Page 4 of A Cowboy Sugar Cookie Kiss
Grams wrinkled fingers grip Sadie’s chin. “You’re here for the men. You don’t fool me, child.”
My sister’s thick eyebrows hike upward under her wispy bangs. “From what I hear, so are you.”
I open my mouth to ask what she means when old man Fred Gray steps behind his grandson.
He clears his throat. The deep husky sound pulls everyone’s attention. “I see you’re catching up with the enemy.” He’s talking to Cole, but his icy cold stare is narrowed at my grandmother. There’s history here. Fred claims Betty stole his secret recipe and applied it to her famous sugar cookies. My grandmother denies it. Half the town believes him and the other half believes her.
“We’re not competing this weekend, Granddad.” Cole throws his arm over his grandfather’s shoulder.
I see who Cole gets his good looks from. The handsome older cowboy is fetching for his age. Blue eyes the color of a cloudless summer day, medium length wavy grey hair, and a pointed moustache. His longer beard could use a trim, but it works for him. He has a Jeff Bridges look about him.
“We’re workin’ together. Remember, Granddad? The Grays and the Hills.”
I choke. On nothing but thin air. “What’s that now?”
“The fundraising committee decided to spice it up this year and host two local bakers for the event.” Grams angry glare lands on Fred.
As it should.
She’s been head baker for as long as I can remember. Sure, Fred has dropped off baskets of baked goodies for door prizes in the past, but he’s never been a head baker.
“Who’s the fundraising committee?” As I ask the question, two familiar voices buzz through the lobby.
“Yoo-hoo!” Wilma and Faye Quylt beeline toward us.
They’re waving as if we will miss them in their usual, over-the-top outfits. Faye’s large-brimmed Kentucky derby hat is adorned with what appears to be antlers. I can’t tell if they’re real or fake. Her brown tea dress has a white middle and spots along the side mimicking a deer’s body. Wilma’s red embroidered western shirt is a little tamer. A little.
I’m not surprised the local matchmakers are behind the fundraising change. The question is, why. What do they gain? What’s up their sleeves?
I smell Cole’s woodsy scent again. My head jerksto my side. And there he stands. Close enough our bodies touch.
“Looks like you won’t have to peep on me; I’ll be with you all weekend.”
Chapter Two
COLE
