by Judy Angelo
With that thought she started the engine. She had a lot to do today and mulling over her handsome helper wasn’t one of the items on her to-do list. And anyway, Moonwalker was waiting.
When she got to his house her good friend was already standing outside on the front porch, waiting. The Cherokee man waved to her then came down the steps in anticipation of the approaching vehicle.
Blake pulled up beside him, a huge smile on her face. “Ready to do some shopping?”
“You betcha.” Moonwalker grabbed the handle, pulled the door open and hopped in beside her. When it came to negotiating prices, Moonwalker was the man. She never did any major business deals in Fort Stockton without him.
His dark eyes gleaming with amusement, Moonwalker turned to look Blake over. “You don’t seem any worse for the trouble that stove must have given you this morning. No breakdowns? Nothing blew up?”
Blake smiled back. “Surprisingly, no. Old Blue decided to behave today. Maybe it was because I had a newbie working her. She didn’t want to scare him.”
Moonwalker shook his head. “You finally hired old Fred to help you with the breakfast crowd. I knew he’d wear you down.”
“Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t hire Fred if he was the last man on earth. Last time I gave in to him he almost burned the place down.”
“Yeah, I remember.” The elderly man was chuckling now. “You’re lucky Beaumont’s is still standing.”
Blake rolled her eyes. “Don’t I know it.”
They were silent for a while, enjoying the easy comfort of each other’s company. Several minutes passed before Blake’s companion broke the silence. “Seriously, though, you seem in a darned good mood today, not frazzled from a morning feeding a house full of hungry beasts. What gives?”
She glanced at him then turned her eyes back to the road. “You won’t believe this but I found myself an assistant this morning. He just sort of landed on my lap.”
Moonwalker raised his eyebrows. “Explain yourself.”
So Blake did. With a chuckle she launched into the story of Ryder’s unexpected arrival and the dilemma he’d found himself in. She told Moonwalker how she’d taken full advantage of the turn of events, making him work harder than he’d probably ever done in his life. She’d taken full control of the situation, wringing every last cent out of him, and she wasn’t ashamed of it, either.
Moonwalker grimaced then shook his head. “I’m scared o’ you,” he said. “Talk about a mean mama.”
“I am not. I’m a sweetie-pie, and you know it.” She reached out and gave him a playful punch on the shoulder.
He shrugged. “Well, that’s true. Compared to how you were when you first got to this town, you’re practically Mother Theresa.”
She laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
They fell into another momentary silence then Moonwalker spoke again. “When you came to Pequoia you were really messed up. It took you a while to get out of that funk.”
Blake drew in a long, deep breath and then she let it out slowly. “It seems so long ago. I can’t believe I’ve only been here five months. It feels like five years.”
“Time flies when you’re having fun.” He gave her a wry grin.
Blake gave him a mock frown. “No need to be sarcastic. I didn’t mean I was bored, it’s just…I just feel like I’ve known you guys all my life, you know?”
His withered face wrinkled as his smile deepened. “I know what you mean.”
“And when I needed to escape I’m glad this is the place I chose. I couldn’t have found better friends than you, Ted, Peggy and the ladies from the sewing circle.”
“You mean, this place chose you. You’d never have come here if old Bart hadn’t up and died and left Beaumont’s to you.” He cocked an eyebrow at her.
She cocked an eyebrow back. “That too.”
More silence and then Moonwalker turned his head to gaze at a wide field dotted with cows in the distance. “You were in pretty bad shape…” His voice trailed off like he’d fallen into deep thought.
“Yeah,” she said, but nothing else. She really didn’t want to talk about it. She’d managed to bury that era of her life, pushing it far back into the dark recesses of her mind. She had no intention of going back there and digging through that musty old trunk.
Wanting to divert Moonwalker’s attention she murmured, “That Ryder Kent, he’s one big bag of surprises. He’s holding the fort for me right now.”
“Is that so?” He didn’t turn around from gazing out the window. “You said he’s about your age, right?” When Blake didn’t answer he kept on staring out the window. “Maybe it’s a good thing,” he said, his voice so low it was almost inaudible, “that this guy showed up on your doorstep. I’ve never seen you look happier.”
Blake drew in her breath but this time she didn’t let it out right away. She was too surprised. Moonwalker had seen a difference in her. Had it been that obvious?
As easy as that, this stranger named Ryder Kent was having a heck of an impact on her. Well, she didn’t like it. Not one bit.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ryder had just finished washing the last of the dishes and was heading for the nearest chair when he heard the tinkle of the bell above the front door. He groaned. His butt hadn’t touched a seat for the last few hours and it looked like it wasn’t going to happen any time soon. When was he going to get a break?
Still, he couldn’t afford to keep one of Blake’s customers waiting so, suppressing a second groan, he made his way across the spacious kitchen and pushed a path through the swinging doors. When he saw who the visitor was he came to an abrupt halt, his brows lifting in surprise.
“Well, well,” the woman said, looking him up and down, “so this is the stranger I’ve been hearing about. They didn’t tell me you were handsome, too.” Her eyes flashing with open curiosity, she walked right up to him and tilted her head back to look into his face. She had her head thrown back so far her flower-bedecked hat almost fell off, making her slap her hand onto the crown to keep it in place. “How old are you, young man?”
“Thirty-one.” The answer was out before he could even dwell on how inappropriate it was, he’d been so thrown by the question. The woman looked like she was around sixty. How would she like it if he asked her age?
She twisted her lips. “I would have guessed a little younger. Maybe twenty-nine. But you’re close enough.” With those words she stepped back and walked over to one of the tables then sat down, leaving Ryder staring after her, perplexed.
He left the doorway and walked over to the counter and leaned against it. “Close enough for what?” he asked.
“Close enough in age,” she said, her tone unapologetic. “Blake is twenty-seven and you’re thirty-one. That’s not too bad.” She lifted her hefty handbag and dropped it on top of the table. “So what do you think of our Blake?”
“I think she’s great,” he said, drawling the words as he watched the woman making herself comfortable at the table. She was shifting the centerpiece and the plate mats around, clearing space for a book she’d taken out of her bag.
That done, she plopped her book down then looked at him, her blue eyes glinting. “She’s more than great,” she said. “She’s a catch.” She jerked her chin toward him. “You’re not married. You should gobble her up.”
Ryder frowned. The visitor seemed to know a lot about his business. Not that is was hard to guess. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
“You’re thirty-one,” she continued, relaxing back into her chair as if she planned to have a really long chat with him. “You’re not getting any younger. Time to settle down, especially if you want to have children. You don’t want to be running after your toddler when you’re forty or fifty, do? What brought you to our town, anyway? You have kinfolk here?” Not pausing for breath, the words tumbled out of the woman’s mouth so fast that Ryder almost couldn’t keep up.
Not even waiting for his answer she barreled on. “We haven’t had a newcomer in a long time
and even the young ‘uns who were born and raised here, they don’t want to stay. I don’t know what’s going to become of our little town.” She sighed as if she carried the weight of the town’s troubles on her shoulders. “We need more babies, that’s what. And when they grow up we need them to stick around.” And as if that triggered another idea she gave Ryder a piercing look. “So are you here to stay or what?”
Well, at least she hadn’t asked if he planned to add to Pequoia’s population. “No,” he said. “I’m just passing through.”
“Not another one of those.” She gave a hiss of obvious frustration. “So where are you from, anyway? And why did you stop in our town?”
Ryder didn’t know if this was the norm in Pequoia but he’d never in his life encountered anyone as nosy as this one. And she wasn’t apologizing for it, either.
Seeing that she had no intention of leaving until she got answers, Ryder decided he might as well make himself comfortable. He slid onto a nearby bar stool. “Before I answer that,” he said slowly, “do you mind telling me who you are?”
“Why, I’m Peggy Thatcher, the mayor of this town. Didn’t they tell you about me?” She actually looked offended, like he should have known.
“No, they didn’t.” He had to fight to hide his smile of amusement. “But now that I know who you are I can introduce myself properly.” He slid off the stool and walked over to the woman’s table. “I’m Ryder Kent,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Ms. Thatcher.”
She took his hand in a surprisingly firm grip. “A man with manners. I like that. So where are you from, Ryder?”
“I'm from Des Moines,” he said, preparing to move away then realizing he couldn’t. She was still holding on to his hand.
“And what are you doing in Pequoia?” she asked. “Visiting relations?”
“No, I just ran into your little town,” he said as he gently extricated his hand from her grasp, “on my way to Mexico.”
“Is that so?” Now she looked even more curious. Then she frowned. “What have you got in Mexico? A girl?”
Ryder smiled and shook his head. “Nothing like that. I was on my way to see some old college buddies of mine.”
“And you decided to drive all the way from Des Moines?” She gave him a look that told him she was wondering if he couldn’t afford a plane ticket.
“I wanted to drive,” he said. “I needed to clear my head.”
Her eyes narrowed, her gaze turning suspicious. “Why?”
There was no way he was going down that road with her. His personal life was none of her business. “Let’s just say, I needed some air.”
For the first time since she entered the restaurant Peggy Thatcher was silent, just staring at him with her sharp blue eyes. Then she gave him a slow nod. “You’re running away from something. I can see it in your eyes.”
Ryder held her gaze but he didn’t answer. The lady was as perceptive as they came. He didn’t let on but she’d hit the proverbial nail right on top of its head.
He cleared his throat. “So how may I help you, Ms. Thatcher? Would you like some lunch? All we’ve got is cream of broccoli soup and BLT.”
She nodded. “Soup and sandwich will be fine.”
Including Ms. Thatcher, Ryder had about a dozen lunch customers that day. They trickled in throughout the lunch hour and into the afternoon. It didn’t seem like lunch was a big deal at Beaumont’s but there were a few workers who passed through for sandwiches. The other workers had probably taken packed lunches from home.
Ms. Thatcher was the last person to leave that afternoon but Ryder didn’t mind. She’d entertained the whole lot of them with her constant chatter. Not surprisingly, she knew everybody and they all seemed to love her. By the time she was ready to leave she’d exhausted Ryder with her talk but she’d also become a fast friend. She’d all but offered him free boarding at her house if only he would stay in Pequoia for a while.
“Our town needs new blood,” she told him. “Young blood like you. You’re a good one. I can tell.” She smiled. “And the fact that Blake has you here says a lot.” As she went through the door, her massive handbag hanging from her arm, she threw him a parting shot. “You’ll stay for a while, won’t you? Just give it some thought.”
That evening when Blake got back to Beaumont’s she looked tired but pleased. “I won’t have to suffer Old Blue’s cantankerous moods anymore. I just paid for a brand new industrial stove. They’re going to deliver it next week.” Then she looked around at the shiny floor, the spotless tables and the shot glasses laid out on the tray on top of the counter. The evening drinkers would be arriving soon and everything was in order. She turned her gaze back to Ryder. “Thanks for handling things while I was away. I appreciate your help.”
Ryder only smiled and gave her a nod. He’d been happy to do it. This time it had nothing to do with working off a debt. He’d offered to help her out because he wanted to.
“You’ve done way more than I expected,” she was saying, “even doing the cleaning up after the breakfast and lunch crowds. You must be pretty tired.” She tilted her head to one side as she looked up at him. “Why don’t you go get some rest now? You’re going to stay the night, of course. No charge.” Then she smiled. “I’ll even have a little something for you for when you hit the road tomorrow.” Then she shoved her hands inside her pockets and shook her head. “It’s a pity I can’t hogtie you and make you stay.” She chuckled. “But after all I’ve put you through, I know you’re more than ready to hightail it out of here.”
Ryder gazed at her smiling face and for the life of him he couldn’t think of a single thing he’d like to do more than stay.
“Now’s your chance to get away from me,” she said, then jerked her chin toward the door. “Go on. Git, before I change my mind and hogtie you for real.”
Ryder didn’t answer. Then he shook his head. “No, I kind of like it here. I want to stay on a while longer…if you’ll have me.”
When he saw Blake’s eyes widen in surprise, a hint of pleasure in their depths, he smiled. It looked like he wasn’t the only one who liked the idea of him sticking around.
***
If you’ll have me? Why did Ryder have to go and ask a question like that? The question wasn’t if she wanted to have him, but how…
As Blake lay in bed that night, her arms folded behind her head as she stared blankly at the ceiling, all she could think about was Ryder, her ‘out-of-the-blue’ assistant, the man who’d walked off the street and into her life.
He might be a virtual stranger and a man might be the last thing she should have on her mind right now but from the moment she’d met Ryder she’d felt something. Immediately, she’d suppressed it. How stupid could you get, jumping out of one fire and hopping right into another? She’d known that whatever spark of attraction she’d felt was best ignored and it would pass soon enough.
But it didn’t. The more she saw of Ryder the more he grew on her. And the more she wanted to feel his lips on hers.
And from the way his lips relaxed into a smooth curve when he smiled she could tell he was an awesome kisser. He had a mobile mouth that promised both strength and tenderness. Ryder had looked like the serious kind but he also looked like he had another side to him, a softer, sensual side that she would love to know first-hand.
Blake smiled to herself then unlocked the arms she’d folded behind her head. She turned onto her side and settled her cheek into the softness of her pillow. It was all wishful thinking, she knew, just a fantasy she would enjoy in the privacy of her mind.
But by the next day Blake’s fantasy world disintegrated and she was whipped back to reality when Carl, Pequoia’s postmaster of over fifty years, came by and dropped off a telegram. It was from her mother in Dallas and it sounded urgent. “Trouble with Jerome,” it said. “Come home.”
***
Blake didn’t let the evening pass before she packed up her truck and was on her way to Dallas. “Don’t worry ab
out the restaurant,” she’d told Ryder. “Just post a notice that we’re temporarily closed.” He’d looked skeptical. “Just like that? I can handle things till you get back.”
She shook her head. “No. Impossible. There’s no way you can handle the breakfast crowd by yourself. If the guys still want to come in for drinks in the evening you can take care of that.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Whatever you say, boss.” And then he gave her a crooked grin that made him look so sinfully sexy that her heart gave an involuntary jerk.
As she drove along the highway she drew her breath in then let it out on a sigh. Ryder Kent was a seriously sexy distraction but it was one she couldn’t afford to dwell on, especially not right now. If she’d read her mother’s telegram right she would have her hands full when she got back home. And, where Jerome was concerned, it was not going to be pretty.
By the time Blake pulled into the driveway of her family home the sun had set and had thrown a shroud of darkness over the land. Still, the shadows didn’t hide the rustic charm of the little white bungalow where she’d grown up. Rosie Beaumont loved flowers and, like always, the garden was overflowing with blooms of all sizes and colors. Not even the dark veil of night could hide their stunning beauty.
She’d just switched off the engine and was reaching over to the passenger side to grab her shoulder bag when the front door burst open and a gangly teenage girl in cut-off jeans and sandals raced down the steps and toward the truck. “Blake,” she yelled. “What took you so long?”
Blake barely had time to get out of the truck and throw her arms wide before her little sister was jumping forward to throw her thin arms around her neck.
“I missed you,” the young girl whispered and buried her face in her big sister’s neck.
“I missed you, too, Becky,” Blake whispered back. “I thought about you every single day.”
Then she released Rebecca, clasped her by the upper arms and stepped back. She couldn’t help but smile as she stared down at her grinning sibling. “Hey, Squirt. When did you grow so tall? You look like you’ve put on six inches in the last six weeks.”
