How to Lasso a Cowboy (10 page)

She worried that lip again, then let out a long breath. “Stop talking about me on your show. Except for a plug or two for the coffee shop. I'd really appreciate that.”

“A little free advertising?”

She smiled again, and his gut took another hit. “It's cheaper than replacing my landscaping, isn't it?”

“I reckon so. And I promise, I won't tell tall tales about you on my show anymore.”

“Really?”

“Really. Sometimes I forget that my mouth can be a
dangerous weapon.” He cleared his throat before he took that innuendo any further. “And, I'd be glad to throw in a plug or two.” He pushed off from the workbench and took a few steps closer to her. “Business down?”

“Let's just say it could be better.”

“What you need is an event,” Harlan said. “Something big, get the public's attention.”

She laughed and shook her head. “The last thing I need is more events to handle. I've already got my hands full.”

The double entendre sent his pulse into overdrive. His gaze skimmed her curves again, and for the second time in one week, he wondered what it would be like to kiss Sophie Watson. “Hands full, huh?”

She colored. “I meant, uh, busy.”

He liked seeing her flustered. Liked seeing her a little off center. It made Sophie Watson a hell of a lot more interesting.

The dogs got up, apparently sensing the break in the conversation, and scrambled over to Sophie's side before Harlan could stop them. Mortise and Tenon, excited at having a guest, jerked up on their back paws, preparing to pounce on Sophie and express their canine love. “Hey, guys, don't—”

But he was too late. Just as he spoke, a car pulled into the driveway, and the retrievers, thrilled at the prospect of even more company, abandoned their greeting of Sophie mid-jump to turn for the small sedan. Their paws bounced off her chest, and she teetered, then just as Harlan was reaching for her, Sophie toppled onto the hard concrete floor. The dogs took off, barking and scrambling over each other.

Harlan stepped around the table saw, bent down and
put out his hand to pull Sophie up. She scowled at him, and ignored his help. “Your dogs are—”

“One hell of a greeting!” The loud, booming male voice echoed in the garage's interior. Mortise and Tenon joined in with a chorus of barking, running back into the garage, and clambering all over Sophie again. As Harlan took in the chaotic scene before him, he realized the détente he thought he had built with Sophie Watson was about to explode into an all-out war.

 

Sophie got up off the floor, ignoring Harlan Jones's outstretched hand. She brushed the dirt off her skirt, and was about to leave when a boisterous man in a bright red shirt and a heart-patterned tie hurried up to her. He grabbed her arm, even though she was already standing, as if he thought she might topple back all over again.

“Well, hello!” he said, his voice as bright as his shirt. “Harlan's dogs sure love you.”

Sophie snorted, and sent a glare Harlan's way. “Love me? They just tried to kill me.”

As if understanding her words, the two retrievers lowered their heads and slunk over to Harlan's side. “Sorry, darlin'. I think my dogs could use a little
more manners.
” Harlan gave the dogs an annoyed glance, but they had already forgotten the error of their ways and just swatted him with happy tails.

She brushed a little more concrete dust off the front of her skirt. “That's not my idea of liking someone. I should call Animal Control on these beasts.”

Beside her, Harlan bristled. “Hey, my dogs aren't that bad.”

The man in the red shirt chuckled. “Forgot to introduce myself.” He thrust out his hand to her. “Ernie Watson, the
Love Doctor. In other words, an expert in the realm of all things love.”

“The Love Doctor?”

“Yep. The very one.” He shook Sophie's hand vigorously, then released her. “And between you and me—” he leaned in close, lowered his voice to a loud whisper “—given the state of Harlan's dates lately, I think he needs my expertise.”

She spun toward Harlan. “You called in a guy known as the Love Doctor? Why?”

Ernie leaned in close to Sophie. “Why, to help him woo the lady, of course. From what Harlan tells me, she's been a tad difficult—”

“Ernie—”

The other man just kept on talking, ignoring Harlan's attempt to interrupt. “But I'm sure with a little help and advice from the Love Doc, she'll come around and see that my friend Harlan here is nothing but a big old soft-hearted cowboy—”

“Ernie!”

“Now hold on a minute, Harlan, I'm just pointing out your best features.” Ernie turned back to Harlan. “This boy here, why, he's the kind of catch every woman wants. Give that little lady some time, and she'll see that, and be all over him with kisses and hugs. Nothing makes for great talk radio like a happily ever after ending. That's why I'm here, so the listeners get what they want.”

The words took a long moment to sink in. Sophie stood there, hearing what Ernie had said, looking from him to Harlan. As Harlan's face dropped from a grin into a guilty smirk, Sophie realized she'd been had, once again, by the charming cowboy.

“How dare you?” she said, striding up to Harlan. “Is this all just some marketing ploy? Were you just using my
grandmother as a way to get close to me? And what about having me on this morning? Was all that just something to exploit on your show?”

“Of course not. I genuinely—”

“Nothing about you is genuine. I can't believe I fell for that chivalrous cowboy act.” She parked her fists on her hips. “Do me a favor and don't show up for the rest of our dates. I think even the Love Doctor here would tell you that you are fighting a losing battle.”

Then she turned on her heel and headed out of the garage. Harlan's dogs tried to keep pace with her for a little while, but at the end of the driveway, Sophie turned back and gave the dogs a glare.

Instead of skulking away, the dogs bounded off in tandem—across the street and straight onto Sophie's lawn—and right into the middle of the flowers she'd planted yesterday morning. In a two-second span of time, their eight massive paws turned the bright swath of impatiens into a muddy, pink mess.

“Mortise! Tenon! Get back here!” Harlan yelled.

The dogs did as he said, charging back across the street, and stopping only to leap onto Sophie again, leaving twin dark brown pawprints across the front of her shirt. She let out a curse. “You don't need a Love Doctor, Harlan Jones,” she called down his driveway. “You need obedience school!”

T
HE
picture held center court on the front page of the
Edgerton Shores Weekly.
Him and Sophie talking, unaware of the photographer who had snapped their picture. Harlan had tried three times to throw the paper out, and kept coming back to Sophie's smile.

There was another side to this woman, he'd realized, particularly after meeting her grandmother and seeing the tender, protective way she watched over the older lady.

That was something Harlan could understand, and appreciate. For as long as he could remember, he'd been the caretaker for his family. As soon as he was old enough to work, he'd gotten a paper route, then a job as a janitor at a radio station, working his way up the ladder there while he went to school.

Harlan's father had been unavailable—trying to eke out a living with the photography studio he'd fashioned out of a spare bedroom. He was convinced all it took was one great job and they'd be rich. That great job never came. And meanwhile, his family starved, and young Harlan worked every spare moment he had, helping his mother put food on the table.

Now Harlan was trying to save the sinking ship of WFFM for his brother, taking care of his family all over again. He owed Tobias that much. At least.

Harlan flipped the newspaper over so that the picture was out of his sight, and pulled up a copy of the show's schedule. He clicked through the time blocks in his computer, reviewing the scheduled advertisements and news breaks. Joe had done his job, and booked several thirtysecond spots from a national online dating site. Finally, things were looking up at WFFM.

He heard a soft knock on the office door. He glanced up to see his younger brother standing in the doorway. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Just saying hi. This morning, I was given a bunch of meds and instructions, then kicked out of the hospital. Seems I'm good to recover on my own,” Tobias said with a grin. He entered the room, using a pair of crutches to help him navigate with one leg in a cast, and sat in one of the two visitors' chairs. Tobias was younger by three years, and a little leaner than Harlan. He had the same blue eyes, and the dark wavy hair that was a Jones family trademark. Unlike Harlan, who let his grow until it peeked out from under the Stetson, Tobias kept his hair close-cropped. “I'm here to make sure you ain't getting too comfortable.”

“As boss man?” Harlan laughed. “Never. I'm better being the talent than the brains.”

“Oh, I don't know about that. You're good at a lot of things.” Tobias patted the arms of the chair. “View's a little different from this side of the desk.”

“You'll be back over here before you know it.” Harlan's gaze swept over Tobias's face. His younger brother was still a little pale, and looked like he could use a good steak. “How are you feeling? You sure you should be here? Maybe you should go home. Take a nap or something.”

“My God, you are like a mother hen.” Tobias leaned forward. “I'm fine, big brother. Stop worrying. I mean it.”

“It's part of my job.”

“Speaking of jobs…” Tobias leaned back in the chair and let out a breath. “I want to come back to work. Now before you object, the doc has cleared me to work part-time, long as I don't go running marathons in my time off. I'm going stir-crazy doing nothing, Harlan. Hell, just yesterday, I caught myself watching the Cooking Channel, for God's sake.”

Harlan laughed. “The Cooking Channel? You don't cook.”

“I know.” He threw up his hands. “I spend any more time lying around like a bump on a log, and I'll end up buying porcelain dolls on the shopping channel.”

Harlan laughed, then let out a long breath. “Tobias, you know you're welcome here anytime. I mean, this place is your baby. But—”

“Don't but me. I need to work. And I can take some of the work off your shoulders.”

“I'm fine.”

“Is this about what happened five years ago?”

Five years ago—when Tobias had come to Harlan and asked him to support his then fledgling radio station. Harlan, too wrapped up in his own bustling career, had said no.

Now look where they were. Harlan's gaze returned to the computer. “Of course not. It's about today. Me trying to help you out.”

“Bullshit. You'll work yourself into the grave before you ask for a helping hand.”

“I'm not that bad.”

Tobias sighed. “You don't have to do it all, you know.”

“I'm not.”

Tobias looked like he might say something else, then shook his head. “Well, one thing's for sure. You're a master
at this business. Stupid me didn't ask for help until the EMTs were hauling me off the boat.”

A shudder of dread ran through Harlan at the thought of how close he'd come to losing Tobias. If only he'd been here. “All the more reason why you should take it easy.”

“I've learned my lessons, big brother. Have you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don't get me wrong. I'm sure as hell grateful that you stepped into my boots. But I know how you are. You'll keep on wearing those boots, even if it means you forget about your own.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Are you dating anyone right now?”

“Tobias, I don't have time for that.”

Tobias put a hand toward Harlan. “Proves my point. You should be able to find a balance. And the problem with you, is you are an all-or-nothing guy.”

“I have a balance.”

Tobias crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, yeah? How much furniture is filling that rental house of yours?”

“That doesn't mean anything.”

“You build when you're stressed. You build when you're overwhelmed. You build when you're looking for something you can't find. And I ain't talking about a lost pair of socks.”

Harlan scowled. “The furniture thing is just a hobby.”

Tobias sighed. “There's nothing wrong with following your dreams, Harlan.”

Harlan picked up the pen again. “I'm living my dream, Tobias. I don't need another one.”

 

Sophie was surrounded by people in love. And all it was doing was making her grumpy.

Kevin had been planted on one of the shop's bar stools
for the better part of two hours, while Lulu tended the coffee pots and steamer. “I think you're the best coffee maker in the state,” Kevin said, as Lulu handed him his third cup of the day. “Never tasted anything quite as great as the cups you brew, Lulu.”

“Then you need to expand your horizons,” Lulu said, but her words lacked bite and a slight smile curved across her face. “Or get new taste buds.”

Kevin sent Lulu a wink. “I think it's because I'm being served by the prettiest barista in Florida.”

Lulu flicked a dishtowel at him. “All the sweet talking in the world isn't going to get you a free refill, you old goat.”

Across the way, Mildred and Art were cozied up together on the same side of a booth, sharing a platter of cookies and a hot pot of tea. Even three days into the Love Lottery, they were giggling like a couple of teenagers. Two other couples were snuggling in the shop, more evidence of Mildred's matchmaking abilities.

Too bad she'd made such a huge blunder in pairing Sophie and Harlan. Maybe her matchmaking instincts were all burned out by the time she got to that match.

It wasn't that Harlan Jones wasn't handsome. He was. It wasn't that his voice didn't turn on some switch deep inside her. It did.

It wasn't that he hadn't intrigued her. She'd seen two different sides of Harlan—the public radio personality and the man who had helped her grandmother home and not left until Grandma had drank an entire glass of iced tea and had put her feet up. And then there was the man who had resisted when she'd said he should make a business out of his furniture building—he was hiding the reason why behind those blue eyes. And a part of her really wanted to know what that was.

A crazy part. Hadn't she been fooled by charm and fame before? Not again.

Sophie propped her chin in her hands, and watched the foot traffic go by outside the shop. She'd hung up a sign announcing Cuppa Java Café as the official headquarters of the Love Lottery, but so far, even with the promo on the radio yesterday morning, it hadn't seemed to make a dent in business. What she needed was what Harlan had suggested—damn him for being right—some kind of event, one that would get people talking and noticing Cuppa Java Café.

A crowd of college students burst into the shop. “Yeah, I think this is the place,” a tall, skinny boy in glasses said. “Quick, let's get a table before he gets here.”

Before he gets here?
Sophie wondered about that, then remembered she had a musician scheduled for tonight. Goodness, his fans must be loyal to be here this early.

The group commandeered a quartet of tables, dragging them across the floor to form one big seating arrangement. There was a flurry of chair moving, and people moving, before they all settled down. Sophie flipped out an order pad and crossed to the group. “Hi, everyone. Welcome to Cuppa Java Cafe. What can I get you?”

The tall boy leaned forward on his elbows. “Do you know what time he's getting here?”

“The guitarist for tonight?” Sophie flicked out her watch. “About seven. He'll play two sets—”

“No, not him. The Love Doctor.” As soon as the words left the boy's mouth, the girls around him began to giggle. The boy's face reddened. “Well, that's what he calls himself.”

“Yeah, you need a doctor, Charlie,” said one of the other boys. “A head doctor.”

“Is he coming?” one of the girls asked. “Because Harlan
said they'd be doing a special live feed right here. And they'd have guests come on, to ask the Love Doctor relationship questions.”

“Harlan said what?” Fury rose in Sophie at the gall of Harlan Jones to think he could just march in here, with that Love Doctor guy, and broadcast a live radio show without even asking her first. The nerve of that man!

Then, as she turned the idea over in her mind, she realized it could work. Maybe even be the answer she wanted. Maybe with this event, she could garner the publicity she'd been looking for. Finally put her little shop square on the map of must-see destinations in the Tampa Bay area.

Harlan Jones had suddenly turned into her best ally. And he didn't even know it.

Yet.

 

“She's going to kill me.”

Ernie clapped Harlan on the shoulder. “Quite the contrary, my friend. What better way to show a woman you're interested than by making a public declaration?”

“But I'm not interested, Ernie. I—”

“Tell yourself that all you want,” Ernie said with a laugh. “I've seen the way you look at her. Like a coyote watching a lone little sheep that got cut away from the flock.”

Harlan chuckled. “Did anyone ever tell you that your metaphors are horrible?”

“Doesn't matter, long as they're right.”

“Harlan, we're live in ten,” Carl, the remote tech, said. “And we still have to get the mikes and everything set up.”

“Let me clear it with the owner.” Harlan headed inside the coffee shop, prepared to do battle with Sophie Watson. If he could get a word in edgewise, then maybe he could
make her see this live feed was a great idea. He braced himself, then entered the coffee shop.

“Hello, Mr. Jones,” Sophie said. She greeted him with a smile, and a freshly brewed cup of Earl Grey. “Do you or your crew need anything? Might be good to get something to drink before you start the show.”

He'd had an argument waiting on the tip of his tongue. But Sophie had gone and turned the tables on him, and he stood there, as mute as a scarecrow. “Uh…thank you.”

She smiled. “My pleasure.”

The way those two words curled off her tongue made his insides go hot and liquid. He wasn't used to being surprised by a woman, or feeling off-kilter around any female, but this Sophie Watson—

She kept him teetering on his toes.

What had happened? Was she just trying to trick him? Because last he checked, she'd been madder than a wet hen, and ready to drag him and his dogs into court. But here she was, smiling at him as if they were the friendliest of neighbors.

Hmm. He didn't like that. At all.

He thumbed toward the front of the shop. “We're just going to set up—”

“Out front, in your chairs? I think that's a terrific idea. If it gets too hot out there, feel free to come inside.”

She was finishing his sentences now, too? What the hell? And why was she suddenly so agreeable? It had to be more than just the little bit of promo he'd given the Love Lottery and the community wellness center on his show. And much more than him pouring a glass of iced tea for her grandmother.

His gaze narrowed. “What's got you being so cooperative?”

“I've seen the advantages in working with you instead of
against you.” She patted his chest. A simple touch, nothing more than a brush, really, but it sent his mind down some decidedly complicated paths. Ones that the two of them had come dangerously close to treading already. “Consider me your newest ally, Harlan Jones.”

He captured her hand in his and her eyes widened in surprise. Her mouth dropped into a little O. Damn. Why hadn't he kissed her the other day? Desire raged inside him.

“That could be dangerous,” he said, his voice low and dark.

“I like danger,” she said, then slipped out of his grasp and walked away.

He grinned. Hot damn. That woman was a contradiction in a hundred different ways. He imagined himself exploring each and every one of them, starting with that sassy mouth, then trailing his lips down her throat, along the curve of her breasts—

“Harlan, we're all set.” Carl's voice interrupted Harlan's fantasy.

“Great. Time to get to work.” He said the words more to remind himself than Carl. For a second, there he'd gone off the trail. He needed to stick to the plan—a plan that didn't include a relationship with Sophie Watson.