Last Chance Beauty Queen by Hope Ramsay Read Free Book Online Page B

near whisper that just carried over the twangy sound of Brad Paisley singing on the radio. “I know how important Golfing for God is to your family. Heck, Momma’s even joined the committee to resurrect it. But Daddy has been talking nonstop about how having a new factory in town would be a good thing. And he should know. He’s a banker.”
    “Yeah, so your momma said this afternoon at the Cut ’n Curl. Boy, this could get really ugly.”
    Rachel nodded. “Look, Rocky, the point is that Golfingfor God, even if it becomes a real tourist attraction, will never employ as many people as the chicken plant. And that’s a fact no one can dispute.”
    Caroline’s appetite for unhealthy food evaporated. She was conflicted six ways to Sunday, wasn’t she?
    “Oh, crap,” Rachel said. “We’ve got trouble.”
    Caroline followed Rachel’s gaze to the front door, and wouldn’t you know it, there stood a trio of ridiculously good-looking men: Dash Randall, Bubba Lockheart, and his Lordship, Baron Woolham. Dash in his Wranglers, and Bubba in his mechanic’s uniform, fit right in to the roadhouse décor. But Baron Woolham, dressed in a pair of gray worsted slacks, a Cutter & Buck golf shirt, and tasseled loafers that might have come from Cole Haan, looked a little like Queen Elizabeth at Wrestlemania.
    The hostess led the three men to a table not far away. Boy and howdy, those three guys had sex appeal. In spades.
    Even Bubba, who looked like he’d come from his job at Bill’s Grease Pit via a stop at Dot’s Spot for a beer or two. He wore his dark blue work shirt with his name—Bubba, not Francis or Frank Jr. or any other iteration of his true Christian name—embroidered in bright red thread right above his shirt pocket. The shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and chest. He’d rolled up the sleeves to expose forearms covered with sun-bleached blond hair and a heart-shaped tattoo that said “Rocky.”
    Rachel leaned forward. “Is that guy with Bubba and Dash the baron?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Oh, boy.”
    “Yeah, I know. Look, Rache. Maybe we should gonow.” Caroline looked around for their waitress, who had taken that moment to disappear.
    “Uh-oh,” Rachel said, her whisper even more urgent.
    Caroline returned her gaze to the table where the men were sitting just in time to see Baron Woolham unfold all six feet and some inches of his ramrod-straight body from his chair and begin walking—in a stately manner—in their direction.
    Caroline watched him advance and couldn’t help herself. She gave him the once-over gaze, from the tips of his loafers, up his long legs, over his flat stomach and broad shoulders and right up into those incredible whiskey-colored eyes.
    In short, she ogled his Lordship. And she knew better, really. Because Bubba was right there in the room, and Bubba didn’t like her ogling other guys. Not that Bubba had any say in the matter, but that never stopped him from thinking he had a say in the matter.
    So it came as no surprise when Rachel hissed, “Oh, crap, look at Bubba.”
    Caroline tried to do just that, but Baron Woolham had come to a stop right in front of Caroline, blocking her view. His eyes crinkled up at the corners so handsomely. “I’ve been trying to reach you,” he said in his ever-so-polite accent.
    Every atom in Caroline’s system went nuclear. The man was a walking fantasy. He was, in every respect, the complete antithesis of Bubba and Dash. He was not a regular Joe, and Caroline needed to stop letting her hormones run rampant every time he showed up on the scene. It was just plain stupid not to listen to Miriam Randall’s advice about things like this.
    And besides, he was an English aristocrat—completely out of her league.
    “I didn’t hear from you,” his Lordship continued. “Do we have an appointment with your father tomorrow?”
    “I’m working on it. Believe me when I say that he’s not really interested in talking to you.”
    “I