waiter in a black Stetson came to take their order. “Wow. I heard we had a celebrity back here, but they didn’t say who it was.”
“I trust you’ll keep it to yourself until after we leave,” Jensen said.
“I sure will.” The young man cast a smile at Amber. “But I don’t suppose I could get your autograph before you go, Miss Rogers. It isn’t every day that we get a rodeo queen in here.”
She smiled. “Of course, you can.”
The waiter’s cheeks flushed. “My sister was a huge fan and followed your career. She even tried to barrel-race like you. ’Course she isn’t nearly as pretty as you are.”
“Thank you.” Amber glanced at Jensen, whose expression had grown serious.
After the waiter took their orders and returned to the kitchen, Jensen said, “Maybe we should move. It was cooler on the other side of the restaurant, and then you’d be able to keep your jacket on.”
“No, truly, this table is fine.” Didn’t Jensen like her top? He definitely didn’t seem to like their waiter, who’d continued to study her while they’d ordered.
After the waiter finally served their drinks, Jensen took a long draw from his bottle of Heineken, since there weren’t any stout British ales served here.
He chugged another long gulp.
Was something still bothering him?
Maybe she was reading too much into his expression.
“How’s Amelia feeling?” she asked, wanting to get back on neutral territory.
He looked up, his serious demeanor fading into a slow smile. “Quite well. She’s glad to finally have baby Clementine home.”
“I can imagine. I once had to go to the hospital to get my appendix out, and I couldn’t wait to leave. I missed everything about home, from Gram’s cooking to my horse. I promised to stay in bed for a week if the doctor would just let me leave, which was a pretty big promise for a twelve-year-old girl with a new horse and an upcoming junior state barrel-racing competition to make.”
“And when they finally did release you, did you stay in bed?”
“For one whole day. Pop caught me sneaking out to the stables a couple days later and let me ride for a few minutes before Gram found out and lit into us something fierce.”
“Your sweet grandmother? I can’t imagine her yelling.”
“She didn’t need to. She told one of the ranch hands to take Miss Muffin, my new horse, over to the Drummonds’ place so I couldn’t ride her. Then she went on strike in the kitchen, making Pop eat frozen dinners and cereal for the next two weeks to remind him that being an accomplice to a twelve-year-old’s whims, especially when she was recovering from surgery, wasn’t his smartest move. Needless to say, both Pop and I learned our lesson.”
“So you didn’t get to go to the junior state rodeo?”
“No, I still got to go, but I’d barely had any practice beforehand, so neither Miss Muffin nor I were up to speed. Literally. I came in second place to Starlight from Vicker’s Corners.”
“Well, then it all worked out well in the end.”
“No, it was the worst moment of my life. I hate coming in second place. And I hated it even more that snotty Molly Watkins won the buckle that should have been mine if it hadn’t been for my stupid appendix getting in the way of my training schedule. She was so smug with her perfectly curled red hair and expensive outfit that was better suited to a homecoming queen than a barrel racer.”
A glimmer lit Jensen’s eyes. “A bad sport, then, this Molly girl?”
“The worst. She told everyone that the reason I didn’t do well was because I’d tried to kiss Billy Carmichael behind the warm-up fences, and he’d pushed me away, making me too upset to do my ride.”
Jensen, who’d clearly been engaged in their conversation before, leaned forward. “Who was Billy Carmichael?”
Surely he wasn’t the least bit jealous of a thirteen-year-old boy—but she liked the idea that he might be interested in her romantic history—as short and unremarkable as it had been. “Billy’s dad was one of the rodeo clowns, and Billy was the top calf roper at the National Little Britches Rodeo Finals two years running. Let’s just say that for a junior high school girl, he was a big deal.”
“So Billy Carmichael didn’t defend your honor?”
“Nope. He liked everyone thinking that I had a crush on him.”
“What a cad.”
“Exactly.”
Jensen smiled, and her heart picked up speed. She took a drink of her margarita. With the way he was looking at her, she would’ve downed the whole thing. Luckily, the waiter, whose name tag read Danny, brought their food just then—as well as a sheet of paper he’d printed out with a photo of her in her barrel racing days.
She signed it to Bonnie Sue, wishing her all the best in her career.
“Would you mind posing for a photo?” Danny asked.
“Yes, we’d mind,” Jensen said.
Danny’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner. I could come back afterward.”
“I asked for this table because I like my privacy,” Jensen said. “I don’t want my picture taken.”
“Sorry, sir.” Danny said again. “I didn’t want you in it. I was hoping you’d take a shot of Amber and me with the camera in my cell phone.”
Amber laughed. It served Jensen right to realize there were some people more popular in Texas than a British noble. “Be a sport. It’ll only take a minute to make a girl’s day.”
And it did.
Moments later, after the happy waiter went back to the kitchen, Amber and Jensen dug into their meals. “So, did you ever get back at Molly what’s-her-name?” Jensen asked after spearing a bite of cooked rib tips.
“I got back at her every year after that. In the arena, that is. I never came in second to Molly Watkins again.”
Jensen laughed, and Amber tried the Campfire Beans.
“Oh, didn’t you order any of these?” she asked, looking at his plate.
“No, I chose the homemade coleslaw and the Belt-Bustin’ Baked Potato. And they’re very good. You were right. This is the best barbecue restaurant I’ve been to yet, although I’m afraid I’m still what you’d call a novice.”
“Here, try this.” She spooned a taste of seasoned beans into his mouth.
He reciprocated by giving her one of his rib tips.
They talked and shared food with each other as if they’d had countless dinners together.
