for me.” Tom stabbed at his cell phone then circled it overhead, searching for a signal.
Her eyes lingered on the coffeemaker’s glass carafe. One pot for everyone. No individual cup allowances for mint chocolate coffee or hazelnut vanilla... Here, coffee was coffee. Period. There was a simplicity about it she found refreshing. Sometimes when you had too many choices, you focused on the little things and lost sight of the big picture. Her eyes flicked to Cole again then scurried off, circling the room, landing anywhere but on the magnetic cowboy.
“Katie—I mean, Katlynn?” Boyd gently prompted, as considerate a host as ever. “Coffee?”
“Sounds great.”
“It won’t be fancy like Starbucks,” Cole drawled, his deep, Johnny Cash baritone as gravelly as she remembered. Her heart added a couple extra beats.
“I’m sure it’ll be great,” she replied firmly, striving to stay “mindful” and in the present moment as her life coach advised. Deep breath in, anxiety, frustration, despair, out.
Deep breath in, returning attraction and insecurities regarding ex-fiancé, way out.
“Are you staying at the Holsford?” Boyd asked, referring to the small town’s only hotel.
“They’ve double-booked my suite.”
“You’re welcome to share mine.” Tom’s perfectly shaped eyebrows twitched in the limited way his Botox allowed.
Cole’s lips pressed into a flat line.
“Or you could stay here.” Boyd cast a quick glance at Cole.
Sunlight glinted off Boyd’s silver and turquoise bolo tie, the one he donned for special occasions. How sweet that he’d dressed up. “We’ve got plenty of room now that Cole’s living in one of the cabins and Maverick’s out on his PBR tour,” Boyd beamed. “Oh—and Daryl got hitched a while back. He and his wife have a cottage not far from here. You’re welcome to stay.”
From a professional standpoint, staying on Loveland Hills gave her immediate and frequent access to the investigation as well as her location shoots. From a personal standpoint, it’d mean spending too much time around Cole.
Too dangerous.
“Thanks, but I’ll stay at my folks’ place.” She crossed her fingers on her lap. Hopefully...if her mother would return her calls...
“Where can I get a signal?” Tom scooted his spindle-backed chair from the table and stood.
“Signal?” Boyd stared at him, confused, the line between his brows deepening.
“For his cell phone.” Cole jerked his thumb at the door. “Try the porch.”
Tom mumbled his thanks as the screen door clicked shut behind him.
“We don’t have cell service.” Boyd poured coffee into a World’s Best Dad mug.
The upward tug of Cole’s full lips snared her attention. He looked so handsome sitting across from her, his broad shoulders filling out his thermal shirt, his lightly bristled jaw begging to be touched. He cocked his head and caught her staring. Katlynn dropped her eyes, sure everyone could hear her heart thundering in her chest.
“It got him out of our hair at least.” His thick-lashed eyes gleamed at Katlynn when her gaze darted his way again, and he arched a challenging brow.
Was he planning on getting rid of her next?
She lifted her chin. Well, he could try. She wasn’t as easy to discard as she used to be.
“Cream? Sugar?” Boyd held up a pitcher of foamy, fresh milk.
“Do you have skim milk? Artificial sweetener?” she asked with a sigh. After failing to zipper Jennifer’s rose sheath, Katlynn vowed to lose five pounds on this trip.
“No. But I could run to the store.”
“She’ll survive without fake sugar,” Cole asserted, folding muscular arms even a personal trainer would envy. “And a few extra calories would do her some good.”
Was he calling her skinny? She was a size six—practically obese in her industry, hence the necessary evil of slimming undergarments. Speaking of which, she shifted in her seat to alleviate their cruel pinch.
“I’ll just have it black.” She sucked on another cherry, the action seeming to fascinate an intently staring Cole.
“Cole? Want a cup?”
“I’ll fix it.” He snagged a cup out of the cupboard and banged it down on the counter. As he added a generous amount of cream, his lips twisted in a sardonic grin aimed her way.
“Hope it’s not too plain for you.” Boyd handed over the coffee then seated himself beside her.
She sipped her drink, enjoying the rich, unvarnished flavor, so different than her usual nonfat latte with a caramel drizzle. Boyd’s concerned face relaxed at her smile and nod.
“Really good, Mr. Loveland. Best cup I’ve had in years.”
“Well, now...” Boyd cleared his throat gruffly, looking embarrassed, then switched topics. “Glad to have you back home. We’ve missed seeing you around the place. Haven’t we, Cole?”
“You’re back to film a show about my family?” he asked instead of answering his father.
Her eyes lingered on his body as he leaned against the counter—tall, broad and thick with muscle. Cole was dressed in jeans, a thermal shirt and a down vest, pretty much the same thing he’d always worn, if memory served. And her memory seemed to be disturbingly clear where Cole Loveland was concerned.
She gave herself a little shake followed by a coffee chaser.
Get it together. You’re a professional. Not a high school girl crushing on the homecoming king.
Not anymore.
“You’ve heard of my show, Scandalous History...?” How strange to talk to Cole again, to drink coffee and behave civilly, like she’d never been in his arms, kissed those lips, cried those tears.
It takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations...
Cole shrugged, and the simple motion communicated one simple truth. She was as irrelevant to his world as ever. Well. Fine, then, since her world had outgrown his.
“Like I told your father,” she said smoothly, drawing on her vocal training to sound strong, assured, impervious, as if breathing the same air as her ex had no residual effect. “We do investigative reports about American history.”
“Where’s the scandalous part come in?” Cole sauntered back to the table and grabbed his seat.
Her muscles tensed. Boyd rushed to her defense. “No harm in speculating about old news—it doesn’t hurt anyone.”
“Most of your subjects are
