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smiled with all the sarcasm I could muster.
    Then I emerged.
    The music was so subdued that I could hear Carley taking drink orders as I headed for the tables by the opposite wall. Craft beer on tap for both gentlemen. But of course. And when she left to fill their order, I could hear the air in the room—and it wasn’t because of the slowly turning ceiling fans.
    As I reached for the shakers at station one, I heard a voice, and dammit all if it wasn’t as deep and hot as sin.
    â€œSo what is there to do around here?”
    I knew, even without looking, that it was the blond. Couldn’t it have been the one whose face had been buried in the menu? Him, I could handle.
    With professional politeness, I stopped what I was doing and smiled yet again, trying not to let that gorgeous, somewhat intense gaze throw me.
    I got myself together enough to say, “What is it you like to do?”
    The blond glanced at his friend, who paused, lowering his head again. It was a strange moment until the friend looked up and turned to me on the bench. Had he been trying to avoid me for some reason?
    â€œWe’re here for a vacation of sorts,” Boy Band said. His smile was pleasant, the type that you trade with waitresses and maids and anyone else who serves you. Just by that smile, I could tell he had money, although I felt in my bones the car didn’t belong to him. He didn’t have
that
much money.
    But his civil smile was enough to remind me of who I was—someone who took care of people. The thought made me tired, even if I’d loved Uncle Joseph, wanted the best for him, and I’d known that I could give it better than anyone else, especially my own second cousin Delroy.
    â€œWell,” I said, sticking my hands in my apron pockets. I wasn’t sure what else to do with them. “You’ve got Hill Country to see, and it’s a pretty drive all around. You could go wine tasting on the trail—the area is getting more and more known for that—or go riding for a day . . .”
    The blond raised a cool eyebrow at his friend. “Riding. Didn’t I tell you, Simmons?”
    Simmons closed his eyes briefly, as if . . . I wasn’t sure why, but it seemed he was reacting to something he didn’t agree with here. Probably because he was hoping I’d recommend a high-end lounge where he could order five-hundred-dollar bottles of scotch.
    I continued. “There’re some good stables I can refer you to. We do that for visitors all the time. Also, if you have no place to stay, we’ve got a list of B and Bs from the Chamber of Commerce.”
    Simmons held up his hand to stop me. “We’ve got the housing covered.”
    â€œHousing?” I asked. What a weird way to put it.
    Just as Simmons started to respond, the blond broke in. “What he means is that our accommodations are all lined up. How about the night life here?”
    â€œNight life?” I laughed. “If you’re up for a silent movie, there’s one playing at the Ritz. Or you can grab a beer that’ll put more hair on your chest than you ever needed at the Lonesome Star bar.”
    And there I was, talking about hair on chests. Great, now I couldn’t stop thinking about what was under the blond’s tweed coat and T-shirt.
    â€œIs the bar a dive?” he asked with a gleam in his eyes that seemed . . . well, was “up for trouble” the right phrase?
    Still unsure, I nodded in answer. It was hard not to stare at him, so I kept looking at his friend, who had a hard time making eye contact with me.
    â€œWould you mind getting us some of those brochures?” Boy Band asked, turning back around.
    As I went to fetch them, Carley bustled into the room with their beers. Convenient timing. She couldn’t have been spying behind the door with Juanita or anything, could she? Then she took their food orders, and by the time she was done, I