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Behind Closed Doors
Debbi Rawlins


This cowboy's ready to ride!Beth Wilson has clearly lost her mind. What sane woman ditches a successful career so she can move to Montana and renovate a run-down boardinghouse? But when her much-needed building supplies are sent to reclusive rancher Nathan Landers-every girl's naughty cowboy fantasy-Beth is set for a showdown! Nathan just wants to run his ranch in peace, but Beth's determination-and gorgeous long legs-are a serious distraction. Feeding the local rumor mill is more than he can handle, though. So the only way to indulge in a deliciously hot little tryst is to ensure that no one ever suspects. But in the tiny town of Blackfoot Falls, Montana, there's no such thing as a secret… .







This cowboy’s ready to ride!

Beth Wilson has clearly lost her mind. What sane woman ditches a successful career so she can move to Montana and renovate a run-down boardinghouse? But when her much-needed building supplies are sent to reclusive rancher Nathan Landers—every girl’s naughty cowboy fantasy—Beth is set for a showdown!

Nathan just wants to run his ranch in peace, but Beth’s determination—and gorgeous long legs—are a serious distraction. Feeding the local rumor mill is more than he can handle, though. So the only way to indulge in a deliciously hot little tryst is to ensure that no one ever suspects. But in the tiny town of Blackfoot Falls, Montana, there’s no such thing as a secret….







Dear Reader (#ulink_97d649bc-3728-5f57-bbd9-23f33ba4c8b4),

What is it about a cowboy that appeals to so many women? Is it their pioneering spirit? Their quiet strength and determination? Or maybe John Wayne movies convinced us the cowboy represents honor and nobility. Of course, the rugged good looks of a man in snug worn jeans, cowboy boots and a Stetson sure don’t hurt.

I live in rural Utah surrounded by a bunch of ranches. Mail isn’t delivered out here. I have to go into town to pick it up once a week. Between the post office and the small market where I shop, I’m bound to see a cowboy or two. We might say hello to each other, or he’ll give me a nod and I’ll give him a smile. I honestly don’t always remember a face—it’s the cowboy image that lingers in my mind.

Nathan Landers, the hero in this book, is a rancher. He grew up on the family ranch and knew early on that ranching was what he wanted to do with his life. Unfortunately, his dogged pursuit of building his own place cost him a wife and potential family.

He’s a damn good cowboy and businessman, no one would question that. But it’s Beth Wilson who teaches him how to be a hero, and a man that a woman can depend on.

Best wishes!

Debbi Rawlins


Behind Closed Doors

Debbi Rawlins




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#ulink_542942c3-4217-510b-bbaa-63c36382adb1)

DEBBI RAWLINS grew up in the country with no fast-food drive-throughs or nearby neighbors, so one might think as a kid she’d be dazzled by the bright lights of the city, the allure of the unfamiliar. Not so. She loved Westerns in movies and books, and her first crush was on a cowboy—okay, he was an actor in the role of a cowboy, but she was only eleven, so it counts. It was in Houston, Texas, where she first started writing for Harlequin, and now, more than fifty books later, she has her own ranch…of sorts. Instead of horses, she has four dogs, five cats, a trio of goats and free-range cattle keeping her on her toes on a few acres in gorgeous rural Utah. And of course, the deer and elk are always welcome.


With huge thanks to my editor, Laura Barth, a terrific team player who understands the big picture.


Contents

Cover (#ue52c0abb-14b5-5c64-9499-a758c87715dc)

Back Cover Text (#u8db7cdac-6f4b-579e-8970-e6a91ec49c03)

Dear Reader (#u5c300411-27d2-5818-935b-3db7131d21f5)

Title Page (#u70d25362-7ce2-51b7-9126-110b0d9ee602)

About the Author (#ub8ffbace-cae7-56e2-bc55-a504cdc5a1f4)

Dedication (#ua999a067-e478-537d-9740-43584098e17b)

Chapter 1 (#u97f19168-4b3d-58dc-bf8f-39e608316ff6)

Chapter 2 (#u5a5bf1b0-a91e-59f8-94dd-6fcdbd208254)

Chapter 3 (#u09211d64-d2fc-55be-97d8-3a0c50f05591)

Chapter 4 (#u3966b160-f036-538a-8b5e-dd8e8b41c6ea)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


1 (#ulink_81715166-a0bd-54f5-8633-ec1e3747690a)

“WELL, YES, MR. JORGENSON,” Bethany Wilson said as she kicked the stupid broken door propped up against the stupid wall. “Of course I’m upset. You gave—” she kicked it again, making sure her voice was modulated at a pleasant pitch “—away—” one more kick, hard enough to crack the center panel “—my lumber.”

Her chin dropped to her chest when the older man went into his long monotone spiel again. Verbatim.

Amazing. Yet he couldn’t remember that she’d placed her order first. The day before Nathan what’s-his-name placed his. Though he was obviously a preferred customer at the local hardware store because he now had possession of her desperately needed order.

“When’s the next shipment due?” she asked, cutting in.

His hesitation either meant bad news or he was miffed at the interruption. Or, more likely, he was distracted by one of his regular customers. Beth didn’t even rank. Having moved to town only three months ago, she’d been relegated so far to the back of the line she might as well be sitting two states over.

“Let’s see,” he drawled in his slow, creaky voice. “I suppose I could get you something by Friday.”

“Friday? As in four days from now?”

“I believe that’s what I just said, young lady.”

“Come on, Mr. Jorgenson. This is the second time I’ve had to wait for materials that you—”

“Keep your britches on, Clyde, I’ll be with you in a minute.” He was obviously holding the receiver away to speak to a customer. Probably wasn’t even listening to her. “Now, what’s that you were saying?”

Beth sighed. What was the point? Complaining wouldn’t get him to move any quicker. Montana was beautiful this far north, but a bit isolated. If the hardware store’s next delivery wasn’t until the end of the week, there was nothing she could do about it. “Fine. Friday. If anything changes, please let me know.”

“You betcha.” His dentures clacked. “Have yourself a fine day.”

Beth calmly disconnected the call, then dropped the phone on her makeshift plywood desk. That was the trouble with cell phones. You couldn’t slam them. Pushing her fingers through her tangled hair, she winced at the tugs on her scalp. God, she used to be so good at getting people to do what she wanted.

Not here, though. Not in Blackfoot Falls.

She could run naked down Main Street and maybe make the headline of the Salina Gazette. Oh, she’d be juicy gossip fodder for weeks and have to suffer indignant glares from the women shopping at the Food Mart. But that would be it. The boardinghouse renovation would still be behind schedule, with workers not showing up, her lumber and other supply orders hijacked...

Maybe she was looking at the getting-naked angle all wrong. Maybe if she streaked through town she’d receive her shipments on time and workers would be lining up. But only if the men liked what they saw. She glanced down at her tummy. She’d been born and raised in Billings, Montana. And since returning to her home state she’d enjoyed homemade comfort food a little too much. In a fair world, stress would be eating away the extra pounds she’d gained. But no...her jeans had gotten tight.

Yep, lumber and drywall might be in short supply, but stress she had in abundance. Between her flaky sister and rebellious niece—for whom she’d moved to Blackfoot Falls—and working like crazy to turn the early-1900s boardinghouse into an inn, she was ready to pop like a damn cork.

At first, reconnecting with her family had been great, everything she’d hoped it would be after receiving the subtle plea for help from her estranged sister. Right before the not-so-subtle SOS text from her fifteen-year-old niece. Beth had been working in Europe at the time but she’d quickly wrapped things up and left her corporate job behind to be the loving aunt who would completely fix things between mother and daughter. Not play referee in a game no one could win.

“Knock, knock.”

She looked up. Rachel McAllister stood in the open doorway. It was for her out-of-town wedding guests that Beth had promised to have the inn up and running by the first of February. No pressure.

“What brings you to the big city?” Beth jumped up to move the blueprints and notebooks off the spare folding chair.

“You don’t have to get up,” Rachel said as she entered the small room that Beth had sectioned off from the original kitchen. “I’m on my way to the market, but I figured I’d see if you had time for coffee.”

“Sure. I have a pretty decent Colombian blend if you want to stay here. I can even make espresso.” Beth gestured to the silver coffee station she’d ordered a day after she arrived and had one sip of Marge’s weak brew. “Or we can hit the diner.”

“Yeah, you like the really strong stuff. You must’ve gotten used to it while working in Europe.”

“I did, but I don’t mind going over to Marge’s either.”

“I wonder if she has any cinnamon rolls left,” Rachel murmured.

“Um, no.”

“You already checked?”

“I bought the last one.” Beth tugged at her snug waistband. “Don’t give me that look. I did you a favor.”

Rachel grinned. “You’re right. I need to fit into the wedding dress I ordered. Let’s stay here.”

Beth watched Rachel survey the stripped walls and the sizable holes left from heavy framed pictures that had hung for decades. She had to be worried about whether the place would be finished in time, but she didn’t ask.

Until Beth had moved to town, she hadn’t known Rachel.

Rachel’s family owned the Sundance ranch, where they raised cattle. Recently they had converted unused space into guest quarters. She’d done a hell of a job cashing in on the popularity of dude ranches. Her success had motivated Beth to buy the boardinghouse and make it into an inn with a bed-and-breakfast feel. As long as her sister and niece lived here, Beth wasn’t going anywhere, but she still needed something to do. Once she jumped the remodeling hurdle and got the place running, managing a small inn would suit her perfectly.

“Help yourself,” she said, gesturing to the coffee and minifridge. “There’s milk and cream. Sugar and sweeteners are in the silver tin.”

“How’s the work coming?” Rachel grabbed a mug. “Did Mike Burnett give you a good bid for the finish carpentry?”

“He’s putting one together now.”

“I heard he’s reasonable, especially considering he’s the best carpenter around.” Rachel fixed her coffee, then sat on the folding chair. “It’s awfully quiet. Anyone working?”

Beth sighed. “The plumber’s supposed to be here after lunch. I’ll believe it when I see him. A lot of guys don’t show up...they don’t even call.”

“It’ll be better after hunting season,” Rachel said. “But you’re from Montana, so you know that.”

“Actually, I’d forgotten how things slowed to a crawl this time of year. I’m glad you said something.” She thought about the two guys who’d sworn they’d report early tomorrow. They’d mentioned something about not having tags, which now made sense. Evidently their names hadn’t been drawn in the lottery designed to restrict the number of hunters for certain types of game.

“You were twenty when you left, right?”

Beth nodded. “It seems like a lifetime ago.” She and Rachel had grown up in the same state, but any similarity ended there. Rachel had had the life Beth had always wanted. A home in the country, horses, a loving family. Definitely not living in a dusty trailer park with no parental supervision to speak of and a sister who was trouble from the word go.

“So everything else is going okay?”

Beth leaned back with a snort. And then it registered. “Hey...you probably know him....” She straightened. “Nathan—his last name starts with an L...”

“Landers?” Rachel frowned. “Nathan Landers? Sure, what about him?”

“Either Mr. Jorgenson got our orders mixed up or Landers got pushy so Jorgensen decided to give him the lumber I was supposed to have delivered today.”

“Hard to say. I don’t think Nathan’s the type to strong-arm anyone, but I really don’t know him very well. He has a big ranch east of here. I’ve seen his foreman in town, but not Nathan. Since he lost his wife, he mostly keeps to himself.”

A widower? Well, that was just peachy—here she was thinking about driving over to his place to find out just what was going on. It wasn’t as if she planned on being mean, but she didn’t want to come off as badgering some poor old man in mourning. “I swear his name sounds familiar, but I can’t think of any reason it should.”

“I can’t either. Technically he lives in the next county. Though Blackfoot Falls is closer to him than Twin Creeks.”

“You mean he doesn’t even use the hardware store in his own town?”

Rachel laughed. “I’m sure there’s another shipment arriving soon.”

“Not till Friday. And I have two guys who promised me they’d be here tomorrow.” Beth picked up a pen and drummed it on the plywood. “So, in your opinion, would it be worth it for me to have a little chat with Mr. Landers? Is he the reasonable sort?”

Rachel pushed her auburn hair back and narrowed her green eyes thoughtfully. “What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing crazy.” Beth smiled. “Don’t look so worried.”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” Rachel said, and come to think of it, she actually seemed a bit amused. So maybe Beth was the one who should be concerned. “I think it’s worth a shot. He’s probably just storing the lumber for winter jobs to keep his men busy.”

Beth glanced at her watch. If he agreed to let her have the order, she’d have to pick it up herself. Her truck was small, but she could make two trips. And if she waited for Liberty to be done with school, she’d help. Her niece might whine, but too bad. The budding graffiti artist needed the extra money Beth paid her to cover court costs as part of her probation. Beth really hoped that particular bud had been nipped. “I’ll give him a call.”

“Better yet, drive out there. It’ll be harder for him to say no face-to-face.” Rachel smiled. “I can give you directions.”

“Good.” Beth would still call. She’d never cared for that business of just showing up on someone’s doorstep uninvited. Though she’d end up at his ranch whether he said yes or no.

Nine years working all over the globe as a corporate meeting planner had taught Beth tact, grace and the art of persuasion. She’d be damned if Blackfoot Falls was going to teach her patience.

* * *

NATHAN LANDERS JOINED his foreman at the corral fence. “What do you think of him so far?”

“The kid’s got grit, I’ll tell ya that,” Woody said, his gaze glued to the young man stroking the mare’s neck.

“He get on her yet?”

“Twice, and ended up with a mouthful of dirt both times.”

That didn’t surprise Nathan. He’d known the horse wouldn’t be easy when he bought her. She’d taken the bridle just fine, and the bit hadn’t seemed to bother her. But she sure hadn’t liked being saddled.

He watched Brian give the mare’s neck a final stroke, then slowly fit his booted foot into the stirrup. With impressive grace, the kid swung into the saddle.

For a moment the mare just stood there, almost as if in shock that the fool had climbed on again. The second it wore off she burst into motion, rearing up on her back legs, then twisting and bucking. Nathan and Woody both moved back when the mare came close to the fence, trying to brush the kid off.

She bucked a few more times, then came down hard, lifting her hindquarters and sending Brian over her head. He hit the dirt in a cloud of dust and with a string of cusses. The kid was only eighteen, and easily sprang to his feet. The mare eyed him warily and shied to the other end of the corral.

Woody yanked off his hat and waved away the dust. “He ain’t bashful about getting right back on.”

Nathan nodded. He’d heard that Brian was good with animals, and he’d obviously already passed the test or Woody would’ve sent him on his way by now. “I’m assuming you want to hire him.”

“Up to you, boss.” Woody scratched his balding head, then slapped the battered tan Stetson back on.

Nathan just smiled. He might own the Lucky 7 but very little was up to him anymore. Woody Knudsen held the reins when it came to the cattle operation. Ever since Anne’s death, Nathan had lost interest. He still kept abreast of what was going on, met with the accountant quarterly and signed the checks, but the daily stuff was all Woody’s.

Now, the two Arabians that Nathan had recently purchased were a different story. He still had a lot to learn about breeding them, but at least the idea sparked some life inside him. Three years was a long time to feel nothing.

“Bad time to be hiring with winter coming, but I say we bring him on.” Woody propped his arms on the fence while he watched Brian go another round with the stubborn mare. “You’re gonna need help with those Arabians at some point. Might as well see what the kid’s made of.”

Nathan should’ve known this was about Woody looking out for him. Woody had worked on Nathan’s parents’ ranch as a wrangler and eventually the foreman. He’d been there for Nathan’s first step and when he’d climbed onto his first horse. And when Nathan had returned from college full of determination and too much ego, dead set on turning his own meager seven acres into one of the largest ranches in northern Montana, Woody had never doubted him.

Much as Nathan loved his parents—good, salt-of-the-earth, hardworking people—he hadn’t seen the faith in their eyes that he had in Woody’s. Now, at the wiser age of thirty-four, Nathan understood they’d had reason to be skeptical. But that took nothing away from Woody’s unwavering support.

“He might wanna start right away,” Woody said. “Unless you have a problem with that.”

“Nope.” Nathan used his sleeve to blot the sweat on his forehead, then readjusted his Stetson. October mornings and evenings were nice and cool, but the direct afternoon sun could still be sweltering some days.

“You expecting company?” Woody stared past him toward the driveway.

Only if hell had frozen over. Nathan turned and saw the small blue pickup. It was too far away to see who was driving, though it didn’t matter. He hadn’t invited anyone, and folks who knew him knew better than to show up without being asked.

A minute later he saw a woman behind the wheel wearing sunglasses, her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. She parked the truck close to the bunkhouse where the men kept their vehicles, then climbed out. Her legs were long, her jeans tight and she was wearing funny-looking boots.

“You know her?” Woody asked, squinting against the sun’s glare.

Nathan shook his head, not that Woody noticed. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the woman. Working in front of the east barn, Scotty and Justin stopped fueling the ATVs to watch her walk across the gravel. Even Big John pulled his head out from under the hood of the bale retriever. If that wasn’t enough of a shock, since the guy had no use for women since his divorce, he grinned at her.

“Did you see that?” Woody muttered, brushing the dust off his shoulders when she veered toward them.

She wasn’t dressed to call attention to herself, not in that oversize blue T-shirt, but she got it all the same. It was those legs. Damn, they were long. She had to be about five-nine, even without those silly boots. And she had just enough sway in her hips to fire up a man’s pulse without letting him think he was being played. But a woman who looked like her? Who was used to men staring and not being bothered by it? Nathan had a feeling she knew what she was doing. Woody thought Nathan was cynical when it came to women, implied he was getting to be as bad as Big John. Nathan just hadn’t forgotten how complicated they were.

“Hi,” she said as she got closer, putting her hand out and smiling at Woody. “Mr. Landers? I’m Bethany Wilson.”

“No, ma’am, I’m Woodrow Knudsen.” He yanked off his hat. “You can call me Woody, same as everyone else.”

Nathan folded his arms across his chest, though she hadn’t even glanced at him. He’d finally realized who she was, right before she’d given her name.

Her smile stayed in place, and so did her extended hand. “Well, nice to meet you, Woody.”

He dragged his palms down the front of his grungy Levis. “Ma’am, I’m awfully grimy.”

“So am I.” She pushed her sunglasses up on her head and inspected the dark smudges on her hand. “How rude of me not to have checked first. I’m sorry,” she said with a soft laugh. “It’s stain from yesterday, so it wouldn’t have rubbed off on you. It doesn’t seem to want to come off at all.”

“Paint thinner ought to do the trick,” Woody said, grinning so hard you could see where his back teeth were missing. He noticed Nathan watching him and sobered, clearing his throat. “This here is Nathan Landers.”

“Oh.” She turned to him and blinked, surprise flickering in her face. Her gaze went to his mouth and jaw, then slid up to his eyes. “I didn’t—” She smiled again. “Mr. Landers, I’m Beth—”

“I heard you the first time.” He kept his arms folded. “What is it that you want, Ms. Wilson?”

Her eyes narrowed, assessing him, her poise unshaken. “I left you two voice mails. I have the feeling you got them.”

“I did.”

“And had you wanted to talk to me, you would’ve returned my calls,” she said very matter-of-factly.

“Sounds about right.”

“What calls?” Woody asked, looking confused and peeved. “I thought you didn’t know her.”

He wasn’t up to dealing with Woody’s disapproval just because she was a woman. She hadn’t been invited, period. “Go hire the kid,” Nathan said, jerking his head toward the corral. “Let him start when he wants and pay him for today.”

When Woody didn’t move, Nathan frowned at him.

“First off,” Woody said, jamming his hat back on his head. “I reckon I know how to handle a new hire. And second, I ain’t gonna interrupt him in the middle of breaking that mare.”

Beth had turned her gaze to the corral. It wasn’t just her legs that had drawn his interest...she had pretty eyes, he’d give her that, too. They were kind of green with flecks of gold and brown. When she cringed and put a hand to her throat, he turned to see what had caused her alarm.

Brian had taken another trip over the mare’s head and landed on his ass in the dirt. The kid cussed like a veteran. Woody chuckled and even Nathan smiled a little.

“Wow,” Beth said. “Is this how you interview people? Good way to get free labor.”

“What’s that?” Woody obviously didn’t understand her jab, but Nathan did, and he sure didn’t appreciate it.

“Well, Ms. Wilson,” he said, tugging down the rim of his Stetson to block the sun. “I’m sorry you made the drive out here for nothing. You should’ve taken the radio silence as a clue.”

She stared at him, her lips parting. “Wait. Can’t we talk about it?”

Nathan had started to turn for the house but stayed right where he was, his gaze lingering on her mouth. The shape and lushness of her lips went straight to the plus column, right under eyes and legs. A stiff breeze stirred stray wisps of fine blond hair around her flushed face and molded the T-shirt to her breasts. They weren’t small. The damn plus column was getting too crowded.

“Talk about what?” Woody looked back and forth between them. “Hells bells, Nathan, do you know what this is about?”

“The lumber we had delivered this morning. Ms. Wilson seems to think there’s a mix-up.”

“Not exactly. Jorgenson gave you my shipment and he’s making me wait for the next one. I know you’ve been a customer forever and I’m new to Blackfoot Falls, but it was wrong. He shouldn’t have done that. I’m not implying it’s your fault. Or your problem.” She stopped for a quick breath. “I’ve had trouble getting workers, but I finally have two guys coming to my place tomorrow morning. But without the lumber...” She shrugged, her gaze flickering to Woody, then back to Nathan. “If you don’t need it right now, or if there’s any way you can wait until Friday...”

Her voice faded along with the hope in her eyes.

“Well, shoot, Jorgenson had no call to do something like that to such a pretty thing,” Woody said, and boy, did she not like that comment.

Her shoulders went back, her lips thinned. Then she must’ve realized the old guy hadn’t meant anything and she gave him a small smile. “It’s bad business. And please, believe me, I know it’s not your problem. I do. If you can’t spare the lumber I’ll get back in my truck and leave. You won’t hear from me again.”

They didn’t need the order for a couple of months. Nathan knew it and so did Woody, who was glaring at him. And for no reason. No, he didn’t like her showing up because he hadn’t returned her calls. But he didn’t like that Jorgenson had screwed her either.

And Nathan sure as hell didn’t like watching her nibble that tempting lower lip and stare back at him. He didn’t have time for this crap. He had business in the stables. “Go ahead, Woody, do whatever you think is best.”

“That’s for you to decide, Nathan,” Woody said in an ornery tone. “I got a new man to hire.” He found another grin for Beth and even puffed out his chest some. “He’ll do right by you, ma’am.” He stopped midturn. “By the way,” he added, his gruff voice gentled. “What you saw wasn’t free labor. It was a test. Nathan won’t hire a man who goes for a whip. Nice meeting you.”

“Woody—”

Ignoring him, Woody hustled to the other side of the corral, his old bowlegs moving faster than Nathan would have thought possible.

He looked at Beth. Embarrassment stained her cheeks, making her eyes greener. She was still worrying that damn bottom lip.

“I’m so sorry. I was joking about the free labor. It wasn’t funny,” she murmured.

“Take the lumber.”

“Thank you,” she said, and caught his hand when all he’d meant to do was wave her toward the barn. She pressed her soft palm to his work-roughened one and shook. “Thank you so much.”

She had some grip. He flexed his hand, trying to get her to let go. Touching her was a mistake. Man, did he not need this. Something was different about this woman. And deep down he knew...hell, he’d known even before he’d seen those long legs and sexy eyes that she was going to be trouble. The alarm bells had gone off the moment he’d heard her sweet, husky voice on his voice mail.

For three years he’d been fine, a certain part of his life had become manageable. And now she was making him think about sex. It wasn’t just a small tug either. She’d cursed him with one of those itches that couldn’t be taken care of in the shower. Right now what he wanted was down-and-dirty, hot, sweaty, honest-to-goodness, sheet-tangling sex.

That was why he needed her gone.

The sooner, the better.


2 (#ulink_1f41c91c-ca1c-5043-a216-fdff7d23c858)

“HEY, BETH.”

She heard the familiar voice coming from behind. It was Craig, a guy she’d met at the Watering Hole, walking from the barn toward her. “Hey, yourself.”

“What are you doing out here, darlin’?” He flashed her that boyish grin he used on every woman who entered the bar. “Looking for me?”

Beth laughed. “You caught me,” she said, throwing in a coy smile. “Now, what was your name again?”

“Ouch.” He was a couple years younger than her and liked laying on the cowboy charm, but he was harmless and knew how to take no for an answer. He slid his hat off when he reached her and wiped his smudged face with the red bandanna tied around his neck, his grin widening. “That’s okay, darlin’. You know I like my women sassy.”

“And I like my hired men working when they’re on the clock,” Nathan said, and how she could have forgotten he was there, even for a second, was ridiculous.

Craig didn’t seem overly concerned with the gruff remark. “Wait till you hear that engine, boss. I got the tractor purring like a kitten.”

Beth had turned to Nathan. She didn’t think he was really upset, but he was doing her a huge favor and she couldn’t afford to aggravate him. She found him watching her, his whiskey-brown eyes taking inventory of her face and throat, and she felt that annoying flutter in her chest again.

He switched his attention to Craig, who’d asked him a question about the tractor, and this was the first chance Beth had to really look without fear of being caught staring. No ifs, ands or buts, she was going to kill Rachel. It didn’t matter that Rachel was engaged. She still had a duty to warn a person about to meet a hottie like Nathan Landers for the first time. For heaven’s sake, a simple heads-up was an unspoken rule that every woman understood.

The man was well over six feet of lean muscle with broad shoulders and a strong jaw shadowed by a day’s worth of sexy dark stubble. His nearly black hair seemed to be cut in a traditional style, though he hadn’t removed his hat so she didn’t know for sure. And yes, she might’ve preferred it a bit longer but...

His gaze shifted back to her, those dreamy light brown eyes catching her off guard. “Where do you live?”

“Me?” She went blank for a moment. “Why?” she asked, noting the lazy, sensual curve to his mouth even when he wasn’t smiling.

“Just wondering how you plan on moving that lumber.”

“Oh. My truck.”

He lifted the brim of his hat and frowned at her pickup. “That?”

She nodded. “Two trips ought to do it. I’m only going to Blackfoot Falls...to the old boardinghouse.”

“You bought the place?”

“Yes,” she said, sighing. “I’m turning it into an inn. Nothing elaborate, only a dozen rooms. I’m trying to keep the early-1900s feel to the place.” She glanced toward the large single-level home with its beautiful stonework and arched entry. “The whole inn could probably fit in your house. It’s amazing, by the way. I love all the details. Did you build it yourself?”

Their gazes met, the sudden distrust in his eyes taking her by surprise. He said nothing, his expression growing more aloof as he fished his phone out of his pocket.

So much for pleasantries. Fine. She was tired and already not looking forward to making a second trip. “Tell me where the lumber is and I’ll move my truck.”

“Inside the east barn,” Nathan said absently, his attention on his phone as though he’d already dismissed her.

Miffed with his rudeness and trying not to react, she turned and saw several rust-colored buildings. The closest one was obviously a barn, and she guessed that the large, freshly painted structure behind it near the trees might be the stables. Everything, from the house with its wide circular drive to the dozen or so outbuildings, was in prime shape.

She cast another longing look at the lovely home with the oversize windows and rose beds.

It finally hit her.

How could she have been so insensitive? That home had to have been built for his late wife. Beth doubted he kept the gardens tended for his own enjoyment. Even the small charming courtyard between the wrought iron gate and the front door was well maintained.

“I know where the lumber is,” Craig said, startling her because she thought he’d left. “I’ll show you where to park, then go grab Troy. We’ll have you loaded in no time.”

“No.” Beth shook her head. “Just point me in the right direction. I can handle the rest.”

Craig snorted. “You can’t load by yourself.”

“You’d be surprised at what I can do.” She smiled at his raised brows, leaving out that she’d bring Liberty on the second trip. “You’re nice to offer, but I’m sure you have your own work to do. Where do I go?”

She didn’t know if Nathan was still behind her or not, but that was where Craig’s gaze went. With obvious reluctance, he motioned toward the building she’d pegged as the stable.

“Thanks,” she said, and glanced over her shoulder. “And thank you, Mr. Landers. You’ve really saved my butt. Next time you’re in town I owe you a beer.”

His stunned expression was priceless. Though she hadn’t meant to shock him. Or for him to actually look at said rear end. In fact, the beer offer had just slipped out. She’d only meant to impress on him that she was truly grateful.

She hurried toward her truck, ignoring the stares of the men working on an ATV engine, then briefly exchanged a smile with a dusty cowboy riding a chestnut past her. By the time she got behind the wheel, she was a little shaky from too much sun, adrenaline, or maybe too much Nathan Landers. Bad time to remember she hadn’t replenished the water she normally kept in the pickup. At least she’d brought her work gloves.

Throwing the truck into Reverse, she started to back up, cringing when she ground the gears. This was the first manual shift she’d ever owned, but after three months she usually did pretty well. Of course she’d have to drive like a moron now, with a dozen men watching her. Nathan was probably having a chuckle. Though no reason for her to give a crap.

She still wished she hadn’t mentioned the house, since it had seemed to upset him—but she had a feeling he was generally a grouch. A damn good-looking one. She darted a look in the rearview mirror.

He hadn’t moved. Except he’d put away his phone and was focused completely on her. Arms crossed, of course, feet planted wide, an amused look on his handsome face. Well, wasn’t she just tickled pink that she could provide him with a little afternoon entertainment.

She forced herself to concentrate on the gearshift and slipped into Drive. She wondered how much he was still grieving. According to Rachel, since his wife died he’d been sticking close to home. No mention had been made of what caused her death, though Beth doubted that mattered to a person in mourning. She’d never lost anyone close to her.

That wasn’t entirely true. She’d suffered loss. Her mother wasn’t dead, not as far as Beth knew, but for as long as Beth could remember, Paula Wilson had repeatedly disappeared into bottles of booze and the bed of any strange man who’d promised to take care of her.

Beth’s older sister had followed a similar path, including getting pregnant at sixteen. Giving birth to beautiful baby Liberty hadn’t been enough to straighten out Candace. Most nights she’d left the little girl with Beth. But when the toddler had started calling Beth “Mama,” quick as a wink, Candace had latched on to no-good Lenny Ramsey, packed up Liberty and torn away the only person Beth had truly cared about.

And Beth’s father? She’d never known him. Like any child she’d been curious about him at one point. But eventually she’d reasoned that if Paula had been attracted to him, and vice versa, he had to be a loser, so why bother searching? She honestly didn’t even think about him. All that mattered to her now was reestablishing a bond with Liberty. And Candace, too, though her sister didn’t seem anxious to let go of her bad habits.

Beth spotted the three stacks of lumber just inside the barn and sighed. The order wasn’t nearly enough for what she needed for the whole renovation, but more than she cared to load by herself. No complaints, though. If the workers showed up tomorrow, this would all be worth it.

After reversing the truck close to the lumber, she pulled on her bulky work gloves and got out. As she lowered the tailgate, she caught movement in her peripheral vision and turned to see Craig and another guy jogging toward her. Beyond them she could see Nathan Landers still rooted to the spot, facing them.

“We’ve got it, Beth,” Craig said, lifting his hat and sweeping his long, dark blond hair off his forehead. “Why don’t you wait over there on the chair by the fridge?” He motioned with his chin. “Get yourself something cold to drink.”

“You want your boss to have a coronary? He’s watching you.”

“Nah, Nathan sent us over.” Craig grinned. “I knew he wouldn’t let you do this yourself. You know Troy?”

Tall and lanky, Troy looked younger than Craig. He immediately doffed his hat and mumbled a greeting.

“I’ve seen you playing pool at the bar, haven’t I?” She smiled when his eyes widened in surprise, a pleased grin tugging at his mouth. The only reason she’d noticed him was because of his bright red hair, but she kept that to herself. “I really can handle this, you know,” she said, picking up a board and transferring it to her truck.

Craig hefted five slats at once.

So did Troy.

Show-offs. She stood back and watched for a moment. They worked fast. She decided to go for broke and lifted three boards...and tried not to whimper. They weren’t heavy, just unwieldy. She swung her load around and missed Troy’s ear by a hair. And only because he had good reflexes.

“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry.” She slid the boards onto the bed and spun around to Troy. Cupping his jaw with her hand, she searched his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Fine,” he mumbled, blushing furiously.

“You sure?” she asked, inspecting his cheek. His skin was warm, probably because she was embarrassing him. But would he admit it if she’d grazed him?

“Um, Beth.” Craig took her shoulders, turned her toward the back of the barn and gave her a gentle push. “Go sit. We’ll do this faster without your help,” he said, and started laughing.

“My balance was off,” she protested, squirming away from him. “I can still—”

“You trying to maim my men, Bethany?”

Nathan’s voice made her jump. And not just because it was deep and rich and warmed her from the inside out like a decadent sip of Rémy Martin. Very few people called her Bethany, and none of them said it like that.

She turned to find him standing in front of a maroon-colored truck with the Lucky 7 logo on the door. The pickup hadn’t been there a few seconds ago. It was a really big extended-cab model you couldn’t miss. The kind the towing company had used to repossess trailers in the park where she’d lived as a child.

“I’d appreciate you doing like Craig asked and stepping aside,” he said to her, his mouth curved in a faint smile as he pulled on tan leather gloves. Then he dropped the tailgate. “Boys...lets load the Dodge first.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Craig said, and exchanged a puzzled look with Troy.

“Hold on.” Beth had no intention of moving. “I don’t want this to be a big production. Or infringe on anyone’s time. I really am capable of doing this myself.”

“I’m sure you are,” Nathan said, and then ignored her and grabbed a whole stack of lumber. “You want to be useful? Grab me a bottle of water out of the fridge.”

Well, didn’t he sound like a man used to giving orders? She glanced at the other two who’d gotten very quiet, then reminded herself she wasn’t in charge here. He could change his mind, renege on giving her the lumber and she’d be crying a river come tomorrow. On the upside, standing by and watching him move wasn’t a bad deal. His rolled-up sleeves bared his corded forearms, and the light blue shirt was fitted enough that she could see the play of muscle across his back every time he hefted a load.

He stopped to adjust his Stetson and looked at her. “Do you know where the fridge is?”

Pressing her lips together to keep from making an unwise remark, she turned to Craig and Troy. “While I’m at it, would you like something?”

“No, thanks,” Troy mumbled.

“Yeah.” Craig flashed her a grin. “See if there’s a beer.”

She didn’t see Nathan’s expression, but she could imagine it wasn’t pleasant seeing how Craig ducked his head and laughed.

“Just joking,” he said, stopping to sweep his hair out of his eyes. “I’ll follow you to town and get you unloaded. By then it’ll be quitting time and I’ll buy you a beer.”

“I’ll take care of Bethany,” Nathan said, and, God, she had to stop letting his voice make her all gooey inside. “I have to go to the Food Mart anyway.”

She nearly dropped the bottle she’d grabbed from the ancient refrigerator. Catching the shocked looks on Craig’s and Troy’s faces, she knew her surprise was justified. Even if Rachel hadn’t told her Nathan stayed away from town, Beth couldn’t see him going to the Food Mart. He’d send someone else.

After he dropped that little bomb, the rest of the job was finished mostly in silence. She heard Craig quietly bet Troy twenty bucks that their boss didn’t know where the Food Mart was located. Naturally Beth pretended she hadn’t heard. The two guys were shooting her curious looks, probably thinking the same thing she was...that she might have something to do with Nathan Landers’s sudden itch to go to town.

And, Lord, she hoped that was true. She got a little tingly just thinking about what it could mean. Long cool nights in Blackfoot Falls could use a pinch or two of something spicy. And he looked like a man who’d know just which ingredients to use.

“What now? You want the paint, too?”

She blinked at the gallon cans she’d been absently staring at—ten of them had been stored beside the lumber and now stood alone against the wall. She turned to Nathan and grinned. “You offering?”

His mouth curved in what could pass for a slight smile. “Thanks, boys,” he said to Craig and Troy. “Go ahead and knock off early.”

“You sure, boss?” Craig’s face lit up. “Woody’s gonna pitch a fit.”

Nathan jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

The guys didn’t have to be told twice. Quiet Troy let out a whoop and they both tore off toward the bunkhouse.

Beth shifted her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling off balance now that they were alone. She needed to get in her truck and head back to town. Give herself time to think. Her gaze drifted to the paint. “I’ve screwed up your project,” she said, pulling off the gloves she’d ended up not needing. “Now you have paint but no lumber.”

“One has nothing to do with the other.” His gaze fell on her hands, and she wanted to childishly hide them behind her back.

Her nails were horrible, dirty and jagged. She hadn’t had a manicure in ages. Not since she’d moved to Blackfoot Falls. “What should I call you?” she asked, and saw that she’d confused him. “And don’t say boss. That won’t fly.”

There it was again...the almost smile. “Nathan.” He took off his hat and ran his hand through his dark hair. “Craig calls you Beth. Is that what you prefer?”

She had to think about it. These days only her sister called her Bethany, probably out of habit. But Beth did love the way he said it. “Either one.” She shrugged. “Beth is shorter.”

Neither of them moved. They just looked at each other for a long silent moment that should’ve been uncomfortable but somehow felt natural. Standing this close, she could see that he was bigger than she’d first thought. Broader and taller...maybe more muscular, but she wouldn’t know for sure until she saw him naked. If she ever saw him naked. Oh, she really hoped so.

She cleared her throat and took a step back. “Well, I guess we should head to town. I’ve taken up enough of your afternoon.”

He blinked, then ran his gaze down the front of her shirt to her jeans. “Come with me,” he said, and walked farther into the dim, cavernous barn without a backward glance, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that she wouldn’t follow.

A little nervous that the shadows seemed to gobble him up, Beth hesitated and glanced over her shoulder. Craig and Troy were long gone. “Were you waiting to get rid of the witnesses?”

The words were barely out of her mouth when light flooded the barn and she whipped her gaze back toward the spot where she’d last seen him. He stood partly under the steps to the hayloft, between a cabinet and a workbench, watching her with a look of amusement. “You must be from the city.”

“I’m from Montana,” she said, a tad defensive and hoping he didn’t think she’d really been nervous. To prove she wasn’t, she strolled toward him, casually glancing at the bales of hay stacked as high as her shoulders, at the assortment of tools hanging on the rough-hewn walls, and inhaling the scent of oiled leather becoming more pungent this far inside. And tried to ignore the acceleration of her pulse the closer she got to him.

“Where?”

“Outside of Billings.”

He barely reacted yet still managed to communicate “case closed.” Oh, but he was so wrong. He gave Billings too much credit. She’d seen more than half the world. As far as cities went, Billings was peanuts.

She stopped several feet away to watch him rummage through a drawer. Without looking up, he said. “You have to come closer.”

“Why?”

Nathan glanced up then, amusement gleaming in his eyes. “What do you think I’m going to do to you?”

“I have no idea.” In spite of her effort to play it cool, her laugh sounded nervous, so she gave it up. “Why do you think I was ready to bolt?”

He held up a large can of paint thinner. “The light’s better over here.”

“I knew it was something like that,” she muttered, and saw the corner of his mouth twitch before she sneaked another peek at her stained hands and awful nails.

“Let’s see.”

She slowly exhaled, then placed her hand on his outstretched palm. Of all the things she might’ve anticipated, this scenario was so far down the list that... Oh, hell, it hadn’t even made the cut. It wasn’t so much about the touching...it was his unexpected gentleness that made the contact feel irrationally intimate.

“Do you give manicures, too?” she murmured, watching him use a clean rag to rub each stain off her hand.

Still focused on his task, he responded with a patient smile, making her feel like a flustered twelve-year-old girl who didn’t know how to talk to boys yet. The way he was acting reminded her of the way she treated the guys she met at the Watering Hole. She joked around with them all the time, never taking any of them seriously when they tried to hit on her. They were all younger than her, and none of them were her type.

Oh, damn, payback was really gonna be a bitch. Nathan was the first man she’d met in Blackfoot Falls who appealed to her. She was twenty-nine and she guessed he was in his early thirties. Good age difference in her book, but maybe he simply wasn’t interested. Maybe he didn’t care for blondes or tall women. Maybe he was the sort of man who would never get over his dead wife.

“There you go, Bethany,” he said, meeting her eyes, his gaze lingering. “The sink is over in the corner.”

“Thanks.” She did a prompt about-face so he wouldn’t see her giddy smile and scooted off to wash her hands.

He’d done a thorough job of getting rid of every little mark.

She’d wager he was just as thorough in the bedroom, and holy crap, did she ever want to find out if she was right.


3 (#ulink_544998ac-692c-5cc5-b775-99145f291c90)

NATHAN WATCHED HER stop to stretch her back. Bethany had clearly waited until she thought he couldn’t see her. Though she hadn’t complained once, and even tried to increase the loads she carried from the truck to the front porch, he knew she wasn’t used to this much manual labor. Twice he’d asked her to step aside and let him finish. Might as well reason with a mule.

If he’d known she was going to be so stubborn, he would’ve brought Craig with him. But Nathan hadn’t been thinking about getting the job done quickly or efficiently when he’d offered to bring the lumber. The fact was, he hadn’t thought much past those long legs and smoky hazel eyes.

“I changed my mind,” he said when she returned for more boards. “I’ll take some water.” He hefted six slats onto his shoulder and caught her eyeing him with a suspicious frown.

“I saw a whole big bottle of water in your truck. Think I don’t know you’re trying to get rid of me?”

“You have some interesting paranoia issues you might want to get checked out.” He lowered his load to the second stack they’d started and then reached for the two boards she’d snatched off the truck. “Your water is probably cold. Mine isn’t.”

She narrowed her gaze, staring him down and holding firm to her bundle...until his knuckles grazed her breast and she let go. He hadn’t meant to touch her like that, but her startled reaction made him smile all the same. Luckily she didn’t see because he’d already walked past her.

He set down the boards and shook his head at the pair of new dark green shutters. The loose white siding around them was in sorry shape. A good wind could carry off the weathered clapboards. “You do realize you’ll have to take these shutters down again.”

“Yes, I do.” She pulled off a glove and scratched the tip of her nose. “To fix the walls and windows. And the new door will have to come off, too,” she said, stepping back to admire the repairs. “That’s okay. We won’t get to the front for a while. The place can look nice in the meantime.”

The right side of the porch had been reinforced, but the plank floor on the left was still sagging. At least the steps had been replaced. “You working mostly on the inside?” he asked.

“Yes, I know I should make the most of the good weather but I take whatever labor I can get when I can get it.” She removed her second glove and stuffed them both between her clamped knees while she loosened her ponytail. A breeze played with her long wavy hair, the honey-colored strands getting away from her as she tried to secure them in one hand. She put her hair back in the ponytail, more tightly this time. “I’ll admit, at first I hadn’t considered the weather turning quickly. I’ve never tackled anything like this before.”

The sound of someone gunning a neglected engine snapped him out of his trance. “You’re a brave woman,” he said, annoyed that he’d been staring when he should’ve been hauling lumber.

Pulling her gloves back on, she followed him to his truck. “Or stupid. Guess I’ll know in a couple of months.”

He threw a look at the tired white structure as he grabbed another load. “That might be too optimistic.”

“I know.” Bethany sighed. “I wouldn’t care when it got done except I promised Rachel I’d have it completed in time for her wedding. She has friends who’ll need accommodations.”

“Rachel?” He stopped and thought for a second. “Little Rachel McAllister? She’s getting married?”

Bethany laughed, and she didn’t hold back. “Little? Are you sure you’re thinking of the same Rachel I’m talking about?”

Nathan smiled. “I don’t know her well. I went to school with her two older brothers until the eighth grade,” he said, and caught her puzzled frown. “County-line dispute. When the dust settled, my brothers and I went to Twin Creeks High.”

“That must’ve been awful for you.”

He shrugged. “We already knew every kid within a hundred miles. And I got to play football without having to compete with the McAllister brothers. I wonder if those boys ever stopped growing.”

She laughed again. “Cole might be taller than you, but I doubt Jesse or Trace is.”

“I’m only six-two.”

“Only?”

He watched her balance the pair of boards she’d grabbed, trying hard to keep his attention off her legs and butt. “You’re pretty tall yourself.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but then tilted her head to the side and looked past him toward the street.

“Nathan Landers? My word, is that really you?”

“Ah, Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, though he didn’t recognize the excited voice coming from behind him. This was the third time someone had slowed down to convey their heartfelt shock at seeing him. The boardinghouse was located at the edge of town, but right on Main Street. He should’ve known it would be a circus.

He turned and saw that it was the white-haired Lemon twins. One sat behind the wheel with a pinched frown aimed at the sister leaning across her and doing the talking. He couldn’t remember either of their first names or tell them apart. What he did know was they probably shouldn’t be driving, since the big old Chevy was taking up both lanes.

“Afternoon, ladies,” he said, touching the brim of his Stetson and keeping an eye out for oncoming traffic.

“How long has it been since we’ve seen you in town, Nathan? Two years? Three? I see you’re helping Beth. She’s such a wonderful girl. Very considerate, and pretty to boot. Won’t it be nice to have the old boardinghouse open again?”

“For heaven’s sake, Mabel, give the man a chance to answer.” The driver jerked her shoulder and shifted to face him, obviously trying to force her sister back to the passenger side.

“Miss Lemon?” He gestured to a black truck heading toward them.

Her eyes got wide and she fumbled for the column shift. “Darn it, Mabel. Give me some room before we have another accident.”

Nathan winced. He saw she was growing more nervous and jerking on the stick. The car lurched to the rear. “I think you have it in Reverse,” he said, releasing his load back into the bed and putting a warning hand up to the driver of the approaching truck. As soon as Nathan reached the sedan, he crouched to check the steering column through the open window.

Miss Lemon found Drive. The Chevy pitched forward, and he jumped back, stumbling out of the way. He sensed Bethany behind him. Felt her hands grip his shoulders.

“Oops.” She slid her palms down both sides of his spine, trying to steady him. Then she ducked her head around his body, keeping an arm wrapped across his back, and said, “Go ahead, Miss Lemon, steer toward the right lane. You’re doing fine.” She gave him a brief glance. “You okay? All body parts accounted for?”

“I think so.” He hadn’t actually lost his balance, but he liked having her so close he could smell her floral-scented hair. Feel the warmth of her skin through his shirt. “Might have to take inventory, though.”

Her gaze snapped back to him. She gave him a long look, then let out a laugh and lowered her arm. Stepping away, she watched the Lemon sisters inch down the street.

Already regretting the inventory crack, he couldn’t tell if she’d decided the words were innocent or loaded with a message he wasn’t sure he could deliver on. Playing with fire without a means to extinguish it was plain dumb, and he knew better. He had to get sex off his brain. What he needed to do was get his ass home and quit eyeing hers.

“Don’t they have kids or grandchildren who could drive them around?” With a worried frown, Bethany was still looking after the car.

“I don’t think either of them married, but I’m not sure. They’re in their eighties, right around my grandmother’s age. She knows them.”

“Does she still drive?”

“Not for a while. But she lives on the ranch with my parents and two brothers. Plenty of people around to take her wherever she wants to go.”

“At the Lucky 7?”

“No.” He noticed the increasing number of vehicles crowding Main Street and knew he was in for a lot more small talk if he didn’t keep his head down. “On my parents’ ranch,” he said, moving away from the street. “About twenty miles from me.”

“Wow, that’s great having your family so close.” She reached the truck ahead of him and picked up two boards. “Assuming you get along with them.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, or if he even should. Today was full of surprises. He’d kept to himself and the Lucky 7 for so long, he’d forgotten how to be social. How to talk to a woman and not second-guess himself. He’d been joking about the McAllister boys. Like them, he’d been one of the popular kids, the quarterback who’d led his team to the state championship twice, the guy who could’ve had a date every night of the week if he’d wanted.

College would’ve been no different if he’d had the time to socialize. He’d played football only to keep his scholarship alive, but spent the rest of his free time working to make his dream a reality. From the day he’d turned thirteen he’d wanted his own ranch. And at seventeen he was so confident of what lay ahead he could’ve carved his future in stone. At least the part about the Lucky 7. And marrying Anne.

“Nathan?” Bethany had already taken her load to the porch, and she stood there looking at him with troubled eyes. “Sorry, if I said something wrong. I know family stuff can be tricky.”

Not until three years ago.

Shaking his head, he forced a smile.

After the accident, the well-intended lies and hidden truths had come out in force. Even before the funeral, everything around him, including his relationship with his family, had started falling apart. He’d never felt so helpless in his whole life. But you couldn’t fix a marriage once the other person was in the ground.

“Hey, you still want that water?”

He blinked at Bethany. She hadn’t moved. Her smile was brighter but her eyes were even more troubled. Her hands were tightly clasped, her fingers entwined. Great, he’d dragged his black cloud with him.

When he noticed she was slightly up on her toes, he didn’t have to pretend to smile. He’d seen earlier that she was one of those high-energy types who tended to rock back on the balls of her feet when she wasn’t in motion. The complete opposite of Anne. Even he was more laid-back these days. He used to be full of ambition, hated that there weren’t more hours in the day. Maybe his new interest in breeding Arabians would bring back some of that drive.

“Ice cold, if you have it,” he said, glad to see relief pass across her face. “I bet you were a bouncer when you were a kid.”

She backed up to her new green door, wrinkling her nose. “A bouncer?”

“Not that kind—”

“Oh.” She snorted a laugh and tried to cover it up. “How did you know?” Abruptly she looked down at her feet. “I don’t still do that.”

He smiled but kept working. The sooner he transferred the lumber to her porch, the sooner he could get back to the Lucky 7. Sure, he’d admit it, he was enjoying Bethany’s company. Even knowing this little thing brewing between them would end right here. He glanced at what was left on the truck bed. In about twenty minutes, to be exact.

Ten if he worked faster.

* * *

BETH COULDN’T DECIDE if she should be insulted, mad or confused. Or perhaps she should just feel grateful that she had her wood for tomorrow and quit being a crybaby because she hadn’t expected Nathan to want to leave so quickly.

The whole time she watched him pull up the tailgate, jam it in place and yank off his gloves, she tried to think of a reason to make him stay. But she’d already asked him if he wanted a tour of the inside, which he’d declined. Then she’d offered to buy him a beer, which he’d also declined. She’d even suggested she whip them up something to eat since they’d both missed lunch. He’d declined that, too, which was for the best, now that she thought about it. As her niece had pointed out, Beth’s cooking sucked the big one.

The thing was, it had taken her no time to get his water. Just two minutes. Okay, maybe four, but only because she’d wanted to check her hair and see if she could use a dusting of blush. She’d resisted putting on lip gloss. Too obvious.

She couldn’t shake the feeling she’d said or done something wrong. Probably because he’d worked like a madman to get so much done in her short absence. Clearly he was anxious to leave. Admittedly, it had to be annoying to deal with all the nosy, intrusive questions from passersby, but she wasn’t suggesting they stay outside.

When he started to turn, she lifted her gaze from his butt. She’d been staring at it, too busy thinking to really enjoy the muscular roundness, and that pissed her off. He picked up the uncapped bottle of water he’d left on the bumper, tilted it to his mouth and drank.

She tracked a stray drop running down his chin and wondered what it said about her eleven-months-and-counting dry spell that she was seconds away from dragging him inside and seeing what else that mouth could do.

Of course, she knew he couldn’t actually read her thoughts, but when he swung a sudden glance at her, her struggle not to squirm turned pretty epic.

“Well, all right, Cinderella,” she said. “I know you’re worried about the whole pumpkin threat, so don’t let me keep you.” God, sometimes she said the stupidest things when she was nervous. It wasn’t enough he seemed eager to bolt—now she was giving him a push.

Except...

Nathan was staring back at her, quite intensely, and she hoped she wasn’t kidding herself, but he didn’t look so anxious anymore. Finally he broke eye contact to look down at her feet. “Before I go, I have to ask...”

With a resigned sigh, she followed his gaze to her short camo-patterned cowboy boots. Only they were pink and tan, camouflage objective be damned. “A birthday gift from my niece, so I feel obliged to wear them occasionally.”

“Ah.” Amusement eased the tension around his mouth. “You’re a very good aunt.”

“You have no idea,” she murmured, and stopped right there, deciding to avoid the topic. She suspected her earlier reference to family had darkened his mood.

He took another gulp of water, then recapped the bottle. “Good luck tomorrow. I hope your guys show up.”

“If they don’t, I’ll hunt them down.”

He smiled, and she had the distinct feeling he wanted to say something, but he started toward the driver’s door instead. So that was it? He was leaving? Wishing her luck was a goodbye?

“Nathan?”

He opened the door but stopped to look at her, his face blank.

“Thank you,” she said, wondering if she should offer to shake his hand. Normally she would, but now it felt weird. “I mean it. You could’ve easily blown me off, but you didn’t.”

“No problem,” he said, his gaze slipping away from her. “Just being neighborly.”

“I wish I could do something for you in return.” She focused on his chin, horrified by the dip in her voice. It sounded huskier than normal, kind of sexy, kind of as if she was offering sex. She wouldn’t mind a little harmless recreation, but being obvious wasn’t her style. “So...” She cleared her throat. “If you’re ever in town and feel like a beer, remember, I’m buying.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His voice had lowered, too, and though she hadn’t met his eyes, she felt him staring at her.

“That includes Woody, too. And Craig and Troy, of course. Please tell them.” She saw a brief smile tug at his mouth and slowly lifted her lashes.

At that exact moment he turned away to toss his gloves onto the seat. “You don’t owe them anything. They were being paid.”

“Guess it’ll be just you and me, then.” She shrugged, which he missed, along with her teasing grin. So she was back to feeling awkward again. “Or not,” she said, repeating the shrug when he looked at her before falling back a step. “Better hit it before the Food Mart gets crowded.”

He looked momentarily confused and then tightened his mouth. Without another word he got into his truck. She waited until she heard the engine start and saw the pickup roll forward before she turned to go inside.

If she were to glance back, she wondered if she’d find him watching her. Probably not. She might’ve only imagined the spark between them, but she didn’t think so. Maybe he was still in mourning and wasn’t ready to get back in the dating saddle. Had the tension between them made him feel guilty?

She couldn’t stand it. She had to sneak a final look.

He’d just made the turn onto Main Street. And now drove in the opposite direction of the Food Mart, toward the highway leading back to the Lucky 7. Proof of what she’d already known. He’d used the store as an excuse. It pleased her and made her laugh.

“What was he doing here?”

The snarl in Liberty’s voice had Beth jerking around to stare at her niece. She was coming from the stop where the school bus dropped off town kids. Candace and Liberty didn’t live nearby, but she got off in town on the days she worked for Beth—who’d somehow managed to forget today was one of those days.

“Who?” Beth followed the spiteful gaze aimed at Nathan’s truck. “Nathan Landers?”

“Yeah.” Liberty gave a surly huff. “What the hell did he want?”

“How do you know—? Oh, God.” Beth finally realized why his name had sounded familiar. She’d seen it on the victims’ restitution list, the one that had been issued by the court. Nathan was one of the dubiously proud owners of Liberty’s wall art.


4 (#ulink_37a4ca11-c5a5-524c-b643-0171aa5b706c)

BETH SAT AT the kitchen table, sipping her morning coffee as she listened to her sister and niece get into yet another argument. They were down the hall, probably in Liberty’s room, but their rented house was tiny and Beth could hear every heated word.

This time the disagreement centered on how Liberty was dressed for school. A rather popular theme for them—although the shouting could’ve been about anything, ranging from using each other’s things without permission to whether Liberty could visit her father in prison. Their differences seemed endless, and Beth felt awful for both of them.

Sadly, their quarrels weren’t the typical mother-daughter stuff because Candace hadn’t grown up yet. They sounded more like teenage sisters. At times Beth felt pathetically grateful she’d been spared ten years of the ongoing drama, but mostly she felt guilty.

Yes, she’d been only seventeen when her sister had taken Liberty and fled without even leaving a note. But contact had been reestablished five years ago, and Beth, wrapped up in her career, had ignored the signs they were headed for trouble. Turning a blind eye had been easy to rationalize. After all, she’d already done her share. At age eleven she’d started taking care of Candace and their mother, and then later Liberty, making sure they all had a roof over their heads and food in the fridge.

“Stop it, Candace.” Liberty stormed into the kitchen, her long brown hair flying everywhere. She dropped her backpack on a chair and flung open the fridge. “You try to act and dress like you’re still young, but you’re not. You’re old and you don’t know what you’re talking about. Girls don’t wear that kind of shit to school anymore.”

“Come on, Lib,” Beth said quietly. Normally she didn’t interfere, but she knew Candace wouldn’t correct her daughter’s language. “I know you have a better vocabulary than that.”

The teenager rolled her eyes, but she’d watch her mouth...at least as long as Beth was present. They’d had a few discussions about showing respect.

“That’s right. Listen to your aunt but ignore me.” Candace swept a contemptuous gaze over Liberty’s baggy jeans, oversize T-shirt and combat boots. “But she doesn’t have a man, now, does she? And neither will you if you keep dressing like a damn slob.” Candace shook back her overprocessed, bleached hair. “Old, my ass. Last week at that silly PTA meeting, I could’ve had any man I wanted. You shoulda seen them eyeballing me, even with their pig-faced judgmental wives sitting next to them.”

“Oh, God, Candace, you’re so pathetic,” Liberty said through gritted teeth. She slammed the fridge door without taking out anything for breakfast. “Don’t go to my school anymore. For meetings...for anything. Ever. I mean it.”

Candace blinked and cast a nervous glance at Beth before reaching into the pocket of her black silk robe. Her cigarettes were never far.

Beth stared into her cup, using every ounce of her control to keep her mouth shut. For now. Just until Liberty left to catch the bus. Then she’d speak with her sister. For all the good it would do. Sometimes Beth wanted to just choke her and other times she could sob for hours. Candace had become a replica of their mother, abusing booze, ready to screw any man who paid her a compliment.

She was only thirty-two, but hard living had taken its toll on her skin and body. Beth held out little hope she’d change her ways, but she had to make Candace understand that her fifteen-year-old daughter was too young to be trying to attract a man. Or that she needed one to make her happy.

“Tell you what, Mom...” Liberty drawled, grabbing a handful of hard candy from the plastic bowl on the blue Formica counter.

Ah, here came the bargaining part. Beth had to admit, Liberty was pretty good at it. Or, more accurately, she knew how to wear her mother down.

Candace drew on her cigarette and grimaced. She must’ve forgotten it wasn’t lit yet. Beth had convinced her to only smoke outside. Pulling the cigarette out of her mouth, she glared at Liberty. “What?”

The girl drew in a deep breath. She didn’t look cocky or combative, but oddly nervous. “Let me see Dad next visiting day and I’ll change into anything you want,” she said, looking into her mother’s eyes, an unconscious yearning in her youthful face. “I’ll even wear some of that stupid makeup you bought me.”

Clearly startled, Candace turned to the window over the sink. “I think I see your bus. You’re going to be late, so move it.”

“Oh. My. God. You’re such a liar. You’ve been saying maybe for months.” The words shook with anger. “You’re never going to let me see him.” Liberty grabbed her backpack. “I hate you.” She nearly tore the screen door off its hinges and slammed it behind her.

Candace hadn’t turned around once.

Beth got up and ran outside. Liberty had made it halfway to the short gravel road shared by three other shabby houses with their neglected yards. “Liberty, wait.”

The girl hitched the sagging backpack up to her shoulder, looking small and forlorn standing in the middle of the weed-infested grass. After swiping at her cheeks, she turned and waited for Beth.

“I hate Candace,” she murmured. “I do. I really hate her. Why couldn’t you have been my mother?”

Beth hugged the girl. “No, you don’t. I understand why you think you might.” She drew back to smile at her niece. “When I was your age I hated my mother, too.”

“Well, yeah, grandma and my mom are totally alike.”

The teen’s insight startled Beth. Maybe the right thing would be to deny it, but somehow that felt like an insult to Liberty. “You don’t hate her,” she said. “You may not agree with her, or like some things she says and does, but—”

“Do you think she’s right? About not letting me see my dad?”

“I’m sure she has a good reason,” Beth said carefully. “I don’t know the specifics, and it is a four-hour bus ride to the prison.”

“So what? I haven’t seen my dad in a whole year. And it’s not like I’m asking her to take me.” Liberty briefly turned at the sound of the noisy bus still a mile down the road. “I’m old enough to go by myself.”

No way Beth agreed with that, but she’d let it slide for now. “Let’s walk to the curb so the driver sees you.”

“Will you talk to her, Aunt Beth?” Liberty tugged the overstuffed backpack up higher on her shoulder as she swung toward the road. A notebook popped out. And so did a can of red spray paint.

“Liberty.” Beth sighed, feeling heartsick. She’d honestly thought they’d turned a corner. “What are you doing with that?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“What I think doesn’t matter. Having spray paint in your possession violates your probation. The judge can stick you in juvenile detention.”

“Oh, he won’t.” Liberty crammed everything back into her backpack. “Spike says the court always threatens stuff like that but they never lock kids up. It costs too much.”

Beth really had to bite her tongue. If she had her way, Jerry Long, aka Spike, would be thrown in a dungeon somewhere north of the Arctic Circle. The guy was crude, surly and, at eighteen, too old to be hanging around a fifteen-year-old girl. “He’s wrong, kiddo, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.” She held out her hand. “You need to give me that can.”

“No, it’s for a school project. My art class.” Liberty sent a quick look at the approaching bus. “I don’t want to have to explain to my teacher why I can’t have a stupid spray can.”

“What kind of project is it?”

“Please, Aunt Beth,” she pleaded with puppy-dog eyes as she moved toward the road. “I’ll give you the can as soon I’m finished with it. Promise.”

The bus stopped and the door whooshed open.

Beth sighed. “Okay. Go.” She hoped she wasn’t being foolish. “We’re going to talk more about this later,” she called after Liberty, who wasted no time getting on the bus and out of earshot.

The air was chilly and scented with the crisp smell of autumn. Wearing short-sleeved T-shirts was fine during the day, especially to work around the boardinghouse, but she’d have to buy some sweatshirts for the mornings. Goose bumps covered her arms and she rubbed them, trying to get warm, as she stood in the tall grass, watching the bus turn onto the highway.

How different her life was these days. She hadn’t even owned a T-shirt until two months ago. Armani suits and Dolce & Gabbana dresses had hung in her closet. And her collection of shoes? Just thinking about her Jimmy Choos and Christian Louboutins languishing in a storage unit gave her another chill.

She stared down at her ugly work boots. God, she really missed high heels—mostly because she liked the way they made her legs look. But that was stupid, since all she ever wore anymore was jeans. Even once the inn was open for business, her attire wouldn’t change much. Around Blackfoot Falls people only dressed up for church, weddings and funerals. And for some, that simply meant a clean shirt or wearing something other than jeans.

When she’d made the decision to quit her job and move close to Candace and Liberty, she hadn’t considered the little things that would change in her day-to-day life. Her decision had been both emotional and hasty, but this was still the right choice. Although she wasn’t anyone’s idea of a perfect role model, her influence might be Liberty’s only shot at a healthy future.

She turned and started back toward the small turquoise house with its peeling white trim. What an eyesore. Which really said something, considering the condition of the other three homes with their torn screens and ramshackle porches. She couldn’t wait until a room was ready at the boardinghouse. Nathan was right—her efforts should be concentrated on fixing the outside, especially with winter coming. But she needed her own space. She needed to be away from this sad little neighborhood that reminded her of her unstable childhood.

Her aversion had nothing to do with being a snob. While working as an event planner, the fat paychecks had been well earned, not handed to her just for being pretty. She’d gotten her hands dirty plenty of times, making sure every event went smoothly. As much as she loved her designer shoes, she hadn’t forgotten how often she’d had to literally run around, bribing and cajoling, fixing last-minute snafus and liberally cursing both Mr. Choo and Mr. Louboutin.

No, the real problem with living here was that it pushed her buttons. Thrust her back in time to feeling like that scared, helpless child, convinced she’d never be safe, never know the security of a home that couldn’t be pulled out from under her. As clear as it was that she’d made the right choice to move to Blackfoot Falls, she was equally certain that she couldn’t live in this house much longer. Beth needed her own space.

And the other unsettling thing? She suspected the rent was being paid by one of her sister’s lovers. Or maybe the guy owned the house and was taking payment in trade. When Beth had offered to cover the rent and utility bills, Candace had eagerly requested cash instead of a check made out to the mysterious landlord. Beth had bought Liberty school clothes and a computer instead.

Candace was standing at the open door puffing on her cigarette. “I told you before you came that girl was a handful,” she said, the corners of her mouth curling up as if the warning gave her reason to be smug.

“Is it any wonder?” Beth pushed past her. “She doesn’t have adequate parental supervision.”

Candace put the cigarette out on the side of the house and joined Beth in the kitchen. “You talking about me or her father?”

“Oh, God, really?”

“Hey, at least I’m here. I didn’t get myself locked up for breaking and entering.”

Beth sighed. “She shouldn’t be hanging around Spike. He’s too old for her.”

“I agree. I even had a sit-down with Liberty.”

Beth had picked up the keys she’d left on the table, but surprised, she was no longer in a hurry to go. “And?”

“I told her to wake up, that she’s wasting her time. He’s eighteen and still a junior in high school. She doesn’t need a loser like him. He’s never gonna be able to buy her something nice or take her anywhere. I told her straight up. I said, baby girl, you can do so much better than that clown.”

Her mouth hanging open, Beth stared at her sister. The woman was completely clueless. Even after all the heart-to-heart talks they’d had in the past two months.

Candace took the tomato juice out of the fridge and fixed herself a Bloody Mary. After taking a sip, she glanced at Beth. “You want one before you go?”

Instead of answering, she saved her energy to keep from exploding. “Liberty is a bright girl. She doesn’t need a man buying her things or—” Beth’s control slipped a notch. “Or paying her rent.”

With a chilly glare, Candace picked up her drink, leaving everything else on the counter, and walked to the door while reaching into her pocket.

“Look, I’m sorry.” Beth briefly closed her eyes. “I’m not here to judge you, I’m not...but come on, this is about Liberty. You don’t want to see her go down the same road as—”

“Me?” Candace paused to look at her and shrugged. “Go ahead and say it.”

“I mostly blame Mom, not you. She was a horrible influence on both of us.” Beth had to be careful to keep her voice neutral. No one appreciated condescension, and she wanted to provide motivation, not ammunition for another fight. “The example you set for Liberty matters.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Bethany, kinda late for that, don’t you think?”

“No. No, I don’t.”

“Well, that’s your job, isn’t it, Little Miss Perfect? Being the shining example for your niece,” Candace said, and slammed out the screen door.

Holding on to her temper by her fingernails, Beth followed her to the stoop. “Look, you called me, remember?”

Candace lit her cigarette and drew in deeply. “You heard from her recently?”

“Who?”

“Mom.”

Beth shook her head. Candace’s mercurial moods alone drove her crazy. “I haven’t talked to her in two years. She could’ve changed her number or moved for all I know.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s still living with Bobby in Vegas,” Candace said, absently staring off toward the Belt Mountains where most of the aspens had turned golden. The only decent thing about the house and flat tract of land was the view.

“Can we get back to Liberty? I think Spike is the one getting her into trouble.”

“As long as he’s not chasing off other boys who are interested in her, I’m not going to interfere.”

Watching her gulp down half her drink, Beth sighed. Once again, it wasn’t the time to have a worthwhile discussion. But then it never was with Candace. Beth glanced at the clock. She had to get to town and be at the boardinghouse before her workers arrived.

Thinking about them reminded her of the lumber order, which led her to Nathan. Yesterday he’d been a shining beacon of hope that life in Blackfoot Falls might be looking up. That had lasted for an hour. After he figured out she was related to the little graffiti artist who’d defaced his water sheds, he’d probably never want to see Beth again.

Not bothering to say anything to her sister, Beth left through the living room, grabbing her phone and wallet off the teak end table. The garage-sale purchase was the nicest piece of furniture in the house and even made the green plaid couch look better. As far as the brown corduroy recliner went, Beth saw no hope for it. Maybe she’d get lucky again at another garage sale.

She climbed into her truck just as her phone buzzed. She smiled when she saw it was a text from Fritz. He sent the same one every week, asking if she’d had enough and was ready to return to work. Her former boss had never said, but she had a feeling he hadn’t expected her to last this long. He’d been good to her, grooming her to be a savvy, confident woman, and she owed him. It was time to make him understand he should hire another assistant.

Wondering where he was, her fingers hovered over the keypad. He could be in Paris or Hong Kong or New York. It didn’t matter since he’d just texted. She wouldn’t be disturbing him. Allowing herself a brief wistful memory of autumn in Paris, she stared at the sad three-bedroom house that was in desperate need of a new roof. She really had to move out. It wasn’t that she needed pretty things. Arguing with Candace and getting nowhere was sucking the soul out of her. Still, she was committed to staying in Blackfoot Falls. Liberty needed her and, to some degree, so did Candace.




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