He gave her his hardest, meanest glare—the one that had never failed to send everyone at Inkerris, Incorporated, scurrying for cover.
Myra grunted and waved a freckled hand. "Fine. Be that way." Grunting a second time, she stepped aside. He brushed past her. She called to his back as he went out the door, "You'll never know unless you ask her!"
Outside, the air was brisk and cool, everything smelling wet and fresh from last night's rain. He started walking fast. He didn't realize he was headed for the stables until he got there.
He found Caleb brushing the black Arabian mare. The groom turned and saw him, brush pausing in mid-stroke.
"One damn fine horse," Sin said, for lack of any better remark.
Caleb left the stall and latched it behind him. "Breakfast time."
"That's what Myra said."
"You coming?"
"I'm not hungry, thanks."
Caleb shook his head. "Not goin' so good, huh—with Sophie B.?"
Sin felt no desire at all to answer that one, so he kept his mouth shut.
Caleb added, "I'll send her on out here as soon as I see her." He tossed the brush.
Sin caught it. "Just because you send her doesn't mean she'll come."
The groom grinned at that. "She is a bossy one, under all that sweetness. She likes running things."
"I noticed."
"But she could be convinced to change a little. By a good man."
Sin felt a rueful smile lift the corners of his mouth. "A good man?"
Caleb nodded. "Some men aren't as much as they think they are. And some men are more."
"You think so?"
"I know so. I seen it for myself."
"Sin?"
No answer.
Sophie sat up, pushed back the covers and swung her feet to the floor. Outside the lace-curtained window opposite the bed, the sky was an innocent blue, the clouds all cleared away. Drops of water from the rain still clung to a rosebush that grew thick and thorny, tied to a short trellis just beyond the glass. Heavy dew silvered the lawn.
"Sin?"
Only silence.
He must have left—without waking her, without a word. She hung her head, stared down at her bare knees. They had goose bumps all over them. The room was cold.
She jumped up and ran to the bureau to find some clothes, pausing to glance at the clock by the bed before she put them on. It wasn't that late. Myra would be putting breakfast on the table about now.
Oh, where had Sin gone?
And why had he left her to wake up alone?
She remembered the night before, her knees going weak at the sheer erotic beauty of it. But then her need to find Sin snapped some strength into them.
She pulled on clean underwear and padded to the bathroom, where she rinsed her face and tugged a comb through her tangled hair. Then she yanked on the rest of her clothes and headed for the cottage.
She found Myra and Caleb in the kitchen, about to sit down to breakfast.
Myra was setting the plates around. She glanced up and clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "There you are. Bethy just called. She says she's feeling pretty queasy and won't be able to come in today."
Sophie closed her eyes, rubbed her temples. "I'll have to talk to her."
"You'll have to fire her, and you know it."
"We'll see—listen, have you seen Sin this morning?"
Myra and Caleb shared a look. Then Myra confessed, "He came in a half an hour ago, then went out again. Without his breakfast." The words were informational, but the tone was pure mother hen. "I guess we all know where that man was all night."
Sophie blew out a breath. "Myra…"
"When are you going to settle this mess with him?"
"Just tell me. Where is he now?"
Caleb spoke up then. "He's in the stables. I left him there a few minutes ago."
She found him standing at Black Angel's stall, just looking at the horse, who wasn't paying any attention at all to him.
At the sound of Sophie's footsteps, he turned. He held a brush in his hand.
She made herself ask, though it came out all ragged-sounding, "Why … did you just leave?"
He tossed the brush onto a low stool near the rough plank wall.
"Sophie…" His voice sounded as torn as her own. They stared at each other. And at that moment, she knew. He loved her, too. As much as she had ever loved him.
And probably more. "Oh, Sin…"
He forked a hand through his hair. "I shouldn't have done that last night. I shouldn't have—"
She couldn't bear the distance between them and hurried to close it, stopping just inches away. "Don't apologize. Please."
He closed his eyes. "I can't take this. I hate this."
She reached out, put her hand on his arm. "I know…"
He looked down at where she touched him, then into her eyes once again. "You don't know. You can't know. I … don't know what I'm doing anymore. Since I met you, I don't know who the hell I am."
She clutched his arm harder. "It's all right."
He laughed then, a painful sound. "You said that the first night. Remember? When I grabbed you on the back stairs of the cottage?"
"I remember."
"And you were wrong. It wasn't all right. It was all a damn lie."
"We got past the lies."
He pulled away, stepped back. "You don't trust me anymore—not that I blame you."
She couldn't let him think that—even if it was just a little bit true. "But I do. I do trust you now."
"You don't. And I want you to trust me. Which is insane. I've never been the kind of man who gave a damn for a woman's trust."
She tried to make him see her side. "I just … we're so different. In what we want for this place. And I'm afraid. You're so strong. So … determined. You could make the Mountain Star successful, but then it might not really be the Mountain Star anymore."
He said it again, so sadly, "You don't trust me."
And right then, they both heard the low sound.
Sin's eye's hardened. "What's that?"
Sophie glanced down the stalls, to where she thought the sound had come from. "I don't know."
The sound came again—a groan. Someone groaning.
Sin spun on his heel and strode down the rows of stalls. Sophie followed after him.
At the last stall, one that looked empty, he stopped. "In here." He swung open the gate.
Bearded, filthy, dressed in tattered jeans and a grimy sweatshirt, a man huddled, shuddering, against the far wall.
* * *
Chapter 18
« ^ »
At the sight of Sin and Sophie, the fellow cried out, put his filthy hands over his face and backpedaled madly. It was as if he thought he could push his starved body through the wall—and away from the two who had found his hiding place. "No, no, don't! I'll go … I'll get out…"
Sophie moved toward him. Sin caught her arm. "Let me."
She felt a powerful urge to shake him off and rush around him. But she made herself curb it. She nodded. "All right."
Sin took one cautious step, and then another. The man drew tighter and tighter against the rough wall. Convulsive shivers rattled through him and his eyes gleamed feverishly bright. "I went to the campground. I heard it was all right, that a man could bed down there, find peace for a night. But the rain came. It got cold…"
Sin reached him, knelt beside him, spoke with aching gentleness. "You needed a dry place."
"Yeah. A dry place…" The thin body shook harder.
"It's okay," Sin whispered. "It's all right…" He reached in his pocket, came out with a key and tossed it to Sophie. She reacted just fast enough to snare it from the air. "Get the Lexus," he commanded. "We'll take him to the hospital."
"No!" A bony hand shot out, closed over Sin's arm. "I can't afford no hospital."
"It's all right," Sin answered softly. "I can."
The fevered eyes shone brighter—with stubborn pride. "Don't want no c
harity."
"Don't worry," Sin reassured him. "We don't offer charity here. We have what you need. And there'll be work to do later in exchange."
The man squinted, peered closer at Sin. "Who are you, anyway?"
"Call me Sin."
A ragged laugh escaped the man then, a laugh that turned to a racking cough. When the cough finally subsided, he muttered with some humor, "Sin, eh? I guess I know you already."
"I'm sure you do. What can I call you?"
"Jake. The name's Jake."
"Come on, Jake. Let's get you to a doctor." Sin cast a glance over his shoulder. Sophie hadn't moved.
She couldn't move. She could only stare at Sin, thinking of how she had loved him, right from that first night. Of how he had lied to her, how he had taken her innocence, abused her trust.
And how it didn't matter anymore. Because in the end, he had become everything she'd ever dreamed of in a man.
"The car?" Sin demanded.
She shook herself. "Yes. Right away." She turned and ran, out the east door of the stable and across the front driveway to the long garage that branched off the side of the cottage.
Sophie drove to the hospital. Sin sat in the back with Jake. When they arrived, Sin filled out all the forms, taking responsibility for the cost of the sick man's care.
"It's acute pneumonia," the doctor said an hour later. "We've pumped him full of antibiotics and we're getting fluids into him. Now, we'll just have to wait and see."
At a little before eleven, Sin and Sophie got back in the Lexus and returned to the Mountain Star. It was a silent ride. At the cottage, Myra was waiting for them.
"Where on God's earth have you been?"
Sin explained briefly about Jake.
Myra shook her head in sympathy for the poor fellow, then insisted they sit down and have a bite to eat. "And after that, Sophie B., you'd better get going on those rooms."
Sin stopped in the act of pouring himself a cup of coffee. "I thought you said you'd hired someone to replace that maid who quit."
"Sure she did," Myra scoffed. "Bethy's her name. She's got a baby on the way and she's always calling in sick."
Sophie sank to the table. "I realize I have to talk with her." She waited for Sin to start in on her.
But he only carried the cup he'd filled over to the table and set it down before her. "Have some coffee."
She looked up at him in sheer gratitude—for what he hadn't said. "Thank you."
"And you," Myra said sternly.
Sin glanced her way. "Me?"
"Yes, you. Some man called about insulation. He's coming at two."
As soon as she'd eaten, Sophie got right to work cleaning rooms. At one, Myra called her down to the kitchen and gestured at the phone. "It's Bethy."
Sophie picked it up reluctantly—only to learn that Bethy had decided to move to Fresno, where she could live with another sister and work in a florist's shop.
"I'm so sorry to let you down like this," Bethy said, sounding much more contrite than she ever had all the times she'd called in sick.
Sophie smiled at the phone in pure relief and promised Bethy that she'd manage somehow.
Myra was frowning as Sophie hung up. "What now?"
"Bethy's moving to Fresno to work in her other sister's flower shop."
One of Myra's red eyebrows inched toward her hairline. "That means we have a chance to hire someone who'll actually do the job."
"Exactly."
"No sad cases this time," Myra bargained. "Promise me. Someone who'll show up on time and stay till the work's done."
Sophie raised her right hand, palm out. "I do solemnly swear."
Myra harrumphed. "I'll believe it when I see it."
Sophie finished the rooms at a little after two. By then, Sin was busy with the insulation specialist. Sophie wandered downstairs and out the back door. She waved at Caleb, who was riding the old tractor mower across the broad lawn.
At the guest house, she showered and changed into one of her favorite dresses—the one she'd been wearing the first night she met Sin. She went back outside next and chose three red roses from the bush just beyond her bedroom window. She carried them back to the cottage, found a small crystal vase in the cupboard, and took the bouquet up the back stairs to Sin's room.
It looked lovely on the small stand by the bed. Sophie set it down and turned it, so the velvety red blooms were facing out.
"My mother loved roses." His voice came from the doorway behind her.
She turned to him, a smile trembling across her mouth. "I hope you do, too."
He didn't even glance at them. His eyes were all for her. "They're beautiful. Thank you." Then he stepped beyond the threshold and closed the door. That brooding gaze took a slow tour of her, from her head to her toes.
He said, "Your slip is showing."
She smoothed her skirt, drew her shoulders back. "It's not a slip."
"I know. It's a petticoat."
She felt as if she might cry. "You … remember."
"I do."
Turning away just a little, she swiped at her eyes. "Is the insulation man gone?"
He closed the distance between them, guided her chin around. "He's gone."
She moved in a fraction closer, lifted her mouth. "Will you … kiss me, please?"
Light as a rose petal, his lips brushed over hers.
"You were wonderful with poor Jake."
He kissed her again, another soft breath of a kiss. "Do you think you could learn to trust me, after all?"
She smiled against his mouth. "I don't have to learn that. I do trust you. Now."
His strong arms encircled her. "Shall I show you my estimates?"
She snuggled against him. "We'll get around to that."
"I'll try not to push too fast."
She sighed. "And some things I just don't want to change."
"That's fair. We'll work on compromise."
"Right along with sharing."
"Sounds good to me."
Cradled close against his heart, she looked up at him. "I love you. And I know now that you love me."
"Reading my mind again?"
"Am I wrong?"
"No, Ms. Sophie B. Jones. You are very, very right."
* * *
Epilogue
« ^
The next night, Oggie Jones appeared at the Mountain Star Theater.
One look at Sophie's face and he knew. "I guess I don't have to ask how things worked out with you and your man."
Before he left, he invited both of them to his eighty-first birthday party.
"We'll come," Sophie promised. "If you'll come to our wedding and give me away."
"You got yourselves a deal," the old man declared.
Three weeks later, on October ninth, Sin and Sophie attended Oggie's party at the Hole in the Wall Saloon. More than one toast was raised to the bride-and groom-to-be.
Sophie married Sin the following Saturday, the eleventh of October, in the Mountain Star Theater. A number of Joneses were there, including little Anthea, who somehow managed to wander off during the ceremony. A frantic search ensued. Jake, Caleb's new assistant, found the child at last—in the stable, unharmed, sitting on the stool beside Black Angel's stall.
Once everyone had stopped fussing over Anthea, Oggie admired the horse. Sin explained how he'd bought her for a song from a woman who'd decided owning a spirited horse wasn't for her.
The party in the cottage went on all night.
Oggie was the last guest to leave. When Sin and Sophie walked him out to his Cadillac, the sun had just raised its blinding face above the rim of the mountains to the east.
"Drive carefully," Sophie admonished him.
"I will. All the way to L.A."
Sophie and Sin exchanged a look. "What's in L.A.?" they asked in unison.
"A nephew," the old man replied. "A nephew I haven't even met yet."
Sophie frowned. "Is he expecting you?"
Oggie pulled a cigar fr
om his pocket. "Hell, gal." He peeled off the wrapper and bit off the end. "You oughta know by now that nobody's ever expectin' old Oggie Jones."
* * * * *
Christine Rimmer - A Hero for Sophie Jones Page 18
