The Cowboy And The Ceo

Before she could tell him that she just wanted a toasted bagel with cream cheese, he handed her a plate heaped with scrambled eggs, bacon, ham and fried potatoes with onions.

“Come back for seconds or thirds if you want ’em,” Cookie said, grinning. “We got more than enough.”

Clint plucked a potato that had fallen off her plate onto the tray and popped it into his mouth. “Every once in a while, Cookie thinks that he’s still cooking for the marines.”

She looked down at her breakfast, floating in grease. “I see that he specializes in low-fat cuisine.”

Cookie handed Clint an identically heaped plate of food.

“The grease makes your hair shiny,” Clint said, leading Susan to an empty picnic table. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Black.”

“Have a seat, I’ll be right back.”

She watched him walk to a round table supporting a coffee urn as big as a silo. Clint could really work a pair of jeans, and she could think of several designers who’d scoop him up instantly as a model, but her major concern was the fact that her coffee would be cold by the time he meandered back.

He finally returned and handed her a steaming mug of the coffee and she took a long sip. The strong, bitter brew slammed against the back of her brain and her eyes watered. She gasped for breath as her toes curled into her sandals.

“Good stuff, huh?” Clint said. “That’s cowboy coffee.”

She closed her eyes. She couldn’t speak.

“You’ll get used to it.”

She took a bite of bacon. It had a nice smoky flavor and she guessed it was the real cholesterol-laden thing.

“So what are you going to teach in arts and crafts?” Clint asked. “I’ll help you any way I can.”

She took a deep breath. She didn’t want to think about it yet. “Thanks, Clint. I appreciate the offer and will definitely take you up on it.”

He nodded and concentrated on his plate of food.

“How come nobody takes their hat off when they eat?” Susan asked.

“A cowboy never takes his hat off,” Clint replied. Then he winked. “Well, maybe there’s one thing that I’d take my hat off for.”

He winked again, and she felt a tingle in her belly. She might be rusty as to the flirting thing, but it was all coming back to her. “You’re bald under that hat, right?”

“Like I said, I only take my hat off for one thing, so if you want to find out…”

There was that annoying flip of her heart again.

Before she could think of a witty comeback, she noticed a little girl on crutches awkwardly making her way toward the table. And all she could think of was Elaine, as a pang struck her heart.

How was she going to survive this trip when she couldn’t escape her memories?

Chapter Four

Susan couldn’t take her eyes off the little girl. She had blond wispy hair like Elaine’s, and Elaine’s smile, but that’s where the similarity ended. Elaine had been much taller and weighed more than this tiny creature.

As the girl got closer, Susan could see that she had braces on both legs. A piece of paper and a pen were crumpled around the handle of a crutch where she clutched it.

She had a big grin as she made her way over to them. “Can I help you with something, sweetie?” Susan asked, trying to ignore her aching heart.

“I want Cheyenne Clint’s autograph,” she said.

Susan smiled at her. “Cheyenne who?”

The girl tilted her head. “Cheyenne Clint. The rodeo clown. He’s sitting right next to you.”

“Cheyenne Clint—” Susan laid her hand on his arm to get his attention “—you have a fan here who wants your autograph.”

Clint wiped his mouth with a napkin and swiveled to see who was talking to him. “Well, well, aren’t you a pretty young lady.” He tipped his hat to her. “Cheyenne Clint Scully at your service, little lady.”

The tiny girl giggled. “Will you sign your autograph?”

“I’d be honored.” Clint patiently waited as she handed him the crumpled paper and a pen. “What’s your name, darlin’?”

“Alisa Constance Pedigrew.”

Clint gave a high-pitched whistle as he scribbled on the paper. “That’s a name for a princess. Are you a princess?”

She giggled again, cocking her head to the side. “No.” Her fine, pale hair skimmed the shoulder of her colorful striped T-shirt and then she tossed her head back. She had on a pair of denim shorts that hid the top of where her braces started. She leaned on aluminum crutches with metal armbands.

“Well, I am going to make you the Princess of the Gold Buckle Ranch for as long as you stay here. That okay with you?”

“Sure!”

Clint made Alisa’s face light up with pure enjoyment, and that was a real talent.

Clint took off his hat, and Susan saw that he had short, straight brown hair shot with streaks of gold. Mystery solved.

He placed his hat on Alisa’s head and said, “I, Cheyenne Clint, pronounce you Princess of the Gold Buckle Ranch.”