OLIVER: WESTERN CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE (Blackwater Canyon Ranch Book 2)

by Stark, Cindy

  Erin shrugged, intrigued by the woman who pushed social boundaries. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember you.”

  “Of course you don’t. You were maybe four or five at the time. But I remember you.” She pointed a slightly crooked finger at her. “You have unforgettable hair, the color of fire, just like I used to when I was younger.”

  She liked the woman much better than she had thirty seconds ago.

  “It’s a ghastly shade, don’t you think?” her mother interrupted, directing her question to Annabelle. “I’m sure you’ve fought it your whole life, too. I keep trying to convince her to add some highlights or go completely blond like her sister.”

  A smart retort hovered on Erin’s tongue, but before she could spit it out, her great aunt spoke instead.

  “I beg to differ, Marian. I turned quite a few heads in my day, and many young men admitted they’d asked me out just to have an opportunity to touch my hair.”

  “Seriously?” Her mother scoffed and shook her head as though completely dismissing the idea. “Well, we all know times were different back then. Women didn’t have the options they do today.”

  Erin tucked her lips in and tilted her head down, trying to hide the smile on her face. When she did, she caught a glimpse of worn cowboy boots peeking from beneath Annabelle’s elegant silver skirt. Surprised yet again, Erin switched her gaze back to the older woman.

  Her great aunt remained focused on her mother. “Regardless, I would have kept my color. It made me unique instead of a cookie cutout of the other girls my age.” Annabelle met her mother’s disdainful look with a sugary smile.

  Her mother, on the other hand, had always tried to look like every other woman at the country club. As expected, her mother immediately began to search for an escape. She’d never been one to handle people challenging her passive-aggressive ways.

  Erin knew her mother had found her excuse when a smile lit her face. “I’ve truly enjoyed our conversation, Aunt Annabelle, but you’ll need to excuse me. My husband is waving me over.”

  Laughter simmered on Erin’s tongue as she watched her mother’s slender figure and perfectly-styled blond hair disappear into the crowd of a hundred people. She and her mother weren’t as different as her mom liked to think. They both had a tendency to want to escape uncomfortable situations. The only difference was her mother was usually the cause for the awkwardness.

  “What a pleasant lady,” the older woman said, earning a surprised look from Erin.

  She wasn’t sure if her aunt was teasing or not, so she played it safe. “I’m glad you think so.” Just then, Erin spotted Devin heading in their direction though she wasn’t certain he’d seen her yet. “How about we move to the bar for a drink?”

  A twinkle appeared in Aunt Annabelle’s eye, and she winked. “A girl after my own heart. I hear my nephew has stocked some of the best whiskey for his party, and I couldn’t possibly let that boast go without testing the truth of it.”

  “Of course.” Erin held out an arm, allowing her great aunt to grab hold and pull herself up.

  “I’m eighty-two years this summer and still going strong, except my back gives me fits every once in a while.”

  Erin hurried her along as fast as possible. “That’s amazing.” She did seem pretty spry for her age, and once Annabelle was out of her seat, she walked fairly well.

  “It’s the cowboy boots,” she whispered as though she’d disclosed state’s secrets. “They remind me to stay grounded to my roots, and they keep me steady on my feet.”

  Erin smiled, liking this woman more and more. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  She parked her great aunt at an out-of-the-way little table to the side of the bar that had been constructed especially for the party.

  “We’ll both have a shot of the Jack Daniels Sinatra Select,” Annabelle said to the penguin-suited waiter.

  “Yes, ma’am.” If he was surprised an 80-year-old woman wanted a shot of whiskey, he didn’t show it.

  “It sells at close to two-hundred and fifty dollars a bottle,” Annabelle whispered behind her hand. Not that anyone was close enough to hear. “We’ll see if it tastes like it.”

  When the waiter returned with their drinks, Annabelle lifted her glass and slugged down her drink as if she was in an old-western saloon. This time, her actions earned her a pair of raised brows from the waiter. “Jack Daniels has always been my favorite,” she said to him.

  “Hold on a second, son,” she added when he started to turn away. She looked to Erin. “Your turn.”

  Erin laughed, but then she could see Annabelle was dead serious. It had been a long time since she’d downed anything stronger than coffee, but it seemed this evening called for it. She lifted the glass in a toast and then drained the contents.

  “Good Lord.” She gasped as the smooth fire burned a trail down her throat.

  The older woman took her glass as Erin tried to catch her breath, and she set it on the waiter’s tray. “We’ll take two more.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a chuckle as he turned away.

  Erin tried to blink away the tears from her eyes before Annabelle noticed.

  “I’ll have to admit that’s some damn fine whiskey. Worth every cent.”

  “Uh-huh,” Erin croaked and tried to clear her throat.

  “What’s the matter? A little too strong for you, love?” She patted her hand.

  Erin nodded as the molten liquid continued to spread from her stomach to other parts of her body, leaving her a little dizzy. “I think one might be my limit.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll drink yours if you can’t.”

  Her choke turned to a laugh.

  “How come I haven’t seen you in twenty years?” Erin asked. “I might have looked forward to these absurd reunions if I’d have known you’d be here.”

  Her aunt clucked. “I’ve been pretty busy, child. Too busy for this type of nonsense. A few years ago, I moved back to the little mining town where I’d been born and met a handsome man who charmed my socks off. Life was always an adventure with him. It turns out he lived in this delightful old house that used to belong to my family, and we turned it into a bed and breakfast.”

  “You make it sound like a fairytale.”

  Her lips parted in a warm smile, wrinkling the skin on her cheeks. “It’s my fairytale. I’ve learned to make it a priority to do what makes me happy, but living in our town, enjoying each other, the beautiful surroundings and our friends was the best part of my life. I’ve always believed the best is yet to come, but I lost him two months ago and now realize my love with Henderson will be hard to top.”

  A sudden ache of envy rippled through her. She wanted the same out of life. A strong man, a cozy home, and good friends who understood her. “Where is this magical little town?”

  “The southwest part of Colorado, high in the San Juan Mountains. It’s called Argent Springs. Ever heard of it?”

  Erin shook her head.

  “We have some pretty rough winters, but the cold makes it extra nice if you have someone to snuggle.” She tilted her head, the silver in her hair catching the light of an overhead lantern. “What about you? How is your fairytale coming along?”

  Erin rolled her eyes. “You heard my mother. If only I’d colored my hair, my husband might have been a better man, and I would have wanted him to hang around longer.”

  “Oh, love.” Her great aunt reached out and covered her hand, sending a rush of caring and comfort through her, along with a reminder of the emptiness she’d experienced most of her life. “How old are you, honey?”

  “Twenty-six.” With one failed marriage under her belt.

  “Twenty-six? What I wouldn’t give to be that age again.” She put a finger beneath Erin’s chin, the gentle gesture coaxing forth buried emotions. “You are so young, my dear, with many, many wonderful years ahead of you. Don’t be concerned by past mistakes. Take what you’ve learned from them and move forward to the amazing future that awaits you.”
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  “I’m working on it.” She sniffed, embarrassed she’d let this woman see her weakness. Her mother would have sent her into the house to gain control of herself if she’d spotted a tear. Silvestris did not cry in public. “But sometimes it’s hard to believe I’ll ever find a guy like your Henderson.”

  “I’m curious. How long since your divorce?”

  Erin thought for a moment. “Two years.” She was surprised to find she’d been divorced longer than she’d been married.

  “Two years? That’s far too long to mourn a dead relationship.”

  Erin widened her eyes. “It’s not as easy as it sounds.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that? Henderson was my fifth marriage. Two of those ended in divorce, and do you know what I found?”

  She shook her head, afraid to ask.

  “It’s a lot harder to climb back on the saddle the longer you wait, and think of all those great rides you’re missing out on.”

  Erin raised her brows, not sure if Annabelle was talking about life experiences or great sex. She supposed it didn’t matter either way. She’d recently begun to think life might be passing her by as well.

  “Do you know what I think? I think you should come visit me in Argent Springs. You need a change of scenery. You need to meet some real men, and you’ll find plenty of those in Argent Springs like I did with my Henderson. Besides, I’d love to show you my little yellow house and all the treasure it holds. It’s only a few hours from here. Say you’ll come.”

  Erin wasn’t too sure about the men, but she’d like to spend more time with Annabelle, and a chance to get away from the craziness of the city sounded perfect. “I would love to come visit you.” She truly would.

  “It’s a date, then,” the older woman said. “Give me your number, and I’ll call you. Once you’ve experienced life in Argent Springs, I promise you won’t want to leave.”

  ****

  The middle of October arrived before Erin had saved up enough money to cover her bills so she could escape her job as a massage therapist for a couple of weeks and go visit Aunt Annabelle. Unfortunately, in Erin’s chosen occupation, if she didn’t work, she didn’t get paid. Vacation pay didn’t exist in her world.

  The drive between Salt Lake and the small mining town in the lower part of Colorado took more than the few hours Aunt Annabelle had claimed. Seven hours was more like it. But she couldn’t complain. The nice weather was holding out, and the scenery was spectacular. She’d stopped several times to pull out her camera to shoot Utah's amazing red rock country.

  As she drew closer to Argent Springs, her excitement increased. She wasn’t sure which thrilled her more, the idea of spending time in the quaint little town she’d researched on the web or the thought of enjoying her aunt’s company.

  The steep grades and hairpin turns of the last mountain pass before she reached Argent Springs left her hands sweaty. Majestic aspens bearing frost-kissed yellow leaves and deep rock gorges begged her to capture them with her camera, but she didn’t dare stop on the narrow road.

  Then suddenly, the tall pines high in the San Juan Mountains gave way to a view of the beautiful vista sprawled below her. Carpets of yellow-green grass matted the hillside, traveling down to the small town nestled at the base of the surrounding majestic, blue mountains.

  The haven spoke to her soul.

  A beautiful green river encouraged her to follow its descent into town and discover the magic Argent Springs held for her. She ached to press harder on her accelerator so she'd arrive sooner, but the steep descent already had her little coupe traveling ten over the speed limit. She wasn't too keen on taking the shortcut straight off the cliff.

  No doubt she was romanticizing what she'd find in the tiny town. But it didn't matter. She'd enjoy every minute of the short, two-week reprieve from life. She hoped to emulate her aunt one day and knew she could learn a lot from her.

  The town had seemed small as she'd descended the mountain, but once she reached the bottom, she realized she’d still overestimated its size. It was no bigger than a shot glass. One main street dragged through town, and the majority of businesses and a small hotel huddled together along this short stretch. Many of the old brick buildings had been painted odd colors like peach, blue or green, as though they were vying for any passing tourist’s attention.

  Erin glanced at the directions she’d printed that would take her to her great aunt’s place and immediately made a right turn onto Second Street which was one step up from being an unpaved alley between a few short buildings. Then she made another quick left when she reached Black Street, which also wasn’t paved.

  What town in this day and age still boasted dirt roads? In the backcountry, yes. But in an actual tourist and ski town? That was crazy. Descending from the mountain seemed to have shaved a hundred years off the earth’s life.

  Argent Springs was a theatrical version of an old western town, and she loved it immediately. She’d been excited to shoot photos of the pristine mountain surroundings, but she couldn’t wait to capture the charm of the town as well.

  Half a block up Black Street, she stopped in front of the sunny yellow two-story building. Time might have slowed in this sleepy little town, but the ravages of its passing showed on her great aunt’s house. The paint, which still held traces of the cheerful color it had once been, curled and peeled from the wood beneath. Bright red and yellow chrysanthemums sprung from flower boxes that hung off the edges of the railing surrounding the front porch. Decorative wood work finished off the porch, adding to the already enchanting allure of the place.

  Erin parked her car in front and slid from the driver’s seat. She hadn’t made it up the second step when a man near her age appeared from the side of the house holding a large ax.

  “Can I help you?” he asked, his voice a deep timbre that caught her attention. Eyes the color of burnt caramel, fringed with enviously long lashes, regarded her with a hefty dose of suspicion.

  “I’m looking for Annabelle.” Her gaze slipped to the well-sculpted, tattooed muscles peeking from beneath his t-shirt sleeves. Good Lord, the man was built. The forest green color of his shirt set off his dark looks and stretched nicely across the wide barrel of his chest. “She’s expecting me,” she added as though she needed to clear herself of any doubt on his behalf.

  “You must be the niece.” He didn’t seem as pleased to see her as she was to be there.

  “I am.”

  “She’s inside.” He tipped his head toward the front door before he headed back around the side of the house.

  She watched him go, admiring his sexy swagger, before she released the breath she’d unconsciously held. If he wouldn’t announce her or escort her inside, why had he wasted his time greeting her?

  Click HERE to purchase WHISPERS (An Argent Springs Novel).

  The End

  Book List

  Blackwater Canyon Ranch:

  Caleb

  Oliver

  Aspen Series:

  Wounded (Prequel)

  Relentless

  Lawless

  Cowboys and Angels

  Come Back To Me

  Surrender

  Reckless

  Tempted

  Crazy One More Time

  I’m With You

  Pinecone Valley (Aspen Spinoff Series)

  Love Me Again

  Whispers (An Argent Springs Novel)

  Retribution Novels:

  Branded

  Hunted

  Banished

  Hijacked

  Moonlight and Margaritas

  Sweet Vengeance

  Witches of Port Townsend:

  Which Witch is Witch?

  Which Witch is Wicked?

  About the Author

  Cindy Stark lives with her family and a sweet Border Collie in a small town shadowed by the Rocky Mountains. She writes emotional romantic suspense sexy contemporary romance, and sizzling paranormal romance. She loves to hear from readers!

  Conn
ect with her online at:

  http://www.CindyStark.com

  http://facebook.com/CindyStark19

  http://twitter.com/CindyStark19