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Hollows Cantina, that would be perfect.”

      “Splendid,” Josephine said. “Jensen and I haven’t eaten yet, and I’ve had a craving for a crock of their crab dip and those tasty rice crackers.”

      What? No hurry to get back home to the new grandbaby? Apparently, his mum really did want the new parents to bond.

      “Great,” Orlando said. “I’ll buy you a margarita for your trouble.”

      Jensen was just about to tell him that wouldn’t be necessary when his mum blushed and patted the pilot’s arm. “That would be lovely, Orlando.”

      Since when had she switched from wine to margaritas? Interestingly, Texas was beginning to have an odd effect on her.

      Yet wasn’t it having an odd effect on Jensen, too?

      Horseback Hollow certainly didn’t have a drop of culture, nor did it offer any of the nightlife he enjoyed in London. Yet he found the quaint Western town appealing—from a tourist’s standpoint, of course.

      He was far more comfortable on his country estate and playing polo at the nicest clubs in the UK, but he’d make the best of it for the month or so that he’d be here. Which meant spending more time with Amber Rogers.

      Should he call her and ask her to meet him at the Hollows Cantina? Maybe not. But to be perfectly honest, at least with himself, he wouldn’t mind sharing another kiss with her—or possibly even more than that.

      * * *

      Amber’s stomach had been growling all throughout her Wild West Show tryout and, as she’d pulled up to the Hollows Cantina, she thought her belly would soon be ordering for her. Less than an hour ago, she’d delivered a performance that would’ve really knocked the socks off those so-called journalists who’d been camped out around the Drummond property.

      She put the old truck in Park and checked the trailer she’d been towing to ensure that Danny Boy was resting comfortably after the barrel racing display he’d helped her put on earlier today. When she’d sat down with the bigwigs at Cowboy Country USA afterward, she let them know that if they signed her as one of their lead acts, she’d only use her own horses.

      The executives had made her a surprisingly good offer, and she’d promised to have her attorney look over the contract and get back to them within a week.

      She gave Danny Boy a pat and promised him a treat after dinner. Then she hitched her purse higher on her shoulder and headed into the restaurant, which was sure hopping tonight.

      It was a cool place to gather, but it had gotten some flack from the locals who considered it a “rich folks’ establishment” and feared that it would ruin the small town’s ambiance.

      The same people were against Cowboy Country USA, although their number appeared to have doubled as more of the locals jumped on the bandwagon to complain about the theme park. Even Deke and Jeanne Marie hadn’t kept their objections secret. And from what Amber had gathered, most of their kids agreed.

      Still, Marcos and Wendy Mendoza were seeing an increase in business these days, thanks to the Cowboy Country bigwigs frequenting the Hollows Cantina and holding some of their meetings here. So she suspected they weren’t opposed to the theme park, although they were smart enough to keep their opinions to themselves.

      Once inside the busy restaurant, she was met by the hostess, Rachel Robinson, who was new in town and resembled a less-glamorous Angelina Jolie.

      Rachel flashed a bright-eyed smile. “Good evening, Amber. We’re pretty full tonight. You’re looking at a fifteen-to-twenty-minute wait unless you want to sit upstairs.”

      “I’m meeting my grandmother for dinner, and since things get a little chilly and loud up there, I think we’d better wait for a table down here—hopefully in a quiet, out-of-the-way spot.”

      “Mrs. Rogers is already here with Mr. Murdock,” Rachel said. “They mentioned that someone would be joining them. I didn’t realize it would be you. And they’re seated upstairs.”

      How do you like that? Elmer Murdock was a party crasher.

      “I can show you where they are,” Rachel said.

      “That’s okay. I’ll find them.” Amber made her way to the middle of the room and climbed the staircase with wide iron railings and rustic wooden steps to the second floor.

      She’d no more than reached the landing when she spotted Gram’s trademark French twist at a table near the dance floor. Normally her grandmother kept to the quiet corners of any location, but the place was so packed, they must have seated her in the only available spot.

      Amber made her way to the table and greeted her grandmother with a kiss on the cheek, just as a huge margarita glass was thrust in front of her.

      No, make that two huge margarita glasses, each with a shot glass filled with tequila attached to the side.

      And the server was none other than Elmer Murdock. “Two of the cantina’s finest drinks for two of the finest women in the joint.”

      Gram smiled up at the man. “Why, thank you, Elmer.”

      Apparently, the retired marine was too busy to notice Gram’s appreciation since he was asking the server, who was carrying his beer, to bring over a salt shaker and some limes.

      What was he doing here? And why was he under the impression that Gram would be throwing back margaritas and shots of Jose Cuervo like a coed on spring break?

      The uninvited bearer of alcoholic beverages pulled out a seat and sat a little closer to Gram than was entirely necessary, given they were at a table for four.

      If he noticed Amber’s lack of enthusiasm, it didn’t seem to bother him. “Drink up, gals. It’s a twofer one special, and we got another thirty minutes before happy hour is over.”

      Amber had barely registered the cheapskate comment before Elmer threw her for the next loop of the evening. “So, girlie, how did the big audition go?”

      “Shhh!” Amber hoped he’d lower his voice, but she was afraid she’d have better luck trying to get a stampede of wild broncs to jump through a Hula-Hoop.

      “Why?” he asked. “You ought to be pleased as punch that they’d come after you like they’re doing. They know a class act when they see one.”

      What in blue blazes did someone like Gram, who was so refined and quiet, see in such a loudmouthed character like Elmer Murdock?

      Amber took a gulp of the margarita and decided the quick hit of liquid calm would be worth the brain freeze she’d get from downing the cold drink so quickly.

      Fortunately, Gram came to her rescue. “Elmer, dear, Amber wasn’t quite ready to tell anyone about—”

      Amber gave a discreet cough.

      “Whoops.” Elmer took a sip of his beer and reached into the communal basket of chips. “I won’t say another word about it, then. Old Elmer Murdock is like a vault. You wouldn’t believe all the secrets I know.”

      That was a relief. And if she took the job at Cowboy Country USA, which she planned to do, everyone would find out anyway. The lines were already being drawn in the town sand since many of the locals weren’t exactly giving a warm Texas welcome to the Wild West theme park, and she’d soon be grist for the gossip mill.

      She took another sip of the sweet-and-sour drink, this time a little slower than the first. She scanned the restaurant, trying to see who might have overheard the comment made by Gram’s third wheel.

      Of course, from the way Elmer was showing her grandmother how to lick the salt and then squeeze the lime after drinking down her tequila, Amber would have to assume that she was the third wheel.

      “Miss Rogers! I’m so glad you’re here.”

      Amber glanced up to see Perry—or was it Terry?—from the Cowboy Country casting

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