Take My Hand

by Missouri Vaun

  “Now doesn’t that taste refreshing?” crooned Connie.

  “Mmm.” All River could do was faux smile and nod as she pretended to take tiny sips.

  “Thank you, Connie,” Grace said. “You’ve been real helpful. I’ll have my deputy come inside when she’s done here and get your statement and insurance information. You can get back to your customers in the meantime.” She motioned for the other bystanders to move away. “Nothing else to see here, folks.”

  “Connie believes in having a little tea with her sugar,” Trip said, whispering as the woman being gently maligned hurried back into the shop. She set the only surviving member of the fake deer family—the buck with the broken antler—next to River and patted it on the back. “Have a seat. You look a little pale.”

  River eyed the plastic statue skeptically, but was careful not to poke her good eye with the remaining antler as she sat. She did feel a bit faint. Maybe it was the glucose content of the sweet tea. Her eyes were drawn again to Clay Cahill who stood silently studying her with a look that was making her heart rate twitter like the wings of a butterfly.

  “Clay, this is River Hemsworth. She’s having a bit of car trouble.” Grace looked up from her paperwork and pointed toward the crumpled Mercedes. “River, this is Clay. She’ll take care of you as soon as we finish the report.” She checked her watch. “Where the heck is my officer?”

  “Clay can take care of her car,” Trip said, squatting in front of River and wrapping her fingers around River’s wrist. “I’ll be happy to escort River to her destination—just in case she has a delayed reaction to this terrible accident and needs medical attention. Your heart rate is a bit elevated.”

  River shook her head and withdrew her wrist from the doctor’s grip and took another sip of the sugary tea. “I’m fine. Really. But I appreciate your help, Dr. Beaumont.”

  Clay snorted.

  “Trip might have played doctor with a few women around town,” Clay said, “But she’s actually our local veterinarian.”

  River choked as she swallowed her mouthful of tea. She could blame it on the news that she was being examined by an animal doctor, but it was more likely Clay’s whiskey-smooth drawl that sent shivers down her spine. Clay had a thoughtfully sensitive air about her as she studied River, and she wondered if Clay’s sheer sex appeal caused an inordinately high number of incidents that required tow truck assistance. As she felt the heat of Clay’s gaze trace the outlines of her body, she presumed that was probably the case.

  River stood, looking from Trip to Clay and then back to Trip. She smiled. “Thank you for your assistance, Trip, but I’m fine. I should go with Clay to make the necessary arrangements to have my car repaired.”

  Clay didn’t take her eyes off River as she pulled a bandanna from her back pocket and wiped her hands. It wasn’t really that they were dirty, but she needed something to do, some task. River was watching her, and it made her nervous for some reason. She’d given River an up-and-down look when she first arrived so it was probably her fault that River was staring back.

  River was beautiful. She was wearing a tailored, sleeveless dress that hugged every curve, and she had a few. It wasn’t hard to imagine the yoga-fit, subtly curvaceous body under the dress. River had lively blue eyes, Clay might even describe them as bright, and long straight brown hair that just barely brushed her shoulders. She had a patrician elegance, despite the fact that she was barefoot. Clay tabled the question about shoes for later.

  “Were you trying to make a quick getaway when the Clip ’n Curl cut you off?” Clay tipped her head in the direction of the car.

  “Excuse me?”

  “That’s Eve Gardner’s car.” Clay recognized the vintage Mercedes.

  “Eve was my aunt.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, my condolences.” Clay regretted making the joke.

  “Eve was a fine woman.” Trip cleared her throat. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “The best,” Grace added.

  “Thank you.” It seemed obvious these three women knew her aunt better than she did. Exposed as an outsider, a twinge of uncertainty knotted in her stomach for a moment and then passed.

  “Well, I need to get these horses home and out of that hot trailer. River, I look forward to meeting you again under better circumstances.” Trip offered a little salute to Grace and then turned and headed toward her truck.

  “Catch you later, Trip.” Clay casually waved before turning her attention back to River. “Let’s get your things out of the car while we wait for the accident report.”

  “Things?” River looked confused.

  “Well, I assume at some point that dress came with shoes.”

  River looked down. She seemed surprised to be barefoot.

  “Yes, my shoes. I can’t drive in heels so I took them off.” She shook her head, smiling as if she’d amused herself. “I’ll collect them and get my purse. I also have a small bag in the trunk.”

  Clay followed River to the open door of the car. She stood behind River with one hand on the doorframe and another on the roof as River bent over to retrieve her shoes from the far side of the car. It would have been easier to get them via the passenger side door, but River was probably still in a bit of shock and not thinking clearly. Clay wasn’t complaining; she was enjoying the view of the dress stretched tightly over River’s shapely ass.

  The car had been in the sun this whole time, and Clay felt heat pulsing around her in waves from inside the car as she waited. River pulled back quickly and bumped her butt against Clay’s crotch. Clay hadn’t realized she was standing so close. She could easily imagine the salacious image they must’ve just presented to the crowd of onlookers from the Clip ’n Curl.

  She quickly stepped back to give River room. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to crowd you.”

  The thought of crowding River was definitely appealing, tantalizing even, but not on the lawn surrounded by debris from a herd of maimed fake deer or an audience of overly curious women in curlers.

  Chapter Three

  Clay attached the Mercedes to tow cables while one of Grace’s officers spoke with River. Clay leaned against the truck cab in the shade. She studied River from a distance. Even though she’d retrieved her heels from the car, she still hadn’t put them on. She stood barefoot next to Grace’s official looking understudy, her shoes dangled loosely from her fingers. Clay hadn’t really gotten to know Pine Cone’s newest deputy, Jamie Grant, but from a distance, she was the picture of professionalism.

  Clay placed River’s suitcase behind the cab, leaned against the truck, and watched Officer Grant talk with River. She wondered exactly how close River had been to her aunt. Clay hadn’t seen River at the funeral. In fact, most of those in attendance were locals, Eve’s chosen family as opposed to blood relations. Maybe there was some backstory Eve hadn’t shared. Clay had known Eve Gardner to be a generous but private person. Although as she searched her memory she did have a vague recollection that Eve had mentioned having a niece and a nephew from up north somewhere.

  Clay watched Deputy Grant tuck her pen into her shirt pocket, then hand River a business card. She accepted the card with a tip of the deputy’s hat, then turned toward where Clay waited. Their gazes locked with an intensity that sucked the breath from Clay’s lungs. Time and motion slowed as a light breeze lifted wisps of River’s rich brown hair and her dress stretched across toned thighs with each easy, long stride. She was the picture of a barefoot runway model crossing the lush lawn.

  Clay shifted her stance and looked away, then walked around the cab to open the door for River. Climbing in would require a bit of maneuvering to overcome some serious elevation.

  “Use the running board to get in.” Clay offered her hand to River.

  “I think I know how to climb into a truck. I didn’t hit my head that hard.”

  “Sorry, no offense meant.”

  River made an attempt without Clay’s assistance, but the step was a bit high so she dropped back to the grass, an
d on the second attempt, put her hand in Clay’s. Clay looked at their joined hands, surprised by the warm sensation. River hesitated, meeting Clay’s gaze for an instant, and then launched herself up into the truck. Clay walked around to the driver’s side, clenching and unclenching her hand to dispel the tingling sensation that shot up her arm as she held River’s hand in hers. That was weird. She shook it off and climbed into the seat with one powerful lunge from the running board.

  “Are you staying at the B and B?” Clay put the truck in gear.

  “How did you know?”

  “There’s really only one decent place in town to stay.” Clay pulled away from the grassy lawn of the Clip ’n Curl and eased out onto the paved road.

  “I’ll probably stay at my aunt’s place if this takes more than a couple of days, but in the meantime, I thought it’d be easier to stay at the B and B tonight.”

  “Well, the car will likely take more than a couple of days.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” River was rummaging in her oversized handbag with a frown on her face. “I have a meeting with the Realtor tomorrow about selling the gallery.”

  “You’re selling Miss Eve’s gallery? What, you don’t like art?” Clay glanced at River. The powerful glare River shot her from the other side of the bench seat sent warm tendrils through her gut.

  “I love art.” River gave up finding whatever she’d been looking for and set her purse aside. “I own a gallery in New York.”

  The warm tendrils crystallized into fingers of ice. Clay clenched the steering wheel and gritted her teeth to keep from blurting out some expletive under her breath. River owned an art gallery in New York. Of course she did. Look at her. Look at the way she was dressed, the air of elegant superiority hovering around her. Clay thought she’d left the cutthroat New York art world behind and now she had someone from it sitting right next to her. This was exactly why she’d come back to Pine Cone, to get away from people like River. People not to be trusted with anything as intimate or personal as your art. Clay had learned this lesson the hard way, and she wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

  “I’m sure the Realtor will be happy to help you unload the place.”

  River regarded Clay, whose mood had shifted so fast she’d almost given River whiplash. Such a chill crept over from Clay that she could have sworn a snowdrift had just blown through the driver’s side window and piled onto the bench seat between them. She’d obviously said something that bothered Clay, but they’d hardly talked at all so she couldn’t imagine what it might have been.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Beating around the bush wasn’t River’s style.

  “No.”

  “You just seem…upset.”

  “I’m not.”

  All evidence to the contrary.

  Not more than a few minutes later, Clay eased off the road but didn’t pull into the small parking area adjacent to the B and B. When she engaged the truck’s parking brake, it made a loud wheezing sound.

  “I’ll get your bag.” Clay opened the door without making eye contact.

  River did her best to gracefully dismount from the high truck seat, then turned to take in the scene. The front of the quaint two-story house was adorned with a large wraparound porch. The exterior was pale yellow with forest green shutters and a neatly landscaped yard. It felt welcoming. Picturesque, that was the word River would have chosen to describe the B and B.

  “I need your signature and phone number.” Clay held a clipboard out to River with one hand as she placed the rolling bag on the sidewalk with the other. “I’ll call when I have an estimate on repairs.”

  “If it’s even worth repairing. I know it’s an older car.” She took the paperwork and wrote down her contact info and signed the form. She could have sworn they’d had a moment earlier. Some sort of connection. There’d been warmth in Clay’s eyes when they’d first spoken under the old maple. And a few minutes ago when Clay helped her into the truck, well, she’d felt a spark when they touched. And now Clay was acting as if she couldn’t get rid of River fast enough. She’d obviously misread the signals. Whatever. She wasn’t going to be in town long enough to start something anyway. Clay took the clipboard once she was finished.

  “Thank you.” River tried for neutral, but she couldn’t help feeling just a tiny bit disappointed to be so easily dismissed.

  “You’re welcome. Enjoy your stay.” Clay strode back to the truck and pulled away. She’d said the words, but River was pretty sure she hadn’t meant them. She lingered for a few minutes watching the tow truck shrink into the distance before she turned and walked up the steps to the broad shaded front porch.

  The oak door creaked when she opened it. The foyer was basically a small open space bounded on one side by a staircase. Double doors led off in two directions from the main entryway. One door led to a sitting room with a fireplace, the other into a small dining area. A large antique desk backed up against the stairs, facing the front door. No one was around, and River considered ringing the bell, but she didn’t want to act like the impatient Northerner everyone was surely assuming she was. Was that why Clay had suddenly given her the cold shoulder? Was it because she’d said she was from New York?

  Footsteps on the hardwood floor caught her attention.

  “Hello there! I hope you haven’t been waiting long. I swear I just stepped away from the desk for a red-hot minute and here you are!” The woman extended her hand to River. “I’m Mary Jane, the manager. Everyone calls me MJ. You must be Ms. Hemsworth from New York.”

  “Please, call me River. I hope I’m not checking in too early. I had a bit of car trouble so I’m here sooner than expected.”

  MJ’s grip was firm, her gaze candid and playful. “Is that how you got that lump over your eye?”

  River lightly touched the swollen spot with her fingertips. “Yes, does it look bad?” She hadn’t seen it in a mirror yet.

  “It’s not bad. I’ll get you an ice pack for it, and then I bet you’ll hardly notice it by morning. It’s probably good that your room is all ready for you. You can put your feet up while you ice that noggin.” MJ shuffled some papers on the desktop and uncovered a key attached to a brass keychain in the shape of a pinecone. “Here it is. I’ll just show you to your room. It’s on the second floor. I hope that’s okay for you. Some people don’t like stairs, but you seem to be in quite good shape so I’m sure you won’t mind. Are you one of those yoga folks? You look like you do yoga.”

  Welcome to small town America, where everyone likes to know everything about everybody. “No, I’m not really into yoga.”

  “Well, you look real fit, that’s all I meant. If I was twenty years younger I might just try it myself. Get myself signed up with one of those sexy male instructors who look good in tight stretchy pants. I’m sure you know what I mean.”

  River stifled a laugh. “I do know what you mean.” Of course, River was picturing her ex-girlfriend in tight yoga pants, not some sensitive thirtysomething guy with a man bun.

  River followed a few steps behind. She could see that getting a chance to speak while MJ was talking might be a challenge. MJ was probably close to seventy, but could easily pass for fifty. She was petite with a slender build and hair that had probably been dark, but was now streaked with gray. Her eyes danced as she talked. River got the distinct impression that not much got past the feisty manager of the B and B.

  Chapter Four

  “That looks like Eve Gardner’s car.” Clay’s grandpa watched from the open garage bay door as she offloaded the crunched Mercedes. Jed Cahill was eighty-four going on sixty, or so he thought. He rarely acted his age, especially when an attractive woman was nearby. Ever since her grandmother’s passing, he’d had women of a certain mature age lining up to bring him casseroles and baked pies. He accepted every one of them with a smile and a twinkle in his eye.

  “It is Miss Eve’s car.” The winch whined as the chain released slowly, allowing the car to roll backward. “It seems she
left it to her niece who drove it right into the southeast corner of Connie’s salon.”

  “The Clip ’n Curl?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “What’s her name? Did she get hurt?”

  “Her name is River, and no, she’s fine.”

  “River? That’s an odd name.” He cocked his head. “She must be pretty.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Someone gave her that name because it meant something to them. It just makes me think she’d be pretty to carry an unusual name like that.” He paused. “Is she?”

  “Is she what?”

  “Pretty.”

  “I suppose, but I didn’t really notice.” Clay actually thought River might be the prettiest girl she’d ever seen. Just visualizing her made Clay’s heart all fluttery. And River was an unusual name, but somehow Clay thought it fit.

  “I didn’t even know Eve had a niece. How the hell did she hit the Clip ’n Curl?”

  “She swerved to avoid rear-ending Trip’s horse trailer.”

  “Well, I’ll be.” He helped her reset the sling once the car was on the ground. “So, are you gonna ask her out?”

  “Who?”

  “River.”

  “Why would I do that?” Clay was surprised he’d even suggest it. Although, he was very open-minded for a member of his generation. Maybe it had something to do with having such a close relationship with his lesbian granddaughter.

  “Because she’s new in town, because she’s here to settle Miss Eve’s affairs.” He took a breath and leaned against the truck. “And just maybe she’d welcome a friendly shoulder to lean on.”

  Clay shook her head. “Well, it’s not gonna be mine.”

  “Why? I thought you said she was pretty.”

  “I did.” She stopped fussing with the winch hooks and turned to face him. “I know you think all it takes to light a fire is a pretty face and a home-cooked meal, but I’m not like you.” She considered telling him that River owned a gallery in New York, but she didn’t want to rehash things right now with him. Another lecture about not giving up as an artist was the last thing she wanted to hear.