Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
The moment Adam walked into the hat shop, he knew he was completely out of his league. He already held Joey’s hand, and now he squeezed it. “Good thing you came with me,” he said. “Look at all of these hats.”
She gave a light laugh, the sound of which would torture Adam in his quiet moments, make him smile, and long to see Joey again.
“How can I help you?” a man asked as he approached, and he seemed to be wearing the just-right hat for his face, shape, head, body, walk, and everything. The man looked from Adam to Joey, and his smile bloomed bigger. “Oh, howdy, Joelle.”
“Hi, Randall,” she said, and Adam would have to get used to the fact that she knew everyone—at least the shop owners.
“This man is going to be staying in town for a few years,” she said. “And he thought he needed to get himself a cowboy hat.” Joey grinned over to him, clearly enjoying herself. “I told him I’d come along for moral support.”
“Oh, is that what this was?” Adam smiled at her and stepped forward to shake Randall’s hand. “I’m Adam Harmon.”
“Oh, sure. You’re the new manager for Country Quad.
” Randall grinned like this was great news.
Surprise shot through Adam, and he’d really need to get used to how things worked in a small town.
He’d been working with celebrities in cities for a long time now, running errands and managing personal affairs, so that they could stay home without getting mobbed.
He’d grown up in small-town Tennessee, but it had been a long time since he’d been there—a lifetime, really.
“Well, what style are you looking for?” Randall asked, and he turned to face his shop. It was more like an alley, only about twenty feet wide, with hats stacked from floor to ceiling along both sides.
“He’s a band manager,” Joey said, thankfully, because Adam had no idea what he was looking for. “He needs a celebrity cowboy hat, Randall—something sophisticated and high-end.” She glanced over to Adam, her eyebrows raised. “Might cost him a little bit more, but people will notice.”
Adam gave her a slight nod, because, yes, he could afford something that cost a little bit more. He went with Randall toward the back of the shop, and about two-thirds of the way there, Randall stopped and indicated the hats at eye level.
“What color are you thinking?”
Adam looked at Joey again, but she simply gazed back at him.
“It’s your hat, cowboy,” she said, and oh, Adam liked that flirtatious tone of her voice.
He’d only interacted with Joey on a couple of previous occasions, and neither one of them was lighthearted or all that fun.
This new side of her made him feel sparkly and alive in a way that Adam hadn’t felt in a while.
“I think black’s a little too dark for me,” he mused, taking in the array of cowboy hats again. “Maybe brown.” He looked at a cream hat and kind of reached toward it before pulling his hand back. “Do real people wear these?”
“Oh, sure,” Randall said, picking up the ivory-colored hat. “These are really popular for rodeos and what I call ‘cowboy wannabes’.”
Joey stifled a giggle and took a step away, feigning interest—Adam was sure—in a hat a few feet away. He could admit he was a cowboy wannabe, and he smiled broadly at Randall. “Well, that sounds like just what I need. I’m certainly no cowboy.”
“There are plenty of things around here that’ll cure that,” Randall said good-naturedly. “Guitar lessons, horseback riding. Heck, I know several ranchers who are looking for hired help.” He raised his eyebrows at Adam, and then shook his head. “Not that you’re looking for a job.”
“No, sir,” Adam said in his crisp manager voice. “But I definitely think I want a brown cowboy hat.”
“Well, we’ve got an array of browns.” Randall led him over another foot or two, and sure enough, brown was the most common color on Planet Earth, and Adam cataloged at least ten different shades in the few seconds it took him to look left and right and survey the cowboy hats.
He’d never felt so lost in his life. “How do you know which one is the right one?” he asked.
“Well, I don’t think you want a flat brim,” Randall said. “You’re not really wearing it to keep the sun off your shoulders. You’re trying to make a fashion statement.”
“That’s right,” Adam said, and in his mind, all he could think was cowboy wannabe fashion statement. What in the world was he doing here?
“I think this one,” Joey said, easing back to his side, lifting a deep brown hat from the rack. It wasn’t the darkest brown there was before the hats melded into blacks, but it definitely looked like good rich earth had been mixed with water, and this hat had been dipped in it for a while.
“That’s a nice one,” Randall said. “That’s our Cowboy Gentleman line, and it’s definitely on the higher end.
It’s good, pliable beaver pelt. And this one—” He flipped it over and examined something on the inside.
“Yep, it’s got a 50X. This is a real nice hat.
” He grinned and turned it back over, and Adam tried to figure out if he liked it or not.
“It’s got the classic dented crown,” Joey said, and Adam had no idea what that meant. She grinned at him and picked up another hat. “This one is more pinched in the front. See? It makes a triangle.”
“Yeah, that’s a V-shaped crown,” Randall said. “This one is just your traditional dent, curled brim.”
To his great relief, Adam could see the difference. He looked down the row and found one that looked square, and that was different still.
“We’ve got some curled brims with our standard dented crown,” Randall said. “We’ve got some square brims as well.” He moved down to another rack and picked up a different hat. Adam didn’t like it nearly as much as the one in his hand. Could he really buy the first hat that was presented to him?
Adam had spent years choosing the things he liked most, and he rarely went with the first thing. He was very good at research and comparison, but he kept coming back to the Cowboy Gentleman hat in the color that Joey had chosen.
He took it from Randall and stepped over to a mirror. He told himself he’d worn hats before, and he settled it on his head. He transformed right before his own eyes, and Adam smiled.
“I think I just like this one,” he said, moving it ever-so-slightly on his head, and met Joey’s bright blue eyes in the mirror. If he wore plaid, he could definitely pull off the cowboy vibe, and maybe he’d finally fit in somewhere.
He checked out, saying goodbye to almost two thousand dollars for this single article of clothing. He told himself he’d spent that much before on something he wore to make himself into something he wanted to be, and he did want to be a cowboy.
He and Joey exited the small-town hattery to Main Street, and he looked across the road and found Beck’s Books sitting there. Something hammered through his body, and he suddenly understood why Joey had asked him what they were going to tell her dad.
“You didn’t tell your folks about this date, did you?” he asked.
“Absolutely not,” Joey said.
“Why?” he asked.
Joey flicked a look over to him, and then headed around the car to the passenger side. She got in while Adam put his hat in the back seat, and then he joined her up front.
“How old do you think I am?” she asked.
Adam wasn’t into playing guessing games, but he said, “Mid-twenties.”
She gave a half snort, half scoff. “I’m twenty-two, Adam. I’ll be twenty-three in February.”
“Great,” he said. “I just turned thirty-one.”
“And that right there is why I didn’t tell my daddy about us,” she said. “I wouldn’t have anyway, to be clear. I usually wait until I’ve been out with someone several times and we decide that he’s my boyfriend before I tell anyone.”
“Oh, what does that take?” Adam asked, suddenly interested.
Joey gave him a severe look. “A lot more than a to-go coffee and a cowboy hat shopping spree,” she said dryly.
She may only be twenty-two, but she could definitely hold her own, and Adam really liked that. He pulled away from the curb and drove past the bookstore. Joey didn’t even look at it.
He gripped the wheel, the things he wanted to ask her storming through him. “I would like to take guitar lessons,” he said. “Do you know anyone who does that?”
“Yeah,” she said. “My dad.”
“Besides him,” Adam said with a laugh.
“Bryce,” Joey said.
That actually sat really well with Adam, and he nodded. “I’ll ask him if maybe he can teach me, but I fear he’s going to be real busy with his ranch and his baby.”
“That’s true,” Joey said. “But I would ask him for a reference. I never learned.”
“Weren’t interested in following your daddy’s footsteps?” he asked.
Joey shook her head. “I’m not really the kind of person who likes the spotlight.”
Adam looked over to her, the connection between them real and strong and fiery. “Me either.”
She blinked at him, another scoff falling out of her mouth. “Are you kidding? You work with celebrities.”
“As a behind-the-scenes assistant,” he said. “Never the one out front.” He turned his glare back out to the windshield so it wouldn’t be aimed at her. “I grew up around celebrity, and I didn’t want it.”
“I think that might be the first thing we have in common,” Joey said.
Adam scoffed now, but he realized quickly that Joey hadn’t made a joke. “You really think we don’t have anything in common?”
“Name something,” she challenged.
“We both like coffee,” he said without missing a beat. “We both like staying out of the spotlight. We both like living in a small town. We both like cooking.” His grin appeared instantly on his face. “Okay, I can’t tell a lie. That last one is totally false. I hate cooking.”
Joey burst out laughing, and that had been Adam’s goal. He wanted to make her laugh like that every day for the rest of her life, and then maybe she wouldn’t look so sad standing in the shadows at her own family party, and he wouldn’t find her crying around the corner of any more houses.
He made a turn and started back to her grandparents’ place. “We’re nearing the end here, Joey,” he said. “You’ve got to tell me what you want.”
She reached over and took his hand into hers.
She covered it with her other one, and all ten of her fingers stroked along his, tracing his fingernails and running down the sides of his fingers, between them, and along the lines on his palm.
Adam fought against the shivers threatening to shake his whole body with every touch of her skin against his.
“I think,” she said, as he came to a stop at a red light. “I mean—if you asked me out again, I would say yes.”
“So you want me to come to dinner?”
“If you’re comfortable with it,” she said.
“No,” he almost barked. “That’s not what we agreed. You said you would tell me if you wanted me there or not.”
He looked over to her, not sure how long this particular light would hold them at a stop. She glared back, and oh, he could see the same stubbornness and headstrong qualities inside her that he possessed. Another thing they had in common.
“All right, cowboy,” she said. “You can come to dinner—if you wear the hat.”