Rocky Mountain Romance

by Lesley Ann McDaniel

  “More than just business, if you ask me.” Courtney’s words dripped with disapproval. “He dated Blair Newman after his first divorce.”

  “Really?” She allowed the weight of that information to settle. “How do you suppose your mother-in-law will feel about this?”

  Courtney scrunched up her face as though the thought gave her a pain. “I don’t know, but if I were Mama Greene, I’d be keeping a close eye on this situation.”

  Mr. Bloom gestured toward the café and Blair looped her arm through his as they started across the street.

  “Come on.” Courtney opened her car door. “They’re heading for the café.”

  Sheila scrambled to grab her purse and to open her own door. “But I thought we were going straight to the office.”

  “Change of plans.” Courtney put a hand on her belly and hoisted her legs out of the car. “We have to keep an eye on things for Mama Greene.”

  By the time the two of them met on the sidewalk in front of the car and looked up the side street where the café was, Mr. Bloom and Blair Newman had been enfolded into the crowd. Courtney took off like a shot.

  “Courtney, wait up.” Sheila hurried, wishing she’d opted for her sneakers this morning instead of her beige Prada wedge sandals, which were cute but weren’t, at the moment, doing her any favors.

  A minute later, Courtney charged purposefully through the door of the Golden Pear with Sheila close behind. Even though Tandy had fed them a breakfast fit for a couple of ranch hands, the rich smell of coffee and baked goods could easily have sidetracked Sheila from their mission. She wavered, with one foot in the line at the counter and a vision of a vanilla latte tempting her sidekick loyalties.

  Blair stood with Travis off to one side of the large room. She looked around, smiling brightly and nodding at whatever Mr. Bloom was telling her.

  Spotting Courtney and Sheila, he waved them over. Somewhat hesitantly, Sheila abandoned her place in line and followed her friend. Further sustenance would have to wait.

  “Blair, I’d like you to meet my assistant, Courtney Greene, and her friend Sheila Macintosh.”

  Blair reached out an elegantly manicured hand to each of them in turn. “It’s lovely to meet both of you.”

  Sheila shook her hand, somewhat riveted by Blair’s beauty. Up close it was easy to see that she was older than she’d appeared from a distance, but there was no trace of the plastic-doll look so common to those who have had “work done.” Her nicely tailored suit was made of a good-quality linen. For a moment, Sheila contemplated how Blair managed to look sophisticated and professional in pink, the one color Sheila herself avoided like trans fats. Somehow it always made her feel more ballerina than businesswoman, but she’d abandon that aversion in a heartbeat if she could pull it off the way Blair did.

  “Welcome to Thornton Springs.” Courtney’s voice sounded uncharacteristically clipped.

  “Thank you. Travis has been telling me about this place ever since he moved here.” Blair turned her red-lipstick-emblazoned smile on Mr. Bloom. “What has it been, Travis, almost two years?”

  “Hard to believe,” he confirmed.

  Courtney pursed her lips with disapproval.

  Mr. Bloom appeared unaware of Courtney’s apprehension as he gestured toward Sheila. “Sheila is a professional restaurant designer from L.A. In fact, she helped with the design of the Golden Pear.”

  “How wonderful.” Blair looked sincerely impressed. “I’d love to get some of your thoughts on camera about your process.”

  “Oh...sure,” Sheila stammered. The idea of appearing on camera fluttered around in her head, not quite landing anywhere in spite of her outward willingness.

  “You can give a plug for your firm.” No doubt accustomed to reading between the lines, Blair seemed to sense her hesitation. “Which one do you work for?”

  “Maples and Associates.”

  “Wonderful. I’ve met Claude Maples. Such a talented man. I’d be more than happy to promote his business on our show.” Blair looked around again. “I can see great potential here.” She looked at Mr. Bloom and put her hand on his arm in a possibly but not necessarily flirtatious manner. “Oh, Travis. You are a genius. Thank you for talking me into coming here.”

  Sheila traded a glance with Courtney, sensing that she’d picked up on Blair’s intimation that Mr. Bloom had done the convincing, not her.

  While Mr. Bloom escorted Blair up to the counter, bypassing the line like a couple of VIPs at Disneyland, Courtney folded her arms as best she could.

  “Did you hear that?” she stage-whispered. “She talks like they’re best friends.”

  “Well, Court. Maybe they are friends. There’s no law against that.”

  Courtney shot her a sideways glance. “If they’re such good friends, why does he never mention her?”

  Just as Sheila was about to point out that he had mentioned her just yesterday, her phone chimed a poorly timed announcement of a text. Grunting, she reached into her purse.

  Courtney eyed her phone. “Everything okay?”

  “Oh...yeah.” Sheila pulled in a breath at the sight of Kevin’s name. She flashed Courtney a quick look that she hoped would communicate her need for a minute of privacy. “I’ll just be a second.”

  Courtney twisted her mouth. “Okay, I can’t give you too much grief. I used to be married to my job, too. Trust me, I’d rather be married to Adam.”

  “Uh-huh.” Not bothering to correct the assumption that this was work related, she read Kevin’s message about a sale he’d just made. Skimming the text, she shoved aside a vague disinterest.

  What was wrong with her? It was great that he was passionate about his work and that he liked to tell her about it. It must just be selfishness on her part to think that he should ask her how her vacation was going before launching into stories about himself.

  Still, shouldn’t he at least ask a question or two? How Courtney was doing, maybe? Or if her handsome brother had unexpectedly made the trip out from Fresno...?

  She stomped down that thought, clearly in need of a strong shot of espresso to set her thinking straight. Of course Kevin wouldn’t think to ask something like that, since he had no idea that Courtney even had a brother or that Sheila might have harbored any hidden hope that...

  Her finger hovered over the pad. What was she thinking? She didn’t harbor any hidden anything with regard to Ben. He was a nonissue. Put in the past where he belonged.

  Best to keep her focus on Kevin. They were a couple now...or almost, anyway. She needed this time to see where they were headed.

  She tapped out what she hoped would come across as an enthusiastic response, then slipped the device back into her purse as she crossed over to the pastry case, where Courtney stood surveying Blair and Mr. Bloom.

  Courtney’s eyes narrowed to slits, and an unexpected insight caught Sheila in its grip. Thank you, Lord, for keeping Courtney’s attention fixed on Blair Newman and not on me.

  It would definitely not make her life any easier to have her best friend catch on that she was fending off a ridiculous attraction to her brother.

  * * *

  Sitting at a table in the bay created by three practically floor-to-ceiling parlor windows, Sheila traced inside a heart-shaped template onto a photo of Courtney and Adam. She pretended to lose herself in the activity even though her awareness of Ben, upstairs painting the baby’s room with his dad, wouldn’t quite leave her alone.

  As she picked up the photo and started to cut on the line she’d drawn, a loud noise followed by an “Ow!” snapped her focus to the arched doorway leading to the foyer.

  Mrs. Jacobs and Mrs. Greene barely flinched, but Courtney looked alarmed. “Mom.” She spoke firmly to get her mother’s attention. “Maybe one of us should go check on Dad and Ben.”

  “I’ll
go in a minute.” Mrs. Jacobs put the finishing touches on a paper cutout crib she’d been carefully crafting. “You know how the two of them are when they’re working on a project.”

  “I know. That’s why I think one of us should check.” Courtney broadened her focus to include Sheila and Mrs. Greene. “My dad gets really creative when left to his own devices.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with a little creativity.” Mrs. Greene gave her signature warm smile as she traced the shape of a baby rattle onto a piece of butter-yellow craft paper.

  “There is when it falls into the wrong hands.” Grabbing one of the chocolate chip cookies her mom had made, Courtney gritted her teeth. “When I was little, my dad decided to paint an Aladdin mural in my room. It wound up looking like something Picasso would have done on a really bad day.”

  “You loved it at the time.” Mrs. Jacobs peered somewhat defensively over her glasses.

  “Only because Dad was so proud of it.” Courtney chuckled. “I’d just hate to think of what he could do with my baby-room ducky theme. He might decide to try his hand at an abstract pond.”

  “Oh, Courtney.” Applying a piece of tape to the back of the crib, her mother shook her head.

  “This is such a cute picture of Courtney and Ben.” Mrs. Greene maneuvered one of the photos on the table to get a better look at it. “How old were they?”

  Angling her head, Mrs. Jacobs made a cooing sound. “I love that one. Courtney was in the little strawberry romper I made for her, so she would have been almost two. And Ben is holding the microscope he’d just gotten for his fourth birthday.”

  “Oh, my gosh.” Courtney laughed and reached for the picture. “I totally forgot about that thing. He used to carry it around with him everywhere.”

  “A microscope?” Sheila tried not to look at it or to dwell on her curiosity over what Ben looked like as a child.

  Oblivious to her reluctance, Courtney held up the photo of two sandy-haired kids, one an adorable little girl and the other a boy with black-rimmed glasses and a cowlick. “Other kids carry around teddy bears or blankets. My goofy brother carried around a microscope. What a nerd.”

  Mrs. Greene tittered. “How long did that phase last?”

  “Phase?” Courtney’s voice lilted with playful derision. “He’s still a nerd as far as we’re concerned.”

  “Now, Courtney. That isn’t nice.” Her mother regarded her from under an arched brow. “He’s just a little introverted.”

  “Call it whatever you want, Mom. He’s still the kid who always had his nose in a science book while you and Dad were watching my soccer games.”

  Sheila bit her lower lip, catching another glimpse of young Ben and fighting the urge to ask when he’d turned from nerd to hunk.

  “Remember his prom night?” Courtney seemed to be on a roll with the brother bashing.

  “No....” Lifting a gaze to the ceiling, her mother considered. “I don’t.”

  “That’s because he didn’t have one.” Courtney turned to Sheila. “He stayed holed up in his room that night because he was totally obsessed with some computer program he was writing.”

  Mrs. Jacobs spoke to Mrs. Greene with a motherly gleam in her eye. “Bob and I are very proud of him.”

  Courtney leaned toward Sheila, as if rallying for support. “He didn’t even have a date at all until after high school.”

  The comment lit a match in Sheila’s stomach. Not until after high school? Really?

  “Now, Courtney,” her mother scolded. “Lots of people don’t date in high school. We think of them as late bloomers.”

  “True.” Courtney giggled. “We’re still waiting for Ben to bloom.” She paused, then shifted gears. “Which reminds me, Mr. Bloom’s producer friend arrived this morning.”

  “Nice segue.” Sheila raised a half smile, fully realizing how concerned Courtney was about leaving Blair alone with Mr. Bloom. She’d practically had to drag Courtney from her reconnaissance maneuvers when they’d finished up at her office earlier this afternoon.

  Courtney flicked her a plea for support as she continued to address Mrs. Greene. “Have you talked to him today?”

  “Yes, just after lunch. He was taking Blair over to get settled at the Elkhorn Inn, so we didn’t talk long.” Her face perked up as if she’d just remembered something. “Oh, girls, before Janessa comes home, we have to show you the beautiful album we bought for her wedding shower.” She scooted back her chair and crossed to the settee, which was piled with bags from the scrapbooking store.

  Courtney exchanged a look with Sheila, then spoke up again. “You know, Mama Greene, with another wedding coming up, people are bound to start asking you about your plans.”

  “My plans?” Mrs. Greene wrinkled her brow as she retook her seat, placing a so-white-it-practically-glowed album on the table.

  “Oh, you know.” Courtney’s interest in the book seemed as contrived as the innocence in her tone. “You and Mr. Bloom.”

  “Travis and I don’t have any plans.” Mrs. Greene let out a small laugh. “We enjoy one another’s company. That’s all there is to it.”

  Mrs. Jacobs riffled through the colorful papers in front of her. “You mean you haven’t even considered remarrying, Elena?”

  “Oh, no.” Mrs. Greene batted off the thought like a pesky fruit fly. “We’ve both been down that road, and neither of us feels the need to make the trip again.”

  “So...” Courtney returned to the picture she’d been trimming. “Does that mean you could see other people?”

  “Sweetheart—” Mrs. Greene closed the wedding book and slipped it back into its bag “—I’m long past that stage of life.”

  “And Mr. Bloom?” A slight quiver in Courtney’s voice betrayed her concern. “Is he past that stage?”

  Suspicion filled Mrs. Greene’s eyes as she sorted through a stack of pictures. “Why the sudden interest?”

  “Oh.” Courtney shrugged. “No reason.” She held another beat. “So you haven’t met Blair yet?”

  “No, but I invited them both over for dinner.”

  “Both of them?” Courtney shifted in her chair, looking uncomfortable.

  “That’s right.” Picking through her assortment of craft scissors, Mrs. Greene chuckled. “You know how men are. They always appreciate a home-cooked meal.”

  “But—” Courtney tossed Sheila a look of mild alarm “—you do know that Blair isn’t—”

  “Oh, look.” Mrs. Greene’s attention flitted to the window as a bronze-colored pickup truck appeared in the distance, kicking up a cloud of dust as it approached. “That’s them now.” She stood and started for the foyer before Courtney could finish informing her of the important fact that would no doubt become obvious within the next few minutes. “I’ve never met a television producer before. This should be fascinating.”

  “In more ways than one.” Speaking under her breath, Courtney put her hands to her temples.

  Mrs. Greene exited the parlor, passing Ben on his way in. Sheila bit her lip and did her best to focus on the photo in her hands, as if the fate of the world rested solely on her cutting exactly along the line she’d drawn.

  “Hey, Courtney.” Ben looked mind-bogglingly adorable in his paint-splotched jeans and T-shirt, which he’d obviously brought with him from home in anticipation of this project. “You might want to go upstairs and take a look at what Dad’s planning to do.”

  “Oh, no. It’s not another mural, is it?” She balled up her fists. “Don’t tell me. Ducks swimming in a pond?”

  “Not exactly ‘swimming.’” One side of his mouth twisted up in amusement. “Try flying. It’s more of a Sistine Chapel effect.”

  “He’s painting the ceiling?” She gave Mrs. Jacobs a pained look. “Mom!”

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart.” Mrs. Jacobs patientl
y set down her scissors and pushed back her chair, obviously used to playing mediator. “I’ll go talk some sense into Michelangelo.”

  As Mrs. Jacobs headed for the stairs, Sheila tried to shift her attention off Ben and back to the window. The pickup had pulled up next to the house, and Mrs. Greene stood at the top of the porch steps waiting for her guests.

  “What do you think she’s going to do?” Sheila asked.

  “If she’s upset, she won’t let on.” Courtney shook her head. “We really should have told her.”

  “What’s going on?” Ben moved around behind their chairs to have a look out the window.

  Sheila’s heart galloped in her chest like a wild horse trying to escape its pen. He had to know how his standing so close affected her. Didn’t he? Her face started to heat and she took in a slow breath, hoping somewhat unrealistically that the movement of air would have a cooling effect on her skin. She forced herself to focus on the drama about to unfold on the other side of the glass.

  Courtney kept her voice low. “Mama Greene is in for a surprise.”

  Ben pulled aside the lace curtain as Mr. Bloom walked around to the passenger side of his truck. “What kind of surprise?”

  Mr. Bloom opened the passenger door, and Blair swung her mile-long legs out of the truck.

  Courtney sighed. “That kind of surprise.”

  Sheila sighed. Not only was Blair Newman gorgeous and elegant in a supermodel kind of way, but she looked exactly like the kind of woman who would date a big-time film director. A pang of concern crossed through her for Mrs. Greene, who stood frozen in position with her back to the window, making it impossible for them to read her expression.

  Blair flashed a friendly smile as she and Mr. Bloom started up the walk.

  “This is terrible.” Courtney moaned. “What if Mr. Bloom is moving on because he thinks Mama Greene isn’t interested?”

  “But she says she isn’t.” Sheila spoke softly, well aware that Ben could hear every word.

  Courtney gave her a look. “That’s what she says, but I don’t think that’s how she really feels.”