LITMIR.BIZ

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type—but he certainly appreciated the goodness they were lending to the view. “You could dress in drag and become a hairdresser alongside them.”

      “I think not.”

      “You could become a client.”

      “I think they’d suspect my motives.” Everyone in town knew that the Jefferson brothers were more likely to be seen at the Lonely Hearts Salon across the street when they needed a trim.

      Crockett was silent for a moment. “You could hit on Valentine.”

      “I’d rather gnaw off my leg. Anyway, that would totally raise suspicions.”

      “Well, then you’d have to prove that your intentions were honest, in order to get the most info out of her. You’d have to get engaged.”

      Navarro laughed. “Right.”

      “We could get engaged. If we tag-team spy, we might as well tag-team engage. No one would notice that we were switching out. And then we’d be on the inside.”

      “What a novel idea. Why don’t we just do something so stupid?”

      “I’m serious.” Crockett sat up straight. “It’s not very heroic, and it’s deceitful, but it would get us in a primo position to find out the info we need to save our bro from Valentine’s catch-a-cowboy plot.”

      “We’ve done a lot worse, but I don’t think Fannin would approve, even in the name of family. And when Mason comes home, he’d roast us for sure.”

      “I say it’s easier to ask forgiveness than to get permission.”

      “I say…you’ve got a point.” Navarro drummed the steering wheel. “How are we going to figure out which of those lovelies we want to sucker?”

      “I don’t know. How about the little plus-size gal over there with the pretty smile?”

      “I think you may be looking at her chest when you talk ‘plus size.’ We could toss her between us like a doll. She’s a little bitty thing—isn’t she?—all curves and swerves.”

      “I like blondes,” Crockett mused. “And she’s not dressed fakey. She’s kind of cute. Personality-wise, of course. Is there any chance we could reconsider sleeping with our girlfriend?”

      “Absolutely not!” Navarro exclaimed.

      “Rats. I do tend to fall easily to temptation. I really like a nice ripe bottom on a woman. She looks like she’s all peach and no pit.”

      “She’s definitely ripe. Hey, she’s coming over! Turn your head and act like you’re lost!”

      “Hey, guys,” the blonde said. “Lost?”

      “Yes,” Crockett said, because Navarro had pulled his hat over his face. “But we want to figure it out ourselves, if you know what I mean.”

      “Oh. You’re adventurous types,” she said.

      “You could say that,” Crockett agreed.

      Nina Cakes smiled at the cowboy, realizing at once that here was the answer to her prayers.

      “I need a man,” she said.

      “We’ve heard that before, sister,” the cowboy told her. “And we’re always ready to heed the call.”

      Nina took a step back from his leer. “Uh, cool your jets, cowboy. I said I need a man, not a mistake.”

      The man under the hat snickered. Nina went around to the driver’s side to talk through the window. “Look, it’s actually quite simple. I just need help lifting some boards up the stairs.”

      She frowned when he didn’t answer.

      “Navarro’s resting. My brother tires out easily. By the way, I’m Crockett.”

      He stretched a hand across his brother for her to shake, which Nina did, reluctantly, trying to overlook the coughing fit that seemed to have possessed Hat Man. “He doesn’t look like he’s resting,” she said. “Maybe when he gets up from his nap, I could offer him a job.”

      Crockett stretched his muscles for her. “’Course, I’m alive and kicking and ready to do your bidding. I can move a few pieces of wood—for free. I’d be happy to do it for such a pretty girl.”

      Nina tried not to roll her eyes. What a come-on! Did she look like the kind of girl who fell for an easy line? Librarians were far smarter than that, and she prided herself on being one of the most qualified, sharpest librarians in Dannon, Delaware.

      Of course, today she was in a place called Lonely Hearts Station, Texas, with an heirloom bed her sister Valentine claimed had been broken accidentally. Nina pursed her lips and considered Crockett. He didn’t exactly seem wholesome. What were the odds she could trust him to help her without trying to paw her? Far too sure of himself, he was quite different from the bookish, studious types who came into her library: some students, some older supporters of the library, an occasional mom or dad—but nothing like this man or his mysterious brother.

      More wolf than sheep, for certain.

      She’d bet these two were probably a lot like the man who’d gotten her sister into trouble. Valentine was in the family way by a nefarious, no-good, irresponsible cowboy. If he was anything like these men, no wonder Valentine had been lured astray. Poor Valentine!

      But first things first—the heirloom bed was the matter at hand. Now that Nina had come to Lonely Hearts Station to help her sister, she needed a place to sleep. More importantly, Nina would never be at ease until the heirloom bed that had been in their family for generations was repaired.

      The bed was charmed. Nina stared at the hat-covered face next to her, thinking about the importance of the charm. What would this man know about a woman’s secret desires? Every single member of their female family had been conceived or born in that bed. The antique was simply magical in some way no one could really understand. Perhaps it was the delicate latticework headboard. Maybe the fine linens, which were more than a hundred years old, and the hand-crocheted lace edgings worked by Great-grandmother Eugenia from England.

      Or the charm could simply rest in the bed’s beauty and simple elegance. It invited a couple to share their dreams and joys while on its frame.

      More than anything, Nina wanted that charm to work for her. One day, in the future. Certainly not in the way poor Valentine had chosen. Clearly the charm was still in serious good form because Valentine was due in about six months, give or take a week or two.

      She sighed. “This is really important. I can’t trust my bed to just anyone.”

      It seemed the cowboy under the hat got very still, his muscles bunching under his T-shirt. That man was no more resting than she was, Nina realized. He was awake and listening to every word she said.

      The word “bed” really seemed to get his attention, she noticed.

      Cowboys! Apparently they were only interested in boots, babes and beds.

      Well, life just wasn’t as carefree for her. “I’m going inside now,” Nina said. “My room is upstairs. Number five. The wood for the slats is by the front door where the delivery company left it. I am in a desperate position, I will admit, so…” She looked at Crockett uncertainly. “Can you lift heavy things?”

      “Of course,” he said, sitting straight up. “Wood is my specialty. Lift, saw, nail, glue, hammer—”

      “All right,” Nina said. “Tell the woman at the desk that it’s all right for you to go upstairs. Her name is Valentine.”

      “Valentine?” Crockett repeated, his tone surprised.

      “I admit it’s an unusual name, but then, one might say Crockett and Navarro are unusual, as well,” Nina said. “My name is Nina Cakes. Nina is short for Eugenia. I’m named after my great-grandmother whose heirloom bed I am trying to repair. Valentine

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