phone several times. It was merely his first name she was having trouble with. But she let it go at that and shook his hand.
“After that little performance you put on today down at the county fairgrounds, news traveled like wildfire. And I was told to sign that girl come hell or high water.”
She’d already agreed to sign with the Wild West Show if her attorney didn’t see a problem with the contract, so news didn’t travel nearly as fast as Larry thought it did.
“What can I do for you?” she asked.
“It’s what I can do for you. If I could just have a minute or two to speak with you in private—that’s really all I need. The PR department is chomping at the bit to get a pretty local girl to feature in our ads and quite possibly the Lone Star Review. And Miss Rogers, we’re all convinced that gal is you.”
Again, Amber scanned the room. Luckily, there wasn’t anyone around who seemed to be paying attention—other than Gram and Elmer, who were leaning into the conversation as though the fate of the entire world rested on Amber’s answer. Or at least, life as they knew it in Horseback Hollow, which was crazy.
The only one she was really concerned about seeing her talk to the enemy, so to speak, was Jensen. But why stress about that?
The Hollows Cantina might be the nicest restaurant in town, but it wouldn’t be Jensen’s cup of tea. Besides, what did he care what she did with her life or her future anyway?
* * *
The Hollows Cantina was busy tonight. Each of the outdoor tables that lined the sidewalk was taken, the heaters blasting to keep the bundled-up diners protected from the brisk, January evening.
The second story, an open-air terrace adorned with little white lights, appeared to be just as full.
Jensen opened the door for his mother, and she stepped inside, followed by Orlando.
The distinguished pilot greeted the hostess, a lovely brunette with long straight hair and striking blue eyes. “Looks like you have a full house tonight, Rachel.”
“We do, but I have a table upstairs. It’s not quite ready. If you don’t mind waiting a couple of minutes, I’ll take you to it.”
“That’s fine,” Jensen said. “Thank you.”
“You were telling me about your sons,” Josephine said to Orlando.
“Yes, Cisco and Matteo have just settled in Horseback Hollow. I’m glad to have them nearby.”
“I’m sure you are. I’ll be spending more time here, now that...” She scanned the area, then lowered her voice. “Well, you know.”
Orlando nodded. “I completely understand. Maybe you should consider getting a small home here, unless you want to stay with your daughter and son-in-law.”
“That’s a good idea, Orlando. I’ll give that some thought. Maybe I can encourage my other children to buy vacation homes in Horseback Hollow. I think it would be especially good for Oliver and Brodie to have a closer relationship with their new family—at least for part of the year.”
Jensen couldn’t imagine either of his older brothers leaving the UK. Goodness, even Charles and Lucie couldn’t get home fast enough as it was.
“Your table is ready,” the hostess—Rachel—said. Then the attractive woman led them upstairs.
Jensen had no more than reached the landing when he spotted Amber seated at a table near the bar with a man he didn’t recognize.
The gent was older than she—in his forties perhaps. Not bad looking—if you liked men who wore golf clothing when they socialized.
“Is this table all right?” the hostess asked, drawing Jensen’s attention, but just barely.
“It’s fine. Thank you.”
Orlando held a chair for Josephine, yet Jensen couldn’t seem to take a seat. His interest was drawn to that table for two, especially because the older man leaned forward as though pressing Amber, urging her to...?
What?
“Is there something wrong, sir?” the hostess asked.
Jensen snapped his attention back to the people he was with. “No, I’m sorry. I thought I spotted someone I knew.”
His mum chuckled softly. “You did, son. Isn’t that Amber Rogers, the young woman who owns the ranch near Quinn’s?”
“Um. Yes,” he said. “So it is.”
“If I’m not mistaken, that also appears to be the young woman the tabloids spotted with you...perhaps...Photoshopped a perfectly simple picture to look like the two of you were kissing.”
Jensen reached for a glass of water and took a sip. He knew exactly where this conversation was heading, and he wished she’d let it drop—especially in front of Orlando.
“I wonder who that man is?” his mother asked. “He seems quite enamored of Amber. But then, what man wouldn’t be. She’s actually quite lovely.”
Jensen ought to be annoyed with his mum for taunting him, but he was too caught up in what was going on at Amber’s table. He couldn’t help his interest—nor the sharp poke of jealousy that needled him.
Somewhere along the way, they’d placed drink orders, and he’d ended up with a longneck bottle of beer. But he couldn’t seem to focus on anything but Amber and that older man who was doing all the talking.
What in the hell was he saying?
She actually looked as though she’d rather be somewhere else.
Did she want to escape? Jensen was feeling rather chivalrous.
His mother was saying something, although he’d be damned if he knew what it was. He’d completely lost track of the conversation at his table and decided to put an end to his curiosity.
So he picked up his bottle of beer, stood and said the only two words he’d wanted to say since laying eyes on Amber just minutes ago. “Excuse me.”
* * *
Amber wasn’t sure how long Jensen had been in the restaurant before she spotted him, but he hadn’t kept his eyes off her for a moment.
About the time she was trying to snatch her hand out of Byerly’s and tell him she was no cancan dancer and that she didn’t care if the company was prepared to hire a dance instructor to help her prepare for the stupid audition, a cool British voice said, “Miss Rogers. What a surprise.”
A flood of warmth rushed through her. She wished she could say it was the effects of Jose Cuervo making its way through her system, but she was afraid it was none other than Jensen Fortune Chesterfield who’d done the trick.
Either way, she welcomed the distraction and used it as her excuse to break away.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, tearing her hand from the casting director’s grip. “Mr. Byerly was just proposing a project he wanted me to consider, but I really need to get back to my table.”
Just a few minutes ago, she’d called the ranch foreman and had asked someone to come and give Danny Boy a ride home. She hadn’t planned on having a drink tonight—but then again, she hadn’t expected to feel the need for one.
“You have my card,” Byerly said. “Please call me.”
“I told you I’d think about it. And I can’t do that if you won’t give me the time I need. So do us both a favor and let me be the one to make contact, okay?”
Once she’d left Byerly’s table, she thanked Jensen for the interruption. “That guy doesn’t take ‘we’ll see’ for an answer.”
“Then I’m glad I could help.”
“I’m...uh, here