Christine Wenger - The Cowboy And The Ceo

He nodded and concentrated on his plate of food.

“How come nobody takes their hat off when they eat?” Susan asked.

“A cowboy never takes his hat off,” Clint replied. Then he winked. “Well, maybe there’s one thing that I’d take my hat off for.”

He winked again, and she felt a tingle in her belly. She might be rusty as to the flirting thing, but it was all coming back to her. “You’re bald under that hat, right?”

“Like I said, I only take my hat off for one thing, so if you want to find out…”

There was that annoying flip of her heart again.

Before she could think of a witty comeback, she noticed a little girl on crutches awkwardly making her way toward the table. And all she could think of was Elaine, as a pang struck her heart.

How was she going to survive this trip when she couldn’t escape her memories?

Susan couldn’t take her eyes off the little girl. She had blond wispy hair like Elaine’s, and Elaine’s smile, but that’s where the similarity ended. Elaine had been much taller and weighed more than this tiny creature.

As the girl got closer, Susan could see that she had braces on both legs. A piece of paper and a pen were crumpled around the handle of a crutch where she clutched it.

She had a big grin as she made her way over to them. “Can I help you with something, sweetie?” Susan asked, trying to ignore her aching heart.

“I want Cheyenne Clint’s autograph,” she said.

Susan smiled at her. “Cheyenne who?”

The girl tilted her head. “Cheyenne Clint. The rodeo clown. He’s sitting right next to you.”

“Cheyenne Clint—” Susan laid her hand on his arm to get his attention “—you have a fan here who wants your autograph.”

Clint wiped his mouth with a napkin and swiveled to see who was talking to him. “Well, well, aren’t you a pretty young lady.” He tipped his hat to her. “Cheyenne Clint Scully at your service, little lady.”

The tiny girl giggled. “Will you sign your autograph?”

“I’d be honored.” Clint patiently waited as she handed him the crumpled paper and a pen. “What’s your name, darlin’?”

“Alisa Constance Pedigrew.”

Clint gave a high-pitched whistle as he scribbled on the paper. “That’s a name for a princess. Are you a princess?”

She giggled again, cocking her head to the side. “No.” Her fine, pale hair skimmed the shoulder of her colorful striped T-shirt and then she tossed her head back. She had on a pair of denim shorts that hid the top of where her braces started. She leaned on aluminum crutches with metal armbands.

“Well, I am going to make you the Princess of the Gold Buckle Ranch for as long as you stay here. That okay with you?”

“Sure!”

Clint made Alisa’s face light up with pure enjoyment, and that was a real talent.

Clint took off his hat, and Susan saw that he had short, straight brown hair shot with streaks of gold. Mystery solved.

He placed his hat on Alisa’s head and said, “I, Cheyenne Clint, pronounce you Princess of the Gold Buckle Ranch.”

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