Bucking the Rules(37)

“Not at all.” Jo dismissed the conversation easily. She wasn’t about to do the exact opposite of what she’d asked Trace and start talking to Amanda about their night together. She liked the girl, a lot. But she had a mouth on her and God knew what she might spill in a moment of weakness.

Amanda finished up her rolls and grabbed a piece of chalk to write the day’s beer specials on a blackboard above the back of the bar. “You know, you might start opening up to people,” she said casually while concentrating on looping her B just right for Blue Moon.

“And do what with them?”

Amanda laughed. “Typical.”

Opening up meant getting hurt. Being dragged around—physically or emotionally—with no say in your own future. Thanks, but no thanks.

“So how’s your own cowboy?”

Amanda beamed, since someone else had brought up her favorite topic: herself. “He’s awesome. I mean, there’s no future there. But he’s adorable anyway. He brings me flowers when we meet up.” She scrunched her nose. “I told him he didn’t have to, but he said he likes doing that sort of thing. So I guess that’s just his way of handling a lover.”

Jo debated sharing her opinion on the matter—that Amanda’s mystery cowboy wanted to be more than lovers—but bit it back. Not her place.

Amanda finished underlining the advertised price on the last special and dusted her hands off. “Now, to the bathroom to wash up and then open the doors.”

“I’ll open the doors. You go wash up.”





Chapter Nine


Jowas pouring her second cup of Coke, and making a face at it, when someone sat down at her bar. She turned and smiled genuinely. Not her you’re a paying customer and I’m in a bad mood, but I’ll pretend I’m not smile, but the real deal. “Hey, Jeff. Back for lunch today?”

He grinned and put his worn Marshall High ball cap on the bar in front of him. “Couldn’t help it. You convinced me to come back. Service can’t be beat. Plus, you’re one of the only people in this town who remembers to call me Jeff.”

“Benefits of being a newbie. I don’t have to forget embarrassing childhood nicknames. Drink?”

“Just a Coke. I’m out running errands for my mom today.” He made a face.

“Aw, that’s cute,” Jo teased and passed him the drink. When he scowled, she patted his shoulder. “It’s nice. A man who is good to his mother makes the women look twice.”

“Yeah?” He sipped his drink and looked over the top of her head, like he was considering the statement, weighing its truthfulness.

He was a cutie. With his dark brown hair a little shaggy, thoughtful brown eyes to match and quick smile, he was going to slay the co-eds in law school. She imagined he already knew that, though. He seemed to carry an innate boyish charm that told her he’d gotten his way more often than not by flashing that dimple. But in a good-natured sort of way, not a sleazy way.

He didn’t dress like a lot of the other young men around town. Both times she’d seen him, he’d been in a collared shirt. Today a polo, last time an Oxford button down. His jeans today were fresh, and he had simple Adidas running shoes on rather than the crease-worn denim and scuffed work boots she was used to. But then again, not everyone who lived in the area was a rancher.

Jo sent his food order back to the kitchen and wiped down some more glasses to place on the top shelf, ready for the real rush.

“Quiet in here this time of day.”

Jo nodded. “Not many people are hitting the bottle this early, and while I think we’ve got a kickass menu, the diner still wins the lunch race by a long shot. But since they don’t serve alcohol …”

“You make up for it with the dinner crowd,” Jeff finished. “I like your style, Jo.”

She winked at him. “I like yours, too, Jeff.”

The lunch hour passed rather quickly, thanks to Jeff and his company. When she mentioned once that he should get on with his errands, he waved it off and said his mother wasn’t going to be home until later anyway. “Miranda Effingham is a busy lady. She’s one of those committee people,” he said in a deadpan whisper.

Knowing exactly the type, Jo laughed. “You lucked out, then, only running errands instead of being roped into going to a meeting or setting up a cakewalk or whatever.”

“Can’t argue there.” He set some bills down on the bar—way over-tipping, by Jo’s quick estimation—and stood. “But you’re right. Eventually the chairwoman will be home and I should have all the things put away like a dutiful son.”