Page 12 of Sweet Courage

“No bother at all.” He smiled.

“But Mama, you said he was sin on a stick. He should go to church.”

He had no idea who was more mortified, the woman practically running down the aisle, admonishing her daughter in low tones, or him with his cheeks flaring hot with embarrassment. Hopefully Kat didn’t hear, but when he glanced in her direction to find her once again leaning against a display only this time, grinning like the cat who swallowed the proverbial canary, he had little doubt. She’d heard little Janine just fine.

Biting down hard on the inside of her cheek, Kat leaned her shoulders back against the display of leather belts. It took every ounce of self-control she possessed not to burst out laughing. The absolute horror on the woman’s face as she dragged little Janine down the aisle was second only to the deer-in-headlights panic currently frozen on Hanson’s features.

He stood there in his brand new Wranglers, staring at the empty aisle as if a ghost had just materialized and offered him a winning lottery ticket.

Unable to hold it in any longer, a laugh escaped Kat’s throat, bouncing off the quiet walls of the store.

Hanson’s gaze snapped to her. Color still rode high on his cheekbones. “You heard?”

“I think everyone in a three-block radius heard.” Kat pushed off the display rack, a belt in hand, she closed the distance between them. “First, you’ll need this. Don’t want your britches falling down while wrestling a cow.”

“I have no intention of wrestling cows.”

She nodded. “You’ll still need a sturdy belt, and, I should probably warn you, Sandra Estes is a lovely woman, but that daughter of hers is four going on forty.”

He let out a long, slow breath and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Is there a protocol for this? Am I supposed to apologize to her husband?”

“For existing?” Kat chuckled, leading the way toward the checkout counter. “I think you’re safe. Her husband is the salt of the earth, but no one has ever accused him of looking like sin on a stick. Sandra was probably just having a weak moment.”

“Right.” He fell into step beside her, a quiet, resigned amusement settling over his features. “A weak moment.” Shaking his head, he returned to the dressing room, reemerging in his casual California look.

Walking alongside him, Kat caught herself studying his profile. The rigid, defensive posture from the Sweet kitchen was completely gone. In its place was a man who seemed remarkably capable of laughing at himself, even when he was entirely out of his depth.

“Now that you have that devilish cowboy look down pat.” She couldn’t resist teasing him just a little. “I suppose the next step is signing you up for the rodeo.”

He set the clothing they’d chosen on the counter and shot her a sideways glance. “Rodeo?”

“Oh, absolutely.” She tapped her index finger against her chin, pretending to consider him seriously. “The boots are a good start, but it won’t be truly complete until you win a buckle the size of a dinner plate. We’ll put you on a bronc. Nothing too crazy for your first time. Maybe something named ‘Widow Maker’ or ‘Sudden Impact’.”

“I see.” Hanson pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “And what exactly does busting a bronc entail? Is there a manual?”

“It’s mostly physics.” Kat offered a bright, entirely unhelpful smile to the cashier, a high school girl who was currently staring wide-eyed at Hanson—apparently Sandra Estes wasn’t the only one who liked what she saw. “You hold on to a leather strap, and the horse tries to launch you into the stratosphere. Eight seconds gets you a score. Less than eight seconds and you might dust it off or you might get stomped on.”

“Every man’s dream.” Holding back a smile, he pulled out a credit card, handing it to the cashier. “Do I really look that crazy to you?”

Biting the inside of her cheek again, she hefted a lazy shoulder and smiled up at him. “Who am I to judge?”

A low chuckle rumbled in Hanson’s chest. The sound was surprisingly warm, drawing Kat’s attention to the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he was genuinely amused. “I think any rodeo attempts might have to wait until I master driving a manual transmission in a straight line. Put me fifty feet in the air rigging a bridge under fire, I’m your guy. Ask me to remember how to shift into reverse? Not so much.”

The self-deprecation caught her slightly off guard. Most of the men she knew in Honeysuckle—including the Sweet brothers—would have puffed out their chests and made a joke about conquering the beast. Hanson simply acknowledged his limits without a trace of bitterness.

“Fair enough,” she said.

The cashier bagged the items, her gaze still darting shyly toward Hanson as she handed the heavy paper sack across the counter. “You’re all set, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Stepping out of the air-conditioned store, the afternoon heat wrapped around them instantly. The sidewalk was relatively quiet, just a few trucks rolling past on Main Street. Kat shifted her own small paper bag under her arm, suddenly aware that their errand was over.

“I appreciate the help, Miss Sutton.” Hanson paused near the edge of the curb. “If you hadn’t stepped in, I’m fairly certain Alice Sweet would have made me muck stalls barefoot to teach me a lesson.”

“She absolutely would have.” Kat smiled, looking up at him. Without the barrier of anger or misunderstanding between them, she realized exactly how tall he was. “And please, it’s Kat.”

He nodded once. “Kat.”