Dream a Little Dream. Debra Clopton

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      He’d simply asked her to omit him from future articles. So that was that. He was done. Life could resume on an even note. Molly could do her thing and he could do his. There would no longer be any connection between them, which was a good thing.

      So everything should be fine…right? His mind clicked to something about the way Molly had acted. An uneasy feeling settled over him as he replayed the trip into town. She’d been quiet. Real quiet. As in she hadn’t said anything except a mumbled thank-you when she practically dove out of his truck at her place….

      Sam burst through the kitchen’s double doors, drawing his mind back from the sudden nagging sense of discontent. “Mornin’, Goodlooking,” Sam chirped.

      Bob eyed the little man. “What’d you say?”

      Flashing an unusually bright grin, Sam set a coffee mug in front of him and poured his stout black brew into it. “Now don’t go bein’ all shy, you handsome hunk of a man,” he drawled.

      Lately everyone had noticed Sam had been slightly distracted and grumpy. But this was just plain abnormal. Bob was about to ask if his longtime friend was feeling okay but the Diner’s door swung open and the morning crowd of hungry cowboys stampeded inside. His friend and ex-boss, rancher Clint Matlock, was in the lead.

      “Well hello, Bob.” Clint lifted an eyebrow and punctuated the word Bob. Another abnormality for the morning.

      “Hey, handsome!” someone called.

      “Honey-doll, could I have a date? Purdy please,” came another squeal.

      Bob swiveled in his seat toward them as more catcalls followed. His heart sank. One of the cowboys was grinning at him like a lovesick cow batting his eyes, while another slid across the floor on one knee and grabbed his hand. Bob yanked free before the cowpoke’s puckered lips could plant a fake kiss on it.

      “Hey! Watch out!” He glared at them with a withering sense of dread. This was not good. Not good at all.

      Bob groaned, watching in dismay as they collapsed with laughter and fell over on each other in total glee. At his expense. Cowboys picked on each other for one reason and one reason only. To rub something in. But what? Bob swung back to his coffee, racking his brain. What had he done to bring on this kind of ribbing?

      Until someone let him in on the joke he’d ignore them. Grabbing his coffee, he took a drink as if he couldn’t hear the laughing and backslapping going on behind him.

      His coffee was in midair when Clint slid the morning’s paper across the counter in front of him.

      The black-and-white pages were folded neatly to Molly’s column, About Town in Mule Hollow. In bold black letters the headline read: He’s The One You Need.

      Bob choked on his coffee when his name jumped off the page at him. Everything going on around him faded away as he read the words. Suddenly the burning sensation in the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with hot coffee.

      “I guess you didn’t read the paper this morning,” Clint drawled.

      Bob met his friend’s gaze, the corners of his lips twitching with barely contained laughter.

      “She didn’t…” was all Bob could manage, as his stomach knotted with fury.

      Clint placed a hand on his shoulder. “Oh yeah, I’m afraid that’s exactly what she did. Handsome.”

      “He’s The One You Need—not just any cowboy, handsome Bob Jacobs has a heart of gold and would make any woman an excellent husband. He’s so sure that God is going to send the right woman his way that he’s stepping out on faith….”

      With mounting dread Molly watched Lacy’s expression as she read the column out loud. The unease that had clung to her all night squeezed tighter around her middle as she heard the lines she’d written aloud. If only she’d known how Bob felt last week. Instead of yesterday. If only…

      She and Lacy were sitting in the reception chairs at the front of Lacy’s salon, Heavenly Inspirations, and oh how Molly wished she’d have an inspiration herself. She wished she’d had a heavenly intervention before she’d ever written the article that was about to make waves between her and Bob.

      Because of nightmares, she’d hardly slept a wink last night before she’d finally risen early, called Lacy at home and asked her to meet her down at the shop. Preferably before her Saturday-morning appointments started arriving. Knowing that Saturdays were the day when the majority of cowboys came in for cuts, Molly wanted to be in and out before any of them saw her. Cowboys were early risers and by daylight they’d all have had their morning coffee and read the paper. And after having just reread it herself, in the light of what Bob had dictated to her yesterday, things were about to get tense.

      Normally her column was simply her somewhat witty dialogue on the goings-on of the endearing town and all of its residents—the cowboy population most specifically. But this was different. This write-up focused totally on Bob. By reader demand! She had to remember that part.

      “Does Bob know you did this?” Lacy asked, rolling up the paper and swatting the table with it, grinning. She was actually excited! An excited Lacy Matlock meant proceed with caution, there were sure to be curves ahead.

      Molly hadn’t expected Lacy’s excitement. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “No. Not yet.”

      “Oh boy.”

      That didn’t sound encouraging. Molly nervously rolled her pencil on the tabletop with her pointer finger, trying not to grab it and run. “He said he wanted a wife. He said it in the diner for anybody to hear.” Why was she defending herself? What good would it do? “So I felt obliged to help,” she tagged on the end, imploring Lacy to reassure her that what she’d done was perfectly natural and acceptable.

      Not, Lacy’s laugh said instead. Her blond hair jiggled she laughed so hard.

      Molly straightened in her chair and felt herself grow pink. “Lacy, it’s not that bad. C’mon.”

      Lacy waved her hands in front of her face as she struggled to gain control of her laughter. “Molly, Molly, Molly. Don’t kid yourself. This article is fantastic. If I wasn’t already married and living in Mule Hollow with my very own dreamboat, I’d have packed my bags and headed this way the second I finished reading this. Who could resist Bob? I mean, you make him sound like the best thing since…since chocolate! That man’s going to be dodging women left and right.”

      Molly tugged at her ear and chewed on the pencil eraser then yanked it out of her mouth when part of it crumbled on her tongue. “Do you think it will be that bad?” Jumping up she grabbed a tissue from the manicure table and spit the bitter eraser into it.

      Lacy rolled her eyes and drummed her pink fingernails on the table, a trait of hers that was sure to leave lasting impressions on all hard surfaces she encountered. Between her eraser spitting and Lacy’s incessant tapping, they had a regular concerto going on, a musical of impending doom.

      “Molly, your very words are…” She paused, snapped the paper open and cleared her throat obnoxiously. “‘Bob, with his to-die-for dimples, thoughtful wholesomeness, mixed with just the right amount of charm, might be enough to make this Mule Hollow lonesome cowboy СКАЧАТЬ