Big Sky Cowboy

by Jennifer Mikels

  Tessa brought herself to why they were really together, why they were in the library. “Do you think Harriet was like that?”

  “Molly had to learn it somewhere. My aunt came across as stiff. She wasn’t like my mother. You know how she is.” Unexpectedly his fingers skimmed the nape of her neck. “She’ll talk to a tree. Harriet was the opposite. When I was home, she didn’t seem too interested in getting together. I don’t push.”

  Tessa cast a glance around, saw eyes widen because he was touching her and drew back to place distance between them. “You don’t?” She already knew he had a relentless streak. “I didn’t think you ever take no for an answer.”

  “It’s one of my irresistible flaws.”

  She couldn’t help it—she laughed. Heads swung toward her. Tessa slammed a hand over her mouth and fought not to giggle harder. “We’re going to get kicked out,” she whispered, louder than she intended. She hadn’t meant to sit so long with him, but he effortlessly did something that no other man had—he made her feel comfortable. He made her forget she was different. She pushed back her chair. “I’d better get busy.”

  Inching her way down an aisle, she touched the spines of several books about crafts before moving to the aisle containing books about art and music.

  “Can I talk or will that bother you?” Colby asked, standing behind her.

  She whispered, “You can talk.”

  He peered over her shoulder. “It makes sense that she touched every book in here.”

  She took another second, then looked at him. “That’s what I thought.” Many hands appeared. Resisting any response to them, Tessa moved on. The fiction section stretched along a side and back wall. She wandered along, touched the books by Austen, Brontë, Caldwell, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Michener, Steinbeck. Nothing. “What did she like to read? Do you know?”

  Colby stopped with her in front of books about calligraphy. “She was a history buff. My mom sent her a book about Gettysburg.”

  She looked past him, saw the heads of two elderly women angled close with their whispering. “Let’s go upstairs then.” For privacy, teenagers gathered at the tables on the second floor. The couples were more interested in each other than anyone else.

  Tessa spent a few minutes running fingertips over several Civil War publications. Remembering Colby’s words, she pulled out a large gray book filled with pages of photographs of officers and soldiers who’d served under Grant and Lee. So many feelings. Too many faces. She couldn’t focus. “This isn’t going well, Colby.”

  “Hey, it was a thought. Why don’t we try Harriet’s desk,” he suggested.

  Together, they descended the stairs and headed toward the small office in a corner of the room. “Go in,” Colby said. “I’ll talk to Molly about us checking the desk.” Tessa was moving behind the large oak desk when he came in.

  “It’s okay with her.”

  Tessa nudged back the chair and opened a drawer. Rubber bands, paper clips, tacks were compartmentalized in a plastic tray. Pencils all of the same length were lined up in one slot of the pencil container. The other held pens. Harriet had been neat, almost obsessively so, Tessa thought, noticing that Harriet had grouped the tacks by colors. Tessa had hoped that touching Harriet’s things would trigger her to see something Harriet had experienced. “I’m getting nothing.”

  “Sit in her chair.”

  Tessa started to protest. “I can’t do that. People will be upset.”

  “Sit.” Gently he pressed a hand on her shoulder.

  Sitting, she waited to feel a sense of the woman who used the chair every day for years. No feeling came. Why? Why was she being blocked? Looking down, Tessa saw a pen, a gold-plated one, and picked it up. The word Harriet was inscribed on it in cursive lettering. Had a friend, someone close given it to her? A colleague would have chosen the full name, Harriet Martel, and…

  She unpinned her hair, let it hang loose, drape her shoulders. Smiling, she reached out with bare arms to the man bending over her. She didn’t want to wait. Hurry, she wanted to yell. She pulled him down to her, felt his heat, the hardness of him against her. Callused, his hand moved up her ribs, cupped her breast. More heat. His mouth now. On her nipple, drawing it into his mouth, sucking it, lapping at it with his tongue. Sensation sprinted through her. All day she’d waited for him. She couldn’t get enough of him. Love me. Please love me. She wouldn’t say the words, wouldn’t beg him. But she couldn’t get enough of him. Take me. Take me. “Take me,” she whispered and opened her legs, welcomed the feel of the hard shaft inside her.

  Tessa broke away. Her breathing quick, she swallowed against a dry mouth. With fingertips she touched the perspiration above her upper lip. She hadn’t wanted to feel more of their passion. She couldn’t see his face. All she received was an image of his bare back, of brown hair. “The man who touched this was Harriet’s lover,” she said, holding out the pen to Colby. “He might have given it to her.”

  “Her killer? Warren?”

  Tessa shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said, louder than she’d planned, and quickly lowered her voice. “They were making love.”

  “You saw that?” he asked, looking incredulous.

  “And felt it.” She avoided looking at him. He didn’t believe in a sixth sense or second sight.

  “What did he look like?”

  She wished she could give him a description. “I don’t know. The man was faceless to me. I don’t have any clue as to his identity.” She sat for another moment. There was something. The desk hid something. But what? She looked down again, studied Harriet’s things. There was nothing here. Somewhere else.

  The buzz of voices reached her. Tessa looked through the office doorway to the library checkout counter. During the moment too much of Harriet’s emotions filled her, she’d drawn attention to herself.

  “Want to leave?” Colby questioned.

  She stood and pushed in the chair. She was so tired. “Yes. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more.” She’d failed just as he’d expected, hadn’t she?

  Eyes stayed on them as they walked out of the office toward the exit and the double glass doors. He was silent while they strolled toward the store. She could imagine his thoughts. She’d acted odd. It could get worse. If he viewed her as out of step with him after that mild vision, what would he think if she had a full-blown one? Now was as good a time as any to end this. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to help. I warned you that might happen.”

  “We’re not done.”

  Tessa slowed her stride on the stairs to Mystic Treasures and slanted a look at him.

  His hand cupped her elbow, halting her. “We can keep trying.”

  A stubborn man, she mused, feeling both admiration and annoyance. When did he give up? Maybe he wouldn’t until he had answers.

  She climbed the rest of the stairs. But before she could step inside, he caught her arm. He stood practically on top of her. It was insane not to move, wasn’t it? Of course, it was.

  But she remained rooted to the spot, raising her face to his. His eyes darkened before his mouth met hers. Tessa closed her eyes. She didn’t need to see. She felt his smiling lips on her cheek. Pleasure blossomed within her.

  She captured to memory the clean, soapy smell of him, the soothing touch of his hand on her hair at the back of her head. Her mind emptied. A pang of longing slithered through her. She slid her hands from his waist to his back while her tongue responded to his.

  As he tangled his fingers in her hair, she strained against him to absorb the touch of the body supporting her, the strength, the muscles, the heat of him. The sweet play of his lips, the moist heat of his tongue demanded response and made her every denial sound like a lie. Pliant, willing, she let senses take over. Feel. That’s all that mattered. She wanted to be swept away, but what if love came, confused everything?

  She struggled to draw back. How could she? Oh, she had to, didn’t she? This would never work. How dumb she was. She couldn’t keep doing this. Another w
oman existed. For all she knew, he might still be in love with Diana.

  Struggling with herself, she turned her mouth from his, but he held her tightly to him. She didn’t resist. She needed his steadiness to muddle her way from the excitement pumping through her. If he kissed her again, every sensible thought she possessed would flee. “Colby.” His name was spoken on a ragged breath.

  “It’s not fair,” he said in a voice that sounded rough.

  Was it possible she’d made him feel as if the earth had rocked? That’s how she’d felt. “What isn’t?”

  Feather light, he kissed one corner and then the other of her mouth. “How wonderful you taste.”

  Tessa drew an uneven breath. You take my breath away. He made her senseless. What other excuse did she have for standing in the doorway, in the light of the shop for anyone wandering by to see? Fine job she was doing of being inconspicuous. “I have to go in.” She gestured over her shoulder and saw a beaming Marla behind the counter.

  “Why?”

  A quiet challenge stretched between them. “Because I don’t know what I want,” Tessa said honestly.

  With reluctance, he released her. Before she turned, he touched her chin, forced her eyes to meet his. “I do,” he said so softly that the words came out whispered. “I want you.”

  She wanted him, too. He had no idea how much. Tessa hurried inside. No one had ever caused such turmoil in her life before.

  A customer, a regular who lived her life by the zodiac and the position of the stars, gave Tessa a knowing grin. Tessa was in no mood to combat Marla or the woman’s intentions, which might include singing Colby Holmes’s praises. The customer passed, still grinning, and trailed Colby down the stairs. Mentally Tessa moaned. She’d be the number-one topic for the gossips in the morning. “You can leave, Marla.”

  “Okay,” she said too brightly and snatched her oversize shoulder bag from the cabinet behind the counter. “Oh.” She stopped at the doorway and pivoted. “I forgot. You got more flowers. The box is on your desk.” A speculative smile came to her face. “Someone is trying to make an impression.”

  Tessa merely smiled. It was better no one knew the flowers weren’t being sent as a token of affection. She waited until she was alone before she twisted to look at the long white box. Drawing a deep breath, with dread, she crossed the room. For a long moment she stared at the box, then hurriedly she slid the ribbon off and lifted the lid. Whoever was sending the dead flowers better try something new. This wasn’t working anymore. She smashed the lid back on the box.

  Suddenly exhausted, she climbed the inside staircase to her second-floor quarters. She was tired, tired of the scare tactics, tired of fighting herself whenever she was with Colby. She couldn’t deny that desire crackled in the air between them. She couldn’t deny a longing to be with him. But there was so much risk involved.

  Filled with uncertainty, she opened the door to her living quarters. She flicked on a light and stepped into the living room. In midstride, she froze as panic swept through her.

  On an end table was another white florist’s box.

  Chapter Seven

  Colby hadn’t been ready to call it a night. A sliver of moon peeked out from behind a fast-moving cloud. They needed rain. Instead the sky lit with lightning. He’d belonged to the volunteer fire department since he’d turned seventeen. Whenever he returned to town from competing, he was on call. That might come any day. The storm season had started a few weeks ago. The woods were dry—zero humidity, high temperatures—danger existed.

  He reached his truck but didn’t climb in. He needed to think. Nothing made sense to him these days. He wasn’t a man easily enchanted. He was the one who usually charmed, but honest to the core, he knew Tessa was inching her way under his skin.

  Was that why he was worried about her? By going to the library, by trying to see something, she’d put herself up for ridicule. He knew a few people who’d say that was her fault. She was the one who made outlandish claims that she could see what wasn’t visible.

  What had happened today? When she’d held the pen, he’d seen the look of a woman seduced come over her face. Glazed, her eyes had looked beyond him, beyond the walls of Harriet’s office. She’d said that she’d seen—felt—Harriet’s passion with her lover. Was that really possible?

  None of this made sense, not the kind of sense he understood. A day, an hour ago, he wouldn’t have believed she’d felt anything, but now protective instincts rose within him. If necessary he’d defend her.

  But did he believe her? Damn, he didn’t know. Was he really supposed to believe she saw some faceless man? With a look up, he stopped. At some moment, he’d turned, and stood now in front of Mystic Treasures. Tessa had closed the store for the night. A light shone in a second-floor window.

  Colby went around the house and climbed the back stairs of the renovated Victorian. From the first landing, he saw the door—open. Uneasiness skittered up his spine. He scaled the steps two at a time, found her standing with her back against a wall. She looked pale, her eyes wide. She looked frightened. “Tessa.”

  Only her head moved. She stared at him, but a long moment passed before her eyes focused. “Colby.” She said his name again when he wrapped his arms around her.

  Against his body, her slim one trembled. “What happened?” he asked.

  “Someone broke in.” She swayed into him, pressed her cheek against his jaw. “Was here.”

  He felt her shudder. “You aren’t hurt?”

  “No.” But she clung to him as if suddenly weak-kneed. “No one was here.”

  When he touched her chin, she raised her face to him. “Was anything taken?”

  “No. Left,” she said in a voice that still sounded shaky. “Something was left.” She turned, pointed toward the florist’s box. “It’s the second one today. Another one came to the store. Then when I came up here, I found that one.”

  “Did you call the sheriff’s office?”

  “I didn’t. What would I say? Nothing was taken.”

  “Tessa, that doesn’t matter. Call him.”

  Dave Reingard showed up within a few minutes. “You’re sure you weren’t hurt?”

  “No, I’m not.” Tessa tried to relax and leaned back on the beige sofa. Staying in the crook of Colby’s arm, she hugged a pumpkin-colored pillow to her chest. She didn’t like someone else trying to control her life. In the past, she’d been unwelcome, shunned, ridiculed by some, but never had she been threatened. Most people believed in her or were indifferent to her. Had she done something to scare Harriet’s killer? What had she done?

  The sheriff seemed to have a similar thought. “Tessa, I know you’ve been helping Colby.”

  She tried a smile. But for some reason, she felt annoyed as he bent his head to open a pistachio nut. Someone’s scaring me. Pay attention. The criticism wasn’t fair, but myriad emotions teetered close to the surface.

  “Tessa.” Colby squeezed a hand on her shoulder. “Dave asked if you’d had any visions about the flowers.”

  She was ashamed to admit she’d avoided touching the flowers, had blocked images, fearful of what hurtful feelings she might have. “No.” When had she become such a coward? she wondered.

  “Since there was no actual threat—” Dave shrugged a shoulder. “There isn’t much I can do.”

  Tessa sent Colby an I-told-you-so look.

  “I’ll write up a report, but I can’t do much else.” Before leaving them, he offered an assurance that he’d drive by often.

  Colby swore as the door shut behind Dave. “Well, there’s something we can do.”

  Tessa rounded a look at him. She’d schooled herself to ignore unpleasant experiences, but this one was different. “This might be the prank of someone who wants my store closed.”

  He acted deaf. “This isn’t safe, Tessa.”

  He wasn’t helping. Hadn’t she wrestled with initial shivers of fear ever since she’d walked in, seen the box? “I’m not scared.”

  “
I am for you.”

  Other than her mother, had anyone ever said anything so caring to her before?

  “Come home with me. Stay with me until we know who’s doing this.”

  His offer stunned her.

  “Let me be your friend. No strings,” he assured.

  “I can’t change my life.”

  “You can be careful,” he said firmly. “Be careful with me.” He grabbed her arms. “At least stay at the ranch with me for a few days until we get locks on these doors.” Soothingly he ran his thumbs over her arms. “And let’s find out who’s doing this.”

  He’d scared her good this time. She wouldn’t have called the sheriff’s department if she hadn’t been. That’s what he’d wanted. She’d stop messing around in what wasn’t her business. He couldn’t take any chances that she might be able to do some hocus-pocus garbage, might really see him.

  Tessa rested her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. She listened to the hum of the engine, was aware of each bump in the road. It felt so good to lean on someone after being alone for so many years.

  She’d always been strong. Hadn’t she stood alone at seventeen when her mother had died? She’d been grief-stricken. The one person in the world who’d cared about her, who’d loved her, who’d understood her was gone. After the disappointment with Seth, she’d begun to accept a life alone—until Colby.

  “Are you sleeping?”

  She opened her eyes as Colby slowed the truck. “Are we at the ranch?”

  “We’re here.”

  She wished it was daylight, that she could see more of the place he called home than the silhouettes of trees and a corral fence. As he negotiated the truck onto a gravel drive, she got impressions. Mountains in the distance, outbuildings, a stable, a two-story, light-colored farmhouse surrounded by tall shade-bearing trees. She’d see more in the morning. Stepping out of his truck, she was greeted by the sound of horses and animal smells on the night air.