Rodeo Father. Mary Sullivan

efficient, Honey Armstrong filled orders as quickly as her servers brought them to the bar. Her mane of long, blond curls wild tonight, she peered at Rachel critically. “You look tired.”

      Fearful of giving Honey a reason to send her home early, Rachel put on her game face.

      “I’m good.”

      “Rach, don’t try to fool me. You know you can’t.”

      “I’ll take a dinner break soon,” Rachel promised.

      Honey pointed a finger at her. “You’d better. You look worn out.”

      It was Friday night, the bar was packed and Rachel needed to hustle. She would take care of her aching body tomorrow morning.

      Off-duty, Sheriff Cole Payette, sidled up to the bar and sat on the only empty stool. His spot. No matter how busy Honey’s got, the locals left it empty for him. Friday and Saturday nights often found him sitting there for hours, nursing a beer.

      Rachel liked him.

      As it turned out, Rachel didn’t get that break she’d promised Honey she would take. Her energy flagged, but customers continued to pour in.

      With every step, her feet screamed for attention.

      Too bad. As long as there were customers, she would continue to work and bring in tips.

      She set a heavy tray of mugs of beer onto the table next to the front door and handed them around. She was just making change when she felt a draft. New arrivals. Good. More tips.

      She glanced up...and froze. Cindy walked in with Travis, the man freshly shaved and movie-star handsome, the tips of his hair still damp from a shower, she guessed.

      Why couldn’t Cindy have taken him to the diner for dinner? Why come here? But Rachel knew. Her mom was showing off that she was with the handsome new cowboy in town, and Honey’s would be a lot more crowded than the diner. Cindy liked an audience.

      She wore even more spangles tonight and had put on her sparkly eye shadow.

      When he saw Rachel, Travis raised one eyebrow as if to ask, “You work here?”

      Rachel suppressed the part of herself that found him attractive.

      Fantasizing about a handsome stranger when she looked like a beer barrel on legs was just the type of daydreaming she had to quit.

      Anyhow, Cindy must be his type. He’d asked her out on a date pretty darn quickly, hadn’t he? Which meant he wasn’t Rachel’s type. And why was she having those kinds of unlikely thoughts, anyway? He was dating Cindy, and he had bought Rachel’s house. Cindy was welcome to him.

      Rachel’s dating days were long over.

      Then why, in the middle of a crowded bar surrounded by people she’d grown up with and loved, did Rachel feel so lonely? So in need of someone to talk to? Of someone who would listen? Or who would just hold her hand so she didn’t feel desperately alone?

      Travis and Cindy sat at one of her tables, and Rachel left them with menus while she finished delivering drinks to another couple of tables.

      When she returned, she pointed to the hooks lining the walls on either side of the door. “You can hang your hat there.”

      Travis raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t notice them. No one will take it?”

      Rachel’s grin might have been tired, but she dredged up a ghost of this morning’s sass. He needed to understand what kind of town he’d moved to.

      “Not in this town. A man’s hat is sacred around these parts. All the establishments in town have their cowboy hat hooks.”

      “Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”

      “What can I get for you two?”

      “A gin and tonic and a bacon burger with fries,” Cindy said.

      “I’ll take a Corona,” Travis said, “with an order of the hottest wings you got, a bacon double cheeseburger and a side of onion rings. You have coleslaw?”

      Rachel nodded.

      “Creamy?”

      “Sharp vinaigrette.”

      “The way I like it. I’ll take a side of that, too.”

      The way she liked it, too. “I’ll make sure it’s slurpy.” She smiled.

      Travis’s returning smile might have been small, but moonbeams dazzled.

      Get your head out of the clouds, Rachel.

      Cindy sniffed.

      After Rachel picked up the menus and walked away, she heard Travis say, “She looks tired. Is she okay?”

      “She’s fine. She’s tougher than she looks.”

      So are you, Mom. Tough as nails. She bit down on that thought. It was uncharitable. Mom had a right to her fun, but Rachel was filled with jealousy, a mean-spirited emotion unworthy of her, but undeniable. She wouldn’t mind sitting down for a carefree evening in a bar for drinks and a burger with a handsome man.

      Hey, you chose your life. You need to live it without regrets.

      A good philosophy, just hard to hold on to when she was dog-tired.