Betting on Hope

Chapter 13



When Baby and Hope got back to the casino, they met Tanner by the elevator that went up to the suites.

“What are you doing here?” Hope asked.

“Marty sent me to take you to buy a hat,” Tanner said. “Assuming you didn’t get one yet. You could act happier to see me.”

“I’d be happier,” Hope said, glaring, “if I weren’t so busy having so much incredible fun.”

“What?” Tanner asked, looking confused, but Baby had stepped a little closer and was looking him over, blatantly assessing him.

“Are you bad?” she purred, leaning forward slightly, giving Tanner a spectacular view of everything she had, which was quite a lot. “You look like a bad boy.”

Tanner assessed her too, a faint smile on his face. “I can be bad,” he said. “How bad do you need me to be?”

“I can see that introductions are probably superfluous here,” Hope said, feeling waspish, “but let me make the attempt. Baby, this is Tanner Wingate.”

“The bad boy.” Baby licked her lips.

“Very,” Tanner said, smiling into Baby’s eyes and then glancing at Hope. “I especially like to be bad with two beautiful women.”

“You’ll have to save all your badness for one, because I have plans for my own bad boy,” Baby said. “I was just curious. See you.” She stepped into the elevator car and waved at Hope as the doors closed.

Hope watched Tanner watch Baby disappear from view. Baby had her ways with men. They certainly had worked on Tanner.

Feeling unaccountably depressed, Hope turned around and walked away. All this shopping was pointless. She was the heads-down, focused-on-the-future one. The one without the silicone breasts, the tummy tucks, the extra peroxide lift. The one who dressed like she went to work on Saturdays. The one who—if she faced facts—would acknowledge that she didn’t have any fun.

“Hey, Hope, wait up!”

Hope glanced at her watch as she strode down the hall. Five-thirty. She was meeting Marty at six for the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet to celebrate her big win that afternoon, which now seemed a long time ago. She’d check in at home first. She didn’t want to spend any more time with Tanner Wingate, who was probably drooling on the elevator doors right now, wishing Baby’s breasts would come back.

A hand snagged her elbow.

“Hey. Didn’t you hear me yell to wait up?”

Hope scowled at Tanner’s hand on her arm until he dropped it. “Oh, you thought I was a dog in training? I come when you call?”

Tanner stared at her. “We’re going hat shopping. For your game. What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing. But I’m not in the mood to go hat shopping.” She started to walk again, and Tanner went after her.

“We have to. Marty will rip me a new one if we don’t come back with a hat for you.”

“I’ve done all the shopping I can do today. Maybe you can take Baby. She likes to shop.”

Tanner stopped her again. “What? Don’t tell me. Is that what you’re pissed off about? Because Baby showed me her goods?”

“I’m not pissed off. Whatever Baby showed you, I’m sure it was very nice. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Tanner laughed shortly, looking exasperated.

“You are mad. Jesus. She was yanking my chain. You have to know that, right? And now you’re yanking it. Well, at least the two of you are having fun.”

Hope looked away. Baby had been kidding. Or—Baby had been teasing both of them, trying to find out if Tanner was the “bad boy” Hope had been thinking about. Tanner, though—Hope didn’t think Tanner had been kidding when he’d stared at Baby’s breasts.

But Tanner didn’t matter. He was just another card player, out for the quick score. She didn’t care about him. Once this game was over, she’d never see him again.

“Okay, whatever,” she said, focusing on the future again. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m meeting the uncles at six for dinner. I’m not going hat shopping. There’s no time and I don’t want to. Goodbye.”

“Whoa,” Tanner said, putting out a restraining hand again. “Change of plans. Why do you think I was waiting around down here for you in the first place? Marty called. He said, meet him at seven. And until then, we’re going hat shopping.”

Hope frowned. “Why didn’t Marty call me?”

Tanner rolled his eyes. “Maybe your phone needs a charge? Maybe it’s turned off? How should I know?”

Hope dug through her purse and pulled out her phone. It was turned off.

“I can’t believe I did that,” she said.

“Can we go hat shopping now?”

Hope sighed. “I suppose.”

“Gracefully said. The car is this way.”

Hope trailed through the casino after Tanner, feeling rebellious and immature. She dug the phone out and turned it on. She called home.

“Hey, Mom, it’s me,” she said when Suzanne answered the phone. “What are you doing?”

“We’re just making dinner,” Suzanne said. “We’re having spinach lasagna and salad, and then we’re going to have hot fudge sundaes while we watch that new reality singing show. How are you, sweetie? How did it go today?”

Hope felt a pang of longing. She’d had a great time—a really great time—winning that fifty grand today. But now she wished she could go home and eat dinner and watch television with her family.

“I did good,” she said, hearing the happiness bubble back into her voice. “I won fifty grand.”

“Fifty thousand dollars? Hope, that’s fantastic! Faith, honey, Hope won fifty thousand dollars!”

Even through the noise of the casino, Hope heard a whoop in the background.

“Faith says, way to go. What’s that, Amber?”

Hope waited.

“Amber says, say hi to Tanner.”

“Tanner gets quite enough female attention,” Hope said, feeling snarly again.

“What’s that, Hope?”

“Nothing, Mom. Listen, I’ve got to go. You have fun. Save me some leftovers, okay? And don’t wait up. I’ll probably be late again.”

“Break a leg, dear, or whatever they say to poker players.”

Hope closed her phone and looked up to see Tanner watching her.

“Amber says hi,” she said, shoving the phone in her purse.

“She’s a nice kid,” he said. “Come on, let’s get that hat.”

They drove north of the airport until Tanner pulled into the huge parking lot of a giant, brightly lit store.

“You ever shop here?” he asked.

“No,” Hope said, looking at the Western insignia on the outside. “And I don’t want to start. I don’t want a cowboy hat.”

“They sell all kinds,” he said.

Hope sighed and got out of the truck.

“That’s the spirit,” Tanner said.

They went into the store and Hope blinked at the bright lights and rows and rows of shelves, all crammed with Western wear. Jeans, shirts, jackets, boots and shoes, and most of all, hats.

Hats of all types. Fedoras, toques, caps, bowlers, berets, sun hats—even stovepipes, top hats, and deerstalkers. But most of all, cowboy hats. Hats in all colors. Hats in straw, wool, and felt. Cowboy hats with bands of contrasting fabric, beads, conchos, feathers, rhinestones, metalworking and leather braiding. The sheer numbers, the fabrics, the styles of the hats made Hope dizzy.

“Wow,” she said.

“Yeah,” Tanner said. “They’ve got everything here.”

They went over to the women’s hats, and Tanner looked at Hope. “What do you like?”

Hope looked at all the dozens—probably hundreds—of hats.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Baby’s been modifying my taste. Something with a wide brim.” Suddenly she frowned.

“Maybe we should have brought Baby,” she said. “You’d have liked that.”

“Stop busting my chops,” Tanner said, picking up a tan wool Western hat with a braided band in dark brown leather. “I can’t imagine anything less fun than the two of you hassling me all night. Here, try this one for starters.”

He handed the Western hat to Hope who slapped it on her head. “What do you mean?” she said. “You liked Baby.”

Tanner sighed. “She was all right. But I’m done talking about Baby. Do you like that one at all?”

Hope looked in the mirror. “Does it look like I can have fun in this hat?” she asked.

Tanner looked at her. “You can have fun wearing anything. It isn’t the accessory, it’s the attitude.”

Hope twisted in front of the mirror to get a different view. “Baby doesn’t think so. She thinks if you have a fun attitude, it will come out in what you wear. And I’m thinking, maybe something with a little more color.”

“That’s what I said. Mostly. This one’s nice.” He handed her a dark hat with a band of rust-colored feathers. Hope dropped it on her head.

“I don’t know,” she said, turning her head in the mirror.

“Nothing’s going to look good that way. Here.” He stepped closer and lifted the hat slightly, adjusting it to slant forward over her forehead, curling down one side of the brim, nudging the crown into a sharper crease. He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek, looked into her eyes, and smiled.

“There,” he said.

Hope stepped back, feeling a little breathless, and looked into the mirror. The hat did look better.

“Um, maybe,” she said. She glanced at Tanner, who scrutinized her.

“Look down,” he said.

She looked down.

“I think I need a—” she started.

“Bigger brim,” he finished.

She looked up and smiled at him. “Yes,” she said.



Damn, she was pretty. When he’d adjusted that hat, it was all he could do not to kiss her. Except of course if he’d tried, she probably would have ripped his head off. Or accuse him of thinking about Baby.

But how interesting was it that she was all whacked out of shape about Baby, for some reason? Baby was hot looking, for sure. He’d met hot women hundreds, maybe thousands, of times in his career. Shit, even FBI Special Agent Darla was hot. And twenty years ago—even ten years ago—hot would have been enough. But he was a lot older now and, he hoped, somewhat wiser. Hot didn’t get him there any more. Hot was nice, but he needed more than just sizzle now. He needed substance. He needed someone smart, complicated, interesting, testy, insecure, and confident. Someone with goals she was willing to work toward and people she intended to celebrate her achievements with.

He needed someone who needed a hat.

He picked up a pale straw hat with a band of bright turquoise stones.

“Try this one,” he said.



Hope took the hat and put it on her head. She tilted it forward over her forehead the way Tanner had done. She bent the brim down. Tried to bend it down. The brim was too crisp. It didn’t curl right.

“Let me,” Tanner said.

He stepped closer, putting his hands on the hat brim just above her ear. She could feel his fingers brush her ear lobe as he gently curled the hat brim down. He stroked his hands along the brim toward the front and back of the hat, smoothing it carefully, bending it the way he wanted. His fingers brushed her hair, her cheek, her neck as he shaped the straw.

She stood very still and watched him in the mirror as he concentrated on the hat. He frowned slightly as he worked. His hair was overgrown and shaggy, his eyes glued on what he was doing. She felt his attention like a beam of light. Every inch of him was focused right this minute on her, on making this hat the best it could be for her.

His touch was as light as thistledown. She felt a little shiver even as her skin grew warm. Her breath became light, shallow.

He took a long time getting the curve just right. He urged the straw to curl down, the crown to stay sharp. He nudged the hat just a little lower over her eyes. The whole time, she couldn’t move. Her feet were rooted to the spot as Tanner nudged and brushed and floated his fingers over her face, her ears, her hair, her neck, always adjusting the hat.

Finally he turned her to face the mirror. His hands were warm on her shoulders, and then they were gone. But he stood so close behind her she could feel his heat against her back as they both looked at her reflection.

“There,” he said.

The hat was fantastic.

The color, a pale golden straw, lit up her hair and skin. The wide brim framed her face, the turquoise stones on the hatband set off her eyes, now almost navy as she looked back at him in the mirror. The crown added a good three inches to her height, so now she appeared only a few inches shorter than Tanner, who must be six two if he was an inch. She looked tall and strong and ready for anything. She looked adventurous and daring. She looked hot. She was grateful to Tanner for taking her here and picking out this hat.

“Pumpkin, that’s the hat.”

The warm and grateful moment faded.

“The hat is great,” she said. “Don’t call me pumpkin.”

“Why not? You are a total pumpkin.”

She turned to frown at him. “No endearments. Plus—orange, fat, round. That’s why not.”

“That’s how you see pumpkins? Orange, fat, and round? And your sister an organic farmer. It’s sad, that’s what it is.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Pumpkins. The most beloved item at the farm. When everybody goes out to the country in the fall to pick vegetables, what do they look at first? Do they run to the corn field? No. To the tomatoes? No. Do they go and shriek with happiness at the green peppers? No. They rush to look at the pumpkins. Why is that?”

“I’m not following you.”

“The pumpkins. People want their special pumpkin. Each is separate and distinct, unique. Their color is glorious, the color of kings, of riches, of sunsets.”

Hope rolled her eyes. “Jeez, Tanner. You are so full of it.”

“And the pumpkin is the hardest working vegetable in the garden. It can be soup, or soufflé, or pudding. You can mash them, boil them, or bake them. Even fry them. For something sweet, there’s nothing like pumpkin pie. Or cake. Or bread. Muffins. Pancakes. You want a vegetable that will feed you forever, in more ways than you can count, in ways you never will tire of, you go with pumpkin.”

Hope blinked. Tanner’s voice was soft and hypnotic. They were alone in the aisle, facing the mirror, and he was looking into the mirror at her, and she was looking back at him. He was standing so close behind her that she could feel the roughness of his shirt against her bare back. She was too warm. She couldn’t breathe. And she couldn’t make herself look away.

“And when you go to the field to pick out your pumpkin—well, you’ve seen how it happens. You’ve probably done it yourself. You don’t pick the first one. You look at them all. You hold them. You feel them. You stroke them. Are they the right fit? The right size and shape? A good color? You have to be sure.”

“Oh,” Hope said. She felt herself swallow. Tanner’s voice was very soft.

“And then, you see it. The pumpkin that’s yours. The one you’ve been looking for. The one with the glowing skin and a few bumps to make it interesting. The one with luscious, perfect curves. Shaped by creases and folds and indentations, so a man’s hands can stroke it and always find something new.”

Hope felt her breath catch.

“Maybe it’s not a perfect pumpkin. Maybe it’s got a few little flaws. But you know when you see it, when you touch it, that’s the one you want to take home. That one and no other.”

For a second more, they faced the mirror. Hope’s feet were frozen in place, her whole body electric, her breathing shallow. She saw her own blue eyes wide and dark in surprise, Tanner’s brown ones alight with heat. When he leaned into her and kissed her softly on the neck, Hope thought she’d melt completely away and leave nothing but a big messy puddle right there in aisle five.