A Bandit Creek Miracle

by Brenda Sinclair

  Amanda found her voice, strode across the room, and stuck out her hand. “Good afternoon, Mr. Branigan. It’s nice to see you again, too.”

  “Just in town buying feed and paying a few bills.” Jeremy’s grin lit up his face. “How are you settling in?”

  “Just fine, thank you. I’m happy I could cover for Catherine while she’s on mat leave, starting tomorrow.” Amanda took a step back, enabling her to look him in the eye with greater ease. She hadn’t realized he was so tall when she’d first encountered him at Ma’s Kitchen.

  “Catherine heaped a load of praise on you for coming to her rescue.” His eyes roamed every inch of her five foot six inch body from head to toe. “You’re an interesting woman, Miss Bailey. I hope to see more of you in the future.”

  “I’d like that.” Amanda felt herself blush profusely, catching the possible double meaning a second too late. Surely, he hadn’t intended a double entendre with customers and staff listening to his every word. No, she’d just read more into his statement than he’d intended. Or had she?

  Jeremy touched his Stetson’s brim. Amanda caught herself holding her breath while watching him saunter out the front door. Her social life had suffered a drought during the past year. She’d never wallowed in self-pity, but she’d often felt lonely. And now a handsome cowboy had noticed her. Was that the only reason she felt this strong attraction to the guy?

  An hour later, a florist delivery girl arrived at her office door with a huge bouquet of pink, yellow and white roses in a pretty ceramic vase. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who’d sent them, but she read the note anyway. It mirrored the highway sign, “Bandit Creek Welcomes You, and so do I. Jeremy.” Amanda felt a rush of excitement race from her head to her toes. She hadn’t received flowers from a man in over a year. Was Jeremy attracted to her?

  At five-thirty, Amanda climbed into her BMW and turned the ignition key. Elated with her productive first day, she sang along with the Keith Urban tune playing on the radio while she drove to her hotel. As she climbed the stairs to the third floor, her stomach growled; she was starving. She’d only eaten the apple out of her bag lunch, too pumped up with nervous energy to eat anything more. She’d survived her first day. This called for a celebration, she thought.

  The neatly-made bed and spotless bathroom were evidence of the housekeeper’s return. Designer black denim jeans, a white silk shirt open at the neck and cinched at the waist with a wide patent leather belt, and her favorite faux snakeskin cowboy boots replaced her business attire. Amanda grabbed her black Gucci handbag, stuffed her room key inside, and charged out the door. She skipped down the three flights of stairs and strode into the hotel’s quaint restaurant.

  “Would you like your usual table?” asked the pink-haired, tongue-pierced, Barbie-thin, teenaged waitress at the door.

  Amanda hadn’t realized she’d chosen the same table in back all weekend whenever she’d popped in for coffee or a quick meal. She settled herself at ‘her’ table.

  “Our special tonight is sirloin strip with mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables which are peas and carrots. The cook does an excellent job with steaks, ma’am. Anything else is usually a toss up. Soup and a piece of pie are included.” The girl smiled and met her eyes, expectantly.

  “I usually avoid red meat, but when in Rome, right?” Amanda smiled.

  The girl frowned. “This is Montana, ma’am.”

  Amanda suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. What were they teaching kids in school nowadays? “I’ll have the special, medium rare.”

  The girl’s smile returned. “Cream of potato soup to start?”

  “Yes, please.” Amanda’s eyes scanned the wine list. “And a glass of this Merlot.” She pointed to her choice before handing the menu and wine list to the waitress. “Thank you.”

  The girl smiled and headed toward the kitchen.

  An hour later, Amanda stuffed the last bite of apple pie into her mouth and groaned. Apple pie served with melted cheddar and ice cream was becoming an addictive habit. And the cook had delivered on the steak, as the waitress promised. The entire meal was delicious, including the two glasses of Merlot. As she contemplated ordering a cup of coffee, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and turned.

  Mr. Hollywood-cowboy sauntered toward her with a relaxed, loose-limbed gait that oozed confidence. Jeremy carried an opened bottle of wine in one hand and two crystal wineglasses in the other. His worn cowboy boots peeked out from under well-fitting jeans, and the sleeves of his plaid Western shirt were rolled to his elbows. He wore the same black Stetson and a broad smile.

  “How-do, ma’am.” He paused beside the chair opposite the one she occupied. “Mind if I join you?”

  Before she could answer either way, he set the wine bottle down on the table, pulled out the chair and seated himself. He set his hat aside on the table, and then calmly poured wine into both glasses and handed her one. “To surviving your first day.”

  Amanda’s hands shook slightly as she clinked glasses with him, swallowed a sip, and then set the glass down, fearing she might humiliate herself by dropping it.

  “Jeremy, thank you for the lovely roses,” she exclaimed, belatedly. Should she pinch herself? Handsome men never approached her table in restaurants in Helena, with or without a bottle of wine.

  Jeremy set his glass down and leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about your day, darlin’.”

  Perhaps she could blame the sweet-talking, drop-dead gorgeous cowboy seated across from her, or it could have been the wine, maybe both, but the next few hours drifted by in a haze for Amanda. She vaguely recalled Jeremy ordering a second bottle of wine. And she’d never laughed so much in ages.

  A gentleman in a suit approached their table. “Evening, Jeremy. Folks, we’d like to close the restaurant.”

  “Dennis is throwing us out.” Jeremy reached for his wine glass, rose from his chair, and grabbed the wine bottle. “Come on, darlin’, we’re taking this party elsewhere.”

  The gentleman pointed to the bottle of wine, opened his mouth likely intending to protest its removal from the restaurant, but just shook his head and wandered away.

  “Where are we going?” Amanda struggled out of her chair, wavering only slightly on her feet. She balanced the wine glass in her hand, never spilling a drop.

  “Whoa, darlin’, you don’t tolerate bottled grapes too well?” Jeremy grinned.

  “Bottled grapes can be sneaky little devils.” Amanda straightened her shoulders. “Really, I’m fine.” And then she surprised herself by adding, “Perhaps we should finish this wine in my room.”

  Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “Are you certain?”

  “Are you an ax murderer, serial killer, anything like that?” Amanda untangled her purse strap from the chair’s arm.

  “Nope.”

  “Then I’m certain.” Amanda couldn’t let the evening end so soon. Jeremy’s sense of humor, laid back attitude to life, and ability to laugh at himself warmed her heart. She had never done anything so spontaneous or reckless in her life, but she felt a connection with him that she’d never felt with any man before. Jeremy was a gentleman; she didn’t doubt it for a second. He wouldn’t take advantage of her. Nothing would happen that she didn’t want to happen.

  Jeremy took Amanda’s hand and headed toward the door. “I’ll settle up the bill tomorrow, Dennis,” he called over his shoulder.

  Amanda fully realized she was risking her reputation if anyone saw them heading up to her room together, but the hotel lobby was empty. She paused for a second but decided it was a risk she was willing to take. She smiled at Jeremy and they headed up to the third floor.

  Amanda dug in her purse for her key and unlocked the door to room 303. As soon as she closed the door behind them, Jeremy slid his arm around her waist and drew her close. Her breath caught when he lowered his head and brushed his lips across her forehead, feathered kisses down the length of her nose, and then found her mouth. She leaned into him, encouraged his k
iss.

  A minute later, Jeremy broke the kiss and asked, “Are you sure about this? We won’t do anything but drink this wine. And it’s not too late to just ask me to leave.”

  “I’m sure,” she whispered.

  Much later, she recalled the details of entering her room and the first kiss they’d shared and finishing the wine. They’d sat together on the sofa by the window. Jeremy resembled a god sitting in the room’s muted light while they stared out through the window at the stars. They discussed and compared innumerable aspects of their lives with each other. They shared dozens of kisses, and they’d touched each other so gently. He removed the belt from around her waist and unbuttoned her shirt, slipped it off her shoulders. She removed his plaid shirt and ran her hands across his muscular chest and then upward burying her hands in his soft flowing curls, something she’d longed to do since the first night they’d met at Ma’s Kitchen. He’d suggested another bottle of wine, but she’d declined, wanting to distinctly remember every second of this evening with him.

  “I haven’t drunk so much wine that I don’t realize where the evening is headed,” admitted Amanda. The psychologist she’d seen during her treatment would warn her that wanting to be with Jeremy was her way of replacing the pain she’d experienced with passion. And she’d experienced plenty of pain. And not just the physical side effects of the chemo. Many of her friends had rejected her, broken off all contact with her. And the pity she’d seen on the faces of strangers and friends when they spotted her bald head had hurt the most.

  “Are you changing your mind?” Jeremy tilted his head, questioningly.

  “I don’t normally do this sort of thing. But tonight, with you…”

  “Despite what I said when I first entered this room, I’m losing ground on my gentlemanly intentions. The wine played with my senses. But you’re more intoxicating than the wine, and I’m totally drunk on you.” Jeremy smiled.

  Eventually, more clothes were shed, but being with him seemed so right to Amanda.

  “How about we share a shower together? I won’t make love with a woman unless she’s fully aware of what I’m doing.” Jeremy kissed her deeply, and then met her eyes. “And not unless she gives me explicit permission to do so.”

  Soon, the rest of their clothes were shed, and she found herself standing totally naked in her hotel room’s shower, scrubbing the muscular, tanned back of equally-naked Jeremy.

  “Mmm, darlin’, that feels wonderful.” He stood with his back to her, biceps bulging, and his raised arms resting on the far wall of the shower. Thigh muscles rippled and her eyes traced his backbone down to his thin waist.

  Amanda dropped the bar of scented soap, distracted by the sight of him. She felt stone-cold sober. At the same time she bent to retrieve it, Jeremy turned around and she found herself face-to-face with his impressive manhood. She bolted upright, and then felt ridiculous. She intended to make love with him, didn’t she?

  “He don’t bite, darlin’,” drawled Jeremy, retrieving the soap himself. “Turn around.”

  Jeremy’s strong tanned hands soaped her entire body for endless minutes of absolute pleasure. He soaped her in places she didn’t know she had places. But when he used his tongue as the most efficient means of washing inside her ear, she lost it.

  Within seconds, they stumbled out of the shower and staggered through the room landing together, dripping wet with their arms and legs entangled, on the enormous bed. While she lay on her back, he dried her body with his tongue, licking water droplets along a path from her head to her toes. His tongue traced the faint line where the surgeon had removed the cancerous tumor from her body, but Jeremy didn’t question the reason for the scar. Oh, what his mouth did to her body, even her toes! The sensations drove her crazy.

  “Amanda?”

  “Yes?” she murmured, eyes closed in bliss.

  “Um, there’s a cat at the foot of the bed.”

  Amanda’s eyes flew open.

  Jeremy was grinning from ear-to-ear. “I’m concerned she’s on the Olympics committee and any minute now she’s going to hold up a number judging my performance.”

  “Miss Boots! What are you doing in here again?” Amanda leapt off the bed, grabbed the cat, and cracked the door open just enough to deposit the unwelcome intruder into the hallway. She locked the door again, retrieved the packets of condoms she’d packed just in case, and returned to the bed. “The hotel manager’s cat thinks I’m her new best friend for some reason. Now, if I remember correctly, we were getting to the fun part.”

  Jeremy met her eyes, stretched out beside her. “Are you certain? It’s not too late to change your mind.”

  The evidence of his attraction to her pressed against her thigh, and she felt equally attracted to him on so many levels. Sure, he was drop dead gorgeous, and with each word he spoke, his deep male voice sent reverberations through her entire body like musical notes through the amplifiers at a rock concert. But the attraction went deeper than the physical. He charmed her with his gentlemanly manners, he sent her into peals of laughter with his quirky sense of humor, and they could talk endlessly about themselves. His passion for his bucking horses, the ranch, his hometown, and his family had sent a rush of warmth through her entire being. Jeremy was such a good person, inside and out. She could barely breathe whenever he stared deep into her eyes, and she felt certain he saw something there that even she wasn’t aware of. If she’d prepared a list of characteristics she required in a perfect man, she could check off every item on the list now that she’d met Jeremy. He just seemed perfect for her. She might regret it in the morning, but she doubted it.

  “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.” Her whispered reply was barely audible to her own ears.

  Jeremy slipped on a condom and wrapped his arms around her. His gentle touch sparked a fire in her that no other man had come close to matching. His caress felt like feathers on her skin. He stole her breath with his kisses, and for the next two hours, he performed magic. And she wasn’t talking about pulling rabbits out of hats.

  ****

  Amanda awoke the next morning with a marching band performing in her head and an empty pillow occupying the other side of the bed. She closed her eyes again and groaned. You just couldn’t use Amanda and wine in the same sentence. What had she been thinking? But she hadn’t felt so special, so cherished in a man’s arms in, in forever. Every fiber of her being tingled, and if she dared risk raising her head for a peek, she’d surely discover her toes were still curled.

  No regrets. After all, she’d fetched the condoms and he’d willingly worn them. Three, if she’d counted correctly. She couldn’t conceive; that wasn’t an issue. But with the prevalence of STD/HIV these days, a lady couldn’t be too careful. And any guy that handsome and that talented in bed hadn’t been sitting home nights watching TV.

  But Jeremy had simply slipped away sometime during the wee hours, slipped out of her life as easily as he’d entered it, without saying goodbye. She felt relieved and disappointed in equal measure.

  Despite the insistent pounding in her head, she opened her eyes and attempted to sit up. And then she noticed the slip of hotel stationery sticking out from under the corner of the other pillow. She unfolded the note which simply said, ‘Thanks for a memorable night. J.’.

  Memorable? What an understatement! “You’ve got that right, cowboy,” she whispered, aloud.

  Amanda couldn’t wait until they met up again. But why had he simply snuck out of her room like a thief in the night? Had he believed her when she told him she’d never before spent the night with someone she’d only known a couple of days? Did he regret being with her? Would their next meeting feel awkward? She couldn’t dwell on the situation; she needed to shower and dress or she’d be late for work. But she had a niggling feeling that she might regret last night after all.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Within a couple of weeks, Amanda quickly discovered that part of her job description included suffering from a perpetual
headache. She fought the urge to pop a painkiller with her morning coffee and set her mug down on the desk before calling Walter Wainwright, the assistant manager, into her office.

  “Mr. Wainwright, how is it possible that such a small bank branch keeps twelve employees hopping?” She tossed a file onto her desk. The Ellis Bank was a small financial institution, just this head office branch and a few sister branches in Helena, Butte and Great Falls.

  Walter sat on the vinyl-upholstered client chair across from Amanda. “This is the head office branch. Bandit Creek is a small town, but folks are busy. The mine’s still operating, but on a much smaller level than years ago. Several cattle and horse ranching outfits, and a couple of seasonal guest ranches, operate in the immediate area. A lot of the town’s businesses use our services. The citizens of Bandit Creek depend on us to cash their paychecks, handle their utility bills and cash their government checks. We handle the citizens’ mortgages and personal loans. Some of our local youths arrange student loans through us. And the April 15th tax deadline is around the corner.”

  Amanda shook her head. She never would have believed the workload had she not experienced it first hand. The preconceived notions of small town banking she’d arrived with had been shattered by the end of the first week. “The workload is endless. How did Catherine manage all this responsibility and handle a pregnancy as well?”

  “Her picture appears in the dictionary beside the term superwoman.” Walter chuckled at his own joke. “I’d better get back to it. No time for sitting around chatting with a pretty lady.”

  Amanda smiled. In a big city bank branch that statement might generate a sexual harassment suit, but here in Bandit Creek, Walter was just being Walter. “Thanks for listening. I’m drowning in paperwork here. I just required a moment to vent.”

  “Always happy to be of assistance.” Walter sauntered out the door, and she heard him whistling on his way back to his own office. Whistling? Now, there’s a fellow who loves his job, she thought.