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whistle Dixie?
She rolled her eyes—cute, whistle Dixie.
    She stared at the computer screen. She
was supposed to be coming up with a menu for the Annual Freedom
Celebration in July, as well as the Cowboy Show in August. The
whole town would show up for both events and Dixie was looking
forward to trying out some new recipes. This was only the second
year for the Freedom Celebration, but last year had been so
successful she couldn’t see any reason why she shouldn’t
participate.
    But it was the Cowboy Show she was
really looking forward to. Not only did the proceeds go to the
Meals on Wheels program, it was just plain fun. There would be all
manner of vendors, a parade, a rodeo, and a street dance. She’d
have to come up with a really good menu to compete with the fare
the other food vendors would be offering, but she was confident she
could make a good showing.
    Dixie sighed. She’d met her husband,
Garrett, at the Cowboy Show. Lord, he’d cut a fine figure in his
western gear. She’d been hanging around behind the chutes, watching
as he lowered himself onto one cantankerous horse after another.
But it had been the bulldogging that had really turned her head.
She’d been hanging over the fence, watching the contest,
practically drooling. He had the best time of any of the
participants, and when he’d popped up, he looked right at her,
grinned, and gave her a wicked wink. She’d durn near fallen off the
fence. He’d swaggered over to her perch and said, “Don’t you go
anywhere, little lady. I’ll see you when the rodeo’s over.” Six
months later, they’d been married.
    She didn’t realize she’d been crying
until a couple of tears plopped on her keyboard. “Creepin’ Jesus,
Dixie, get a grip.”
    “ Get a grip on what?” Quin
asked, coming to stand behind her.
    Dixie swiped the tears from her eyes
and uttered a shaky laugh. “You startled me.” She looked up at him
and her heart skipped a beat. My, he was something to look at,
standing there with his tousled black hair and sleepy green
eyes.
    He must have gone out to his truck to
grab a change of clothes, because he was standing there in a
half-buttoned pair of faded Levi’s, barefooted and bare-chested.
There was a light furring of dark hair on his tanned chest, which
tapered into a single line from just below his sternum.
Intriguingly, it disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. Dixie
was tempted to trace it with her index finger to see for herself
exactly where it went.
    Quin obviously hadn’t missed the fact
that she’d been crying, because he spun her around in the chair and
squatted down in front of her. “Why the tears, Rose? You’re not
feeling guilty about last night are you?”
    She shook her head. “No, that’s not
it.”
    “ Then what?”
    She gestured over her shoulder at the
computer.
    “ You’re crying over a menu
planner?”
    Dixie rolled her eyes. “No. Happens
this time every year. I start plannin’ my menu for the Cowboy Show
and remember . . . the first time I met my husband was at the
rodeo.”
    Quin took her hands in his and raised
them to his lips, kissing each knuckle. “I’m sorry for your loss,
Rose. I can’t imagine what it must be like to love someone that
much and lose them.”
    Dixie studied his face. It was a
strong face, all hard angles and smooth planes. But it wasn’t
careworn. Life had been easy on him. He wasn’t a man who’d cared
deeply about much of anything, she figured. Hell, he hardly even
had any laugh lines.
    “ You’ve really never been
in love, Quin?” She didn’t know why the answer was so important to
her, but it was.
    “ Nope. Can’t say I have.
I’ve been in like a few times, and in lust more times than I can
count. But never love.” He frowned. “Is that what you’re looking
for from me, Rose, because if it is—”
    She could almost hear the gate slam
shut around her heart. “Don’t get your shorts in a wad, sugar. The
only man I’ll ever love came home from the