The Emerald Hills Collection

by Judith Post

  Her smile was meant to comfort him. "You won't have a problem. You can pick and choose."

  He started to say more, then shook his head. "I have a feeling it's not going to be that easy."

  He didn't release her hand for the rest of the drive home. When they reached her shop, he parked in the back lot and they let themselves in through the new door he'd installed. Lolita hugged herself. "You do beautiful work."

  "So do you."

  His voice had a deep, husky quality that made her pause. She shook it off. "Come on. My food shows are waiting."

  To his credit, he sat and watched them with her. She had the distinct feeling he was more interested in Gina's cleavage than her Italian recipes, but he even stuck it out through the Barefoot Contessa. Then he'd had enough. He stood and stretched.

  "Do you mind if I use your shower? I'd like to rinse the dust off. I'm not used to baths. That's all there is upstairs."

  "Go for it." She pulled her legs underneath her on the couch and left him to it.

  A few minutes later, he opened the bathroom door and came to stand in the arch between the hallway and the sitting area. "Sorry, but I can't find any washcloths."

  She turned to answer him and almost swooned. A towel covered him from waist to knees, but there was way too much Murphy for her to handle. Muscles defined everything—his arms, his shoulders, and torso. She took a quick breath.

  "There's a linen cupboard in the hallway. Everything you need is in there."

  He nodded and padded away. She sat for a minute, reeling. None of the men she'd ever gone boating or swimming with had looked like that. Holy bloodshot eyeballs, she never knew a man could look so delicious.

  Bobby Flay was grilling something on TV. She couldn't concentrate. She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. She paced for a minute. By the time she returned to the couch, she was ready for chimichurri sauces and mango salsas. She didn't peek when Murphy zipped through the living room to hurry to the stairs. No reason to make her pulse beat any faster. When he returned a while later, he wore pajama bottoms and nothing else.

  She sighed. "Okay, this just won't do."

  "What?" He looked genuinely perplexed. Or was he? A naughty gleam glinted in his hazel eyes.

  She went to her bedroom and returned with a short, Chinese kimono. "Here. Cover up. You're distracting."

  His brows rose. "I distract you?"

  "If I walked around half naked, wouldn't it bother you?"

  "Hot and bothered," he said with a smile.

  She shook her head. "We're friends. There are boundaries."

  He tried to tug on her robe. It couldn't begin to stretch across his shoulders. He pressed it to his face and inhaled. "Mmm, it smells like you."

  Oh, Lord. "Sorry, it's clean."

  "I like it. Can I use it for a security blanket when the vampires scare me?"

  She glared.

  He passed it back to her and padded upstairs. When he came back, he had on a white T-shirt. They settled in to watch TV and she turned on a cop show. It was better to keep Murphy distracted.

  * * *

  On Monday, they slept in. They had toast and coffee for breakfast. Then Murphy announced that he needed to drive to his apartment to grab a few more things that he'd forgotten. While he was gone, Lolita started a huge pot of chili and made cornbread for a side.

  By the time Murphy got back, she was busy in her studio, hanging new mirrors in the empty spots of last week's sells. He moseyed into the workroom to stuff insulation between the exposed beams. Neither of them pushed themselves very hard, and after they stopped for a quick cold meat sandwich, she said, "No more work for you. Go watch your football game."

  "But you're going to work," he said. "You told me you were going to start another one of your special mirrors."

  "I relax when I work with wood. It makes me happy. You go be happy, too."

  He raked a hand through his hair. "You're an awfully easy person to work for."

  She grinned. "You don't need much supervision, or I'd crack the whip."

  He laughed. "No, you wouldn't. But I'm not going to argue. I've looked forward to this game." He disappeared upstairs, and she got busy in the workroom. She took the frame Jackson had made for her and sanded it until it was perfectly smooth. Then she cleaned and stained it. She was washing her hands, ready to call it quits, when someone knocked on the back door.

  Maybe a neighbor. Lolita opened it and frowned at the woman standing on the cement patio. Long, dark hair waved past her shoulders. Black make-up rimmed her brown eyes, but it was the heels she wore that attracted Lolita's attention. She'd never seen anyone balance on heels that high. Skintight jeans hugged her hips and thighs. The neckline of her knit shirt scooped so low, the tops of her bra peeked out. She had so many curves, she made Lolita feel like a boy.

  The woman smiled. "Is Murphy here? His sister said I could find him at your shop."

  Lolita stared for a minute, stunned. She'd never thought about women coming here to seek Murphy out. She should have known better. She shook herself and opened the door wider. "If you want to come in, I'll get him. It might take me a minute. He's upstairs."

  The woman stood on the welcome mat inside the door. She looked Lolita up and down. "Lizzie told me that Murphy's been driving here every Sunday to eat supper with you." Curiosity sparkled in her eyes.

  Lolita shrugged. There was no way she was getting in the middle of whatever Murphy and his girlfriend had going. "He came to pick up a mirror and we went to Nancy's to eat. The food's cheap and good. He liked it there."

  "That's all he likes?"

  "He seems pretty fond of Emerald Hills. You'll have to ask him. Excuse me. I'll be right back." She stomped up the stairs with more force than usual. This felt awkward. She didn't appreciate Murphy inviting his friend here. He should have gone to meet her somewhere else.

  Murphy looked up from his game, saw the expression on her face, and swung his long frame into a sitting position. "What's up?"

  "There's a woman asking for you at the workroom door." Her words were an accusation. No embroidery, no lead-in, just a statement.

  He blinked, surprised. "How did she know where I was?"

  Lolita grimaced. This was just getting better and better. "She asked your sister."

  How did Murphy treat his girlfriends? He didn't tell them where to find him?

  His lips pinched together. "That must be Gwendolyn. I can't believe she tracked me down."

  Lolita put up a hand. "I don't want to know. Just go deal with her, and the next time, meet her somewhere else."

  "Lolita, I…."

  She turned and stalked to the kitchen. "She's waiting. Pause your game and go see her."

  He clicked off the TV and hurried down the stairs. A short time later, Lolita heard his pickup rev, and she glanced out the window to see him drive away. A passenger sat in the front seat with him.

  She yanked open a cupboard door and took out three cans of peaches. Dumping them into a saucepan, she stirred in a slurry to thicken them. When they bubbled, she added a dash of cinnamon, then poured them in a sprayed casserole. She started work on the sweet dough to top them. By the time Murphy returned, peaches and dumplings were cooling on the countertop, the chili warmed on the stove, and the cornbread waited on the kitchen bar.

  More importantly, Lolita had regained her sense of calm. Cooking did that for her. Helped her to put things right with her world. Meeting one of Murphy's women had caught her off guard. This particular one made her feel like a damned nun. But what Murphy did in his own time was none of her business. She just didn't want to meet his bevy of girlfriends face-to-face.

  He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the hook by the door. He stayed back, not sure if he was welcome.

  "Are you hungry?" she asked before he could say anything.

  He gave her a long, wary look. "I'm sorry Gwen came here."

  She shrugged. "It's not like I thought you were celibate. The only thing you sign
ed on for was to fix my house. You're doing that. What you do on your own time is none of my affair."

  "It's not like that."

  She pushed a bowl of chili toward him and went to the refrigerator for two beers. When she plopped on the stool next to him, she said, "Look. We're friends, but we're not close. Let's let it drop."

  He scrubbed his hands over his face. He hadn't shaved, and his chin was bristly. Lolita could understand why a woman would hunt him down. "Lolita…"

  She interrupted. "I don't want to hear about your girlfriends."

  He sighed. "Okay then, how far did you get on the mirror you were working on?"

  His voice was strained. He was almost as upset as she'd been, but they'd both get over it. Hopefully.

  She smiled. "The wood's polished and stained. I went with a blueberry color this time. And there's no draft in the workroom. The insulation you put in did the trick."

  "Good." His heart wasn't in it. Something was bothering him, but she was going out of her way to let him know everything was all right, back to normal.

  "How was your game? Was your team ahead?"

  "Too soon to tell." His gaze bored into hers. "Upsets can happen at the last minute."

  She frowned. How someone could be so easy-going and then so intense confused her.

  They ate their meal, but neither of them enjoyed it as much as she'd hoped. Murphy's mood put a damper on it. She'd made the chili especially to please him, but she wasn't sure he even tasted it. He scooped the peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream into his mouth like an automaton. After they cleaned up, she'd had enough.

  "I want to finish a few more things in my workroom," she said. "You can have the TV and finish your game."

  He didn't look happy. She bit her bottom lip. She couldn't get out of the apartment fast enough.

  She stayed in the workroom so late, she was sure Murphy would be in bed by the time she went upstairs. She sighed with relief when she opened the door to her apartment, and he wasn't there. Once she settled in bed, though, she couldn't sleep.

  She kept seeing Murphy with his arm around Gwendolyn. Or smiling down at her. Or…she pushed those thoughts away.

  Damn it. What was wrong with her? She staggered out to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water to down two Advils. She didn't know how much longer it was before she finally fell asleep, but she felt like crap when the alarm rang the next morning.

  More rain pattered at the windows. How appropriate. Maybe a good thing, though. That way, Murphy couldn't work outdoors. If he could, if the sun shone, would he zip out of here to get away from her? She gave herself a shake. She liked him as a friend. Enjoyed their Sunday nights. It was time to pull herself together to make this work.

  Murphy was already in the kitchen when she wandered out for coffee. He poured her a mug and smiled. "You look better in that kimono than I did."

  She smiled, too. Good, he was in a better mood. "You couldn't even get your shoulders in it, but the colors looked great on you."

  "Are you hungry?"

  She shook her head.

  "Me neither. I forgot to thank you for the chili last night. It was really good." He was tiptoeing around her. They were both being overly polite.

  She squared her shoulders. "So, what's on your agenda for today?"

  "Lizzie called and invited me to her house for supper."

  Her shoulders sagged. Sure, she did. He'd told her himself that Lizzie never cooked, that she was the queen of fast food. But Lolita had made a big deal out of him not telling her about his girlfriends. She'd forced him into a corner, and he was settling for a white lie to spare her feelings. She might as well play along. She smiled. "It'll be nice to see your sister. I bet the kids adore you."

  He nodded. "I'm an awesome uncle. Besides, I kind of like them, too."

  She couldn't think of a clever answer, so finished her coffee and said, "I'd better get ready. It's not raining that hard. I might have customers today."

  He emptied the last of the coffee into his mug and settled his hip against the countertop. He turned to stare out the window, and she hurried to the hallway.

  It was a good hour later before Murphy came down to start work. By then, she was three deep in customers at the cash register. There was no big rush in business all day, but a steady enough trickle to keep her busy. She and Murphy grabbed snacks at separate times, and he waved to her as he left for Lizzie's at five.

  When she closed the shop at six, she plodded upstairs to an empty apartment. She reheated a bowl of chili and ate in front of the TV. She felt awful. Hollow. Like there was a yawning chasm somewhere inside her. She flipped through channels, but nothing held her interest. She went to the bedroom and grabbed her new book, but she couldn't focus on it. After she reread the same paragraph for the fifth time, she snapped it shut. She could always focus on Patricia Briggs. What was wrong with her?

  Finally, she changed into her pajamas and stuck the six-hour version of Pride and Prejudice in the DVD. She fell asleep with Elizabeth Bennett giving Mr. Darcy a scathing speech. She woke to someone shaking her shoulder.

  "Lolita." Murphy's voice held a smile. It warmed her through and through.

  She pushed herself up onto an elbow, blinking herself awake.

  His hazel eyes shone with an emotion that melted her bones. He nodded toward the TV. "Is Elizabeth Bennett where you learned to be so independent?"

  "It's my favorite book and movie."

  "Then you know how it ends."

  She frowned. "Of course, I do."

  He pushed a strand of hair off her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. "Mr. Darcy wins her in the end, no matter how she's resisted him."

  "Are you a Pride and Prejudice fan, too?"

  "I am now. Lizzie made me watch it over and over again with her. Now, I'm grateful." He lowered his head and kissed her softly, but thoroughly.

  She raised a hand to push him away, but her traitorous fingers gripped his shoulder and pulled him closer. She leaned to press against him, and a moan slipped from her throat.

  He pulled away from her and smiled. "I've wanted to do that for a long time."

  "But Gwendolyn…."

  "…used to be my girlfriend. Past tense. All I want now is you."

  She put up her hands to form a shield and shook her head. "I'm not the type of…."

  "I know." He pushed her hands aside and kissed her longer, harder this time. "You're a keeper. So am I, but I couldn't think of a way to convince you I'm ready. That's why I went to see Lizzie."

  "You really did go to see your sister?"

  He smiled. "I knew you didn't believe me. But Lizzie told me the perfect way to convince you."

  "How's that?"

  "Come with me." He took her hand and dragged her after him. He went down the stairs into her shop and stopped in front of her own, personal mirror. He put his hand on Lolita's shoulders and placed her next to him. "What do you see when you look at our reflection?"

  "You. Me." She frowned.

  "Hold my hand, so that we're connected, and look closer."

  She stared and gasped. Her eyes went wide.

  He grinned. "That's what I saw the first time I came here. You, nestled against my side, with two kids hanging on our legs."

  She shook her head. "I shouldn't be able to see this."

  He released her hand and stepped away from her. She shook her head. She saw her own reflection, in her pajamas, standing next to Murphy, in his jeans and T-shirt.

  "How did you know?" she asked.

  "Lizzie walked into Warren's embrace in front of the mirror. Warren glanced up and grinned from ear to ear. He could see it."

  A part of her magic she'd never known. She leaned into Murphy again and smiled.

  "Do you remember what you told Lizzie?" he asked. "The mirror is about hopes, it's about what can really happen if you follow its lead."

  She nodded. Her throat felt choked with emotion, and she didn't trust herself to speak.

  "I want to follow
its lead," Murphy said. "I want you by my side. For always."

  Tears threatened.

  He tipped her chin to see her face. "Nod if it's a yes."

  She did better than that. She threw herself at him and he crushed her close. Elizabeth Bennet was just as bad. Once she fell for Darcy, that was it. And that's how she felt about Murphy.

  SHERIFF GUTHRIE & THE ORANGE TABBY

  Wilbur Guthrie leaned back in his office chair and put his feet on his desk's open, bottom drawer. It had been a long night last night. New Year's Eve, and you'd think it was the Fourth of July. Kids had set off fireworks and fired guns. Neighbors called to complain. Too much drinking, too much partying and being silly. He sighed. If that was the worst of his problems, he'd consider himself lucky.

  There were few serious crimes in Emerald Hills. Once the tourists left in the winter months, the town got downright quiet. Two murders in ten years. But his territory had its share of domestic abuse, DUIs, and meth labs.

  He rubbed his eyes. His deputy, Mike Krider, would be in soon. Then he could go home and put his weary bones to bed.

  As if the thought had summoned him, Mike strode through the front door. He took one look at Guthrie and grinned. "Tough night?"

  Guthrie kicked his drawer closed and pushed himself to his feet. "The usual." He motioned toward a pile of reports. "Alex Brethren got in another brawl. Salem Schmidt is sleeping it off in the back cell."

  Mike shrugged. "Nothing spectacular, that's good." As Guthrie reached for his coat, Mike said, "The new owner finally moved into the hat shop on Green Street. The moving van came and went last night."

  Guthrie nodded. "Hadn't heard, but glad someone's going to run the store. Tourists notice empty shop windows."

  "Hearsay is that she doesn't have any magic, like most of our shopkeepers."

  "That's no matter. Emerald Hills has more magic than most." Tourists couldn't explain why goods from here satisfied them so much. Shopkeepers didn't advertise their magic, but customers could feel the difference.

  Mike settled behind his desk and Guthrie headed to his car. On the drive home, the streets of Emerald Hills were empty. People were staying put, cozying up in front of the TV screen, eating pork and cabbage to bring them luck for the new year. A smile tilted his lips. His mother always made ribs with sauerkraut for New Year's Day. Insisted it was tradition, and if they cheated, who knew what would happen?