but she smiled. And he found himself smiling back.
Then he heard his name being called, and turned to see his oldest brother, Sawyer, standing on the street a few yards down. He absently waved at his brother, still looking back inside the café. Feeling disappointed that Hope had turned away, busy with something at the counter.
“Thought you were coming in next week.”
Realizing that he was wondering how far her toffee-brown hair would reach down her back if it weren’t twisted into that thick, roping braid, Tris deliberately stepped away from the doorway toward Sawyer. Okay, so he took one more look into the café before he did. What was the harm in looking? He was a man. She was a woman.
And his brother was the law now. Tris felt a smile growing on his face as his brother walked closer. The only indication of Sawyer’s new status as the sheriff was the star fastened unobtrusively to his leather belt. Except for the billed cap with a naval insignia that he wore, Sawyer looked much the same as the other men in the small rural town he now served. Well-worn blue jeans and a work shirt. “I was,” Tris finally answered with a grin. “You’re missing the Stetson and spurs.”
Sawyer shrugged, tucking the bow of his dark sunglasses in the collar of his shirt. “Left the spurs at home. Rebecca likes ’em, you know,” he said blandly.
Tris chuckled. “You wish. How is my newest doctor-in-law?”
“My wife is beautiful and totally in love with me. You can save your charms for someone else.” Sawyer leaned his back against the hood of a pickup parked at the curb. “You’re early.”
“So you already mentioned.” Tris looked back toward the café when he heard the soft jingle of a bell. All he saw, though, was the door closing. The blinds had been drawn across all the windows. “Cafe still closed during the afternoons?”
“Regular as rain.”
“She didn’t tell me,” he murmured.
“Ruby?”
“Hope.” He felt his brother’s look. “What?”
Sawyer just shook his head. “What do you do? Some kind of chant that brings women running?”
“All I had was a cup of coffee.” Ordinarily, Tris would have shrugged off his brother’s taunt without feeling a shred of defensiveness.
“Yeah, well, I know you. Hope teaches at the elementary school. Everyone in this town looks on her as their daughter, or their sister. So keep your mitts off.”
The fact that his brother seemed to think he needed the warning burned. “Thanks for the enthusiastic welcome home, bro.”
Sawyer’s expression didn’t change. Because he was the oldest of his brothers? Because he was the sheriff? Because he was one of Squire Clay’s sons and had picked up an endless amount of Clay nosiness along the way?
“Hope Leoni is,” sweet, unbearably sexy and way too innocent, “of no interest to me,” Tris said dismissively. Maybe if he said it with enough conviction, he’d make it true.
Hope’s fingers crushed the paper bag holding the rolls she was taking out to the Taggarts, when she heard Tristan’s voice, easily carried around the side of the café on the warm summer breeze.
She yanked open the door of her little green car and tossed the sack onto the passenger seat. “Of course you’re of no interest to him,” she muttered under her breath. She tossed her braid
