Page 2 of Still A Cowboy
And judging by the way she was now squinting at him as if she wanted to send him back to wherever he had come from, she also wasn’t thrilled about the timing of his arrival.
She stepped back, glanced around the room, then zeroed in on a fifty-something woman behind the bar who was delivering drinks with the efficiency of someone used to navigating chaos in heels.
“Oh, come on,” the pincher/cougher snarled. “Did you set this up? Seriously?”
The woman behind the bar didn’t miss a beat. She slid a cocktail napkin under a glass, smiledsweetly, and called out without even turning around.
“I set up nothing, sweetheart,” she promptly answered.
Then she made her way toward Cal with the kind of confidence that made him straighten up a little, busted knee or no knee.
“You must be the cowboy from Texas,” she said, offering a hand and a knowing smile. “I’m Delia Hartley, Willa’s mother.” She tipped her head to the pincher. “Welcome to Wild Rose Point and more specifically, to the Seaglass Saloon.”
Cal shook her hand, still trying to piece together exactly what he’d walked into. “Appreciate it,” he said. “Though I gotta say, not anywhere close to the quiet arrival I had in mind.”
Delia grinned. “Things tend to get louder when the legend kicks in.”
He glanced over at the woman—Willa, apparently—who looked as if she’d just realized the whole bar was still watching. And probably hoping for that kiss some of them were still clamoring on about.
Hell. He was too tired for this. Not specifically too tired for a kiss, but it was obvious that Willa wasn’t in a smooching kind of mood. It was also obvious that he’d just walked straight into a mess that he wasn’t limping out of anytime soon.
Delia turned to her daughter, clearly amused at…something. “Willa, this is Cal Bennett. He’s renting the upstairs apartment for the next three months.”
Willa blinked. “He’s what?”
Cal gave a half-shrug. “It was listed online. Said it was above the Seaglass. I saw pictures. Looked quiet. Cozy.”
Willa muttered, mostly to herself but loud enough for him to hear. “And you just happened to arrive at midnight. With a full moon. While I was choking.”
Delia added cheerfully, “While you were drinking a Mooncatcher lager.”
Willa shot her mother a glare. “I wasn’t drinking it by choice. I was trying not to choke on a rogue beer nut lodged in my throat. Someone handed me a pint. I didn’t even look at it. Didn’t know it was a Mooncatcher until I tasted it.”
Delia waved that off as if it didn’t matter. “Still counts. Legend doesn’t say anything about intentions. Just timing and the beer.”
Cal glanced between them, trying to decide if they were both serious or if he’d been dropped into a live-action episode of small-town oddity. And Wild Rose Point was definitely a small town, squeezed in between a whole bunch of other small towns on the scenic Oregon coast.
He looked between the two women, and the mental wheels started turning. “Should I ask what drinking a beer has to do with soulmates?”
A chorus of voices from the bar answered him in unison. “Everything!”
He blinked, then looked back at Willa. “Right.Of course.”
Willa rolled her eyes. “It’s a stupid legend. Something my great-grandmother made up to sell more beer. The story goes: if you drink a Mooncatcher lager at midnight on a full moon, the universe will deliver your soulmate.”
Cal raised an eyebrow. “That’s…oddly specific.” Which was a kinder way of saying utter bullshit.
“It’s coastal nonsense wrapped in alcohol and small-town boredom,” Willa muttered.
Delia clicked her tongue. “It’s not stupid. It’s how I met Willa’s father.” She crossed herself in dramatic fashion. “God bless his soul.”
Willa turned. “Mom, he’s not dead.”
“I know,” Delia said. “But that man still needs his soul blessed, trust me.”
Cal tried not to grin, but it slipped out anyway.
Willa glared at both of them, then pointed at Cal. “You. Upstairs. No more late-night beer, no more cosmic timing, and no more legends.”
