Page 18 of Love Me, Cowboy
Pulling his corduroy collar tight against the chilly air, Tyler lamented the fact that his family might never understand him as he strolled down Main Street, dodging evening shoppers and tipping his hat to those he knew. Which was nearly everyone he passed. When he reached the diner, the idea of a hot cup of coffee sounded good. And then he saw Claire sitting alone at the counter, staring down at something he couldn’t see.
He owed the woman an apology and giving it to her over a cup of coffee was as good a time as any. Bells jingled overhead as he stepped into the bright lights of the diner. Claire sat with her head on her hand, looking less than happy from his vantage point.
“Hey there,” he said, sliding onto the stool next to her. “Mind if I join you?”
She didn’t so much as glance his way. “You sure you want to?” Claire asked, shoving a plate full of pie forward and back.
Tyler removed his hat and set it upside down on the empty stool beside him. “Yeah, I’m sure.” She continued toying with the dish. “Are you going to eat that or dance with it?” he asked, trying to lighten her mood.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Not the answer he expected.
“What can I get you, Tyler?” asked the waitress behind the counter.
“Coffee, please.”
Setting a cup and saucer in front of him, she filled the mug, then set three creamers on the counter.
“Thanks, Belinda,” Tyler said. The older woman had been working behind the counter at Dawson’s Diner for as long as he could remember.
“You know what I’m doing with this pie?” Claire asked.
Watching her give the plate a half turn, Tyler answered, “No, ma’am.”
Turning to face him, she said, “I’m using it as a crutch so I don’t have to deal with how I really feel. It’s called eating my feelings. I’ve done it all my life.”
Tyler felt as if he’d just climbed onto the meanest bull he’d ever seen. One wrong move and this could be really bad.
“Interesting,” he said, buying time. Claire turned back to the pie, staring it down as if in a duel. Against his better judgment, Tyler said the words no man ever wants to say. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” Claire said, lifting her fork. A second later, the utensil hit the plate. “Why can’t she leave me alone? Why couldn’t I have a nice mother? A supportive mother who wants her daughter to be happy and accepts her for who she is?”
“I don’t—”
“She is so determined to marry me off. As if I’d give that woman grandchildren so she could make their lives miserable, too.” Stabbing the pie with a fork, Claire continued her rant, waving a bite of chocolate cream pie in the air. “Do you know who she had the nerve to set me up with tonight?”
“Set you up?” Tyler didn’t like the sound of Claire being set up with anyone.
“Greg Reddington,” Claire said, her face puckered as if she’d licked a slice of lemon. “That arrogant, insulting, no good piece of... crap. He was awful to me in high school, and if you haven’t seen him lately, I can tell you nothing has changed.”
“Greg has always been a jerk,” Tyler said, considering ways to hurt the man. “He isn’t good enough for you.”
She slapped a hand on the counter. “Thank you. Now tell my mother that, because she keeps trying to marry me off to guys just like him. If they have connections and money and the right, promising future, then I should take ’em and be glad.”
“You deserve so much more, Claire. You need a guy who will put you first. Who gets that you’re kind and sweet but really tough underneath.” Tyler leaned his elbows on the counter. “He should be able to take care of you, sure, but you’re not the type to need a fancy mansion and a new car every year.”
“No, I’m not,” Claire said, but Tyler had more to say.
“You deserve a guy who thinks you’re the best thing he’s ever found.” Lost in the moment, Tyler lifted a lock of dark-red hair off Claire’s shoulder and rubbed it between his fingers. “The man you marry should be someone who’s always thought you were beautiful. Who knew that he was lucky to have even one night with you and would regret for the rest of his life ever letting you go.”
As his voice trailed off, Tyler realized what he’d said. And by the look on Claire’s face, so did she. Hazel eyes stared into his as her full pink lips formed the shape of an O.
“Tyler—”
“It’s late,” he said, darting off the stool. “Gotta be up early for the parade tomorrow.”
“The parade,” she said, setting her fork gently on the plate and pushing it away. “Right.” Looking up as he tossed a five-dollar bill on the counter, she said, “Tyler, I—”