by Jill Gregory
“It’s partly because I thought Roy would never get over Katy Templeton, even after she married Jackson Brent. But he did . . . and then everything was wonderful because he truly wanted to marry me. But—” She broke off.
“It’s okay, honey,” Ada told her quietly as Corinne just frowned down at her plate. “I’ve been telling you, nothing like that is going to happen ever again.”
Josy’s brows shot up. “Nothing like what?”
“I was engaged once before,” Corinne told her in a low tone. “Before I moved to Thunder Creek. He was a great guy and I was so madly in love I could hardly see straight—until he left me at the altar.”
“What?” Josy gasped.
Ada jumped in quickly. “He didn’t literally leave her at the altar. He called her the day before the wedding and told her he didn’t want to get married. He’d met another girl three weeks earlier. He said he’d found himself attracted to her, and it made him realize he wasn’t ready to get married.”
“He called you the day before?” Josy repeated incredulously. “So tell me, how did you kill him? Slowly, I hope.”
Corinne laughed shakily but there was still an echo of pain in her voice. “That was the last time I ever spoke to him.”
“And now it’s all behind her,” Ada said. “But she’s scared to death something’s going to go wrong with Roy.”
“Can you blame me? Look at all the trouble I’ve had with my wedding gown—maybe it’s an omen. Maybe I’n not supposed to marry Roy either—or anyone—”
“Stop it,” Josy ordered. “I’ve seen you and Roy together. If that isn’t love in his eyes when he looks at you, I don’t know what is. And you love him, Corinne. You guys are great together.”
“I know. Roy is the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Then stop driving yourself crazy. And wait until you see the dress. I promise you—Roy’s going to think he’s died and gone to bridegroom heaven when he sees you.”
Ada added something, but Josy didn’t hear it. She was distracted by two men passing the window of the Buffalo Grill. They looked familiar . . . but for a moment she couldn’t place them, then as one turned his head and glanced casually inside, it came to her with a jolt.
She had seen them before—the night she’d danced with Ty at the Tumbleweed. They were the two men in the parking lot, the ones Ty had been watching from his truck.
But even as the realization crossed her mind, another man joined them.
It was Chance Roper.
Chance said something and the one with the stringy hair shook his head. Chance was gazing through the window of the Buffalo Grill and Josy lifted her hand in greeting.
But he must not have seen her, for he didn’t acknowledge her wave and in fact seemed to stare right through her before shifting his gaze back to his companions. He said something else, gestured, and then the second man nodded. Quickly, all three of them walked off down the street.
“Who’d you wave to just now?” Ada wanted to know.
“I thought I saw Chance, but maybe I was wrong,” Josy murmured doubtfully.
“Chance is working today,” Corinne said. “He’s usually off work on Fridays. Come on, let’s get the check and go home. I’m dying for you to draw me a sketch of how the dress will look—if you don’t mind?”
“Mind? I can’t wait to get it down on paper.” Josy was surprised at how easily the image of the dress had come into her head. With a little cutting, shaping, and sewing, the result would be a sophisticated sexy confection that would perfectly suit Corinne. She suddenly couldn’t wait to get started.
All during the ride home, ideas for other dresses began flitting through her mind. Ball gowns, opera gowns, cocktail dresses. The images flowed and she wished she had her sketch pad with her and could draw the ideas as fast as they were popping into her brain. She hadn’t felt this way in months . . . maybe she was getting unblocked . . .
“So now you know my crazy history with men and marriage,” Corinne was saying, stepping on the accelerator as they hit the highway and the prairie rolled past in a blur of spring wildflowers.
“You’re not the only one who’s been burned,” Josy assured her. She thought of Doug, of his lies, his stories. He’d been clever and she’d been naive. Well, she’d never be quite that trusting again.
“No woman ever really knows what a man is thinking,” she added darkly.
“Ain’t that the truth.” Ada, sitting beside Corinne in the passenger seat up front, gave a sniff. “Every woman past the age of fourteen probably has some story of a man doing them wrong.”
“Even you, Ada?” Corinne looked over at the older woman as the sun filtered in through the windshield, edging lower in the rose and blue-tinged sky.
“Oh, honey, I’ve had my heartaches, if that’s what you mean.”
Josy went still. She studied Ada’s profile from the backseat, her attention suddenly centered on this woman who had given birth to her own mother.
“What happened?” she asked in a calm tone that betrayed none of the intense curiosity brimming in her.
“Oh, well, you know—what always happens. There was a young man.”
She paused. Josy desperately wanted to press her, but decency kept her from asking for an explanation. She felt like she’d be prying—and under false pretenses. It felt wrong to pump Ada for information when she didn’t even know that her granddaughter was sitting within three feet of her.
I should tell her the truth first . . . then ask her who my grandfather is . . . why she gave my mother away . . .
But not here, she decided. Not now.
Corinne, though, was oblivious and had no hesitation in urging Ada to talk. “Yes, there’s always a young man,” she agreed vehemently. “Usually a snake or a heel or one who’s too stupid to know his own mind. So which was yours, Ada?”
There was silence for a moment. Then Ada spoke softly. “Mine,” she said, “was a wild and handsome boy. He rode broncs in the rodeo, and he roped steers with the best of them, and he did a mean square dance. He also managed to hog-tie my heart.”
Ada’s tone was light, but beneath it, Josy detected the undercurrent of old pain.
“What was his name?” she asked.
“His name was Cody. Cody Ambrose Shaw.” Her voice sounded odd. Tinged with sadness—and with pride. Though she seemed to be staring intently out at the sunset sky, Josy had the impression she was really seeing something else. Someone else.
“Hey, girls, listen to us,” Corinne broke in. “Talking about dead love affairs and all the things that can go wrong. Is this a sob fest or what?”
She grinned. Her mood had skyrocketed since they’d found the dress, and she shot Josy a mischievous glance. “Hmmm, I suppose you have a story or two yourself, Josy.”
“Nothing worth talking about.” Josy winced at the thought of admitting that she’d dated a married man.
“Then for Pete’s sake,” Ada said briskly, glancing at Josy in the backseat. “Let’s talk about happier things. Like this wedding dress. How soon can you draw me a pattern so I can get started? Far be it from me to hold up the wedding because I haven’t finished my part.”
“Oh, Ada, you won’t hold up the wedding,” Corinne assured her. “Now, my shoes—those are a different story. If they don’t get dyed and shipped to me in time, I’ll have to walk down the aisle barefoot.”
“Or in sneakers,” Josy suggested.
“Or in bedroom slippers,” Ada put in. “We can always get you a pair of fuzzy pink ones.”
“Very funny.” But Corinne was laughing and Josy saw she was far more relaxed than she’d been on the drive to Casper.
When she returned to the Pine Hills that night after drawing a pattern for Ada and showing Corinne a sketch of what the dress would look like when she was done with it, Josy was tired, but she felt that things in her life were finally coming together. Her muse seemed to be returning, she felt the old excitement about working on Corinne’s gown, and Ricky ha
d gotten in touch with her at last.
Now all she needed was to try to avoid any further involvement with Ty Barclay. It could only lead to trouble. Big trouble.
Not only was he a lawman—not exactly an ideal lover for a woman who’d fled a murder scene and was hiding an undoubtedly stolen diamond—but he was also, in essence, still a married man.
Been there, done that, she thought grimly.
No matter how hungrily he’d kissed her the other night, or how good his touch had made her feel, it didn’t mean a thing. Meg Barclay still owned his heart, as much as if she were still alive, and from what Josy had heard from Corinne, it sounded like she always would.
Don’t be stupid, she told herself. Getting any further involved with a man who hasn’t gotten over the death of his wife would be pure masochism. The last thing you need is to fall in love with a man like that.
Love?
Where had that word come from? she wondered, suddenly feeling cold with fear. Sure, Ty Barclay saved you from falling off your horse, he set you on fire with his kisses, and he gave you pizza when you were hungry. But love?
Get a grip, she told herself.
She needed to concentrate on what mattered. Like Ricky getting here soon and taking the damned diamond off her hands.
When that happened, her life would really get on the upswing.
She was putting the key in her lock when she heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. Ty Barclay burst through the stairwell door. He’d been running and he looked sweaty and hot and handsomer than any man had a right to in sweatpants and a black T-shirt plastered to his chest.
“I need to talk to you,” he said in a curt tone.
“Well, good evening to you too.”
He smiled but there was an edge of impatience in his eyes. “No time for the niceties right now.” He came toward her and took the key from her hand, turned it in the lock, and pushed open the door. “Let’s go inside.”
Chapter 14
“WHAT IN THE WORLD IS WRONG?”
Even as Josy asked the question inside her apartment, a horrible thought chilled her blood—maybe he’d found out who she was, what she’d done, and all about Ricky and the diamond.
He was going to place her under arrest.
Cold fear grabbed her, but it turned to astonishment at his next words. “Listen to me, Josy. This is important. I want you to stay away from Chance Roper.”
“What? Why?”
“I can’t tell you that. Just do it, all right?”
Josy reached out and took her key back from him. “What’s going on? What’s wrong with my seeing Chance?”
His jaw clenched. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Chance wouldn’t hurt me. Why do you think he would?”
“How much do you know about him? Did he ever tell you his background? Why he’s here . . . what he did before getting a job at the Crystal Horseshoe?”
“He’s told me a little of it. He worked at a ranch in Tucson. He likes to move around, see different parts of the country. And he doesn’t like to get tied down to one place. So what? What’s it to you?”
“All I can tell you is that you don’t know as much about him as you think. And what you do know . . . it’s not all true.”
She bit her lip, recalling her conversations with Chance—especially during their two casual, friends-only dates.
None of it had seemed off. None of it had seemed like lies or bullshit. She would have sensed that, wouldn’t she?
Like I sensed it with Doug? Maybe she wasn’t as good at reading people as she thought.
“He isn’t married, is he?” she demanded suddenly.
“No. But you need to stay away from him, and that’s all I’m going to say.”
A ripple of anger ran through her. He had no right to push his way into her apartment just to warn her away from Chance, not without giving her a good reason. He had no right . . . and probably no basis for this stupid warning either. But then she remembered what had happened today in Casper.
Chance appearing outside the Buffalo Grill. And ignoring her.
So odd. He must have seen her wave to him, but he hadn’t acknowledged it or come inside to say hello.
He’d stared right through her and then walked away with those two men. The same two men Ty had been watching the other night outside the Tumbleweed Bar and Grill.
A disturbing thought came to her. “He hasn’t broken the law or anything? . . . ” she began, then immediately bit her lip. “Oh, please don’t tell me he’s a suspect in the rustling investigation. Is he?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re not denying it.” Distressed, she stared at him, thinking of Chance’s easygoing manner, his friendly flirtation with every woman under ninety. “He isn’t a rustler. Or any kind of criminal.” She shook her head. “He . . . can’t be.”
Ty was quickly reaching the conclusion that he’d only heightened her interest in Roper. He needed to distract her. For her own good, of course.
“You think I’m only trying to eliminate the competition?”
At her startled glance, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Now, that I see you can believe.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Chance is just a friend. And you . . .”
“Yes?”
“I haven’t quite figured out what you are,” she told him tartly. As he continued to smile at her, she shot him a dark look.
“And I’m not sure I want to.”
He laughed and reached out for her. His arms snaked around her waist and drew her close.
“I could help you out with that,” he offered in a low drawl that sent shivers across her breasts.
Light flirtation, that’s what this is, she told herself. Calm down. You know how to do this.
But did she want to? With the sheriff of Thunder Creek? A man she’d lied to again and again. A man she’d danced with and kissed—and with whom she’d nearly done a whole lot more.
A man who doesn’t have a place for you in his heart, she reminded herself.
But . . . it didn’t help that he was impossibly sexy, especially with his hair mussed from his run. It didn’t help that she was remembering the way it had felt to be held in his arms last night, or that right at this moment he was caressing her cheek very gently with his thumb.
Most of all, it didn’t help that he was leaning down to kiss her again . . .
Today the kiss was hot, hard, and demanding. She kissed him back, unable to stop herself, and as she did a crazy picture popped into her head . . . an image of herself and Ty Barclay tussling naked on the floor . . .
That’s not going to happen, she told herself, even as she abandoned herself to the heady power of his kisses.
He made a rough noise in his throat as her lips parted, welcoming him, and Josy felt everything slip away. All that remained was the heat of his mouth on hers, the musky scent of his skin. He was kissing her as if there were no one else in the world and nothing else that mattered. His hands sliding over her skin made every inch of her body come alive.
What had happened to getting a grip? She was lost in him, in his touch, in his heart beating against hers. She was half-crazed by those deep, devouring kisses until suddenly the phone rang.
It was in her purse and the sound was muffled, but she knew immediately what it was . . . and who it must be.
She jerked back from Ty. The color fled from her cheeks.
“Don’t answer that,” he said hoarsely, trying to pull her back, but she slipped from his grasp and seized her purse.
“I’ll only be a minute,” she told him breathlessly.
“Josy. Listen up.”
It was Ricky. Her heart pounded as she flashed a shaky smile at Ty. Oh God. Not now, Ricky. Not now.
“Yes?” Even to herself her voice sounded high and tense, and it was no surprise that Ricky caught on.
“Is someone there with you?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, stay cool, this wi
ll only take a second. I’m ditching this phone, getting a new one. I just wanted to tell you, I’ll meet you three days from now, Thursday, in Medicine Bow National Forest. You’ve got a map?”
“Y-yes.”
“Okay, 5 P.M. There’s a rest stop a half mile north of the ranger’s station on Laramie Peak. If I’m not there by fivethirty, get the hell out of there.”
“Yes, but . . .”
“Bring the package, Josy. And be careful.”
The line went dead. Just like the pleasure she’d been taking in Ty Barclay’s kisses.
Ty was watching her, quietly, intently, as she set down the phone. She prayed he wouldn’t ask her any questions.
But of course he did.
“Was that Chance?”
“No.” The word hung in the air between them. Ty said nothing, just held her gaze with his own, waiting, and she could sense his curiosity—and his skepticism.
One thing was clear—he didn’t look like he was in the mood to kiss her anymore.
Which is a good thing, she told herself. For both of us .
“Something has got you all shaken up.”
“Maybe it’s all that kissing we were doing.” She tried a teasing tone, but he wasn’t buying it.
“Obviously it’s that phone call.” He shoved a hand through his hair and took a step closer. For once his eyes didn’t look shuttered and cool. They looked searching . . . concerned. He came to a halt right before her.
“Look, Josy, if something’s wrong, you can tell me. I’d like to help. I’ve had this feeling all along that there’s more to your visit to Thunder Creek than just a working vacation.” He spoke quietly. “If you’re in some kind of trouble, you can level with me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not in trouble.” She tried to laugh but the sound came out shrill and false, even to her own ears. Ricky’s voice echoed through her head. Bring the package. And be careful.
It was almost over. She was so close. She’d get rid of the package and get some answers. But she couldn’t afford to give Ty Barclay any—or to give in to the urge to sink into his arms and be held while she poured out all her guilt and doubt.
