sorry if I was rude last night,” he continued. His lips edged into a grimace, making sexy dents bracket his mouth, and she found it hard to breathe. “I had a bad day. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
“That’s all right.”
“No, it’s not. Not really.” His intense eyes skewered hers. “How about if we start over? I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”
“Oh.” Her gaze shot to Kelley’s Cookhouse, where two elderly ranchers limped out the door. “Thanks, but I don’t think—”
“Come on, I owe you that much. And you can fill me in on Rusty’s progress.” He tilted his head. “I was heading there anyway. I need to talk to my Uncle Don.”
Her instincts warned against it, but she never did have any willpower around Cole. A whispered word, one glance from those hypnotic eyes had convinced her to abandon every inhibition—with the most erotic results.
But that was then. Surely she could have a cup of coffee with him now without falling apart. And maybe it would put their relationship on a more casual footing. Then she could simply nod and wave when she saw him on the ranch—and finally get him out of her head.
“All right. Coffee it is.” She just hoped she wasn’t making a mistake.
“So how is Rusty?” Cole asked, adjusting his longer stride to hers.
“He’s in a lot of pain. He won’t admit it, but I heard him groaning all night.” While she was lying awake thinking about Cole. “That’s why I’m here. The pharmacy in Maple Cove didn’t have his prescription and I didn’t want to wait another day.”
“It was a nasty break.”
And an even odder accident. “He didn’t tell me what happened, just that he fell off his horse.” Which was bizarre. She’s seen her father stick to the back of unbroken mustangs. She couldn’t imagine him getting thrown from his steady mare.
“He was out riding fences in the pasture that borders Rock Creek, near the old Blackfoot teepee ring. He’d stopped there on his way back up to the mountains to find my missing cows. He said his mare spooked and dragged him a ways.”
“Dragged him?” Horrified, Bethany stopped and gaped at Cole. “He didn’t tell me that.”
“He probably didn’t want you to worry.”
Or insist he stay off a horse, especially at his age. But she knew better than to suggest it. Behind her father’s quiet, laid-back facade lurked fierce stubbornness and pride.
“I can’t believe his horse dragged him. That mare never spooks. What on earth set her off?”
“He didn’t see,” Cole said as they resumed walking.
“He’s lucky he wasn’t killed.” Shaken that she could have lost him, Bethany climbed the wooden steps to the cookhouse. While she’d been oblivious in Chicago, her father could have died.
Cole pulled open the door, jangling the welcoming cowbell, and she preceded him inside. The restaurant hadn’t changed in the past twelve years. The same red-checkered cloths still covered the tables. The old, planked bar still dominated the room, flanked by square wooden stools. Cattle brands and horseshoes decorated the walls, along with photos from local rodeos. The familiar scents of coffee and bacon permeated the air.
She didn’t know how many hours she’d spent here in high school, hanging around with Cole. But it brought back a rush of longing, a poignant reminder of the hopes she’d left behind.
A reminder she definitely didn’t need right now. She was trying to gain some distance from Cole, not remember the good times they’d shared.
The saloon-style doors to the kitchen swung open. Cole’s aunt Bonnie Gene came bustling out, her face wreathed around a smile. “Why, Bethany Moore! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” She hurried around the bar, her shoulder-length brown hair swinging, her light brown eyes shining with warmth, and Bethany couldn’t help but smile back.
“It’s about time you came back here,” Bonnie Gene scolded. “And aren’t you as gorgeous as ever!” She gave her a hard hug and turned to Cole. “Isn’t she gorgeous, Cole?”
Bethany’s face burned. She braved a look at Cole. His eyes met hers, and a sudden sizzle of awareness stopped her breath. So he still felt it, too.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice gruff. “She’s gorgeous.”
Her heart skittering, she jerked her gaze away.
“Sit right here.” Bonnie Gene ushered her onto a stool. She pulled another seat close and pushed Cole into it, maneuvering him faster than a border collie herding cows. “Coffee?” she asked Bethany.
Still struggling to regain her composure, Bethany managed to nod. “Sure, I—”
“Don’t you dare move. I’ll get Donald and be right back.”
Bonnie Gene rushed off. Cole’s thigh bumped hers, putting Bethany’s nerves on further alert. “I see she hasn’t changed,” she said in the suddenly awkward silence.
“Yeah. Sorry about that.” He rose, dragged his stool a foot away, and she battled back a sliver of hurt. But he was right to put some space between them. Bonnie Gene was a notorious matchmaker—and the last thing Bethany wanted was to encourage her. This was just coffee between old friends, not the rekindling of their high-school romance.
Then the kitchen doors sprang open and Cole’s uncle came out, accompanied by Bonnie Gene. Donald had added a few pounds to his midsection over the years, but his friendly blue eyes hadn’t changed. And he still wore his short, white hair in that oddly lopsided style, which gave the renowned businessman a deceptively guileless look. “Bethany, it’s good to see you again.”
“It’s nice to be here.” She realized, with surprise, that it was true. In Chicago, she was always surrounded by strangers, an anonymity and freedom she liked. Still, there was something comforting about running into people she knew.
Bonnie Gene filled their cups with steaming coffee. “Now tell me, how is your father doing?”
“Not great,” Bethany admitted. “He’s in a lot of pain. That’s why I’m here, to fill his prescription.”
Bonnie Gene clucked. “A man his age shouldn’t be on a horse.”
“Can’t keep him off it,” Cole said, his deep voice rumbling through her nerves.
“That’s right,” Don cut in, sounding belligerent. “A man’s got a right to live his life the way he wants no matter how old he gets.”
Bethany sipped her coffee to hide a smile. Everyone knew that Bonnie Gene kept her husband on a short leash, especially when it came to his beloved cigars.
Bonnie Gene rolled her eyes at her husband and turned to Cole. “And how about Hank? How’s he doing?”
Cole made a sound of disgust. “The same. Still hiding in the house, leaving the rest of us to deal with his mess.”
Bethany
