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