Читать книгу Archer's Angels - Tina Leonard - Страница 10

“Thank you,” Clove said, “I think.”

He looked at her. “No, really. You have lovely eyes. Very unique color.”

She was torn between feeling flattered, giving in to worry, or pulling out her tricks. He was, after all, the key player in her plan.

“What’s your name, stranger?” he asked.

“Clover,” she said, thinking quickly, not yet ready to reveal her identity.

“Clover? Is that a real name or are you making one up just to keep your distance?”

“It’s a real name.” Just not hers.

He frowned. “You don’t look like a Clover.”

“I’d ask you what I do look like, but I don’t want to know.” She leaned over into the stall. “Oh, Tonk has blue hooves,” she said. “I think blue hooves on a horse are so pretty.”

He narrowed his gaze on her. “Know a little something about horses, do you?”

“A little. My family owns a farm.” Clove glanced up at him. “We raise horses.”

“Oh? Where’s the farm? The Jeffersons know just about everyone in the business.”

“Well, you wouldn’t know us,” Clove said. “Our farm is not doing as well as one might hope.”

“Sorry to hear that.” He turned his attention back to Tonk, who was still nuzzling at Clove’s fingers.

“Oh, Archer!” Feminine voices floated into the stall.

Clove turned to see four beautiful girls walk by with flirtatious glances for Archer. She turned back around in time to see Archer’s chest puff out about four inches.

“Hey, ladies,” he called. “Nice winter weather, huh?”

They giggled. “We’ve got some hot cocoa when you feel like warming up,” one girl said.

Another nodded. “And some of our special potion tastes good on a freezing night. Madame Mystery’s—”

“Yes, yes,” Archer said hurriedly. He waved them on. “You girls behave. Get inside before you all catch colds.”

Laughing, they waved mittened fingers at him and moved on after casting him one last alluring glance.

Clove blinked. “They practically undressed you en masse.”

He laughed. “Yeah. They’re good at that.”

And he had no shame! Clove quickly reviewed her position. Maybe mano a mano she could get his attention, but groupie corralling put the odds against her. Not to mention that those women were gorgeous.

“They mean no harm,” he said easily, “as long as they get no closer than about ten feet.”

“How do you know?”

He winked at her. “Women are not hard to figure out.”

She held back a gasp at his cockiness. “You haven’t figured out your horse.”

“And that’s why I love only her.” He gave Tonk an affectionate pat on the shoulder, and she tried to nail him with a hoof. Swiftly jumping forward, he dodged the hoof, but Tonk’s head snaked around, her teeth barely missing his shoulder.

“I guess you’d call that a love peck,” Clove said.

“Aw, Tonk wouldn’t really bite me. She just knows I like a little sauce to my women.”

“Women?”

He grinned, pushing his hat back with a finger.

He was annoying, and much sexier than he’d come across in his e-mails. She needed a shower to freshen up after her travels, and time to regroup. “I think I’ll be going now,” she said, retreating from his confident smile.

“Thanks for the dinner offer,” he said, “But Tonk and I have work to do.”

Now that she’d seen him turn down the quartet of country lovelies, her feelings weren’t quite so hurt, so she was able to flip him a shrug. “About that hotel you were going to recommend?”

“There’s no hotel in Lonely Hearts Station, but both beauty salons welcome travelers. Head over to the Lonely Hearts Salon. The owner, Delilah, has rooms for rent. You’ll be safe over there.” His gaze settled on Clove for a moment, then he put the horse’s hoof down and came over to the rail, leaning on it to stare down at her. “Do not take a room at the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls salon. Even though you will see a big sign out front proclaiming that theirs are the cheapest, cleanest, most comfortable rooms in town.”

She backed away from his intensity. “You are quite forceful, sir.”

“Yeah, well, someone’s gotta be around here.” He turned back to his horse. “Otherwise we’d all be love candy for women and ending up at the gooey altar of marriage.”

Whew! He was simply brewing in misery when it came to women, Clove realized. In their e-mails, he’d always made everything sound so wonderful, so carefree, so…fairy tale. But in person, the story was quite different.

“Good luck,” she said, backing away, “with your rodeo. Or whatever it is that you’re after.”

He waved a hand absently.

Clove waved a hand back, mimicking him, but he never noticed. She went out onto the pavement, crossing her arms against the chill.

It was true what Archer said. There was a large sign out in front of the Never Lonely salon. In fact, the whole building was lit up with white lights, like icing on a gingerbread house. Laughter floated from inside, and a piano gaily played ragtime.

She glanced across the street at the Lonely Hearts Salon. A lamp glowed in the window, and it was mostly dark and very quiet, as if no one ever stayed there.

She turned back to the Never Lonely salon. Four really pretty, lively women who knew how to get Archer’s attention lived inside. And hadn’t those flirty girls said something about hot cocoa?

Clove shivered. She wasn’t used to this kind of cold.

The cocoa—and the chance to get some advice on how to seduce her man—won out. She headed toward the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls Salon.

ARCHER WAITED until he heard Clover walking away, then he turned to stealthily watch her leave. Nice fanny, for a girl with a plain face and wacky glasses. She was packing her jeans just fine. He liked her voice, too, he had to admit. It was very sweet, with a slight accent.

“You embarrassed me, Tonk,” he said. “Could you at least go easy on me in front of girls? You make me look like I’m the hoss and you’re the rider.”

Tonk ignored him.

“Hey!” Bandera came and leaned his elbows over the rail. “Let’s eat. I’m hungry. Hey, what’s up with Dog-face? Someone feed her a sour apple?”

“Shut up.” Archer put away the hoof pick and other tack. “There was a girl here a second ago—”

“Oh, is that your problem?”

“And she went to find a room, I think.”

“Ah.” Bandera nodded knowingly. “And you want the key.”

“No! She’s not…my type.” He glanced at his brother. “I told her to go over to Delilah’s.”

“Yeah?” Bandera laughed. “If she was that girl in glasses I just saw, then she’s just like your horse.”

Archer straightened. “Meaning?”

“Meaning she doesn’t mind very well. She went straight to Marvella’s.”

“What? I specifically told her—”

Bandera grinned. “Archer, if you had a Dear Abby column, you’d go broke. No one listens to you.”

Archer ignored him. “That crazy girl has no idea what she’s getting herself into!”

“Well, don’t get too worried about it.”

Archer settled his hat on his head. “Someone has to look out for the misfits in life. And if there ever was a misfit, Clover is her.”

“Whoa. Color me impressed.”

Archer slapped his brother upside the head. “Come on. We’ve got to catch her before she gets too far into the dragon’s den!”

CLOVE COULD NOT IMAGINE why Archer had steered her away from surely the nicest girls on the planet. Taking pity on her plight—poor, tired traveler!—they’d treated her to a wonderful array of services.

They’d coaxed her glasses from her, leaving her nearly blind. They’d teased and washed her hair. Perfumed her. Stuck some heels on her feet. Given her a knockout dress to wear, the type of thing one saw on elegant ladies.

She’d been a bit embarrassed, but they’d waved aside her worries. It was all part of the service, Marvella said. Besides, Clove was renting a room, and that more than covered the expense. And gave her girls some practice with a lady’s hair, since they mostly had male clients.

“Can I have my glasses for just one sec?”

Marvella handed them to her. Clove put them on so she could peer in the mirror. “Oh, my,” she said. “I had no idea I could look like this.”

“It was all there,” Marvella said. “Hidden charms. The best kind, I always say. I had another girl, once upon a time. You remind me of her. By the time I got done with her, she was a golden charm. She left me,” Marvella said bitterly. “Ah well, that’s in the past.”

“What was her name?” Clove asked, out of politeness more than curiosity. It was clear Marvella wanted to draw out the girl chat a bit more.

“Cissy. Cissy…Kisserton. Now Jefferson.”

“Jefferson?”

Marvella nodded. “Those damn Jeffersons get all my girls. They’ve got Valentine right now, and not one of them has any intention of marrying her.”

Clove sucked in her breath. “What do you mean, they’ve got her?”

“One of the brothers impregnated her, another took her to their ranch, and they’ve kept her there. After she gave birth they put her to work in a bakery.”

Clove’s eyes were huge. “That sounds terrible.”

“It is. If you ever meet a Jefferson man, my best advice to you is run.”

Clove blinked. That was the same thing Archer had said about the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls! “I’m still confused about the plural,” she said.

“Oh, you’d find quick enough that the Jeffersons do everything as a gang, a fixture upon our good and tidy landscape that can’t be overlooked, an eyesore, if you will. They approach you in a group. If one of them is alone, soon enough they’ll have backup. Before you know it, you’re theirs.”

Clove could hardly take this in. She thought about Archer’s hot, lean physique and felt her breath catch in her chest. “It sounds…”

“Scary, I know.”

Clove had been working the adjective “romantic” over in her mind. Hot. Sexy. Fantastic…

Marvella clucked with sympathy. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I have my dealings with the Jeffersons as necessary, but one thing is certain—they will never, ever take one of my girls from me again. And right now, you’re one of my girls.”

“Thank you.” Now was the wrong time to mention that she’d actually come to town to shanghai some Jefferson genes.

“How can I ever thank you for all you’ve done for me?” she quietly asked Marvella.

“You sit here,” Marvella said, “right up front, my precious, and just smile for the customers who come in the door. Just an hour,” she said, “will be repayment enough.”

“YOU COULD NOT HAVE possibly seen Clover go into Marvella’s,” Archer told Bandera. “I have seven-eight brother syndrome, which means I’m so far down on the family tree that I have to be observant or I get run over by my own beloved brothers. And I distinctly saw Clover turn left as she left the pens.”

“She may have,” Bandera said agreeably. “You may have seven-eight brother syndrome, but I have eleventh-brother syndrome, which means I was so close to becoming Last that I make certain everything is proven fact before I talk about it. And I saw a lady who looked a little hesitant, with big ugly glasses, go into Marvella’s.”

Archer’s boots moved faster as he headed to the door of the salon. “You’re crazy. She said she would listen to me. Good evening, miss,” he said, tipping his hat to the gorgeous woman seated on a bar stool just inside the doorway.

She stared at him, not inclined to say much, he guessed. Glancing around for Clover, he turned back to the bar-stool babe. “Did you happen to see a woman come in here, one who was lost, wearing glasses as thick as the tires on a truck?”

She looked perplexed, then she shook her head. He glanced over her big hair and her superbly applied makeup. The wooden bar stool only served to enhance her hourglass shape, keeping the focus on her curves as she sat straight for balance.

“You see,” he told Bandera, “Clover would stick out in here like a barn owl amongst peacocks. Let’s go check with Delilah.” He tipped his hat to the babelicious door greeter and headed out.

“Man alive, she was hot as a smokin’ pistol!” Bandera exclaimed. “Have you noticed that Marvella’s girls just keep getting hotter and hotter? Whooee! I feel like someone just lit a firecracker in my jeans!”

“She was all right,” Archer said. “Actually, she reminded me of Cissy. And you know, I love our sister-in-law, but remember, I was stuck in a truck once upon a time with her and Hannah, and I’m telling you, girls who look like that are misfired pistols in the wrong hands.”

“My hands would be just right,” Bandera said. “Oh, how quickly I would volunteer to be her bar stool the next time she needed a place to park that fanny!”

“Dunce,” Archer told him. “Get a grip. We’ve got a tourist to rescue.” They went across the street to Delilah’s, quietly tapping on the door because of the hour. The Jeffersons had their own keys for the back door, where they could go up the stairs and commandeer a special set of rooms Delilah kept just for them. But right now, Archer was hoping for intel on his lost farm girl.

“Why are you so worried about her, anyway?” Bandera demanded. “Let’s go back over to Marvella’s and spark a fire with the damsels.”

“No hunting for trouble tonight,” Archer stated. “If we bring home any more bad news related to Marvella, Mason’ll probably run us out of town for good. He still can’t believe Last got one of her girls pregnant while Mason was gone.”

They peered through the curtained window of the front door. Only a quaint lamp burned on the table. “Guess she and Jerry called it an early night,” Archer said. “Darn.”

“That means your little friend isn’t here. Delilah would be bustling around in the kitchen, making her welcome.”

“That’s true.” Now Archer was extremely worried.

“Could I be mistaken?” Bandera asked. “Perhaps I didn’t see her go into Marvella’s, and in fact, she has left town.”

Archer wheeled to look at him. “Are you mistaken?”

“If I say I am, can we go hit on Miss February over at Marvella’s?”

“No!” Archer was good and put out with his brother. “How can you think of women at a time like this! There is a poor girl somewhere in this town who has no place to go, and all you can think about is your…you know.” He wished it didn’t bother him so much that Clover might have left town. Certainly he had not been very friendly. “Just so long as she didn’t go to Marvella’s, I really don’t care where she went. That’s all I’m doing, trying to keep an innocent traveler from getting fleeced.”

“That’s right.” Bandera nodded. “That’s all that’s on your mind. And I’m not thinking about that beauty on the bar stool at all!”

CLOVE COULDN’T BELIEVE that Archer had left without recognizing her. It was so exciting! She felt like a different girl.

She was completely new.

The thought made her bite her lip. Clove felt her puffed-up big hair and her mascaraed lashes. The look really wasn’t her, though it was fun. But in a while, her eyes would start to itch from the makeup, and anyway, her scalp felt tight from all the hair spray lacquered onto her head.

She was glad he didn’t know she’d run counter to his suggestion and come to Marvella’s.

One hour had passed, the allotted time Marvella had asked her to sit out front. Longing for a shower, Clove went upstairs to her new room, closing the door. The feminine side of her wished Archer had noticed the big change in her—and the practical side remembered that he’d noticed her less as Cinderella than he had when she’d been Plain Jane.

It was time to let the inner stuntwoman in her throw caution to the wind.

Surely it couldn’t be that hard to attract a man.

“Yoo-hoo!” a voice called.

“Come in!”

One of the stylists walked into her room, leaving a small bottle on the table. “Marvella wants you to have some of her delicious home brew as a welcome gift.”

“That’s so kind. She’s already done too much.”

The stylist smiled. “She must like you.”

Clove looked at the bottle. “Hey, a cowboy came in here tonight. His name was Archer Jefferson. Do you know him?”

“Know him?” The woman laughed. “We know all the Malfunction Junction boys. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

“If you’re thinking he’s cute, so does every woman in this place. But don’t spend too much time thinking about him. That one is impossible. All he cares about is his horse, ugly dog that she is.”

Clove frowned. Tonk was beautiful in her own way.

“But if you just can’t live without him, you’ll probably find him at Delilah’s. I’d head up the back stairs if I were you, because Delilah won’t welcome you if she knows you’re staying here. Tap on the door, say ‘room service,’ and see if he’s hungry.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Clove murmured.

“Trust me, it’s not. Good luck, though.” She laughed again and left the room.

Clove stared at the closed door, then at the bottle on the nightstand. The stylist’s words ran through her brain, a mockery of her intentions.

One thing was for certain, she wasn’t going to use alcohol to lure a man into her bed. And right now, she was going to shower all this hair spray and makeup off her body. She felt like a doll.

And then, if a shower hadn’t washed all the thoughts of Archer out of her mind, surely it wouldn’t hurt to go across the street and take a look at the back door the stylist had mentioned.

Not that she would go in, of course. But curiosity had her, and she wouldn’t be a stuntwoman if she wasn’t up for a dare.