Cowboy Vet

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Jessie the Jezebel." Jessie Monroe stared down at the man who'd spoken, a row of windows to the right perfectly illuminating his handsome, scowling face. The glass coffeepot she held tipped dangerously toward his lap. "Well, well, well," she mimicked. Her least favorite customer. "If it isn't Dr. Dolittle." The restaurant seemed to grow quiet around them, everyone in the tiny diner no doubt listening in. Not surprising, since everyone supposedly "knew" what it was she'd "done" to Dr. Dolittle's cousin. Dr. Sheppard leaned back, the orange vinyl squeaking in a way that sounded crass. He didn't seem to notice. "You going to pour me that cup of coffee or do I have to get it myself?" She shifted her weight to her other leg, slowly lowering the pot, the liquid glug-glug-glugging as she poured. "Guess that answers your question, huh, Doc?" "Guess it does." He gave her a smile that could only be called smug as he peered at her from beneath his black cowboy hat. "I'll be back in a minute to take your order," she said in a monotone, turning away from his booth without giving him another glance. Damn the man. Not only did he think he was God's gift to women, but he always, always took pleasure in baiting her. His own form of revenge, she supposed. "You and Dr. Cutie are exchanging evil glances again, I see," Mavis said, her dark skin glistening beneath one of the warming lights as she picked up four plates of food and balanced them precariously up her arms. It was late spring, but you wouldn't know it. The diner didn't have air-conditioning. Jessie looked over at the table. "I think he likes me about as much as I like him." "Well, then, I guess it's a good thing you don't have a crush on him like half the women in this town." "Guess so," Jessie said. In fact, she was probably the only woman who didn't fancy the good doctor. Not that she didn't understand his allure. She might not like him, but she was honest enough to admit that something in his eyes made her want to squirm. Tall, dark and handsome he was, the term clicheacute; and yet somehow appropriate. He looked like he belonged out on the range with a few hundred head of cattle milling nearby. There was nothing, absolutely nothing guaranteed to melt female hearts faster than a man who wore boots and who doctored furry little animals for a living. "You gonna go back over and take his order, or shall I?" Mavis asked. Jessie smiled. Leave it to Mavis to try to run interference. The two of them had formed a fast friendship the first day Jessie had come to work at the diner. They'd bonded over their mutual dislike of the pink polyester dresses they were forced to wear. "No thanks, Mavis. I can handle Rand Sheppard." "Can you?" the man himself asked when she walked up to him a second later, order book in hand. Jessie turned as red as the blinking Open sign, or at least it felt that way. Damn it, she hadn't meant him to hear. Or maybe she had. Her feelings always ran hot and cold where he was concerned. All that smirking self-confidence drove her nuts. "Dr. Sheppard, I hate to bruise that overlarge ego of yours, but I've eaten men like you for breakfast." "Yeah," he said softly. "So I've heard." He looked back at his menu. "I'll take the Rancher's Special with a side of bacon and English muffins." "English muffins?" she said with a lift of her eyebrows. "Would you like some Earl Grey with that?" "Nope. Just the muffins," he answered gruffly, back to his usual surly self. "Coming right up." She tucked her pencil behind her ear, much easier to do ever since she'd chopped off all her red hair. "Rancher's Special with a side of bacon and English muffins," Jessie called out, slipping the order sheet into the spinner, then flicking it toward Frank. "Extra arsenic," she muttered undeBritton, Pamela is the author of 'Cowboy Vet ', published 2006 under ISBN 9780373751471 and ISBN 0373751478.