Page 25 of Cowboy Heat

“How are you?” he asks, again polite.

I’m feeling more awkward by the second.

Why is my heartbeat picking up pace?

“Good. A pretty slow week but good.” I motion again behind me. “We are actually planning on going to the Branch tonight. My friend June and I. My favorite special is tonight. Drinks, that is. Would you want to join?”

The offer catches me by surprise—a feat considering I’m the one who said it.

Beau doesn’t instantly answer, and that awkwardness I’m feeling tightens into a bit of cold social dread.

“If you’re still busy or doing whatever, that’s fine,” I tack on. “No worries at all. I just wanted to extend the invite. You’re a part of Robin’s Tree now, and that means something.”

The last new resident of Robin’s Tree was Franklin Russo, and I surely never invitedhimto drinks, but that’s neither here nor there.

Beau nods. “I’m actually done now with what I was working on. To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t mind a drink.”

I start grinning like a fool. “Okay, then,” I exclaim a little too enthusiastically. “I’m riding with June, so would it be okay to meet up there around, say, eight? The dinner rush slows around then, but the cook is still going if you want a meal.”

He nods again. “That sounds good to me.”

“Great. I’ll see you there.”

He doesn’t start across the street until I’m heading back to the coffee shop. I know, because I look over my shoulder at him.

Twice.

June times it perfectly and meets me at the door. Her dark red lipstick lines a smirk. “And you said he has a brother?” She looks appreciatively in Beau’s direction.

“Five, though I don’t think they all look like him.”

June fans herself dramatically. “Maybe they’re all just as good-looking simply by association?”

I watch Beau disappear into his rental car. My cheeks have some heat in them still. “Maybe you should ask him that tonight,” I say, hoping the blush doesn’t show.

“You invited him to drinks with us?”

I nod. “It seemed the neighborly thing to do.”

June’s smirk becomes deeper, more mischievous. She tries on aloof for her parting statement. “You have a lot of neighbors in this town, Kissy. I’ve never seen you invite a one of them out to drink.”

I open my mouth to dispute that fact.

But she’s not wrong.

CHAPTERELEVEN

Beau

Halfof the Branch sits on stilts, the other half on grass that’s been carefully manicured. Trees barricade the side and back of the bar while to the left shows a small house that matches the wood and metal of the bar. The parking area is gravel beneath my rental car. The drive up is poorly paved and has varying sizes of potholes at random intervals. Neither seem to be a deal breaker for the residents of Robin’s Tree. After I park, I count twelve cars in the lot.

String lights go from the eaves of the bar out across to wooden poles lining the area around the lot. It’s a warm yellow light, and I think about putting a few up at the main house to make the place feel different.

To make the darkness less inviting.

I get out and flinch as my knee buckles enough to get my undivided attention for a second.

This past week, I’ve had to take it easy on my leg. Less than two days of excitement put me out of commission for almost seven.