The Cowboy's Twin Surprise. Cathy McDavid
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with the Powells about boarding a couple of horses.”
“Really?” Frankie didn’t let on he’d already told her this.
“He must be staying in town, then.”
“I...couldn’t say.”
Disappointment shone on the woman’s face. She’d obviously been hoping for more of a reaction from Frankie.
Unbelievably, the subject of their conversation breezed into the café, the glass door whooshing closed behind him.
“Great,” Frankie muttered under her breath. The one time Spence arrived promptly, and she had to be sitting with someone itching for a repeat-worthy moment. “I, um, hate to ask you to...”
What should she say? Please leave?
Of course, Spence spotted her immediately and came right over, returning the greetings given him from various old friends, but not stopping.
Frankie had barely caught her breath when he appeared at the table, grinning broadly, looking scrumptious and not at all fazed to find someone with her.
“Morning,” he addressed the woman. “We run into each other again.”
“Yes, we do.” Her glance traveled between him and Frankie. “I didn’t realize you were waiting for him.”
Frankie’s hands betrayed her, starting to tremble. She hid them beneath the table, cursing the coffee she’d drunk and knowing it wasn’t the cause.
“Am I late?” he asked.
“No. I just got here.” Did half an hour ago count as “just”?
“You ready?” He held out his hand.
What the heck was going on?
“If you don’t mind.” He turned his attention to the other woman, who stared at him with wide eyes. “Frankie and I don’t have much time.”
Frankie grimaced. As if tongues weren’t already wagging.
“Don’t let me hold you up.” The woman vacated the booth.
Frankie suddenly realized Spence was rescuing her from an uncomfortable situation. Not causing trouble. When had he become astute enough to read other people’s feelings, and thoughtful enough to respond?
“Uh, yes.” She tentatively accepted his hand and let him assist her from the booth. They started walking toward the door. “You can let go of me,” she whispered.
“Come on. Let’s really give them something to talk about.”
It wasn’t the stares bothering her. Not even close. What worried Frankie was that the instant she and Spence had touched, familiar sensations stirred inside her. And rather than resist, she’d savored them.
Outside, she reclaimed her hand. “Where are we going?” Her original intention had been to talk in the café.
“Let’s walk. I haven’t had a chance to check out the town since I got back.”
This time of year, mornings were cool enough to be outdoors. Within a few hours, however, the temperature would soar to the mideighties.
“As you can see,” Frankie said, “things are mostly the same.” At least walking provided an outlet for her nervous energy.
“I see the feed store has changed hands.”
“The owner sold the store after his assistant manager was involved in a series of horse thefts around the valley.”
“And your sister Mel helped catch the thieves. She’s marrying the deputy who headed up their capture, right?”
“She tell you that yesterday?”
“Actually, I heard about it last month when I was passing through town.”
“Why didn’t you contact me?”
“The timing wasn’t right.”
Was it because he finally had money? Frankie had never cared that Spence wasn’t wealthy. She’d grown up in a modest home, but one filled with love. Though she’d lost her mother at a young age, her father had done his best to ensure his daughters’ happiness. She knew there were more important things in life than having a fat bank account.
They crossed the street at the corner and headed down the next block.
“What did you want to talk about?” he asked. “And for the record, I wasn’t late.”
No, he’d been early. “My catering business. I’m not sure you know, but a ten thousand dollar contribution entitles you to a 10 percent ownership and a share of the profits.”
“Sounds a little like my arrangement with Han Dover Fist. I own 15 percent of him and get a share of the profits.”
“Do you have a say in his management?” Frankie was genuinely curious.
“Not anymore. He’s retired from the track and living the life of a king at Cottonwood Farms. Quit a winner—that was my boss’s philosophy.” Spence indicated a group of boisterous riders tying their horses to a hitching rail beside the Poco Dinero Bar and Grill. “I see that practice hasn’t changed.”
“And likely never will as long as we’re a ranching community.”
At the next corner, Spence asked, “What are your plans for the catering business? Mel and Ronnie mentioned you’re just doing side jobs right now.”
It was a reasonable question, especially from a potential investor. Besides, Frankie would rather talk about her business than the girls.
“I’d like to buy a smoker. Commercial grade, I should say. All I have now are two small ones. More chafing dishes. And warming boxes to transport food. Then there’s advertising and promotion.”
For the next five minutes, she outlined her ideas. Spence made several intelligent comments that had her contemplating her answers.
“Sounds good,” he remarked when she was done.
“How involved would you expect to be?”
“Are you asking if I intend to stick around?” He flashed her the same happy grin he’d used back when they were dating, to lighten her mood or ease her worries.
“Honestly? Yes.” She kept her voice level.
His response was more important to her than she cared to admit.
“I suppose it depends a lot on you.”
“Me?” She stopped to look at him.
They stood in front of the auto parts store, with its slight smell of oil and flashing neon sign, lit even during the day. Not the most romantic setting.
“I’d like to stick around, Frankie. Mustang Valley is a good place for me to start my racing quarter horse farm.”
“You said yesterday you wanted another chance with me.”
“There’s that, too.”
They began walking again. “Not that it’s any of my business,” she said, finally giving in to her curiosity, “but have you met anyone these past four years?”
“I’ve dated a couple gals. Nothing serious.” He chuckled, with more nervousness than humor. “I had a lot of trouble getting over you, Francine Hartman.”
Then why didn’t you come back? Her life, and that of her daughters, might now be entirely different.
“Let me rephrase,” he said. “No one’s compared to you.”
“I see.” She shouldn’t be happy. And she wasn’t.
Fine, fine. She was a little happy. She’d pined over him, too.
“What about you?” he asked.