Saddled and Spurred (Blacktop Cowboys 2)

Almost as if she sensed his realization, she pushed him to move, scooted out of the booth as soon as he stood, and sat across from him.

“Was it something I said? I did put deodorant on before I left the house.”

“Don’t go getting your boxers in a twist, Bran. I’d like to look at your face when I talk to you.”

“We don’t seem to be doin’ a lot of talkin’.”

Harper cocked her head. “Why is that? We never run out of things to talk about on the ranch.”

“We’re mostly talkin’ about work stuff.” He grinned. “Or we’re getting nekkid.”

“Since we’ve already done that, are we just going to sit here and stare at each other?”

Bran reached out and touched her cheek. “That ain’t such a hardship for me, bein’s you’re so beautiful you take my damn breath away.”

Her eyes softened. “I like this side of you.”

“Which side is that?”

“Sweet. Romantic.”

It was Bran’s turn to blush. “So is it considered romantic if I ask you to spend the night with me before we even get our food?”

“Only if your offer includes breakfast.”

“Done.”

The waitress served their salads and they tucked in. However, Harper’s gaze kept straying off to the right.

“What’s captured your interest over there?”

“I thought I saw someone I knew.”

Speakers crackled and the feedback from a microphone reverberated loudly. They both winced. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Monday night karaoke at the Cattleman’s Club. I’m Bob Carlson and I’ll be your host. So if you’ve got a burning desire to sing for these fine folks, come up and see me and we’ll get you on the list.”

Bran groaned and felt Harper’s gaze burning into him.

“Not a karaoke fan? Or are you worried someone is going to pick your song first?”

He shook his head. “First, I don’t sing. In public. Ever. Second, what song do you think is my favorite?”

She smirked. “Honky-tonk Badonkadonk.”

“Not hardly. What about you?”

“Do I sing? Or do I like ‘Honky-tonk Badonkadonk’?”

“Do you sing?”

“Singing was my talent in the various beauty contests I competed in, but that doesn’t mean I do it well.”

“Oh, I’m sure your voice is as sweet as a songbird’s,” Bran said silkily. “What was your signature song?”

Harper speared lettuce with her fork and stuffed it in her mouth.

“Come on. Tell me.”

She shook her head and chewed.

“Or maybe you want to show me?”

She swallowed. “Huh-uh. I retired.”

“From singing?”

She nodded.

“But I’ve heard you humming all the damn time while you’re workin’.”

Harper pointed her fork at him, a little angrily. “Not the same as getting up on a stage and belting out a tune, Bran—not even close.”

Distortion from the microphone filled the room again. “Folks, I’ve been prompted by management to ask you to fill out your forms for the contest at the back hostess stand and not to bother your servers.”

Someone yelled, “What contest?”

Bob fussed with the microphone stand. “Anyone who gets up here and sings tonight is eligible for the hundred-dollar prize.”

Bran pointed his fork right back at Harper. “Now you’ve gotta enter.”

“No. Way.”

A woman passed by their table close enough that the ends of her shirt nearly dragged through Harper’s salad. The woman stopped. Walked backward. Keeping her back to Bran, she said, “Harper?”

“Becca? Hey. How are you?”

“Good. I’m surprised to see you in Rawlins. Didja have enough of that shithole Muddy Gap?”

Bran studied the way Harper’s smile froze and her facial muscles tightened. He’d never seen her react to anyone that way.

“No. I’m in town having dinner.”

“Alone? Darlin’, that’s just plain pathetic, with the way men used to fall at your feet.”

“She’s not alone.”

Becca whirled, nearly whapping Harper in the face with the jagged beaded ends of her silk shirt. Her eyes narrowed as she took Bran’s measure. Evidently she didn’t find him lacking because she smiled coyly. “Well, aren’t you a handsome one? I never knew Harper had such good taste.”

He saw Harper stab her fork into her greens. Repeatedly.

The woman held out her hand. “Becca Vincente.”

“Bran Turner. How do you know my . . . Harper?”

The stout woman actually flipped her hair over her shoulder. “We used to compete in beauty pageants together. I was first runner-up in the Miss Sweet Grass contest.” She shot Harper a haughty look. “And I did win the talent competition in that one, didn’t I, Harper?”

Harper blinked slowly. A cute wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows as if she was deep in thought. “Honestly, I’ve been in so many beauty pageants and contests, Becca, I’m afraid I don’t remember them all.”

First time he’d ever seen Harper acting cocky.

Becca’s lips flattened. “I remember, and so will everyone else when they hear me sing. I thought that’s why you’d shown up here.”