A Cowboy At Heart. Angel Smits
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Development project? She listened harder.
“A little. Hap mentioned it.”
She made a mental note to ask Trey about that project.
“Hap?” Could she actually hear a frown? “Oh, yeah. One of the old guys.” Lance laughed. She heard the glass move against the wood surface. “He’s the one with the walker?”
“Yeah. Used to be mayor? Owns this place?” Trey clattered the glasses in the sink. “He and his wife are looking at the retirement villas.”
“Good. Good. They are going to be mighty nice. I tell you, the architects and designers outdid themselves.” Another slide of glass on the wood.
“One more? It’s last call, so this is the end of the night.”
“Sure. I’m staying over at The Guest House since I’m only here checking on the project.”
The Guest House? Lisa clapped her hand over her mouth to silence her gasp. She’d have to keep an eye out for him.
Trey made another drink, though he stood farther down the bar to do it. He didn’t slide it down to Lance, which made the other man either have to lean to get it or scoot a stool over. Lisa breathed a slow, silent, sigh of relief.
“Maybe I could come by when those guys are here?”
“Why?” Trey frowned.
“Oh, they’re my target customers. Maybe I could talk about the development. Get their backing.”
“Maybe.” Trey focused on wiping down the bar again. “They don’t have a regular schedule. You know. Retirees.” Why was Trey saying that? She could set a clock by those three and their eating and drinking habits—except lately, since her grandfather had been totally out of his routine.
“Yeah. Here’s my number.” The sound of the card stock snapping on the wood seemed loud. “Maybe give me a call if you see them come in. I’ll come over and chat up my project.”
Trey picked up the card, nodding as he read it. She watched, mesmerized, as he slid the card into his back pocket.
“I’ll keep it in mind.” His voice startled her.
“You do that.” The silence grew, and Lisa heard the clink of ice. The sound of the highball glass’s thick base returning to the bar top was loud in the nearly empty bar. “Thanks for the drinks. How much do I owe you?”
Trey stepped over to where she sat, and she nearly squealed as he stopped right in front of her. What had she been thinking, ducking down right by the register? She curled in on herself, leaning her head on her raised knees.
“See you around, Lance.” Trey’s accent went even deeper. “I’ll let the boys know you were asking about ’em.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Lance’s voice was farther away now. “I’m sure our paths will cross.” The sound of footsteps against the wood floor receded, and Lisa heard the door open and then close.
Neither of them moved.
Slowly, Lisa opened her eyes and looked up. Trey’s denim jeans were still right there. She glanced up, noting his big belt buckle—maybe he was from Texas?—then moving her gaze even farther up to the muscular curve of his chest, to his chiseled jaw...and blue eyes staring down at her.
“Is he gone?” she whispered.
“Yeah.” Trey stepped back as if just realizing how close they were. “You can get up.” He extended a hand to help her stand.
She stared at it, hesitating. Then, swallowing hard, she put her hand in his. It was rough and warm and solid and big. Her mouth dry, she couldn’t speak for a minute. “Th...thank you.”
“Oh, no. It’s not that simple.” Trey leaned back against the ledge behind him, crossing his arms over that impressive chest. She’d taken stock of everything else, so why not appreciate the bulge of his biceps along the way?
Shaking her head, Lisa turned and reached back to untie her apron. Of course, the strings had become a knot.
“I want to hear what that was all about.” Trey stepped closer, and, after gently pushing her fingers away, worked at the knot himself. She closed her eyes again, trying to tamp down her awareness of him. What was wrong with her? He was her boss!
Finally, the knot loose, he flicked the apron off and pulled the right side. The fabric whispered over her before falling away.
She had to face him. Taking a deep breath, she got control of herself. “There’s nothing to tell. I was just surprised to see him, is all.”
Trey was back to leaning against the bar, her apron bunched up in one hand.
Feeling a bit foolish for her impulsive actions, she reached under the bar and grabbed her purse and coat. “I gotta go. See you—uh—tomorrow?”
Before he could say anything, she ran out through the kitchen, the screen door smacking loud in the night, the snow emphasizing the echo.
She glanced back over her shoulder and was surprised to see Trey standing in the doorway. The light from the kitchen outlined his body, casting him in shadow so she couldn’t read his expression. She wanted to turn around, see what he might say and do if she faced him, if she let her feelings show.
Instead, she focused on making her way across the alley and up to her room. Earlier today she’d planned to head over to her grandfather’s place and stay there. Sam didn’t think anyone was coming back, but it was too late to check out of the hotel now. “Just one more night. Then I’ll leave.”
Flashing her key card at the door, she hurried inside and up to her room. By the time she made it over to the window and parted the curtains, Trey was gone. Had he really been there? Had she imagined him?
Why did she feel disappointed that he hadn’t followed?
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