by Emily March
“Ruin was an outlaw hideout. I’m talking stagecoach and train and bank robbers. Murderers, cutthroats, cattle rustlers. Black hats. No white hats allowed. Although, in a spirit of transparency, Boone’s mother did send me a sheriff’s badge.”
“So there’s a new sheriff in town,” she said as she gazed around at Ruin. “Wow, this really is straight out of a movie, isn’t it?”
The dilapidated buildings that backed up to the tall canyon wall had the false façades, tin-roof overhangs, and hitching posts typical of structures in the Old West. A barn and the remains of a corral stood apart from the rest of the structures at one end of the town. A building made of stone anchored the opposite end.
“So what were these buildings used for?”
Jackson began pointing from the left. “Bunkhouse, there’s a stove in that one so we figure it was probably a cook shack and saloon, another bunkhouse, a store of sorts, a smithy, and the stone building was a jail.”
“A jail! In an outlaw town?”
“Well, it has bars on the window and door, so that’s what we think it must have been. Imagine what a bad hombre you had to be to end up in a jail in Ruin.”
“That’s just scary. Or, maybe it was for bounty hunters or Texas Rangers who tracked them down.”
“Could be. Except I imagine they’d just shoot those guys. But who knows? Ruin could have had its own lawman and trials, judge, juries. We don’t know. We’ve found very little historical information on the place. I keep hoping that we will discover that Butch Cassidy or Billy the Kid holed up here.”
“That would be cool.”
“A great tourist hook, most definitely. However, reality is probably a lot more boring. Remember that this place had two lives, the first being when the original settlers attempted to establish a town and the second when outlaws took it over and renamed it Ruin. So, are you ready to go exploring?”
“Lead the way, sheriff. However, I have to ask. What are the chances I’ll be glad I’m wearing these boots?”
“Ah, don’t worry. I haven’t seen a snake all month.”
“All month?” she repeated with a bit of a squeak in her voice. “Jackson, it’s only the third.”
“Oh, really? I thought it was the fourth.” He laughed and grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her toward the smithy. “Let’s start at the smithy. I think it’s the coolest thing out here.”
Caroline was taken aback by the handholding. The last time anyone had held her hand was … well … longer than she could recall. Unless … had he held her hand during that god-awful drive from Redemption to Austin last spring? She thought she had a vague memory of it, but she couldn’t be sure. That day had become a blur.
But that was then and this was now, and now felt a little … personal. He’d squeezed her hand on the way out here, too. Yet, neither one of the instances had struck her as being a come-on. Maybe the man was just a toucher.
“Careful,” Jackson warned as he guided her around a low-growing cactus and then safely over the sharp edges of a rusted iron bar.
Okay, so maybe he wasn’t acting too personal. Maybe he was simply being a gentleman. Old-fashioned manners. Maybe this was no different from a gentleman offering his arm to a lady in escort. Some men still did that. Robert used to do that. Why was she even questioning it?
Because she noticed, that’s why. Because his actions made her feel … something.
Something.
Sexual awareness.
She looked up at him and found him staring back at her. Their gazes met and held, and that something sizzled between them.
Whoa. She hadn’t felt “something” in a very, very long time, and she didn’t know how she felt about feeling it now. Caroline moved to tug her hand free just as Jackson dropped it. “Oops, I forgot to grab my camera bag. Be right back.”
Technically, she didn’t run away from him, although she didn’t drag her feet on the way to the truck, either. Her cheeks were warm with the flush of her embarrassment and if there’d been a crack in the earth between her and his truck she’d gladly have run straight into it.
Why now? Why had her hormones picked now to flicker back to life? Why now and why with Jackson McBride? Sure the man was drop-dead gorgeous with shoulders that stretched from Dallas to El Paso and a voice as smooth as angel tears, but he’d never flirted with her, never said or done a single suggestive thing.
Until now.
No. Hold on. Be fair. He hadn’t done anything suggestive. If anything, the suggestive shoe was on her own foot. Or at least they had on simultaneous suggestive shoes. Maybe her hormone flare had emitted a scent that attracted his attention.
Or, maybe she’d imagined it. Maybe she’d seen something that wasn’t even there. Surely that was it. She’d been so overwhelmed by her own pheromones that she’d imagined the heat sizzling between the two of them.
Okay, then. Reassured by her conclusion, Caroline relaxed as she reached the truck, opened the passenger door, and grabbed her camera bag from the floorboard. She slipped the strap over her shoulder, pasted a pleasant smile on her face, turned, and headed back toward the buildings of Ruin where Jackson waited. Please, let me pull this off. Please let things remain natural between us.
Jackson was hunkered down beside a bench made of two stumps and a board, staring at the edge. Oh, good. She had something she could say to him. Brightly, she inquired, “What do you see?”
“Initials carved into the wood. Haven’t noticed this before.”
“Not BTK, are they?”
“For Billy the Kid?” Jackson flashed a grin as he rose to his feet. “Unfortunately, no. Not BC for Butch Cassidy, either. They’re a T and an M. I’m trying to recall if Tucker hung around here when he visited. When we were kids, he was always carving his initials in something.”
Nothing in his manner suggested that they’d so recently exchanged a sexually heated look. She must have imagined it or else it had been all one sided. Good. That was good. Things wouldn’t be awkward between them the rest of the afternoon.
“Come see this, Caroline,” he said, waving her inside.
As she stepped into a twelve-foot-by-twelve-foot room with windows on each wall and a chunk of the roof fallen in, a large black buzzard fluttered his wings and lifted off from a rafter, disappearing through the hole in the roof. Near the center of the structure, a huge iron anvil sat on a stump. Next to it something that looked like a birdbath on four legs with a wheel attached lay on its side, green weeds growing up around it. Half a dozen tools hung on pegs in the wall, including various sizes of pliers and tongs, a mallet, and something with an iron point on it, the name of which or purpose for it Caroline didn’t know.
“That’s a portable forge,” Jackson explained, gesturing toward the item on its side. “At one time it had a wooden handle that the smithy would use to pump air to keep the coals glowing.”
“That’s cool. Imagine how hot it must have been in here during the summertime when the fire was burning.”
“I’ve always wondered how anyone managed to live in Texas before air-conditioning.”
“Pioneers were a hardy stock.”
After exploring the blacksmith’s shop, they wandered through the rest of the ghost town. Caroline was beyond grateful that the only wildlife they encountered was a jackrabbit they stirred from beneath a bed frame in one of the bunkhouses. She took dozens of photographs and even managed to cajole Jackson into posing for two of them, though he refused to allow her to shoot his face. Quintessential cowboy, she thought, as she framed him in her viewfinder. So sexy.
Whoa. There they go again. Down hormones, down!
“Well, that’s about it,” Jackson said. “The grand tour of Ruin.”
“I’m happy I got to see it. Thank you so much, Jackson.”
“You’re very welcome. So, what next? Do you still want to stop by the inn or are you ready for that steak I promised you?”
“I’d like to see the inn.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
On the ride along the road to Redemption, she spied another series of signposts advertising Fallen Angel Inn and the Last Chance Saloon and Dance Hall. “Why Fallen Angel?” Caroline asked.
“Cheesy, I know. But it was a brothel once upon a time, and the innkeeper who is helping us get the place up and running has a thing for angels. I voted for Angel Falls because when we have a hard rain, there’s a waterfall on the canyon wall behind the house. Tucker and Boone sided with Celeste. She’s the innkeeper I mentioned.”
“Well, I like it and the logo is cute. The bent halo is memorable.”
“That’s what Boone says. Like I mentioned before, I’m along for the ride where decision making for the inn is concerned.”
“So when do you open your dance hall?”
“We’ll have our first show the weekend of the inn’s soft opening. That’s in six weeks.”
“That’s awesome. I’ll be there. Did you know I won the Chamber of Commerce Enchanted Weekend drawing?”
“No, I didn’t know that. Well, good. I’m glad to hear that there will be someone there I know. I think almost all our other visitors are friends of Boone’s from Colorado.”
“I was excited to win. The certificate I received promises pampering, and I’m a sucker for that.”
“Well, fair warning. They’re still working some of the kinks out. Pampering may be the goal, but I’m not positive they’ll pull it off.”
“That’s the purpose of a soft opening, isn’t it? To be a practice run for the grand opening and identify problems that need to be addressed before the big event? When is your grand opening?”
“Fourth of July weekend. And you’re right. We do need at least one dry run. We’re doing a big benefit show for a veterans charity Tucker supports to kick things off. We’ll have some high-profile guests for that weekend who will bring in a crowd.”
“Who is your headliner?”
He glanced over at her. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Absolutely!”
“We haven’t announced it yet or put tickets on sale because we’re waiting for our star to get home and sign the contract. He’s been in Nepal climbing mountains on vacation. We hope to have everything wrapped up by Friday, though.”
He told her the name. Caroline wasn’t well versed in the Texas country music scene, but even she recognized the singer. “Wow. That’s exciting. You’ll have a huge crowd for that show even with the short notice. You’ll let me know when I can buy tickets?”
“I sure will. We’ll be working with Maisy and the Chamber, too, to set up some things in town to piggyback onto our event. We’re hoping to raise some serious jack for Tucker’s cause.”
They drove in comfortable silence for the next few minutes. Caroline began to wonder if she’d imagined the charged moment between them earlier. Nothing he’d said or done since suggested anything suggestive. Maybe she’d dreamed the whole thing up.
Well, except for her own hormone flare. That she definitely had not imagined. The after-bursts she continued to experience proved that.
He smelled good. Something he wore had an appealing woodsy, masculine scent, and she’d noticed it. When was the last time she’d noticed the scent of a man? She hadn’t a clue.
Caroline glanced at him. He noticed and returned the glance, adding a smile. That action drew her gaze to his mouth. Wonder what he’d taste … whoa. She jerked her head around and stared straight ahead. Down hormones. Down!
Moments later, he took a curve in the road that provided her the perfect distraction. “Oh, wow. The flower fields are even more spectacular from this direction. What a gorgeous setting for the inn. Would you mind stopping? I’d like to snap a few shots.”
“Glad to.”
He pulled onto the shoulder, and Caroline hopped out with her camera. “Don’t get out with me. I’ll just be a moment.”
“No rush.” Jackson switched off the ignition.
She took a dozen or so shots, and then switched out her lens in an effort to get a closer shot of the Fallen Angel Inn. As she peered through the viewfinder, she saw two figures step from inside the house onto the wide front porch. One of them carried a glass pitcher filled with what appeared to be lemonade and looked familiar. Caroline tried to place her. She’d met so many people since moving to Redemption.
She shifted her attention to the other woman, who held a tray filled with four glasses and a plate of cookies. She appeared to be close in age to the first, somewhere north of seventy, Caroline guessed. Both women were slender. Both were smiling, but that’s where the similarity ended. The one who seemed familiar to Caroline wore her silver hair short and bobbed. The other’s hair was waist long and fire-engine red. The silver-haired woman was dressed in a simple and stylish yellow sheath with matching flats. Her companion sported a bohemian look in a flowing ankle-length patterned skirt in shades of purple and gold, a white peasant blouse with embroidery on the trim, and gypsy sandals.
Caroline focused her lens and studied them more closely. What interesting faces. They were related somehow, she’d guess. Same high defined cheekbones and brilliant blue eyes. Caroline saw the classy woman say something. The bohemian gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes and responded. Classy set her mouth into a stern line.
Yes, probably sisters. Caroline snapped a few more pictures, and then returned to the truck. “Someone is waiting on the porch with cookies.”
“I warned Celeste that we might stop by. She’s our innkeeper guru. You’ll love her.”
“Celeste!” Caroline snapped her fingers. “I remember now. Is her name Celeste Blessing?”
“You know her?”
“She’s the reason I visited Redemption the first time.” Caroline told him about meeting Celeste outside of Robert’s memory care facility. “That’s how I came to be writing that travel article when I met you.”
“That was Celeste? Seriously?”
“Yes. Her twisted ankle changed my life.”
“Whoa. That’s sort of spooky. Although…” Jackson shrugged. “Boone says that’s how she is.”
“There’s another woman with her. A sister?”
Jackson gave a small sigh and his expression grew pained. “No. A cousin. Angelica. Celeste is training her. She’ll be the Fallen Angel innkeeper.”
“You don’t look pleased about that.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Jackson said, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself. “She just needs a little practice.” Following a moment’s pause, he added, “She does bake the best bread I’ve ever tasted. Cookies, too.”
“That’s a good skill for an innkeeper to have, I’d think.”
“True. That’s true. We’re going to serve fresh cookies every afternoon in the parlor, so cookies are important.” He twisted the key and restarted the engine. “Well, let’s go see what the Fallen Angel has in store for us today, shall we?”
Chapter Nine
As Jackson pulled into the drive, Celeste and Angelica both rose from their white wicker rockers and descended the front steps. Angelica opened the gate of the gleaming white picket fence, and then stood next to Celeste along the stone path that led to the front porch steps. Celeste’s greeting rang out in her melodious voice, “Welcome to the Fallen Angel Inn!”
When Angelica failed to speak, Celeste gave her a prodding look. “Oh, yeah.” Angelica mimicked her cousin’s smile. “Where chunks of your heart are mended.”
“Angelica!” Celeste scolded.
She grimaced. “Where pieces of your heart … um…”
Celeste sighed. “Where wounded hearts find peace. It’s not that difficult, cousin!”
Angelica sniffed with disdain. “Maybe not difficult, but it is stupid. I don’t know why we need a motto, anyway. Not everyone who stays with us is going to have a wounded heart. Happy people do exist in this world, you know.”
She rolled her eyes at Caroline and added, “Come on up to the porch and have a cookie and lemonade, sweetheart. They’ll make you ha
ppier than any old slogan. I make cookies so good they make your toes curl. Now, they’re not as good as sex, but they’re pretty darned close.”
Celeste closed her eyes. “Angelica! Don’t say something like that.”
“Okay, you’re right.” She winked at Caroline. “They are better than bad sex.”
Jackson muttered, “I really don’t know if this is going to work.”
Celeste ignored both her cousin and Jackson and focused on Caroline. “Why, you and I have met before, haven’t we? You’re Caroline Carruthers. You wrote that fabulous article about Redemption and you did it while your poor husband was in the hospital. Such a kind thing you did for me.”
“It turned out to be a kindness for me,” Caroline replied. “The note you sent when it was published touched my heart. You have a way with words.”
Jackson observed, “Celeste has a way with just about everything.”
Angelica slipped her arm through Caroline’s and began walking her toward the house. “What he means is that Celeste has a way of sticking her nose into everything. So, you’re a writer? I thought you might be the stained-glass artist here to repair the window after my little accident.”
“Little!” Celeste protested. “I’d hate to see what you call big.”
Jackson spoke up. “Caroline is opening a bookstore in Redemption. Caroline, meet our innkeeper, Angelica Blessing.”
“A bookstore!” Celeste swooped up beside Caroline and took hold of her free arm. “Oh, I heard about this. You’re calling it The Next Chapter, correct? I just love that name for a bookstore. So clever. Please do join us for refreshments. My cousin’s questionable humor aside, she does bake heavenly cookies.”
“Lemonade and cookies sound lovely. Thank you.”
Jackson knew from recent experience that cookie breaks with the Blessing cousins could be a gauntlet of questions. Probably wouldn’t hurt to give Caroline a word of warning first. “Caroline was with Maisy on the day we first visited the property. We stopped so I could show her all the improvements we’ve made. How about we do that first, and then sit a spell with y’all?”
