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“How about dinner?”
The questions rang out from every corner of the room with dizzying speed, making it difficult for Meredith to know which one to address first. The ad had said the bachelors of Jasper Gulch were shy but willing. An updated version would have to say they were more willing than shy. Still, they were delightful.
Before she’d opened her mouth to let them down easy, an old man whose thumbs were hooked in his suspenders exclaimed, “You boys can be a little more original than that. Why, you asked Jillian and Lisa those same dang questions at a meeting just like this one three years ago.”
“I’ve got one,” Ben Jacobs exclaimed as he scooted as far away from Mertyl Gentry as he could get. “Forget dating and marry me.”
“A public marriage proposal has been done, too,” Luke Carson said, tapping his palm with the gavel.
“You all remember what happened the night Wes Stryker went down on one knee and asked Louetta Graham to be his wife,” old Doc Masey declared. “Wes didn’t fare so well.”
They all shook their heads forlornly, all except Wes and Louetta, who were now both happily married, only not to each other.
“Listen,” Meredith said, holding up one hand. “I didn’t come to Jasper Gulch in answer to your advertisement.”
“You didn’t?”
She shook her head. “I came here because this is where my niece and nephew are.”
“But as long as you’re here,” somebody called.
She shook her head again.
“You mean you aren’t planning to date?”
“Ever?”
She lifted one shoulder. “At least not for a while.”
“How long’s a while?”
Meredith hadn’t planned to get into this tonight, but now that the issue had been raised, she felt she should address it. “Well, not until I’m settled,” she said, her smile genuine, her voice warm and sincere and just soft enough to be soothing. “To tell you the truth, I’ve promised myself one year free of making any sudden moves or rash decisions.”
She found herself staring into a pair of moss-green eyes shaded by a brown Stetson. Sky’s gaze was so direct and unsettling the pit of her stomach took a nosedive toward her toes.
Clearing her throat, she said, “I plan to make my home here, and I don’t want to have any regrets.” That said, she forced herself to look at the other people in the room. It seemed she’d scored some brownie points with the Ladies Aid Society, but not with the local men. Since the success of her business depended upon being liked, she hurried to say, “In the meantime, you’re all welcome to stop by the store, to browse, and talk. I give great advice about patterns and color schemes and painting techniques, and my interior design rates are extremely affordable.”
With a smile, she bid everyone goodbye. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she strode to the back of the room through a crescendo of “aw shucks” and “rats” and “just our luck.”
She glanced over her shoulder just before closing the door behind her. She could hear Luke Carson banging his gavel on the podium, but her gaze never made it that far. A lot of the men had crammed their hats back on their heads. She found herself staring into the eyes of the man who’d never taken his off. Her nerves fluttered. Lucky for her, the door closed before she got thoroughly lost in the depths of green eyes that were hooded by thoughts she couldn’t begin to decipher.
“Somethin’ wrong with that beer, sugar?”
Sky eyed his untouched bottle of beer, shaking his head at DoraLee Brown. “Just not thirsty, I guess.”
Moseying on over to the Crazy Horse along with several of the other men had seemed like a good idea when the town meeting had adjourned an hour ago. Sky usually enjoyed talking and laughing and playing a game or two of cards. He’d told a joke he’d tried out on the hired hands at the Lone M that very afternoon. They’d laughed their heads off. Of course they had. It had the best dang punch line he’d heard in years. The Crazy Horse crowd had listened. And nothing. Nobody so much as cracked a grin. The only thing any of them seemed interested in doing tonight was talking about Meredith Warner.
“She wants to sell us paint and sofas and lamp shades,” Neil Anderson said.
“Worse, she doesn’t want to date anybody for a whole year,” his brother, Norbert added.
“Why move to a town that advertised for women if you don’t want to get to know the men?” Ben Jacobs asked, rubbing the spot where Mertyl had clipped him with two surprisingly strong arthritic fingers.
“To start a business, I guess,” one of the other boys answered.
Sky pushed his beer a little farther away. He might as well leave.
“Who in Sam Hill would want to open a business here?”
Sky didn’t quite make it to his feet. Droll or not, Norbert had a point. Why had Meredith decided to open her store here?
“Jasper Gulch ain’t exactly a bustling metropolis.”
That was true. Why open a store here and not in some other small, but not-quite-so-dead town? Jasper Gulch suited Sky perfectly. But he wasn’t trying to open a business.
Somebody dropped some quarters into the jukebox. Seconds later, a tune was being belt out about short skirts and men’s shirts. Sky’s mind wandered. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing sexier in the world than a woman wearing a man’s shirt and nothing else. He’d seen Meredith that way once. She hadn’t worn his shirt for long, because he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. She’d reciprocated, touch for touch, coming to him so willingly, so womanly, so wantonly, he couldn’t seem to forget it.
Something bothered the back of his mind. He was pretty sure he’d hurt her when it was all over, but he was nothing if not honest. So he’d told her the truth, and the truth was, he wasn’t a forever kind of man. He’d been very clear about that. And yet she was back. Why? Sure, she wanted to be close to her niece and nephew. But she could have opened a business in Pierre, and commuted to work. Why was she really here?
He thought about the way her eyes had rested on him during that meeting. Twice. Both times she’d looked away before he’d figured out what it had meant. She hadn’t looked at anybody else that way. He knew, because he hadn’t taken his eyes off her.
Whoa.
What if she’d read more into those few hours they’d spent together than had actually been there? She was a woman, after all, and women tended to romanticize everything. What if she’d moved here because she’d convinced herself that passion was love, no matter what he’d said? What if she was saving her wiles to use on him? What if…
Sky dropped a few bills on the bar and rose blithely to his feet. He’d reached his truck when he noticed the lights on in the store across the street. Looking both ways, he strode on over, one last question, the most important question of all, running through his mind: What if he paid her a little visit and found out?
Pounding.
Meredith’s eyelashes flickered, her eyes moving back and forth beneath her closed lids. The sound came again, a distant pounding, like a fist on wood. She must have been dreaming. Yes, that was it. She was dreaming, floating in a weightless, beautiful place filled with rainbows and the purl of wind chimes and a breeze more gentle and soft on her face than anything she’d ever felt. There were no doors in this place, so the pounding must have been coming from outside her dream.
Glass rattled. Meredith jerked in her sleep. She groaned softly and whispered, “So tired.”
The rainbows dimmed slightly, but the wind chimes purled on and on. She floated close enough to the surface of her dream to realize that the other, disruptive sound had gone away. She sighed, snuggling deeper into the sofa cushions.
And then, suddenly, her eyes popped open. It took several blinks to bring the store into focus. She sat up groggily. She’d been unloading merchandise from boxes when exhaustion had overtaken her. She remembered leaning her head against the back of the sofa and closing her eyes for a moment. She glanced at her watch. Mercy, that had been an hour ago. She’d been sleeping so deeply she’d been dreaming.
Something must have awakened her.
She took a few steps toward the front of the store, peering at the door and then out the window. Other than a handful of trucks parked in front of the Crazy Horse Saloon across the street, all was quiet out on Main Street. Hugging her arms close to her body, she turned in a half-circle, thinking that she might as well call it a night and go upstairs to her apartment. She switched off one lamp. Picking up the cordless phone she’d left on a low table, she headed for the first open window.
A sound at the back of the store stopped her in her tracks.
At first she thought it might have been the mother cat, scratching at the door to go out. She glanced at the old drawer Logan had padded for the stray and her seven kittens. The babies were sleeping; the mother stood, back arched, poised for action, as if something had awakened her, too.
The doorknob rattled. Somebody was trying to get in.
The blood drained out of Meredith’s face, down her neck, seeming to pool in the pit of her stomach. Pressing her lips shut so no sound would escape, she forced herself to settle down. She’d been robbed when she’d first moved to Minneapolis. The thief had gotten everything, leaving her penniless, destitute. She was almost thirty now. She was older, wiser, and lately, too tired to start over again. Everything she had was invested in this store, all her life savings, her toil and sweat and dreams for the future were tied up in the meager furnishings on this floor.
The doorknob jiggled again. Next, she heard a scrape, as if someone was jimmying the lock. Panic rose in her throat. There was no time to run upstairs. She wished she had something to use as a weapon. She looked at the cordless phone in her hand. Wide awake now, she punched in 9-1-1, creeping stealthily toward the shadows in the back of the room where she could hide.
The door burst open before she reached her destination. It was too dark to see who the intruder was, but she could make out the shape of a man. The cat sprang straight up, streaking between the intruder’s legs. While the man was off balance, Meredith shoved an antique umbrella stand in his path. He tripped. “What the hell?”
She recognized that voice. As he fell toward her, out of the shadows and into the light, she recognized the face that went with it.
Sky’s arms flailed, but he managed to keep from falling flat on his face. “Why did you do that?”
She backed up, straightening so fast she saw stars. “I’m trying to—” her voice seemed to be coming from far away “—defend my store.” Sky’s face blurred before her eyes, and all the world with it.
She swayed. Sky swore. He scaled a low table, catching her before she could hit the floor. “Easy,” he whispered, but her eyes were closed, and she didn’t hear.
He wrapped his arms around her, trying to hold her upright. It wasn’t easy. He was the best roper in a hundred mile radius. He could rope a calf, hop off his horse, tie it up and hoist it onto his shoulder with ease. Meredith was slight, but right now, she was as limp as a rag doll, and a helluva lot harder to hold on to than a squirming, bawling, roped calf.
He swung her into his arms, staggering slightly. Keeping his feet squarely beneath them, he supported her head with his shoulder, then tried to decide what to do next.
Meredith’s eyes fluttered. What happ…? Where am…? For the second time in a matter of minutes, she opened her eyes and tried to focus. This time, she found herself staring at the harsh lines of Sky’s jaw. “What are you doing?”
“You’re ill.”
It sounded to Meredith like an accusation. She glanced down, appalled to discover that she was in his arms. “Put me down.”
“You fainted.” Again, his voice sounded harsh.
“You scared me.”
“Do you always faint when you’re frightened?”
She never had before. She wiggled to get down, but his arms only tightened.
“I’ve been working hard, maybe too hard. I think I picked up a touch of the flu.”
The flu in July? Sky couldn’t think of a soul who had it this time of year. He couldn’t think, period. Her scent was in his nostrils, her eyes dangerously close to his, her lips parted, her breath moist on his face. He wanted her to raise her face a little more, angle her chin slightly, so he could kiss her.
“Sky?”
“Hm?”
“What are you doing here?” she asked again.
Sky was trying to remember, really he was. It just wasn’t easy to think. His adrenaline had kicked in, making him strong, and her weightless in his arms. It hadn’t done a thing for his mental state.
“I saw the light on in the store, and I thought maybe we should talk. I knocked, but you didn’t answer. My imagination conjured up several scenarios, and you were in trouble in every one. So I decided to try the back door.”
“What did you want to talk about?” She’d spoken softly, her face inching closer.
Of everything he’d said, she’d picked up on that? “I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
He loosened his hold, slowly lowering her feet to the floor. By the time she was standing, her entire body was indelibly imprinted on his. Both were breathing shallowly. Another second, another millimeter, and he would know if he’d been imagining the taste of her lips, the touch of her mouth, the passion of her kisses. Just a second, and a millimeter…
“Hold it right there!”
They jerked apart, and swung around. Sheriff Nick Colter burst into the room, one hand on his flashlight, the other on his gun.
“Nick!” Sky exclaimed. “For crying out loud, don’t shoot. What are you doing here?”
Nick lowered his gun and his flashlight, but not his guard. He took a few steps closer, stopping between an antique trunk and a floor lamp. His gaze was assessing, his voice steady. “A 9-1-1 call came in from this number.”
“You were fast!” Meredith exclaimed, still breathless.
“You called 9-1-1?” Sky asked.
She wet her dry lips, and pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I thought you were an intruder, or perhaps a thief.”
“You two know each other?” the dark-haired sheriff of Jones County asked, watching them closely.
“No,” Meredith said.
“Yes,” Sky said at the same time. She looked at Sky.
Sky looked at her.
They both shrugged.
“We’ve met,” she said.
“Briefly,” Sky amended. “But we don’t really know one another, I guess.”
Meredith averted her face because sometimes the truth hurt. “I fell asleep, and was awakened by a noise,” she said to Sheriff Colter. “I thought somebody was trying to break in. It turned out to be a false alarm. I’m sorry, Sheriff.”
Nick Colter and Sky were nearly the same height. They both had dark hair and muscular bodies. The similarities stopped there. Nick had never been, nor would he ever be a cowboy. Until two years ago, he’d been a decorated police officer in Chicago. He’d come to Jasper Gulch because his then estranged wife and young daughter had moved here. He and Brittany had reconciled, and he’d stayed, taking over as sheriff of Jones County when Wyatt McCully had accepted a position on the police force in Pierre. Nick was more than qualified for the job. Meredith had a feeling his intuition was telling him more than either she or Sky had. He glanced around the store. “Looks like you’re almost ready to open for business.”
She could have kissed him for his tact. Instead, she walked with him toward the back door, which, until now, she hadn’t realized was still wide open. “I’m planning to have a grand opening sale in a week or so. I hope you and your wife can join me.”
“I’ll tell Brittany.” With a tug at the brim of his police hat, he left as quietly as he’d arrived.
Suddenly, the only sounds in the room were the resonant tones of the wind chimes high in the rafters. Meredith couldn’t think of anything to say. Worse, she couldn’t believe how close she’d come to kissing Sky. If Sheriff Colter hadn’t arrived when he did, they could very well have been doing more than kissing right now. Whatever was between them was explosive. For a moment, when she’d discovered that she was in his arms, yearning had swelled inside her like it had that night a month ago. Now, something he’d said just before Sheriff Colter had interrupted them nagged at the back of her mind.
“What did you mean?” she asked. “When you said you don’t want me to get the wrong idea. The wrong idea about what?”
She watched as he strode toward the door and scooped his cowboy hat off the floor. His movements were fluid, graceful in a way that was uniquely masculine, uniquely Sky.
Worrying the brim of his Stetson with his callused fingers, he said, “I don’t take women to bed often.”
Something dangerously close to hope found its way inside her. A semblance of self-preservation kept her from letting it show.
“There’s a good reason for that,” he said. “Most women want a commitment, a relationship. And I can’t offer either.”
She glanced at his left hand.
