How to Lasso a Cowboy (15 page)

S
OPHIE
gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek, catching a whiff of the light floral scent of Grandma Watson's perfume. Sophie hated to leave, but she had to get to work. Mornings were the busiest time at Cuppa Java Café, and poor Lulu was managing the shop alone right now. “You sure you're going to be okay?”

Grandma patted her hand. “You worry too much. I'll be fine. Now go to work.”

Sophie cast a doubtful eye over her grandmother's thin, wiry frame. To Sophie, she seemed as delicate as a sapling, as fragile as a crystal vase. Grandma had called early this morning, not long after Sophie said goodbye to Harlan, to ask where Sophie had put her broom because she'd dropped a glass on the hard tile floor of the kitchen. Sophie had told her not to move, that she'd be over right away to clean up the mess. She'd run all the way to Grandma's house, so sure her stubborn grandmother would try to clean the mess up herself, and end up slipping and falling. Just as Sophie feared, she'd found Grandma in the kitchen, wielding the broom.

A half hour and a long lecture about being safe later, Sophie had cleaned up the mess. She'd made Grandma breakfast, and stirred together some tuna salad for
Grandma's lunch later. “Promise to call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” Grandma said. “Now go. You have a long day ahead of you, dear.”

Sophie gave her grandmother another kiss, then headed for the front door. Worry still nagged at her, but she couldn't stay here all day. She did have a long day, as Grandma had said. One that would culminate with the town dance, the finale for the Love Lottery and the Spring Fling.

And the same place where she'd see Harlan again. Her heart nearly sang at the prospect. The smile brimming inside her curved across her face. She thought of being with him last night, of him kissing her, of his arms around her on the beach this morning. Of the magical moment when they'd seen the dolphins. Over the last week, she'd seen a new side of Harlan Jones. One she liked. Very much.

It took ten minutes to walk to the shop from her grandmother's house, and Sophie used the time to enjoy the Florida sunshine.

A few days ago, Harlan Jones had accused her of not taking time to enjoy her slice of paradise down here on the Gulf coast. And even though she hated to admit it, he was right, and she was darn glad he'd talked her into going to the beach early this morning. After last night, and the crazy, spontaneous time they'd had, she'd realized she
had
been working a ridiculous number of hours—and spending what free time she had taking care of her grandmother. No spontaneous shopping trips, no vacations, no dating. It was little wonder someone had to force her into going out on a date. She would have to remember to thank Mildred.

She neared the shop, and her gaze settled on the two chairs Harlan had made. Beneath them sat two footstools,
made out of the same wood nailed in slats that curved over an arched base. She smiled.

He must have left them here this morning, after he'd brought her home and before he went to work. He'd never said a word that he'd been working on them or that they were done. Instead, he'd put them out as a surprise. The footstools were as beautiful as the chairs, and she wondered again why he didn't just try to make a living at something he so clearly excelled at.

Harlan Jones excelled at a lot of things, Sophie thought. Her fingers went to her lips. A lot of things.

That man was starting to grow on her. Well, honestly, he was doing much more than that. In the last few days, he'd pretty much been her only thought in between steaming milk and mixing dough. Him, his sexy drawl and his electric kisses. Tonight, she'd see Harlan again. A week ago, she would have dreaded the encounter but today—

Well, today had her wondering what she should wear. If she should leave her hair down or put it up. Whether he would smile when he saw her, whisper something sweet in her ear. How long it would be before he asked her to dance. What it would be like to take a twirl around the dance floor wrapped in his arms. And most of all, whether he would kiss her again. Or maybe do more.

Still dreaming of the night ahead, she headed inside Cuppa Java Café. Tonight she'd wear a sexy little dress, put her hair up and pull those high heels out of her closet. She could hardly wait to see his reaction.

“Well, Mr. Johnson, I hate to interrupt you, but I need to cut to commercial.” Harlan's voice greeted her as soon as she walked in the door.

“You don't want to hear more about Sophie Watson's engagement?” said his caller. Sophie froze.

“This is Harlan Jones, and you're listening to
Horsin'
Around with Harlan.
We'll be back in a few, so stay tuned.”

The words took a second to register in Sophie's brain. Harlan's voice. Coming from the shop's loudspeakers. A dozen people hanging on every word, several of them laughing softly.

Lulu came out from the back of the shop, two gallons of milk in her hands. “Hey, Sophie.”

“Don't hey me. Why is that station on inside here?”

Confusion filled Lulu's features. “I thought we were pro-Harlan now. And I thought it'd be nice for you to hear his voice when you came in to—”

“I don't want to hear that man's voice ever again.” Sophie switched the station, settling on an upbeat country music tune. It could have been opera for all she cared—anything other than the man who had just betrayed her.

Harlan had promised. He'd looked her right in the eyes and swore he wouldn't plaster her private life all over the radio. Then he'd gone and made her fall for him, with all those kisses and his kindness to her grandmother, and that dolphin idea, and those hours of talking. She'd thought he cared. Thought maybe they were building something real.

When all Harlan had been building was his plan to increase ratings.

Sophie's heart ached, the pain deeper than any she had ever known before. He had betrayed her, and she had been foolish enough to fall for him. Once again, she'd been too starry-eyed to see the truth, and ended up a media punch line. Harlan Jones was no better than a snake in the grass.

“You okay, hun?” Lulu asked, resting a hand on Sophie's shoulder.

“Fine.” Sophie figured she could lie as well as Harlan.
Then she headed into the back of the shop before the tears that had begun to brim in her eyes cascaded down her face.

 

Harlan was sweating by the time he left the station's booth later that morning. Every damned caller he'd had wanted to talk about the local scandal with Sophie Watson. He'd done his best to switch the subject, but these people were like ticks on a hound dog—relentless. He wondered if she'd heard the show, then remembered she didn't listen to WFFM. Hopefully he could get over to the coffee shop today and tell her what had happened before she heard it from someone else.

He turned down Ernie's offer for an early lunch, headed into his brother's office and shut the door. The work still sat in a pile on the desk—invoices to go over, bills to pay, guests to book.

He came around the desk, sat down and started tackling the pile. The sooner he was done, the sooner he could go to Sophie's shop and get the rest of the story from her. If that reporter was right, and Sophie's broken engagement had been big news, that surely explained her reluctance to get out in the public eye.

He was knee-deep in work when he heard a knock on his door. He looked up to see Tobias standing in the doorway. “Hey, little brother.” Harlan took in the sweat beading on Tobias's brow—probably from using the crutches to get all the way from the parking lot to the office at the end of the hall—and the slight flush in his cheeks. “Shouldn't you be at home resting?”

Tobias waved off the question and entered the room. His crutches made soft plopping sounds against the carpet, but it seemed to Harlan that he was leaning on them a bit less than before. Tobias settled into one of the visitors'
chairs, propped the crutches against the side, then leaned forward. “How long are you going to keep doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Everything. I am cleared to come back to work, part-time. That means I should be sitting behind that desk, instead of you, but every time I try to put in a few hours, you send me home like I'm two years old.”

Harlan put down his pen and let out a sigh. “I just don't want you to end up in the hospital again. You could get another infection, or get hurt walking around with those crutches or—”

“Will you quit worrying about me? I'm old enough to do it for myself.” Tobias put up a hand to stop Harlan's protests. “I appreciate you coming out here to help me get the station back on track and also taking care of everything while I was in the hospital. I truly do. But you don't have to mother hen me for the rest of my life.”

“I'm not. I'm just—”

“You are. When you were in Texas, you did it from afar. Called me all the time, sent me money whenever I got behind, even cosigned for my loan to buy this place.”

Harlan scowled. “I should have done more than that.”

“What more? You did plenty.”

“You asked me, back when you started, to come out here and help you get the place off the ground. I was too damned wrapped up in my own show to say yes. I should have. If I had then maybe—” Harlan's gaze went to the crutches again.

“Maybe, what? You'd save me from my own irresponsibility?”

“This place would have been running smoothly if I came out here when you first asked. And maybe you wouldn't have been so worried about it you wouldn't have gotten distracted on that boat—”

Tobias let out a sharp laugh. “Harlan, I got distracted because I had a few too many beers. Not because of work. You know me. I'm more play than work.”

“I could have taken some of this off your shoulders,” Harlan said. His gaze went back to Tobias's cast and guilt rocked him. “You're hurting financially. If I had been here, maybe that wouldn't have happened.”

Tobias sighed. “There's a fine line between helping and hurting. You mean well, Harlan, I know you do, but you gotta let me succeed and fail on my own.” He shook his head. “I know, half of this is my fault. I keep on asking for help, instead of taking my own chances. Ditched responsibilities because I knew you would take up the slack and send me a few bucks to cover me. I guess I just got used to you looking out for me.”

“You're my little brother. I'm supposed to look out for you.”

“And you're supposed to let me grow up, too. The best thing you ever did was tell me no years before. And the best thing you can do now is quit helping me.”

“I…” Harlan let out a breath. He thought of all the years he had bailed Tobias out—whether it was with money or with advice—always, always looking out for his little brother. Even now, with Tobias nearing thirty, Harlan looked at him and saw the kid he used to be, not the man he'd become. “I've always meant well.”

“I know you did. And I think it just got to be a…habit. You took care of all of us, all our lives, Harlan. Hell, you worked so many hours it was a wonder you had time to go to school. And you're still doing it.”

“Dad needs financial support. He doesn't have beans for retirement.”

“Even Dad can take care of himself. I think you'll find that if you let go of the reins, the horse will naturally find
its way home. It might get lost a couple times, but it'll eventually get there.” Tobias got to his feet, came around the desk and tugged Harlan's chair away from the desk. His blue eyes, so like Harlan's, showed a strength and determination Harlan had never noticed before. “This time, I'm taking the reins from you. Now, let me sit at my desk and get some work done.”

“But—”

“But nothing. I have screwed up a lot over the last few years, and I know it. Spending a lot of time in a hospital room gives you plenty of time to think. And realize a few truths about yourself. I've been relying on you too damned long. It's time I got serious and took care of myself.”

Harlan stared at his brother. He wasn't sure what to say. For as long as he could remember, he'd been the worrier. The caretaker. He'd put food on his family's table and made sure their bills were covered. Now Tobias was telling him to stop?

“I know what you love to do, but you're too damned stubborn to do it,” Tobias said. “If I let you, you'd keep on doing all those other things instead of going home to that woodshop and being…happy.”

“I'm happy.”

“You're
existing,
Harlan. There's a difference. You can't tell me you love working in radio.”

“It's my job, Tobias.”

“That doesn't answer the question.”

Harlan sighed. “Okay, yeah, I'll admit it. Lately, I haven't been as…invested in my show as I should be. I guess it's gotten old.”

“Or maybe you're finally starting to realize that all the work in the world doesn't make up for the fact that you're not doing what you love.”

Harlan glanced at the poster on the wall, an eighteen-
by-thirty-inch advertisement the station had designed to promote Harlan's show. His own face smiled back at him from the corner, but for some reason, the image didn't look like himself. It looked…fake.

Was Tobias right? Was Harlan pouring himself into his job to avoid doing the one thing he really loved to do?

“Making a living off a hobby is foolish,” Harlan said. “Look at Dad.”

“Dad wasn't smart enough to get a regular job until he made his hobby work. He didn't have health insurance and a 401k and a long-range plan, like you do. You're smart, Harlan. And responsible as hell. If for some reason the furniture business didn't work out, you'd do what it took to keep the income coming in.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Don't but me. And don't let the mistakes of our father keep you from living the life you were meant to live. It's time you took care of
you,
big brother.” Tobias leaned on the back of Harlan's chair. “So I'm kicking you out of here, and in the process, forcing you to have free time. What you do with it is up to you.”