Paula Graves
Cowboy Alibi
A book in the Intrigue's Ultimate Heroes series, 2008
For Jenn, Cissy and Emily, who make wonderful
sounding boards and wonderful friends.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Chapter One
“Tall, dark and cowboy at table four, you lucky dog,” Angela Carlyle murmured to Jane as she passed by with the remains of table seven’s lunch.
Jane eyed the cowboy in question, taking in his rangy build, short, dark hair and the dun-colored Stetson on the booth next to him. As he glanced her way, she quickly looked back to the older couple perusing their menus. “Our special today is pan-seared trout,” she said. “Caught fresh. There’s nothing like Idaho trout.”
As the couple discussed between themselves the merits of fish for lunch, Jane stole another look at table four. She found the cowboy’s gaze fixed on her face, unflinching.
She looked away quickly, unnerved by his scrutiny. She wasn’t used to being the object of someone’s full attention. Most male customers focused on Angela, with her copper-penny hair, creamy complexion and body even the pale pink waitress uniform couldn’t conceal.
Nobody ever stared at Jane, with her face full of freckles, unruly brown hair and slim, not-so-curvy figure. Worse, she was as blank on the inside as she was dull on the outside, with only five months of experiences to call her own and a whole lot of questions she couldn’t answer.
“Miss? We’re ready.”
Jane dragged her gaze away from the cowboy with a soft apology and took their order. She ripped the order from her pad, tucked it in her pocket and crossed to table four.
The cowboy’s gray-eyed gaze followed her all the way in. Jane’s stomach knotted with vague anxiety. “What can I get you today, sir?” she asked.
“I’ll have coffee.”
“Sugar or cream?”
His gaze narrowed slightly, as if she’d asked a difficult question. “Just black,” he answered.
“We have a trout special, caught fresh this morning-”
“Just coffee,” he interrupted, not unkindly.
She nodded. “Coffee it is.”
She took his order and the order from the previous table to the kitchen. Angela was there already, cornered by Boyd Jameson, the restaurant manager.
“That’s the third order you got wrong,” Boyd growled.
“I gave them what they ordered,” Angela countered.
“Customer says otherwise and the customer’s always-”
“Right,” Angela finished for him. “I know. I got them what they wanted immediately and they all gave me big tips, so what’s the problem?”
Jane made eye contact with Angela, wondering if she should do something to intervene. Boyd was a piece of work, a real control freak with the waitstaff, and unfortunately, he was untouchable, having worked at the River Lodge longer than most of the staff had been alive.
Angela caught her eye and gave a tiny shake of her head. But it was enough for Boyd to take notice. Whipping his head around, he pinned Jane with his fierce gaze. She looked away, not in any position to cause trouble, and handed off the lunch order to the chef.
She returned to the lunch counter and found the cowboy sitting on a stool in front of her. His dark eyebrows arched slightly when she stumbled to a stop.
“Thought it’d be rude to take up a booth just for coffee.” He smiled, but his eyes were watchful.
Unease skittered through her as she poured him a cup of coffee. Placing it in front of him, she plastered on a
