Sage Creek

by Jill Gregory

“Did you know Crenshaw before this happened?” the sheriff asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Ever run into him again after that night? Any other contact with him anywhere—anytime?”

  “No—never. He has no reason to be angry with me. I can’t imagine why he’d want to let the air out of my tires—or leave a dead squirrel on my car—or do any of this.” She swallowed, and Rafe reached over, clasped her hand.

  Hodge refrained from smiling at the gesture. Had he called it or hadn’t he? “Well, it doesn’t seem to make much sense, does it—him going after your car.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll run a background check on him, then see what he’s got to say.”

  Rafe walked the sheriff to the door.

  “I’ve got Ivy to think of, Teddy.” Rafe’s voice was low, serious. “You need to find out who did this and soon.”

  “Oh, I’ll find out. Don’t you worry.” The sheriff tucked away his notepad as he stepped over the threshold. “In the meantime, you keep your eyes and ears open. Both of you,” he said, glancing back at Sophie.

  He stopped again and turned back once more on the way to his cruiser. “It’s possible, if we’re lucky, this could be the end of it, you know. Whoever’s out there nursing a grudge, there’s a chance he just got it out of his system.”

  Sophie’s chest felt as tight as hardened wax. Then Rafe voiced the exact same thought that was circling in her head.

  “Or maybe he’s just getting started.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The night glowed with a thousand stars by the time Sophie and Rafe finished supper at the kitchen table. She had tossed together a salad while Rafe grilled the steaks and corn on the cob. As the moon edged out from behind a filmy cloud, bathing the mountains in a pale silver sheen, she tilted her wineglass and drained the last drops of her merlot.

  Crazily, despite everything that had happened, she felt oddly relaxed. Merlot helps, she thought, as the gentle warmth of the wine slid through her and she remembered she was on her second glass.

  “Ready for dessert?” she asked.

  “Always. What’ve you got in mind?”

  She smiled. An image of the two of them in bed flew into her mind, and she had to blink to force it away.

  “Peanut butter cookies, remember?”

  “Definitely my second choice, but I’ll take what I can get.”

  It was strange, she thought later, as they munched cookies and sipped hot coffee, how much she’d loved this simple meal, this quiet dinner with Rafe at Sage Ranch.

  It surpassed all of the elaborate gourmet meals she and Ned had ordered at fancy restaurants and the excitement and energy of San Francisco’s legendary nightlife.

  Sitting here in this kitchen with Rafe, a platter of cookies and two mugs of hot coffee between them, she felt something she couldn’t remember feeling in a long time.

  Happiness.

  Even what they’d discovered when they returned from the creek today couldn’t touch the calm that had come over her as they fixed supper together and talked about the bakery, the new horses he’d recently acquired at auction, and Ivy.

  And it wasn’t only the wine that made her feel this way, Sophie realized.

  It was everything. It was Rafe.

  A girl could get used to feeling . . . happy.

  Sophie met his eyes. She felt the pull between them, stronger than ever, and she suddenly had to fight the urge to reach across the table and touch his face. She wanted to slide onto his lap and kiss him, to stroke her fingers through his hair. To lead him up the stairs to his bedroom and melt with him as one down onto the bed....

  It’s too soon, she told herself, a rush of panic skittering through her. Too risky.

  But was it really? Or was she simply stalling for time because she was letting fear run her life, make all the decisions?

  When was she going to trust herself—trust her heart?

  She stood up from the table and began stacking the dishes, wondering if this was just the remnants of the wine talking—or if she was seeing the truth. For months now she’d been clinging to the memories of her own hurt, using them as a shield against life, love, hope.

  In the kitchen, Rafe switched on the radio on the counter and joined in the cleanup.

  First Waylon Jennings serenaded them. “Mammas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys.” An Eagles song came on next.

  “Take It Easy.”

  Rafe took away the last plate Sophie had been about to set in the dishwasher and laid it on the counter, then swung her into his arms, grinning at her gasp of surprise.

  C’mon, baaaby, don’t say maaaaybe . . .

  His arm was snug around her waist, his other hand clasped hers. The music filled her soul, her heart.

  So did the smile in Rafe’s eyes as he held her close.

  I gotta know if your sweet love is gonna saaaave me. . . .

  He spun her around, drew her back against him, and she laughed as he dipped her. They kissed just as the song ended.

  “Nice,” she murmured. She kissed him again.

  Rafe kissed her back, a longer, slower kiss this time. A serious kiss. The music had ended, and a commercial was squawking, but they were still dancing, still kissing, their mouths seeking with a need of their own.

  “I want to show you something.”

  She opened her eyes, tilted her head. “I’ll just bet you do.”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  On the words, he pulled her toward the back door. They stepped around Starbucks, sound asleep finally on his soft rug in the corner of the kitchen, and emerged into the brilliance of the starlit night.

  She breathed in cool crisp mountain air as he led her away from the house. Not to the new modern pole barn he’d built ten years ago, but to the old barn now used as an extra tack room, temporary bunkhouse, and storage area for feed and supplies, as well as a place where the wranglers could take a break in the middle of the day, sit at the old wooden table, and eat a sandwich, drink some coffee, or catch a few z’s if they needed a place to sleep.

  Drawing her inside, Rafe switched on a light and a yellow glow banished the shadows.

  “Remember this place?”

  Sophie laughed. “I’d say so.” She’d never forget this barn. Here was where she and Lissie had hidden in the hayloft one afternoon, knowing Rafe and his girlfriend of the week would be sneaking in here after they got back from chowing down on French fries and Cokes at Roy’s after school.

  This was his favorite make-out spot.

  Until that day he came here with Colleen Finch, who’d lasted longer than most, and who had a reputation as a girl who was working her way through every cute boy in Lonesome Way High.

  Colleen, giggling, had dashed straight to the ladder and started climbing, with Rafe right behind her. It had all happened so fast, and there’d been no place for Sophie and Lissie to hide. Upon reaching the top of the ladder and stumbling into the loft, instead of finding soft hay and darkness, Colleen had spotted an embarrassed Sophie and Lissie crouched in the shadows, and had let out an ear-piercing scream. Behind her on the ladder, Rafe glared at them in fury.

  Then he leaped into the loft and started to yell.

  Somehow they’d managed to scramble down the ladder without falling, and even though Rafe had chased them out of the barn, he hadn’t come after them, but had closed and locked the barn door.

  “I haven’t been back in here since that day,” she murmured.

  Being here now with Rafe brought back a flood of memories. All of the feelings she used to have about him collided with the feelings she had for him now.

  It dawned on her that she, Sophie McPhee, could now be the girl in the hayloft. All she had to do was climb.

  “I was so mad at you and Lissie that day. But afterward I had to laugh. The looks of fear on your faces was better than anything I could have done to you two.”

  “We were utterly mortified.”

  “And now?”

&nbs
p; “Now,” Sophie said, tilting her head up to look into his eyes. “I’m wondering why you brought me here.”

  He backed her up against the barn door and braced his hands on it, just above her shoulders. A slow smile softened the intensity of those deep blue eyes.

  “Because the past is over. You’re not that bratty little kid anymore and I’m not that wild jackass of a guy. We’re not who we were back then. We’re who we are now. I thought being here might help bring that home to you.”

  She slid her arms around his neck and drew him closer. He smelled so good, like saddle leather and sagebrush and spice. Her heartbeat quickened as those hard-muscled arms swept tight around her waist.

  “I like us better now,” she whispered.

  She’d been secretly in love with him back then, and also scared of him. But she wasn’t scared of him now at all. She felt safe here with Rafe in this big old barn. Safer than she’d felt in a long time.

  And braver.

  She’d been busy protecting her heart, but somehow it had opened to him anyway. She could deny it all she wanted, but she wanted him and she wasn’t afraid.

  Her lips parted as she kissed him, inviting him in. She didn’t try to resist the delightful sensations that swept her as his kiss intensified and he pressed her back against the barn door. Sophie’s eyes drifted closed as his mouth explored hers, as their tongues sparred in an erotic secret battle.

  His teeth caught her lower lip—gently—then grazed lower. She drew in her breath as his mouth skimmed across her jaw, nibbled at her earlobe. His tongue began tracing a slow, moist path around the delicate shell of her ear.

  She felt herself sinking into a haze of heat and pleasure. They held each other, touched each other, and sank to the floor. Their kisses were slow and deep and sexy. An ache started deep inside Sophie, an ache for this man, this night, this moment.

  In between kisses, she unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it off his broad shoulders, ran her hands over his chest. Rafe drew her sweatshirt over her head and tossed it down beneath her, making a pillow for her as he pressed her against the ground. Her bra went sailing, even as Sophie slid her hand to the taut zipper of his jeans.

  He was hard, his eyes gleaming into hers with so much need and hunger she was breathless. This time his kiss was filled with a rough urgency that made her heart jump.

  “Quick,” she gasped, working the zipper. She didn’t want to wait any longer, to risk changing her mind or getting interrupted. “I want you so much, Rafe. I want you right now.”

  “Not a quarter as much as I want you.”

  “We need . . . protection. . . .”

  “No fears, I’ve got it covered. But what’s the hurry?” He pinned her hands on either side of her head and bent to kiss her again, devouring her until they were both out of breath. Sophie quivered all over as he moved lower, his tongue flicking over the pulse at the base of her throat.

  “You’re so incredibly beautiful.” His voice was low and rough. “And there’s so much I want to learn about you, Sophie. And do to you.”

  “It almost scares me how much I want you.” The words rushed out before she could stop them. She could barely breathe as no-holds-barred desire seared her. “I . . . know I should wait . . . think . . . but . . . I don’t want to . . . I don’t want to wait another second, Rafe.”

  “You’re sure?” Releasing her hands, he stared at her, his eyes keen and searching. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we can stop right now, Sophie. It damn well won’t be easy, but . . .”

  “There’s no stopping, cowboy. We’re at the point of no return.” She laughed breathlessly and got him out of those jeans so fast he chuckled. He was so gorgeous, bronzed and muscled, that her blood pounded. “I want you, Rafe. Here. Tonight. Now.”

  “You got me, sweetheart. All of me. No turning back.” His mouth drove against hers, taking her to a hot, shivery place she’d never known. Not with Ned, not with anyone. Not like this.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this since that night I first saw you in the Double Cross Bar and Grill,” he breathed in her ear.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this since that day I was fifteen when you picked me up on Squirrel Road,” Sophie gasped. “Maybe even before.” Her mouth clung to his. “And I’m not of a mind to wait any longer.”

  “Far be it from me to keep a lady waiting,” he drawled, which made her laugh.

  And then he made her gasp again and fist her fingers in his hair as he began to kiss her breasts. His tongue flicked at her nipple, first one and then the other, licking and teasing, even as he worked her out of her jeans.

  Then his mouth slid lower. Down her belly. Past her hips.

  She was trembling with need when he finally freed her of that fragile wisp of a pink thong. And he himself was more than ready to roll.

  She wasn’t just beautiful, she was exquisite. And so sensitive to every stroke of his tongue and every brush of his lips.

  Her skin was smooth and softly fragrant. Like an exotic flower, Rafe thought. And he was losing himself fast in the taste and scent and sweetness of her. Her hands clutched at his back, her hips moved desperately against him, and need vibrated from every single beautiful pore.

  He wanted to tell her that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her, that he’d never felt this way about any other woman, not Lynelle, not anyone who had danced in and out of his life.

  But he didn’t. He didn’t know yet what all this meant, where it was leading. And he didn’t want to promise more than he could give.

  So instead he thought about protection. He couldn’t forget that.

  But soon he forgot damn near everything else. The old barn just faded away. So did the cool, star-bright night and all sense of time. There was only the two of them and the fire inside them.

  His muscular body covered hers and Sophie wrapped her legs around him. Sanity slipped away as he filled her, thrusting deep and hard and then deeper still. They swept together to the edge and then over, and she cried out against the heat of his lips.

  There was only the two of them in the whole wide world. Night and fire. Soaring flight and explosive release. Bodies clinging, seeking—and finally shattering as they fused into one.

  Then at last a shuddering peace—and Sophie. Rafe kissed her throat very gently, stroked her hair, and gathered her close against his sweat-slicked body in the silence of the old barn.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Big day today, Tid,” Sophie whispered the morning of the bakery’s opening.

  It was an hour until dawn and her feet had just hit the floor. Tidbit had lifted his head from the foot of her bed, his tail immediately wagging when she glanced at him.

  “I’ll fill you in on how it goes tonight,” she said softly, and slipped down the hall to shower. She was on her way to town a scant half hour later, even as the last few stars clung to the sky. Instead of her Blazer, which was in the shop getting its side windows replaced, she was driving a rented Jeep, and the weather guy on the radio informed her it was going to be a sunny day with a high of around sixty-two degrees.

  She let herself into A Bun in the Oven at five A.M., switched on the lights, and moved swiftly past the tables and the counter, the display shelves and booths, back into the kitchen. Her home away from home.

  Yesterday she’d come with her master list in hand and done a meticulous final check of the sacks and tubs and tins and barrels of ingredients all neatly stacked in the storage room on floor-to-ceiling shelves.

  Sugar, check. Raisins, almonds, butter. Check. Honey, yeast. Check, check, check, check, check.

  When she’d turned her attention to the ingredients for the cafe side of the menu, where she’d be serving a soup, two sandwiches, and a specialty salad daily, it had hit her.

  This was really happening. A Bun in the Oven was finally opening.

  Nerves had fluttered through her like a million insect wings flapping in her blood. She’d felt this way when her very first Sweet Sensations opened too
. And that had been a huge success, she’d reminded herself.

  Now as she stood in the empty bakery, the long first day ahead of her, she wondered.

  Could she do it again? Here, in Lonesome Way?

  She closed her eyes for a moment. It would be awful to fail in her home town. Rumors persisted about certain people boycotting the bakery because it opened so quickly after Roy’s closed up.

  But she couldn’t allow herself to dwell on that. There was too much to do. And an ever dwindling amount of time in which to do it.

  Get to work, she told herself, and turned her attention to the first order of business—baking bread. When the bell chimed over the front door at six A.M., she hurried out front in time to see her grandmother padding toward the counter holding a white and blue milk pitcher brimming with spray roses, fluffy pink carnations, asters, and daisies all clustered around a sunflower.

  Gran held the flowers out toward her with the same sweet smile she wore when she pulled a pan of brownies from the oven.

  “These are for good luck. Not that you need any, dear. You know how to make your own luck.”

  “Oh, Gran. They’re gorgeous.” Flooded with a rush of emotions, she pressed a kiss to her grandmother’s cheek, which, as usual, smelled of Pond’s cream and gardenias.

  “I’m so proud of you,” Gran whispered.

  Sophie hugged her, then straightened, the butterflies returning to her stomach as she set the milk pitcher on the counter. “Don’t be proud yet. See if I survive today. And if any customers return tomorrow. That’s the real test.”

  “Oh, you’ll survive. You come from a long line of strong women. It’s in your blood.” Gran’s sneakers made a soft squeaky sound as she walked behind the counter, glancing this way and that, missing nothing as she took in all the changes to Roy’s Diner. Her smooth white braid trailed down her back, gleaming against her bright blue sweater.

  “Look how much you’ve already accomplished.” She waved a hand at the cheery freshness of the bakery, the gleaming glass shelves waiting to be filled with pastries, the antique cash register polished and glinting in the afternoon light, the cappuccino machine installed behind the counter.