They exchanged hellos.
“I’ve got some things to get,” Cambria announced. “If you’d like to go to the cafe and wait—”
“I’ll wait here for you. It’ll give me a chance to look around.”
Her only answer was a quick frown before she turned and started down an aisle holding cleaning supplies. “Rita, you have any of that bathroom cleanser with the bleach in it?”
“Sure, right over here.”
Boone watched Cambria a moment before turning to Jessa Tarrant. She immediately showed great interest in straightening already neat magazines, but not in time to fool him. She’d been watching him, and she knew he knew.
Instinct told him to give her automatic defenses a moment to settle down. He looked around. The wood-and-glass counters came from another era. The phone setup and sleek computer register were strictly modern. Behind the register hung a framed piece of antique quilting next to a photograph of Jessa and the Westons in front of the store.
He picked up a magazine with a picture of baseball’s leading hitter on the cover and flipped the pages.
“So, Jessa, I understand you and Cambria knew each other in Washington.”
“Yes.”
“You both decided you wanted a more relaxed life-style, that’s why you moved out here?”
“Yes.”
Something in her voice snagged his full attention. He wondered what had really brought Cambria back home. “A city like Washington must get intense,” he probed.
“It can, I suppose. I liked it. It’s a very pretty city, with the monuments and museums and government buildings and a lot of green areas and trees.”
“You make it sound real nice. Like maybe you miss it.”
“In some ways. But I don’t regret coming here. It’s my home now, and people have been wonderful, especially the Westons.”
He grabbed the opportunity. “They seem like a great family. You always hear how awful teenagers are, but Pete seems like a good kid.”
“Pete?” Between the surprise in her voice and the look she flicked toward the back of the store, she gave away that she’d expected him to ask about a different member of the family. He was tempted, real tempted. “He’s terrific. A good heart, and getting to have a good head on his shoulders. Now, is there anything—” her gesture indicated the shelves around them “—you need while you’re here?”
Boone skimmed the magazine rack, and a surprisingly wide offering of paperbacks. Then he surveyed the scattering of first-aid items, greeting cards, toiletries, basic camping supplies, paper goods, cleansers and cleaning tools.
“You have quite a variety.”
Jessa smiled, the first full smile he’d seen from her. It lifted the faint air of worry that seemed to cling to her features and posture.
“Yes, we do. The official name of the shop’s Nearly Everything, though most people just call it Jessa’s.”
If she weren’t Cambria’s friend...
Boone pulled up short on that thought—not because of what it said about his reaction to Jessa Tarrant, but what it said about his response to Cambria Weston. That wasn’t good. Cambria was definitely off-limits. He’d decided that.
Now he had to remember it.
“I could use a map. Especially one that has this area in detail.”
“I’ve got a county map...somewhere...”
Jessa retrieved the map with an air of triumph from behind the counter by the door as Cambria came up with a box filled with jars and plastic bottles of cleaning supplies.
“Thanks, Jessa, this’ll do great.” Tucking the map under one arm, Boone took the box out of Cambria’s hands before she could do more than splutter. “How much do I owe you?”
“You’re not paying for my stuff,” Cambria declared.
He raised an eyebrow at her, enjoying the way her softly pointed chin seemed to sharpen. “Okay. But I am paying for the map.”
“Oh.”
She subsided while Jessa rang up first his purchase, then hers. But when he picked up the box of supplies, Cambria tried to take it from him, though she was still pocketing the change Jessa had handed her.
“I can carry that.”
“So can I.” He held on. “I swear I won’t steal any of your floor wax or glass cleaner.” Before she could give any more answer than a glare, he turned to the other woman. “Thanks for the map, Jessa. And the interesting conversation.”
“Conversation?”
Cambria had taken the bait, now he set the hook-quickly, before Jessa could ruin it.
“Jessa was telling me about when you and she lived in Washington, D.C, and decided to move out here.”
For a slight exaggeration, it got an interesting reaction. Instead of the irritation he half expected from Cambria at the implication that he’d been pumping her friend, she looked stunned, with an undercurrent of something that seemed split between pleasure and displeasure. But that wasn’t half as odd as Jessa’s stiffening like a child playing “Mother, May I?”
“You were?” Cambria demanded of Jessa. “You told him about—”
“No, I...No.”
Boone didn’t know what he’d stepped into, but he wasn’t about to walk away without trying to find out.
“And I was hoping to hear more,” he said as if he’d taken no notice of the interplay. “Why don’t you come along with us for lunch, Jessa?”
Jessa didn’t move a muscle; yet Boone had the impression of a woman backpedaling with all her might. “Thank you, but—”
“Yes!” Cambria’s enthusiasm miffed him. She didn’t need to be that thrilled at having a third party at lunch. “It’ll be good for you to get out, especially with—”
Cambria flicked a look toward Boone that he didn’t understand. In fact he didn’t understand any of the messages flashing between the two women.
“Sure, you go ahead, Jessa,” added Rita, coming up from the back of the store. “It’s about time I tried flying solo.”
Boone almost felt guilty when Jessa remained tense and quiet as she accompanied them on the block-long walk to the cafe, with a brief stop while he put Cambria’s supplies in the four-wheel drive.
He did his best to bring Jessa out of that, and to figure out what all this silent conversation between the two women meant. Perhaps because of Cambria’s cooperation, he had more success with the first than the second. What bothered him was the sense that those coded messages had to do with him.
* * * *
Cambria sang along under her breath with the radio’s offering about small-town Saturday nights, but she resisted any temptation to push the four-wheel drive toward the ninety miles an hour mentioned in the lyric. She figured she’d give Boone Dorsey a break on the drive back to the ranch.
She even figured he deserved it.
She felt more charitable toward the man by her side than she had from the moment Irene had announced his impending arrival.
That lunch was just what Jessa had needed—a relaxed, no-pressure encounter with an attractive, pleasant man who didn’t come on too strong.
Glancing toward the man in question, she saw only a narrow slice of his face as he stared out the side window, apparently deep in thought.
“You were very nice at lunch.”
He must not have been as deep in thought as she’d guessed, because he turned immediately, catching her look and returning it with a raised eyebrow.
“Nice? You mean, minding my manners? Not talking with my mouth full? Not putting my elbows on the table?”
“Actually, I saw your elbows on the table once or twice.”
If the mild teasing of her mock censure surprised him as much as it surprised her, it didn’t show. He simply snapped his fingers in apparent disgust. “Thought I’d gotten clean away with that.”
She chuckled. Glancing his way again, she saw his answering smile, and the look caught. And held.
She jerked her attention back to the road. This stretch ran straight, smooth, and mostly deserted, but there was a li
mit to how long a car could safely drive itself. And safety was the issue.
“So,” Boone Dorsey asked, slow and easy, “if you’re not talking about my manners, what are you talking about?”
Now she wished she’d never spoken.
“It’s, uh, it’s not easy to be a stranger surrounded by people who know each other real well. I guess the conversation got obscure at times.”
He was studying her. She didn’t turn, but she was fully aware of those gray eyes probing at her. It made her uncomfortable. Mostly because she didn’t want him—or anyone else—to see beyond what she chose to reveal. But partly because, she realized with a flutter of something like shock at the bottom of her stomach, a temptation whispered to just relax her guard.
“It was like being a little kid whose parents spelled out all the interesting stuff so he couldn’t understand it.”
His answer sank in as she pushed aside her unsettling thoughts, and she laughed. “Well, you took it real well.”
“For now.” He gave a lopsided grin, which matched the tone of mischievous intent. “I’ll get even. For that, and for just happening to forget that the library has a fax machine the public can use for a fee.”
Jessa had let that slip. When Boone had turned an accusing look on her, Cambria had shrugged and said she’d forgotten about the library’s fax.
He clearly didn’t believe her.
No skin off her nose. She hadn’t mentioned the library fax because this man made her uneasy for reasons she wasn’t going to take the time to decipher, and without a fax available there was always a chance he’d decide to move on.
If Wanda Rupert had anything to do with it, he’d definitely move on.
The librarian had not taken kindly to Boone rearranging the fax’s setup to make transmitting more efficient. Even his winning smile when she returned from helping Doris Mooney—frantic with planning her parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary party–find the issue of the Gazette with her parents’ wedding announcement, had not won over Wanda. She’d left the machine where he’d moved it because it was an improvement, but she hadn’t smiled back.
Cambria supposed it was petty, but it rather pleased her that after her entire family, Rita, the waitress in the café and even Jessa had taken to Boone Dorsey, at least one other person hadn’t fallen under the spell of his charm.
“Guess you’ll be going into town a lot then.” With plenty of opportunities to see Jessa.
It would be good for her friend, might help bring her out of her shell, Cambria reminded herself. She had so much to do on the ranch to get ready for the season that she would have no trouble staying out of Boone Dorsey’s path.
She felt that look from him again. Studying her, the way she could imagine him trying to figure out a puzzle.
“Guess I will.”
Chapter Three
“What’re you doing, Boone?”
Boone, squatting by the stall door, raised his head to find Pete watching him with interest. This boy, so straight and healthy, so open-faced and clear-eyed. His son...
He swallowed, so his answer came out sounding fairly normal. “I noticed this door sticks. Thought I’d take a look.”
“Yeah, it’s been sticking all winter. Cam said something about having me trim it, but I never got around to it.” He gave the screwdriver in Boone’s hand a doubtful look. “Don’t you need a plane, or a knife or something?”
“I shouldn’t. If I tighten the screws on this bottom hinge and loosen the ones on the top slightly, that should bring it back into line, and then it shouldn’t stick.”
Pete followed the procedure with interest. “You want me to hold the door for you?”
“Okay. No, a little higher,” Boone adjusted the screws. “Okay, Pete, let it go and let’s see how it hangs.”
“Hey, it looks pretty good.”
Boone frowned at it. “No. It needs more.”
“Why? It clears.”
“It’s not straight. Hold the door again. Higher this time.”
“Okay, but—”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Cambria’s demand as she covered the final yards down the open center of the barn stepped on Pete’s words, but her frown was all for Boone.
“He fixed the door, Cam. Didn’t even have to slice any off. See?” Pete swung the door open.
“Why?”
Boone stood. Having lost the height advantage, Cambria compensated by placing her hands on her hips.
Boone realized he wasn’t particularly surprised by her bristling. Maybe he’d figured the pendulum would swing that way again after her softening on the ride home from town. She’d had several hours to regret being cordial. And now she looked at him as if the screwdriver in his hand would turn into a six-shooter any second.
“I noticed this needed doing. It seemed a good way to pass a bit of time.”
“I thought you were here to rest, to unwind from stress.”
“I was getting a little bored.”
She jumped on that. “Being bored is what you’re supposed to be. That’s how you rest and unwind. Not by being a handyman when you’re supposed to be a paying guest.”
Oh, yes, Cambria Weston had just defined his spot in her universe nice and neat. Only he didn’t intend to stay there.
“Don’t see any harm in doing something when I saw it needed being done.”
“There’s no—”
“If you’re looking for something to do,” Pete interrupted, “you could come to my team’s game tonight. That is, if you like baseball.” Boone’s eyes swung to the teenager, who shifted his feet under the regard, then shrugged. “I know it doesn’t sound too exciting, but we’re having a pretty good season and we’re playing Sheridan tonight, so it should be a good game. And everybody’s coming.”
Boone wouldn’t have missed it for anything. But some devil in him made him ask Cambria, “Are you coming?”
“Oh, sure,” Pete answered for her. “Cam comes to all my games. You can sit together.”
The flash of irritation in her eyes left as soon as it had come; he figured it was more for him than Pete. And he was sure of it when she said, with a faint air of triumph, “I promised Jessa I’d sit with her.”
“But she always sits—”
Cambria ruthlessly interrupted Pete’s protest. “And some other people.”
“Too bad. Maybe I’ll see you there, then,” Boone offered.
He almost laughed out loud when she gave a final mutter that sounded suspiciously like, “Not if I see you first.”
* * * *
Cambria picked up the ringing phone as she passed through the den the next morning. “Weston Ranch.”
“Cambria? This is June Reamer. How’re all you Westons?”
“Everybody’s fine. And you? Is your mom feeling better?”
“Much better. Though she said Irene’s visits on her volunteer days were so much fun, she almost misses being in the hospital!”
“I’ll tell Irene. Maybe she can stop by the house.”
“That would be great, but I guess you folks are awfully busy, what with opening early. Why didn’t you tell me? I would have recommended you to folks who rent cars.”
“We haven’t really opened, June.”
“But a man who rented a car the day before yesterday at the airport said he was staying at Weston Ranch. Real nice guy. Nice-looking, too—”
“We haven’t opened, not officially, but when this man called and wanted a place to stay, he talked to Irene and—”
A laugh came across the phone line. “Say no more.”
“You know, June, as long as you called –” Cambria shifted the receiver closer to her mouth. “–I wonder if you have any information on this guy.”
She had to listen to June’s enthusiastic description of the man.
“Yes, that’s him,” Cambria confirmed shortly.
She wouldn’t be interested, she told herself, if Boone behaved like a regular guest, pleasant but not too cozy.
/> Instead, he charmed everyone in sight. He’d fixed the stall door; he’d sat beside Irene and Ted, taking pictures and cheering mightily at her brother’s baseball game, and had been still sitting with Pete on the back steps talking baseball when she’d returned to the ranch after dropping off Jessa. Then this morning, after taking a spot at the breakfast table as if he’d spent his life doing it, he’d gone off to help her father place irrigation pipe.
She supposed she should be grateful. With Ted to give the orders, handling the pipe required no great expertise, and it freed her to get on with the cabins and bunkhouse.
June’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “So, what do you want to know? Don’t tell me you suspect him of credit card fraud like that couple you caught last summer. This guy was all class.”
Cambria bit back the reply that the very best con men were the ones who seemed sincere.
“I want to fill in the blanks left when Irene registered him.” She hoped her stepmother wasn’t listening.
“Shoot.”
“Where’s he from?”
“He had a North Carolina driver’s license, and listed a business address in Boone, North Carolina.”
“Did you check his credit card?”
“Didn’t have to. He paid cash.”
“Cash?” In Cambria’s experience, people driving that kind of car and wearing those kinds of clothes didn’t bother much with cash.
“Yeah,” June added. “He paid for two weeks up-front, then asked about the procedure for keeping the car longer. That’s sort of unusual. Most folks know how long they’re staying because they have to get back to work.”
Not being typical was no crime, but it raised more questions.
“June, what name was on his driver’s license?”
“Boone, same as the town he’s from. Easy to remember.”
“Mr. Boone?”
“No. Boone’s the first name,” June said.
Cambria felt a little foolish for her suspicions.
Then June added, “Smith’s the last name.”
“Are you sure? Maybe you misunderstood.”
A Stranger in the Family (Book 1, Bardville, Wyoming Trilogy) Page 4
