But the bracelet reminded her she hadn’t called home.
She picked up the phone and dialed her mother’s number. She heard the tremulous voice. “Mom,” she said.
“Andrea—” her mother’s voice was worried “—are you...are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Everyone here is friendly, and I’m involved in a city project. I just wanted you to know I’m doing fine. I’m...happy.”
The moment she said the word, she knew it was true. She was happy. Excited. She still had black moments, the sudden, unexpected assaults of grief, but they were coming less often.
“When are you coming home, baby?”
She felt as if she was ten years old again, loitering at the library when she knew she should be home. “Not for a while. I have to finish what I started. But I love you, Mom.”
“Love you, too, baby.”
Andy clicked the phone off and dressed, finally picking up the jewelry pouch again and taking out the necklace. She put it on, then applied some lipstick.
“What do you think?” she asked Joseph, who barked happily at the attention.
The doorbell rang. Joseph rushed to inspect the intruder, then wriggled with delight when he saw Nate.
Andy thought she might be doing the same. Her heart was bouncing wildly about.
She went to the door and opened it.
Nate looked great. He wore a pair of jeans that fit his tall, lean body as if designed just for him. A light tan suede jacket was worn over a dark brown shirt open at the neck. His hair was wet, as if he had just come out of a shower, and that sent sensual images through her mind.
It didn’t help that his eyes, which always seemed to change color, looked at her with an intensity that sent her blood racing. They were a molten mix of light brown, gold and moss green.
“Hi, there,” he said as he stooped down and made Joseph a very happy dog by rubbing his ears, then running his hand down his back. Staid Joseph made a spectacle of himself by twisting his body around in excitement, then plopping on the floor and raising all four feet in the air while Nate rubbed his belly.
“Now, that is just plain disgusting,” she said. “He doesn’t do that for me.”
“It’s male bonding,” Nate said with a grin.
She laughed. She couldn’t remember when she’d last laughed with spontaneity.
She reached for a folder of Angus’s entries and started for the door.
“You might need a sweater,” he said. “I heard a cold spell is coming. We get some of those in the spring.”
“I’ll be okay,” she said. “I like cold.”
He nodded. That was what she liked best about him. He never questioned. He reached out and took her hand. It was warm and strong without being controlling. She didn’t object when he opened the door of the pickup for her. She put the folder on the floor and stepped inside.
He turned and looked at her. “You’re damn pretty.”
She didn’t think she was. She’d been startled when Jared had fallen in love with her. Now she wondered whether it wasn’t the danger and fear and emotion that brought them together.
Nate drove and she watched him. His ex-wife had to be one of the country’s biggest fools.
They reached the inn. The sign wasn’t up yet, but the exterior looked appealing. Rustic with a touch of elegance. It resembled a sprawling ranch house with an exterior of cedar siding. There was an archway that led inside.
As they entered the lobby, her gaze was drawn to a huge natural-rock fireplace that took up one side of the room. The smell of hickory came from a large burning log.
The room looked warm and welcoming with its leather chairs and sofas. The reception desk resembled an Old West saloon bar. A very large painting depicting the mountains hung over the fireplace, and several obviously well-used saddles were mounted along the wall.
“We’re not quite finished yet,” he said, “but what do you think?”
“I love it.” And she did.
“I’m trying to find a painting of camels to go over the reception desk, but so far no luck. I was thinking about commissioning one if I can find the right artist at the right price.”
“There has to be a starving artists’ website,” she said. “You can ask for samples and sketches. It probably won’t be great art, but you don’t need that. Just good art that attracts people.”
“I knew I invited you here for a reason,” he said as he leaned down and kissed her. It was a light kiss but there was a promise in it.
“Hi, there” came a cheerful voice, and Andy forced her gaze away from Nate to a very pretty woman probably in her early forties who stood in the doorway off the reception desk. She wore a simple but tasteful white blouse with a black skirt that showed off very nice legs.
Andy noticed all this within a second of seeing the woman and resented the jealousy welling up inside.
Nate put an arm around her shoulder. “Andy, this is Susan Hall. She’ll be managing the inn. Susan, this is Andy Stuart, the creator of the name the Camel Trail Inn.”
“It’s a great name,” Susan said. “I love it, and it’s attracting attention. We’re already getting queries.” She looked at Andy. “Like to see the website? It’s pretty basic right now.” Andy nodded, and Susan went to the registration desk computer. The background of the home page was a photo of the waterfall with a rainbow just above.
There was also a sketch of the front of the inn. Opposite the photo were two sentences in a rustic typeface: Opening Soon. The Camel Trail Inn in historic Covenant Falls, Colorado.
At the bottom of the page she read, “Visit our historical falls, our national forest and old mining towns. Make reservations now.” A phone number was listed and there was a link to a registration form.
“Right now I’m trying to pique interest, but we need copy about the town and the falls and Angus. Not much, but some,” Susan said.
Andy suddenly realized that was her main job here: a short history. She’d become so involved with the play that her original job had flown out of her head.
She looked up at Nate. “I forgot...”
“You’re steeping yourself in the history of the town, and I think you have far more to do than you ever imagined. Than I ever imagined. Susan thinks the pageant is a terrific idea.”
Susan nodded. She looked at Nate and then Andy. “I’m heading home. Ethel has dinner ready for you. It’s one of the options on the menu, so you two can taste test it for us.” She grabbed a purse from behind the registration desk and started for the door, then turned back. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Andy. I’ve heard a lot about you. Welcome to Covenant Falls.”
Andy watched her go, envious of the way she wore her clothes and her stylish haircut.
Nate caught her hand. “You haven’t seen it all yet,” he said. “But first, the dining room.”
The moment she stepped in the dining room, her mouth watered.
“Homemade bread and rolls,” he said.
The room was not large. Three sides were paneled and the last was a wall of windows that faced the mountains. The tables and chairs were oak. Small, intimate tables, but they were square so they could be moved together to seat large parties. Fixtures looking like Tiffany gas lamps were mounted along the two sides of the room as well as smaller ones on each table. A chandelier hung from the ceiling. It was simple, uncluttered. She turned to him. “It’s wonderful.”
He grinned. “Well, we knew what we wanted.” He reached out his hand. “May I escort you to our table?”
“You may,” she said. His hand felt comfortable in hers. Natural. He led her to a table in front of the window. It was already set for two with wineglasses and an open bottle of wine in the center.
As they sat, a buxom woman hurried in with a basket of rolls and a dish with butter
.
“Mr. Nate, are you ready for me to bring in the food?”
“Where did the mister come from?” he asked.
“Well, since I’m working for you...”
“One more mister and I’ll fire you. Josh will feel the same. You’re family, Ethel.” He turned to Andy. “Meet Ethel Jones. She used to babysit me. I loved it, because she always brought something tasty with her.
“And this is Andy,” he told the woman.
Ethel beamed. “I’ve been hearing fine things about you. It’s a pleasure.” Then she hurried out before Andy could answer.
Nate poured the wine. “No liquor license yet,” he said, “so don’t tell anyone.”
“Lawless, huh?”
“Yes, especially when I have a pretty woman with me.”
“Susan is attractive.” She knew she sounded jealous but she couldn’t stop the words from coming out.
“Yeah, and she also used to babysit me when I was young. Of course, she was young then, too.” His eyes met hers. “We’re friends, and that’s all. We were lucky to get her. How is the wine?”
She took a sip. It was a white. Crisp and cold. “I like it.”
His eyes caught hers. They were intense, the green in them more pronounced. He hesitated, then words seemed to explode from him, “I know this probably isn’t the time, but damn, I can’t help but saying it. I like you. A lot.” He hesitated. “I know you’re still...raw, and I never believed in, well, instant attraction, and it’s probably too fast...” He stopped, then continued, “Hell, I’m rambling and you probably want to run out the door.”
“No,” she said slowly. “That’s the last thing I want to do.”
“That’s good enough for me,” he said.
Ethel returned with two steaming plates. They both had rainbow trout—whole, with the exception of the heads—and the tender white meat had been loosened around the bones. A mound of mashed potatoes with a puddle of butter in the middle and a medley of vegetables completed the meal.
She took a bite of trout. She identified garlic but there were other spices in a butter-lemon sauce. The potatoes also had spices, including a touch of pepper and cheese. The vegetables were fresh and slightly seared. “It’s wonderful,” she said.
“We want to keep it simple.”
“You’ve sold me. Can I move in?”
“You haven’t seen the bedrooms yet.”
“No,” she said as she took the last bite of mashed potatoes. “And I think I should finish the inspection...”
They took about two bites of the apple pie Ethel brought.
“I can’t eat another thing,” she said. “It was really, really good. I would come back just for the pie.”
He stood and went to the kitchen, came out with two boxes and they put the rest of the pie in them. “I told Ethel it was beyond expectations, and that she could go home. I said I would clear up the dishes.”
“She didn’t question that?”
“Well, I think she kinda figured we might like to be alone.”
“The whole town will know tomorrow.”
“With most people, yes. I don’t think so with Ethel. Do you care?”
She did. She didn’t.
She stood and took his hand to see the rest of the Camel Trail Inn.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
NATE WONDERED HOW wise he was to show her the rest of the inn. Flames had ignited between them at dinner. They had been building, slowly but surely, from the moment they met.
He’d never felt this way before, not even with Margaret. Maybe especially with Margaret. With her, it had been teenage hormones, then trying to hang on to something when he was sent overseas, then a stupid one-night stand that had ended in disaster.
He hadn’t thought magic, the kind Clint and Josh had found, existed for him. He certainly hadn’t believed in love at first sight.
He took her good hand and her fingers closed around his. He led her out of the dining room to the hall that ran the length of the building. The air between them was fraught with tension and heat and emotion. He felt it in the way her fingers tightened against his. She stopped, looked up at him. Her gray eyes were smoky and wondering, and he sensed the same emotions that were running through him.
He leaned down and his lips brushed hers. Her mouth opened to him with uncertainty, then a need that echoed his. He knew her well enough now to understand that survivor’s guilt was still like a knife in her.
As much as he wanted to pursue the kiss, he gently withdrew and put his arm around her. “Come see the rest,” he said in a voice he hoped was companionable rather than thick with wanting.
He tried not to notice the clean fresh scent of fawn-colored hair, which seemed to glow in the bright hall light, or the warmth of her body as he led her to the first room in the hall and put a key in the lock.
“No key card?” she asked.
“We decided on old-fashioned keys,” he said. “Less convenient, but they seemed more in keeping with the atmosphere.”
She stepped inside and was instantly charmed. It was obvious from the substantial oak furniture, rich tan drapes that were open to views of the mountains and the high headboard banked with pillows that it was designed for both comfort and the Western aesthetic. A large painting of the mountains hung over a desk. A horseshoe was nailed above the door and the lamps were of the same Tiffany style as in the dining room.
She turned to him. “Did you design it?”
“With Clint’s help. He’s a genius with computers. He found every wholesale outlet in the country. We kept looking until we found the look we wanted at a price we could afford.”
“It looks like you,” she said.
He looked at her questioningly.
“Strong, honest, comfortable.”
“Sounds boring,” he said.
“Nothing boring about it,” she said, touching his face with her fingers. “It’s rather rare, I think.”
He wondered then about the man she’d lost. He wanted to ask more about him, but her gaze held a disquieting intensity, as if she could read his every emotion while deciding whether she could share her own. And then something changed in her face. An acknowledgment—maybe even acceptance—of what was passing between them.
Don’t push. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
The room seemed to grow warmer.
He felt a tightening in his groin, but he had felt that far too often in the past few days. Now, however, all he wanted was to be next to her, to feel her relax against him, to know she trusted him.
He saw pain in those smoky eyes, pain and passion and guilt and need, and his heart ached for her. And for himself. But still, something subtle had changed between them tonight. The attraction between them was like a shifting river current.
Then her eyes lightened, as if some decision had been made. She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him, this time without reservation.
The questions in his mind dissolved.
He smothered her lips with his, and his hands moved up and down her back. Her body shuddered, and his arms wrapped her close. Their lips parted. She rested against his heart. She must hear its quickened beating.
He was awash in need. He ached. He wanted her with every fiber of his being...
* * *
ANDY LOOKED UP at him. His eyes regarded her with so much tenderness her heart melted. How safe she felt with him! Not physical safety—she could take care of herself that way—but she knew to the depth of her soul that he would understand and protect who she was inside. In this short time, she sensed he knew her better than anyone had. Even Jared.
Everything with Jared seemed surreal now, an out-of-place time when emotions and feelings ran at warp speed.
This was real.
It
’s too soon to know that, the gremlin inside her whispered, but more powerful feelings were ruling her now.
For the first time in months, she felt like Andy Stuart, the girl who’d fought her way out of the West Virginia mountains and the woman who’d battled her way to one of the best surgical teams in the army. Without her realizing it, Nate had guided her out of the darkness that had enveloped her, had showed her that, crippled hand or not, she was of value.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
“For knowing me better than I did,” she said.
The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. “I’m not sure that’s true.”
She touched his cheek, ran her fingers over the strong angles of his face, touched the thick eyebrows that framed his eyes and then moved down to his lips.
How could it become so familiar so quickly?
“It’s fast, I know,” Nate said, obviously reading her mind.
For the first time she didn’t mind. It didn’t feel like such a short time. She knew him better after a week than she had Jared after many months. The realization was like a kick to the stomach. How could she...?
She just looked at Nate. She knew he read the sudden dismay there. He leaned down and kissed her lightly. “I should take you home.”
She didn’t make a move and swallowed hard. “I don’t want to go.”
“You’re arguing with yourself,” he observed as one side of his lips quirked upward in a half smile. “I didn’t believe anything could happen this fast, either,” he added. “But I’ve taken a fierce fancy to you.”
“Now, that sounds like something one of your ancestors might say,” she said, trying to lighten the tension. “In fact, I think you should portray Angus in the play.” She took his hand in her good one, turned it faceup and studied it with her index finger, mainly because if she watched those lips much longer, she would collapse in his arms.
But looking at his hands didn’t help. His fingers were long and the palms callused. She wanted to feel those fingers caressing her face again.
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