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“You want to break?” Sam asked her.
“Sure. I’ll warn you, I haven’t played in a long time. I’m afraid I won’t be able to give you much of a game.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m pretty rusty, too.”
An hour and three games later, he won two out of three, but just barely.
“Not much of a game.” He snorted. “I haven’t had to work that hard for a win since basic training, when I came up against a guy who hustled new recruits for fun.”
She smiled. “We had a pool table in the basement when I was growing up. My dad, brother and I used to play for matchsticks. At last count, I think Riley owed me about eight hundred thousand. One of these days, I might have to collect.”
“Why do I feel like I’ve just been scammed?”
She smiled. “You won, didn’t you?”
“Barely.”
“I wasn’t lying when I said I hadn’t played in a while. But I guess it’s like so many other things. Once you take those first strokes, it all comes flowing back.”
He cleared his throat and she couldn’t hold in a smile at the sudden glazed look in his eyes. Was he, like her, thinking about something else completely? “Do you want to go for best of five?”
A loud burst of laughter from Genevieve’s group drew both their attention. While she and Sam had been playing, a couple others had joined Gen’s crowd. On the other occupied table, two rough-edged guys were arguing heatedly about a move. A couple danced nearby to an up-tempo country song playing on the jukebox.
Sometimes the loud, hard-partying scene at The Speckled Lizard grated on her nerves, especially after a long night at the restaurant. The only problem was, during the off-season, the after-hours nightlife in Hope’s Crossing was basically nonexistent, other than a few fast-food joints that stayed open 24/7.
She could always call it a night but she selfishly didn’t want to. She liked Sam. The way he moved, the way he smelled, the way he played pool. It had been a long time since she had met someone so intriguing.
“How do you feel about taking a little walk?” she asked on impulse.
He blinked at her, cue in hand. “Now? It’s past eleven. The whole town is closed down, in case you didn’t notice.”
“Why not? It’s a beautiful evening. These kind of mild spring nights are something of a miracle here in the high mountains.”
Don’t say no, she thought. The idea of going back to her house by herself tonight depressed her more than it should. Not that she had any intention of taking Sam there, but she definitely wanted to spend a little more time with him. This was a nice compromise.
“We don’t have to,” she added. “I only thought maybe you might like a quick guided tour of Hope’s Crossing, being new in town and all.”
He leaned a hip against the edge of the pool table, all those rangy ex-army muscles in delectable view.
Maybe inviting him out for a walk wasn’t the smartest idea she’d ever had, when she had to keep reminding herself he was the contractor at the restaurant and she couldn’t afford to mess things up now that her dream was within reach.
“A walk could be...interesting.”
“Great. Let’s go.” She ignored the flurry of nerves in her stomach as they hung up the cues and settled their tab with Pat at the bar.
He helped her into her jacket and then pulled on his own—a soft, thin leather jacket that made her think of motorcycles and bad boys—and then they walked out into the sweetly scented spring night.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE NIGHT WAS RELATIVELY WARM for mid-April with a southerly breeze that smelled moist and earthy. She wouldn’t be surprised if Hope’s Crossing saw rain before daybreak, the kind of sweet and cleansing storm that blew through quickly and left everything fresh and clean, saturated with color.
She loved walking on these kinds of nights, when the rest of the world seemed huddled in for the dark hours but she was alone with the rustling music of the breeze in new leaves.
Except this time she wasn’t alone. She was accompanied by a big, tough-looking man who had secrets she hadn’t begun to guess.
“Let’s walk up to the fire station and I’ll give you the high points of Main Street along the way.”
“You’re the tour guide.” He flashed a lopsided smile, looking sexy and almost rakish, and she had to remind her hormones to settle down.
She adopted a deliberately casual tone, her best officious voice. Maybe if the restaurant thing didn’t work out, she could get a job at the tourist welcome center. “You probably already know this but Hope’s Crossing was once a wild and woolly mining town, with more brothels and saloons than houses.”
“I’d heard that, yes. Tell me this. Don’t you think it’s odd that even with that sort of start, the town was still named a sweet, flowery name like Hope’s Crossing instead of, oh, I don’t know. Something like Hell’s Armpit.”
She laughed. “While both names are equally appealing, of course, I’m guessing Hope’s Crossing might be a bit more of a tourist draw than anything with the word armpit in it. But what do I know?”
His smile gleamed in the night and she fought down another shiver of awareness.
“My friend Claire is a lot better at recounting history, but from what I understand, the miners originally called the town Silver Strike after the first mine to produce anything worthwhile up in the canyon. One of the mine owners, Silas Van Duran, happened to fall in love with the only schoolteacher in town, a woman named Hope Goodwin. When it came time to officially name the town, he insisted on Hope’s Crossing. Since he had the money, I guess, he also had the power to push through what he wanted.”
“A little on the cheesy side, don’t you think? Most women I know would prefer a share in the silver mine instead of the rather dubious privilege of having a town named for them.”
“Aren’t you cynical? You’re not a romantic, then. Good to know.”
“Hey, I can be romantic when the mood strikes.”
“You do know there’s a difference between romantic and horny, right?”
He laughed and warmth sizzled through her. He had a really sexy laugh, low and full-throated, with just a hint of surprise to it, as if he didn’t do it that often. She wanted him to do it again.
“I’ve heard that, yes,” he said. “Thanks for the reminder. Though in my experience, they’re not mutually exclusive emotions.”
She was really going to have to settle down here. She drew in a breath and forced herself to return to tour-guide mood as they walked past her favorite boutique.
When they passed String Fever, she paused in front of the lighted display, a combination of ready-made items and a brilliant scatter of loose beads.
“Ooh, looks like Claire is carrying a new line of hand-painted beads. She didn’t tell me. The woman is evil. I spend half my paycheck inside String Fever.”
He gazed at the necklace that had caught her attention and then back at her. “Somehow I wouldn’t have pegged you for a crafter.”
“Beading is an art form and I’ve got serious skills. I made this.” She pulled out the hammered-silver necklace. He had obviously once been someone’s husband because he was smart enough to dutifully admire it.
“Nice.”
“I know,” she said smugly. “And it’s not even my best work. Claire, the owner, has been my BFF since we were in first grade. She’s actually married to my brother now. They’re having a baby in a few months.”
Why was she compelled to add that last part? She wasn’t quite sure. Her own emotions about Riley and Claire combining DNA to bring a new life into the world were as tangled as her jewelry drawer.
She had mostly come to terms with the fact that her best friend and the person she still considered her pesky little brother were head-over-heels crazy about each other. She would never tell either of them this, but she even thought it was kind of sweet the way they couldn’t seem to keep their gazes off each other in a crowd, the way they touched whenever they were close, the happiness that just seemed to surround the two of them like a big, puffy cloud.
Even so, it still sometimes freaked her out.
Then there was the issue of the upcoming birth, something that left her both thrilled for them and aching for...something.
Throw in her mother’s relationship with Harry Lange and she was probably due for some serious therapy anytime now.
She didn’t want to talk about any of it. What she really wanted to do was kiss this big, sexy construction foreman. Too bad things were so complicated.
“This is the Center of Hope Café, a fabulous place for breakfast and lunch. Basically anything on the menu is good. You can’t go wrong. I don’t know what magic Dermot Caine possesses but he also makes these turkey wraps that always hit the spot.”
“Seems like a bad policy, to endorse the competition.”
She sniffed. “We’re not in competition. Apples to oranges. You want gourmet cuisine, come to my restaurant. You want good, honest comfort food, Dermot’s your man.”
“Is that right?”
“The French toast alone will make you weep tears of gratitude.”
He laughed, assuming she was speaking in hyperbole. Foolish man. After he tried it, he would know she spoke only truth.
“Around the corner there is Dermot’s daughter Charlotte’s candy store. Sugar Rush. Best place in town for flavored fudge. Blackberry, almond, cashew. She does it all. And she’s one of my good friends, too.”
“Is everyone in town your friend?”
She shrugged. “Basically. What can I say? It’s a friendly town. Why don’t we cross the street here?”
He eyed the crosswalk, thirty feet farther up the street. “A rule breaker. I like that in a woman.”
“It’s nearly midnight,” she pointed out. “The streets are pretty deserted right now. I think we’ll be safe unless we get rogue moose coming through town. Hope’s Crossing doesn’t have much of a nightlife this time of year, I’m afraid.”
“Not a problem for me. I’m not coming to town to party.”
Despite the dearth of traffic, he grabbed her elbow when they crossed the street. She found it incredibly sweet and wanted to lean into the strength of his firm hand touching her, even through the layers of her coat and shirt.
They were only taking fifteen steps across pavement, not fording Currant Creek during runoff, but she still enjoyed that little touch of courtesy.
“This is my sister’s shop,” she said, when they reached the other side. “Dog-Eared Books & Brew is absolutely the best place in town to get good coffee.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
On the other side of the street, she pointed out several of the old buildings in town and the efforts that had been made to keep the town’s historic flavor.
Hope’s Crossing was always so peaceful late at night when most of the residents slept. Instead of going all the way up to the restaurant, the one place in town she knew he had been, she turned them down Glacier Lily Drive, intending to make a loop back to The Speckled Lizard. They had only walked about ten feet when something large and dark came toward them out of the alley behind the fabric store.
Alex jumped and gave a little scream at the same moment, her mind on that moose she had joked about earlier. Moose scared her to death ever since just about being charged by one when she had caught it unawares while out mountain biking one day a few years ago.
She felt extremely foolish when she realized the menacing shape was only an off-leash dog who had apparently wandered away from home.
“Sorry. Sorry. That startled me.”
He didn’t laugh, which was more than most men she knew would have done.
“It startled me, too. We former Army Rangers try to be a little more manly and do our girly screaming on the inside.”
“We should probably find where he belongs. Come here, boy.”
In the small circle of light from the reproduction streetlamp, the dog looked to be a chocolate Lab. He had a frayed collar but no tags. “Oh, dear. Where did you come from?”
The dog licked her, tongue lolling and tail wagging. He smelled like wet dog, sharply pungent.
“I’m not exactly a dog expert but he looks like a purebred,” Sam said.
She had to agree. He had very elegant lines and beautiful hazel eyes that glowed in his dark face in the starlight. “I can’t imagine he’s a stray, even though that collar looks pretty mangy.”
“How do you expect to find his home tonight?”
“Good question, especially without tags. I’m trying to think if I know anybody with a chocolate Lab. Nobody comes to mind. He doesn’t look familiar.”
“You can’t know every dog in town.”
“Not every dog, no,” she admitted. “But I’m sure I would remember a good-looking guy like this one.”
The dog licked at her hand again and she rubbed his ears. She loved dogs. Claire and Riley’s morosely adorable basset hound, Chester, was one of her favorite creatures on earth. If her life weren’t so chaotic, she would definitely have one of her own.
“Any suggestions?” Sam asked. “Is there an animal shelter in town where we can take him for now?”
“There is, but they’re usually pretty packed.”
She considered her options and came up with only one viable possibility. “Looks like I’m going to have company for the night.”
“You’re really going to take him home with you? What if he’s rabid?”
“He’s not. Look at how sweet he is. I can’t just leave him to run wild on the streets. He could be hit by a car or even attacked by a mountain lion. I can call the shelter in the morning and see if they’ve had any missing pooch reports that match his description.”
“What if they haven’t?”
“I’m pretty connected,” she said modestly. “I can get the word out through the police department and even put a few posters up at the bookstore and Claire’s place. The owner will probably hear through the grapevine that I found a chocolate Lab. I should only have him for a day or two. It will be fun to have company, won’t it, bud?”
The dog woofed at her and licked her hand a third time, almost as if he understood.
“Take off your belt,” she ordered.
Sam angled a sidelong look at her. “I do believe that’s the first time I’ve been propositioned on a public sidewalk.”
She snorted. “That you’ve heard out loud, anyway. I’m sure plenty of women have wanted to proposition you, public sidewalk or not. Seriously, I need a leash and I’m not wearing a belt. I need yours. Don’t worry, you’ll get it back.”
He shook his head. “This is the most interesting evening I’ve had in a very long time.”
“Don’t get out much, then, do you?”
