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The shopkeeper showed them where they were supposed to stand. Trixiebelle, a real trouper, didn’t balk once as Steph led her up onto the float and into position and then swung herself into the saddle before Grant could jump up there and offer to help.
As if a skilled horsewoman liked Steph needed a hand up. She’d laugh at him if he offered. And she’d probably suspect that he was only trying to get a look under that short skirt, anyway.
Get a look under her skirt?
Where the hell had that come from?
He was thirty-two years old, for crying out loud. Far past the age when a guy tried to find ways to sneak a peek up a girl’s skirt.
“Grant. Are you with me here?” Arletta was frowning, looking slightly miffed. “I need your full attention, now.”
He shook himself and tried to appear alert. “You got it.”
She pointed. “Stand there.”
He took his place by the crinkled foil stream and Arletta stood back to study the picture they made. “Hmm,” she said, somehow managing to be both thoughtful and agitated at the same time. “Hmm… oh, no. Oh, my…”
“What?” Grant demanded, beginning to worry that his fly might be open.
“It’s too spotty.”
Grant cast a quick glance Steph’s way. He could tell she was trying real hard not to laugh. “Uh…spotty?” he carefully inquired.
Arletta frowned with great seriousness. “Yes. The composition. It’s simply not…pulled together.”
The high school band had started to play at the front of the line. “I think we’re going to be rolling in a minute or two here,” he warned.
“You’re right. Action must be taken.” Arletta started pointing again. “Grant. Lean that pan against the rail fence. And go stand by the horse—yes. Right there. At the head. Stephanie, let him hold the reins.” Steph muffled a snort of amusement as she handed them over. “Much better, yes….” Arletta kept rattling off instructions. “Grant, you’ll have to wave with that nugget, hold it up nice and high so everyone can see you’ve really struck it rich. Do it.”
He waved with the fake nugget.
“Oh, yes. That’s it. And Stephanie, take off your hat, wave with it. Big smiles, both of you. Big, big smiles.” Grant smiled for all he was worth. Evidently Steph, mounted behind, was doing the same. Because Arletta clapped her hands and cried out gleefully, “Exactly! We’ve got it. That’s perfect! Wonderful! Just right!”
And just in time, too. The float gave a lurch and started moving—slowly, like a big ocean liner inching from port. They pulled away from Arletta, who continued to gesture wildly and rattle off instructions. “Wave, Grant! That’s it. Wave that nugget. Smiling, you two. Don’t forget. Smiling, smiling! That’s the way…”
He felt the toe of Steph’s fancy boot gently nudge him in the middle of the back.
“What?” he growled out of the corner of his mouth as he waved his nugget high and proud.
She nudged him again, but she didn’t say a word. He glanced back at her and she was waving that big hat of hers, smiling wide at the crowds that lined the covered sidewalks to either side. People cheered and stomped in appreciation and kids ran out in the street to grab the candy and bubble gum the driver of the truck that pulled the float was tossing in handfuls out his open window.
Up ahead, the band played “Yankee Doodle Dandy.” Grant looked out at the crowd and thought that he’d never seen so many people crowding the streets of his town.
This Thunder Canyon Fourth of July Parade was the biggest one ever, by far.
Even in that silly miner’s getup, with the fake nugget in his hand, Grant felt a surge of real pride—that his town was growing. Thriving. That he was a part of Thunder Canyon’s new prosperity. That his own efforts had contributed, at least a little, to the boom that had started with a modern-day gold rush and continued with the swift and rousing success of the Thunder Canyon Resort.
Chapter Nine
As the float rolled down Main Street, past the charming century-old brick buildings and covered sidewalks of Thunder Canyon’s Old Town, Steph waved her hat wildly—and planned her next move with Grant.
Her mom wouldn’t have approved of her scheming in the least. Partly because Marie Julen was a woman who found scheming beneath her—and partly because she remained doubtful about her daughter’s decision to grab her chance with Grant while she could.
Too bad. Steph was all grown-up now, old enough to make her own decisions. Yeah, she and Grant had had a rough patch in their new relationship when he’d considered selling the ranch. But they’d gotten through that. Things were looking up in big way.
And today was a day tailor-made to suit her plans. A great opportunity for the two of them to be together, to enjoy each other’s company. To have a little fun.
The celebrations would continue all day and into the night. There would be the annual races, right there on Main Street. And after the races, over at the fairgrounds, the big Independence Day Rodeo. She planned to sit next to Grant for the rodeo—except during the barrel races where she was a contestant.
She figured she could leave him on his own while she competed. By then, he’d feel duty-bound to root for her while she raced—especially since the resort was her sponsor and had paid a pretty penny for her top-of-the-line gear.
After the rodeo, she’d get him to take her to dinner. And after dinner, the big Independence Day dance.
She just had to make sure that, when the parade was over, Grant didn’t get away.
The problem was Trixiebelle. She needed to get the mare back to her trailer and over to the fairgrounds for the rodeo. But if she took the time do all that, she just knew Grant would find some way to disappear on her. It never paid to give a skittish man the time to have second thoughts. To keep him with her for the day, she’d have to stay close at his side from the moment the float pulled to a stop.
She needed someone to take care of Trixiebelle—and what do you know? As the float finished its ride down Main and turned into the parking lot of a local motel called the Wander-On Inn, she spotted Rufus and Jim. The hands stood right there on the sidewalk, at the edge of the lot.
She waved at them and shouted, “Rufus! Hey, meet us when this thing comes to a stop!”
Rufus pulled a sour face, but he and Jim were there waiting when she led Trixiebelle down off the float. Arletta, who’d somehow managed to race down Main through the packed crowds and was waiting when the parade trailed into the motel lot, had cornered Grant again and was gushing all over him.
Great.
She had a minute or two, at least, before he’d have time to make his escape.
“Rufus—”
The old cowboy grunted. “You say my name that way, gal, and I know I’m about to be gettin’ my orders.”
“I just wonder if you’d mind taking Trixiebelle back to the parking lot at Cedar Street? Her trailer’s there, hitched to my pickup, along with my racing costume and barrel saddle. If you could—”
“Hell. Why not?” He knew where to meet her and what time. He rattled them off. “Right?”
“Thanks.”
“No thanks are needed—and you better hurry. Looks like your gold miner’s gettin’ away.”
She laughed and paused long enough to kiss his grizzled cheek. “You know too much, you realize that.”
“I’m arthritic, not blind. Best get a move on.” Beside him, Jim was looking at the ground.
Steph knew the hand was kind of sweet on her, but she’d never encouraged him. She’d always kept things strictly professional between them.
Now, when he finally glanced up, she gave him a quick, no-nonsense nod—not ignoring him, but not encouraging him, either—and then whirled, her mind instantly back on the man who filled her heart. Grant was heading off into the crowd.
“Hey, Mr. Miner!”
He stopped. Turned.
She stuck out a hip and propped a fist on it. “Buy a girl a drink?”
He grunted. “It’s barely noon.”
She hurried to catch up and looped her arm with his. “A root beer will do.” She linked her arm with his. “Love that hat.” It was leather, floppy and silly and it made her smile. And he was so big and tall and handsome, even in his pink long-john shirt and dirty bandanna. Just looking up at him had her heart beating faster. He was her favorite cowboy and he always had been.
He groused, “As a matter of fact, I was just thinking about where I could go to change.” The good news was he made no effort to pull away from her. In fact, he looked down at her as if he never wanted to leave her side—and hated himself because of it.
She could almost feel sorry for him. If she wasn’t so dang happy to be the object of his guilty lust. “You can’t change your clothes.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Well, if you change, then I’ll change. You know you’d hate that.”
A smile tried to tug at the edges of his scowl. “Okay. I admit it. You look damn cute in that skirt.”
“Thank you.” She shook the arm that wasn’t clutching his, making the fringe dance. “It’s this fringe, right? You just love a lot of fringe on a woman.”
“Er…that’s it. The fringe.”
The loudspeakers over by the grandstand in front of the town hall crackled to life and over the noise of the crowd, they heard the voice of the honorable Philo T. Brookhurst, town mayor. “Folks, step back off the street now. Time to cordon off Main from South Main to Nugget. We’re gearing up fast for the annual Thunder Canyon Races. Get your kids ready to win a twenty-dollar prize.”
She let go of his arm and grabbed his hand. “Come on. The toddlers run first. They’re always so cute, the way they forget where they’re going and wander off in all directions. Let’s get us a good spot.”
She hauled him along behind her, weaving her way through the crowd. He didn’t try to protest, so she figured she had him—for the moment anyway.
And she did. She had him.
He stayed close at her side. He bought her that root beer and they watched the races, every one of them, from the plump toddlers on up to the final race for “octogenarians and above.” A ninety-five-year-old woman won that one. She held up her twenty-dollar prize and let out a whoop you could hear all the way to Billings. Then the old gal threw her arms around the mayor’s thick neck and planted a big smacker right on his handlebar moustache.
Steph leaned close to Grant and teased in a whisper, “Now that is a feisty woman.”
“Yeah.” He sent her a smoldering look, one that strayed to her mouth. She wished with all her heart that he would kiss her. Right there on Main Street, with the whole town watching. But he didn’t. He only whispered back, “Damn spunky, and that is no lie.”
After the races, Steph gave Grant no time to start making those see-you-later noises. She asked him for a ride over to the fairgrounds. After all, she told him sweetly, Rufus had taken her pickup to pull Trixiebelle’s trailer over there for her.
What could he say? He would never leave her stranded without a ride.
He’d parked his black Range Rover behind the town hall.
“Very nice,” she told him, once she’d climbed up into the plush embrace of the leather passenger seat. She sniffed the air. “Mmm. Smells like money in here.”
“Smart aleck,” he muttered as he stuck the key into the ignition. Before he could turn it over, she reached across and laid her hand on his.
Heat. Oh, she did love the feel of that. Every time she touched him, a jolt of something hot and bright went zipping all through her body. Making her grin. Making her shiver in the most delightful way.
“Steph,” he warned, low and rough.
She leaned closer. “Kiss me.”
He was looking at her mouth again. “You’re just asking for trouble, you know that?”
“Uh-uh. I’m not…”
“Oh, no?”
“What I’m asking for is a kiss.” She dared to let her fingers trail up his arm. Amazing, that arm. So warm and hard and muscular beneath the grimy pink sleeve of his long johns.
“A kiss?” he repeated, still staring at her mouth.
“Yeah. A long, slow, wet one.” She brushed the side of his neck with her forefinger and felt a shudder go through him. “That’s what I want. And I know that you know the kind I mean…”
He said her name again, this time kind of desperately.
“Oh, yeah,” she whispered as he leaned in that extra fraction of an inch and pressed his lips to hers.
Oh, my. He tasted so good. She opened her mouth and sucked his tongue inside, throwing her arms around him, letting out a moan of pure joy.
He stopped it much too soon. Taking her by the elbows, he peeled her off him and held her at arm’s length.
She tried to look innocent. “What? You don’t like kissing me?”
He said something under his breath, a very bad word. “You know I do. And if you keep this up…”
“What? You’ll make love to me? Oh, now wouldn’t that be horrible?”
“You’re just a kid and you—”
She swore then, a word every bit as bad as the one he’d used. “Maybe you’d like to see my driver’s license. It’s got my birthday right on there, in case you forgot how old I am.”
“You know what I mean. You don’t…date a lot.”
Gently she pulled free of his grip. “And you do. I know that. I’m not some dreamy fool, though you keep trying to convince yourself I am.”
He actually looked flustered, his face red and his blue eyes full of tender indecision. “I…meant what I said last night, that’s all. It wouldn’t last. And you’d end up hating me. I couldn’t take that.”
She held his eyes and banished all hint of teasing from her tone as she told him, “No matter what happens, Grant, I’ll never hate you.”
“You say that now…”
“Because it’s true.” She hooked her seat belt. When he didn’t move, she slanted him another glance. “Come on. Let’s go. The barrel race is up first. I have to track Rufus down and get my horse.”
For a moment, she thought he’d say more. But then he only swore again and reached for the key to start the engine.
* * *
She lost the barrel race.
