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found herself stranded at Bad Boy's. “This isn't the same situation.”
    Cassie wondered how Hoyt would react if he knew that she was living in Dallas. She regretted their argument and the bitter words they'd exchanged, but she wasn't a bit sorry that she'd left Coyote Bend.
    “Next month, soon, I will go to Nashville.” She brushed her silky mane until the bulb in the ceiling fixture reflected on it like a spotlight directed at a black velvet curtain.
    “Put this in your pipe and smoke it, Mr. Temple!” Cassie shook her head defiantly, trying to break Hoyt's grip on her memory. “You're not my problem anymore.”
     
     

Chapter 4
    “Oh, my aching body!” Cassie moaned as she slipped between the sheets and settled into her sofa bed for a well-earned rest. Time— three months of it— had slipped away in a busy blur while she mastered the dual arts of waitressing and staying clear of Allen's mad-dog temper.
    She'd lost count of the number of times he'd humiliated her customers with his fists or his sharp tongue because they'd complained about their bill or the quality of the food they'd been served. It was a job she needed too much to walk away from, though, so she'd made up her mind to stick it out a while longer and avoid her boss when he was angry or had had too much to drink
    “Ouch! Oh, damn!” She winced when she rolled onto her side and encountered another lump in the mattress. Her body hurt from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. She remembered the way that Hoyt used to massage her sore muscles after a brutal day in the fields. What she wouldn't give to feel those strong fingers kneading the knots out tonight! A silly little smile played around her lips. Hoyt had other, more intimate ways to help her forget the pain, but she wouldn't dwell on those. Sleep would make her forget. She pulled the pillow over her head and settled into a fairly comfortable position. All the bedtime rituals in the world, though, couldn't prevent the memory of a cowboy's supple body from invading her dreams.
    Cassie had earned enough in tips to pay the repair bill on her car, and she was almost satisfied with the amount she'd socked away for the second leg of her trip to Nashville. Because her shift didn't start until dinner time, she spent her mornings practicing her music or venturing out to do laundry or to shop. The few dates she'd had time to accept had turned into wrestling matches, so she put her love life on hold and concentrated on the future.
    The Stardust's menu never varied. Salads, baked potatoes or burned French fries, and steaks charcoaled over a blazing fire were nightly fare. When the dinner rush died down, Allen shoved the unoccupied tables out of the middle of the dining room and the customers danced to the country and western music blasting from the neon-lit jukebox.
    “That's a hell of a set of pipes you're sporting,” Allen complimented one morning a few weeks later. He'd come in early to air out the restaurant after another one of the cook's overzealous attempts to hurry the potatoes. “I overheard you practicing,” he explained when she answered his knock at the door.
    Cassie was embarrassed. She'd thought she was alone in the building.
    “What would you think of getting a group together and breaking it in downstairs?” His offer caught her so off guard that she didn't notice his eyes ringing up the dollar signs. “Live entertainment would draw bigger crowds. And— who knows?— it might even lead to better things for you.”
    “I'd love it!” she enthused when she'd collected her wits.
    Cassie and Allen auditioned numerous groups before they found the Texas Twisters. The minute she heard their easy, flowing rhythm, she told Allen they need look no further. Allen dickered with the Twisters for a full week before they settled the question of money. Then Cassie set up a rehearsal schedule that wouldn't interfere with her working hours in the restaurant
    “What if they don't like me?” It