Who Wants to Marry a Cowboy? (35 page)

“I have the scripts for the first show.” Rachel held one out to Quinn, leaving the other in a ring of water on the bar.

Whatever. Paper dried easily. Sabrina picked it up, but Quinn took it and handed her his dry one.

“Oops. Sorry.” Rachel offered Sabrina an insincere smile and brushed her hair behind an ear. “Since neither one of you have ever been in a show like this before, I thought it would be a good idea for you to have the scripts early.”

“Thanks, Rachel,” Quinn said, flipping through the pages.

She put a hand on his bicep and lowered her voice when she spoke. “Let me know if you need help with the lines or anything.”

Quinn nodded.

“Anything at all.”

“I will.”

She waited a moment longer, then went to sit at a table. Sabrina watched her leave, then looked back at Quinn, who wore an amused smile. “Close, personal friend of yours?” he asked.

“Wow, how did you figure that one out? You must be some kind of investigator.” Sabrina twisted her mouth and he gave a rich chuckle, the vibrations warming her skin. Oh, yeah. She could get used to that. If she really were in the market for dating someone.

Charlie—Charles—entered the bar and Sabrina held her breath. Why was he here? He knew this was where she hung out with her sister. This was not the night for any sort of confrontation. He made eye contact when he scanned the room, but only briefly nodded before spotting Rachel. Well, that was interesting.

“I don’t know what Tara has told you,” Quinn said, “but I’m used to thoroughly knowing the subjects I write about.”

“Right. She said you’d be here following me and the men around for a few days before the show starts. I’m going to visit some of my patients in the hospital this weekend, but I’m in the office all next week.”

“I’d like to get to know you on a personal level, as well as a professional one if that’s okay. Maybe I can buy you dinner.”

From anyone else that would sound like a come-on, but Sabrina had read Quinn’s well-written and thought-provoking articles and figured he was telling the truth. “Well, tell you what. There’s a special little man waiting for his mama to come home and give him snuggle kisses, so why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? You can meet my whole family.”

 “Sounds great.”

“My sister is leaving work in about two minutes. and then we’ll head over.”

Quinn glanced at his watch. “I wasn’t expecting to start tonight, so I need to catch up on a couple of things first. Can I meet you there in about half an hour?”

“Absolutely.” Sabrina gave him her address and watched as he exited the bar, her thoughts drifting more toward the lascivious than the professional. Quinn already had several plusses going for him. He hadn’t batted an eyelash when she mentioned Noah. He was willing to change plans if the situation needed it. And most important, no jewelry decorated the third finger of his left hand.

Not that she was interested. No way. Her own work schedule and being a mom kept her busy, and this dating game would eat up a huge chunk of her time. But it was nice to dream.

“Where did Hottie McHotPants go?” Melora slid onto the empty stool next to her.

“Don’t worry, you’ll see him soon enough. I need to call Mom and tell her to set another place at the table.” She removed her phone and glanced at her sister, who stared back, a frown covering her mouth and her eyebrows drawn down. “What?”

“Bree, you never bring men home to meet Noah on the first date. Or the tenth, for that matter. It took you five months to bring Charlie around.”

“And I won’t be bringing home the contestants on the show, either. This isn’t a date. It’s an interview.”

Melora tapped her shiny red fingernails on the bar. “I saw how you looked at him.”

“Me and every other woman in this place. Did you see him? The man is gorgeous. Doesn’t mean I’m going to jump him.”

Not tonight, anyway
.

Stop it, Sabrina, she told herself. Not tonight. Not ever. Not until Noah was out of the house. It was only eleven more years. No problem.

Ugh.

Abigail is a Boston-bred Yankee now eating grits and saying “y’all” in North Central Florida. She dreamed more of being a stage actress or joining the CIA than of being an author. While she still enjoys participating in community theater productions and singing karaoke, the secret-agent career was replaced by hours at her computer, writing stories of love and laughter and happily ever after.

Abigail lives with her husband, two kids, and one crazy princess puppy. She is part of a kitchen blog with friends—
chickletsinthekitchen.com
—and you can keep up with her on Goodreads or at her website—
abigailsharpe.com
.

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Title Page
Welcome
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
A Preview of
Who Wants to Marry a Doctor?
About the Author
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