The Accidental Cowboy

“You nearly gave me a heart attack.” Dang it, that flutter in her heart had moved to points south.

“You said something about a list.”

“I just printed it out. We’ll go over it quickly. I’m sure you have the majority, if not all, of the equipment. As you pointed out, this is not your first rodeo.”

“I’m certain I didn’t use those exact words.”

“Probably not, but close enough for government work.”

He shook his head a little. “You’re lucky that I watch American programs on television. Otherwise, it would be like you were speaking Greek.”

“Indubitably, Jones, my man.”

“Your knowledge comes from Masterpiece, right? All Americans watch that and think they know the British, although not so much the Scots.”

“No Masterpiece for me. I’m more old-school. Ab Fab and The Vicar of Dibley and really old old-school, Are You Being Served?”

“No Doctor Who or Agatha Christie?”

“I like comedies.”

“I see.” He gave her a once-over and then turned away. “I don’t think there’s enough allergy medication for me to come in there with the cat. Who, by the way, can’t keep her paws out of my Hobnobs.”

“At least you’re not sneezing. I’ll meet you on the back patio. That way, if I’m contaminated by any cat hair it shouldn’t kill you.”

* * *

“I’M ALMOST BEGINNING to like this,” Jones said, indicating the long, tall glass of amber liquid Lavonda had brought with her. “It has the look of Scotch. Maybe that’s why?”

She couldn’t stop herself from grinning just a little. “So no iced tea in the Highlands?”

“I do not live in the Highlands. But no, iced tea is not a beverage of choice. Hot tea is, of course.”

“Of course. Drink up because we won’t be having it on the trail.”

Sitting at the rustic patio table, he scanned the list quickly. He asked for clarification on items and pulled a pen from somewhere to make checkmarks and notes. Their iced teas were empty by the time they’d gone through each point.

“We’ll be using tents, not sleeping under the stars around the campfire?” Jones asked.

Lavonda felt the flush, remembering what she had been thinking about their sleeping arrangements. “Tents make sense for protecting equipment as well as people. It’s early enough in the spring that nights are rather chilly.”

“In Scotland, tents keep the rain off the equipment. I would guess that’s not the problem here.”

“Not usually. If we were going during monsoon season, that would be different.”

“Monsoon season?”

“Summer storms come out of the Pacific and dump a ton of rain. Not that much of it sticks around. The ground is so hard it pretty much just runs off. Arizona is not known for its gentle rains.”

“No smirr.”

“Smirr?”

“Mist, drizzle. Typical Scots weather.”

“It’s totally different in the winter. In Phoenix the pollution just lies in a haze with no wind or storms to blow it through.”

“You’ve lived here your entire life, right?” Jones had leaned back in his chair.

“Not here, but in Arizona, when we weren’t on the road with the rodeo. Though my mama is from Texas. Daddy’s people hail from Arizona.”

He grinned at her. “Your accent changed when you talked about your parents. Do they live nearby? Any siblings?”

Her cheeks heated in embarrassment. But then, why should she be all hot and bothered about going a little country? “My parents are near enough, by Arizona standards. I have a younger brother who lives in Angel Crossing. My sister has a place outside Phoenix. What about you?”

“My brother is older and a professor at the university, too.”

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