The Cowboy's New Heart Page 3

  “Why don’t you pick her up around four? That gives you three hours to do whatever you like,” Denni said, helping Cass put on her coat and hat while Trey and Cady continued sitting at the table. Kissing Trey on the cheek, she patted his shoulder. “Better yet, why don’t you let her spend the night with me and I can bring her home when I come to church tomorrow.”

  “That’s a lot to ask of you,” Cady said, although a hopeful glimmer sparkled in her hazel eyes at the prospect of having her husband all to herself for the rest of the day.

  “I’d love to have her company. You two go enjoy yourself. Go to a movie, drive to the city for the afternoon,” Denni said, giving Cady a wink. “Go check into one of those fancy boutique hotels in downtown Portland and spend the night. Trey can buy you a new outfit and take you out for a night on the town.”

  Trey waggled his eyebrows at Cady, making both his wife and mother smile. “Thanks, Mom. We’ll see you at church tomorrow.”

  Cass climbed over Trey to hug Cady and noisily kiss her cheek. “I’ll be good, Mama. Grammy and I are going to have loads of fun.”

  “I’m sure you will, sweetie-pie,” Cady said, smiling as Cass hugged Trey then climbed down and wiggled excitedly.

  Walking out of the restaurant with a wave at several people she knew, Denni took Cass’ mitten-covered hand in hers as they stood waiting to cross the street.

  “Can I help cut and sew today, Grammy?” Cass asked, excited at the prospect of spending time in her grandmother’s store. Denni always gave her some scraps to play with and Cass had a fine time pretending she was quilting.

  “I think that’s a great idea, honey,” Denni said as they hurried down the sidewalk. Cass hopped from one foot to the other, holding her new fairy book, while Denni unlocked the door.

  She turned the sign from closed to open, helped Cass remove her coat and took off her own. Digging in her scrap bin beneath the counter, she looked up when the bell above the door jangled and smiled as her assistant manager breezed in.

  “Hi, Amy,” Cass said, running around the counter to give her grandmother’s employee a hug.

  “Hey, Cass,” Amy said, removing her outerwear and hanging it in the store room before returning to the counter. “Are you helping Grammy today?”

  “Yep. And I get to spend the night, too,” Cass said, twirling back and forth while Denni dug through the scraps, picking out pieces for a project she thought would interest Cass.

  “It’s freezing out there,” Amy said, rubbing her hands together to chase away the chill. When her fingers were sufficiently defrosted, she put away fabric, tidied up the already neat store, and sat down at a sewing machine in the corner to continue work she started the previous day on a quilt for a window display. “It looks like everyone is staying home where it’s warm today.”

  “Looks that way,” Denni said, watching as Cass explored all the displays in the store. Small for her age, Cass was bright, lively, and extremely active. A head full of red curls and big blue eyes gave her the look of a doll, but Denni knew there was a livewire under the sweet façade.

  Since it promised to be a quiet afternoon at the store, she decided to take the little girl home where they both could relax. “Do you mind handling the store alone this afternoon?”

  “We’re not going to be flooded with customers today. I can handle the store,” Amy said nodding her head toward Cass. “Why don’t you two go have some fun?”

  “Thanks, Amy,” Denni said, gathering up the fabric pieces she’d selected and stuffing them in her purse. She put on her coat and then called to Cass. Helping her put on her outerwear and making sure they didn’t leave behind the new fairy book, Denni waved at Amy with another word of thanks as she and Cass walked out to her car.

  It was a quick five-minute drive to her house where she and Cass decided to have a tea party. Denni made tea while Cass spread peanut butter and jelly on slices of bread.

  “We can’t have a tea party without hats,” Denni said, going to the guest bedroom and digging around on a shelf until she found a couple of hats that belonged to her mother years and years ago.

  Setting a white straw hat on Cass’s head, Denni placed a navy pillbox hat on her own and sat down at the table with Cass.

  Playing along with Cass’ pretend game of being fairies having a tea party in their garden, they finished their tea and sandwiches. While Denni washed their cups and rinsed the plates, Cass hopped up and down Denni’s short hall, studying the photos on the walls.

  “How come my daddy looks funny in this picture, Grammy?” Cass asked as she stared at a large portrait on the wall.

  Sticking her head around the corner from the kitchen, Denni sighed and walked over to Cass. She picked up the child so she could get a better look at the picture.

  “That’s not your daddy, sweetie-pie,” Denni said, wondering why today of all days Cass would notice Drew’s portrait on the wall. “That’s a picture of your Grandpa Drew.”

  “How come I haven’t met him?” Cass asked, looking at the picture with interest.

  “Because he died a long time ago,” Denni said, feeling tears threaten to spill over her stinging eyes. “He was my husband and I still miss him every single day.”

  Cass turned in Denni’s arms so she was facing her. She put her little hands on Denni’s cheeks and patted them softly. “I’m sorry, Grammy. You sound sad. I don’t want you to be sad anymore. Let’s find you a new husband, one who’ll make you happy again.”

  If only it was that easy.

  Denni hugged Cass, knowing with her broken heart she’d never again be as happy as she was all those years she spent with Drew.

  Chapter Two

  “I would rather have eyes that cannot see;

  ears that cannot hear;

  lips that cannot speak,

  than a heart that cannot love.”

  Robert Tizon

  “Just say you’ll do it, Hart. She won’t leave either of us alone until you do.”

  Hart Hammond looked at the man leaning on his counter and realized he was going to be forced to admit defeat. Striking up a friendship with Richard when he happened upon his coffee roastery business in The Dalles, it didn’t take long for Hart to become a dedicated customer, offering the coffee exclusively in his convenience store.

  Enjoying both Richard’s coffee and jovial personality, Hart was not as fond of Chris, Richard’s nosy wife. The woman had been hounding him for weeks to go on a date with her friend who was planning a visit from California. Each time Hart told her no it made her even more determined to get him to say yes.

  As Hart stood behind the counter in his convenience store and watched his assistant out the window pumping gas, he knew sometimes you had to give in to be able to move on. If Richard didn’t roast some of the best coffee he’d ever tasted and deliver it right to his store on a weekly basis, he’d tell him exactly what he thought of Chris’ interfering with his love life. Or lack of one.

  For the past twenty-six years he’d managed to keep from getting entangled with any woman. It would have been difficult for anyone to win his heart since he was convinced the one he had was incapable of ever loving again.

  “You know how I feel about being set up, Richard. Every matchmaking female in a fifty-mile radius has been in here with a list of eligible women and I’ve already told your wife I’m not interested,” Hart said, taking a sip of the new coffee blend Richard brought for him to try. It was good. Really good.

  “You know that. I know that. Most of the men and even a few of the women around here know that, but you are never going to convince Chris that you wouldn’t be happier with a woman by your side,” Richard said, grinning at Hart. He didn’t think it would do him any permanent damage to go out on a simple date with his wife’s friend when she arrived for a weekend visit. “She just wants you to be happy, man. It’s because she thinks all men are happier married.”

  “She’s got a thing or two to learn, then,” Hart mumbled to himself, taking another drink of the coffee.

  “What’s that?” Richard asked, unable to hear what Hart said.

  Releasing a sigh and rolling his eyes heavenward, Hart shook his head, looking defeated. “Fine. I’ll take her out, but I’m only doing this to make your life easier. Understand?”

  “And I’m forever in your debt,” Richard said, shaking Hart’s hand and grinning broadly. “How can I make it up to you?”

  “Keep bringing me coffee like this,” Hart said, wearing his trademark friendly smile.

  “That I can do,” Richard said, gathering up his box of samples and a clipboard with Hart’s coffee order. “I’ll get in touch toward the end of the week with instructions…um, I mean plans, from the wife.”

  Hart chuckled and slapped Richard on the back as he walked him outside into the frigid January air. “I can hardly wait.”

  “You’re a terrible liar,” Richard said, getting in his truck and waving at Hart as he drove off.

  Finishing the coffee, Hart wandered back inside the convenience store. Looking around, he was proud that he had brought something nice, something needed, to the little Grass Valley community.

  He liked getting involved and the people who lived in the area were, for the most part, a hard-working, caring bunch. After meeting some of the youngsters, he was more than happy to replace their worn-out playground equipment, even if it didn’t happen as anonymously as he’d planned.

  Giving up on secretly providing help in the community, he still made sure the church received a new coat of paint and had plans, once spring arrived, to replace the uneven sidewalk and pave the parking lot.

  Wandering back to his office, he sank down in his big leather chair and swiveled around, looking at the photos, framed newspaper and magazine articles, and trophies lini
ng his walls.

  Spending several years as a professional bull rider, Hart gained a lot of press and notoriety when he placed third in the world champion rankings three years in a row. He took second place the following year and was on track to earn the world champion title when his world fell apart.

  After struggling to put his life back together, he could no more get on a bull and ride than he could think about getting into another relationship with a woman.

  Although he’d dated more than his share of women in the past two decades, most never made it to a second date.

  He thought of the woman who had six kids and was on a mission to find someone who could be a father to her tribe of uncontrollable hellions.

  There was the scary female who had so many tattoos he wasn’t entirely certain the color of her skin beneath all the ink. The woman with all the body piercings had scared him even more than the tattoo queen had.

  He’d gone out three times with a seemingly normal girl until she suddenly wanted him to play house as she morphed into some sort of fifties homemaker with an attitude, like a Stepford wife gone bad.

  Models, real estate agents, bank tellers, grocery store clerks, spoiled little rich girls, dirt-poor single mothers - Hart had dated them all. He’d been stalked more than once, slapped a few times by women who really needed some classes in anger management, and propositioned and proposed to more times than he could count.

  The fact of the matter remained unchanged. Relationships held no interest for him at all. Occasionally, he enjoyed some female companionship, but for the most part, he was content to build a successful business with his eye toward the future instead of lingering in the past.

  Now, here he was about to be set up on another crazy blind date with some woman he’d have no interest in seeing again. His one hope was that she’d realize this was just a weekend meeting, a favor for a friend, and nothing more.

  Leaning back in his chair and drumming his long fingers on the top of his orderly desk, he had a gut feeling the date would end badly, as so many had in the past. Any friend of Richard’s wife would no doubt be a lot like her and she wasn’t exactly the type of person who took no for an answer, handled rejection with grace, or knew when to back off.

  Hearing his assistant call for him, Hart put aside his musings, pulled on his gloves and a warm coat, and went out to pump gas to his customers.

  >
  There wasn’t enough good coffee in the world to redeem the blind date Richard and Chris arranged for him with her friend.

  Arriving at their house Saturday for lunch, the plan was for Hart to show the woman around The Dalles in the afternoon and then accompany her to a wedding that evening.

  Lunch wasn’t even over and Hart was more than ready to bolt.

  Chris and Richard welcomed him to their home, showing him into the dining room where Chris had a simple but filling meal on the table. Waiting a few minutes, she went to find her friend so they could eat while the food was still hot.

  Returning alone, she told the men to go ahead and since Mona wasn’t yet ready.

  Richard shrugged his shoulders and dug in, passing Hart a bowl of thick stew and slices of warm bread. He was enjoying the meal when a middle-aged woman waltzed in on a cloud of cheap perfume, making him choke on the bite he was swallowing. Richard slapped his back and he wiped his watering eyes with a napkin while Chris introduced her friend and seated her across the table from Hart.

  Dressed in a skirt that was too short with a blouse that was too tight and unbuttoned too low, she seemed to be under the delusion that she was still in her twenties rather than a woman closer to fifty.

  Between too much makeup that caked into her wrinkles and a really bad lip job, Hart could hardly look at the woman without smirking, so he kept his head down and focused on the food.

  Trying to sound urbane and sophisticated, her nasally voice grated on his nerves when she spoke. Hart found her to be pretentious and fake, making him swallow back a sigh at the long day ahead followed by what would no doubt be an even longer evening.

  “So, Hart,” Mona said, batting her fake eyelashes at him. “Chris tells me you own a gas station.”

  “That’s right,” Hart said, not looking up from his food. He didn’t know what he’d do when his bowl of stew was empty so he began eating very slowly.

  “Is that a new enterprise for you? Someone with your physique looks like they’d be used to doing something that called for manual labor,” Mona observed, leaning across the table in such a way that even without looking at her, Hart was getting an eyeful of cleavage. The woman must have spent a small fortune in tanning booths without giving a thought to using any sort of lotion or moisturizer because her skin looked as wrinkled and dark as a peach pit.

  “I’ve been in the gas station business for a while and I don’t expect my employees to do anything I don’t do myself,” Hart said, taking another piece of bread.

  “You own more than one station?” Mona asked.

  “He owns the entire Renegade chain, don’t you, Hart?” Chris asked, much to her husband’s dismay. The glare he shot her from his end of the table went unnoticed.

  “That’s correct,” Hart said, taking another bite of stew. He could practically hear the jackpot bells ringing in Mona’s bleached blond head.

  “You’ve got to be worth millions,” Mona said, dropping her spoon in her bowl and splashing stew on her blouse. She didn’t seem to notice as she tried to figure out how much money she’d have at her disposal if she could reel in the man across the table.

  “Did you see they’re having a special winter thing downtown?” Richard asked, trying to change the subject. Chris finally noticed the look he was giving her, warning her to calm down her over-eager friend.

  “Oh, yeah, I did see something about that in the paper. You walk around to the different stores and get a stamp from each one. When your card’s full you get entered into a chance to win a basket full of prizes. Sounds like fun,” Chris said, wondering what she’d done. She hadn’t seen Mona in years, but she’d grown up with her and their friend that was getting married later that evening. They’d been great pals as kids, but Chris suddenly acknowledged she didn’t really know Mona at all. It certainly wasn’t going to make her husband happy to lose one of his best clients if her friend offended him any more than she already had. She made a vow, right then, to mind her own business going forward and not make any more attempts at matchmaking.

  “Maybe we could check it out after lunch,” Hart suggested, finishing his stew. At least if they were out in public, there was a slim chance Mona might be distracted for a while.

  “Are you sure?” Richard asked, giving Hart a speculative eye.

  “Yep. It’s chilly out, but not terribly so. If you ladies bundle up, you should be warm enough,” Hart said, smiling at Chris. “Thank you for the delicious lunch.”

  “You’re very welcome,” Chris said, starting to clear the table. Richard jumped up to help her, wanting to escape Mona almost as badly as Hart.

  Quickly loading the dishwasher, the couple returned to find Hart holding Mona’s coat while she slid her arms in the sleeves. Richard helped Chris with her coat and grabbed his own as they hurried out the door.

  Walking around downtown, Mona somehow managed to latch on to Hart’s arm with red-painted long-nailed claws and wouldn’t let go.

  “You are positively yummy, aren’t you,” Mona said, squeezing Hart’s bicep as they strolled down the street behind Chris and Richard. “Do you work out every day?”

  Ignoring her question and prying her fingers off his arm, Hart took a step away from her, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. Hoping to derail whatever question she planned to ask, he inquired about her work and family. He discovered she was a cocktail waitress and had been married three times. Somehow, neither answer surprised him.

  Insisting they go to each business listed on the Winter Frolic card, Hart was tired of following Mona from store to store. Opening the door of a quilt and craft shop, Hart looked into a pair of warm blue eyes he’d admired numerous times since moving to Sherman County.

  “Hart Hammond, what brings you to my store?” Denni Thompson asked as she cut fabric for a customer waiting at her counter.