Page 27 of Cowboys at Coconuts

She could barely speak. “Same.” As another patron entered the bar and light streamed inside, Cheri studied Cole’s face. Sporting a day’s worth of light brown stubble, his bewitching smile and dimples would melt a car bumper. Feeling like a schoolgirl on the first day, she was at a loss for words. No man had ever had that effect on her.

Gus appeared with Cole’s beer. “Anything else?”

Cheri peered at Cole. “I’m not hungry yet, are you?”

He grinned. “Nope. Got all night.”

Cheri wondered if her friends would show up at Coconuts and half hoped they wouldn’t.

Cole’s eyes met hers. “I’m glad you found me on Facebook. I’d been cursin’ myself for not giving you my number earlier. You’re quite the private eye.”

“Most New Yorkers are.” She beamed.

Nodding, he said, “So.”

“So.” Cheri’s childhood insecurities kicked in. She felt her cheeks flush.

The cowboy tipped his hat. “Let’s start over.” He extended his rough, calloused hand. “I’m Cole Cash.”

Cheri broke into a wide grin and half hid behind her drink. “Cheri.” If he noticed she didn’t offer her last name, he didn’t react. After hanging his cowboy hat on the back of one of the empty chairs, Cole took a sip of foamy beer.

Glancing at his rough hands, Cheri said, “By the way, you need some lotion.”

Cole’s face twisted. “Huh?”

“When you shook my hand, I noticed how dry yours were.”

The cowboy studied his rough hands and absentmindedly rubbed them. “Country boys don’t wear lotion. I’d be laughed off the farm if I smelled like lavender. The animals would probably run for the hills.”

Cheri eyed him over the top of her wineglass. “Tell me about living in the country. What do you grow on your farm?”

His eyes twinkled. Cows.”

“You grow cows?”

Cole guffawed. “No, I raise them.”

Cheri’s cocktail had kicked in on her empty stomach. She felt a little woozy and teetered on her high-backed bar stool.

Cole reached for her. “Whoa. You’re acting like a newborn calf.”

Cheri giggled. “Please don’t compare me to a cow ever again.” Studying Cole’s western attire, she said, “I’m not well versed in cowboy lingo. . . Are you a real cowboy?”

Chuckling, Cole asked, “Are you askin’ because I wear a cowboy hat?”

“And boots.” She pointed toward his dusty, brown footwear. “Don’t forget the boots.”

“I guess you could call me a cowboy, but I’m more of a country boy at heart. I don’t ride in the rodeo or anything like that. I live a simple life on a farm and have animals, that’s all. You probably can’t understand that being from New York and all.”

“Well, look who’s here.” A tall, thin cowboy punched Cole in the shoulder. “I never thought I’d see the day when Cole Cash would be inside Coconuts.”

Cole eyed the man. “I could say the same about you, Wyatt. What are you two doin’ here?”

“Passin’ through town after a cattle auction. Never been here before. A cold brew sounded good.”

A stocky cowboy spoke up. “We’re goin’ to another cattle auction tomorrow. Feel free to join us. We’re leavin’ real early in the mornin’.”

The lanky man tipped his hat in Cheri’s direction. “Sorry, ma’am. Where are my manners? I’m Wyatt. I believe we met on the square several days ago.”

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