Real Vintage Maverick

by Marie Ferrarella

  But Cody wasn’t the type of man you said things like that to. She instinctively knew that he liked things simple. Even if they weren’t.

  Pausing to take a breath first, she made her case as best she could.

  “I thought you could give me a more unique perspective and help me pick out things that the average person might have overlooked.”

  Cody chewed on that for a second, thinking it over. And then he shook his head as he hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. “Still think you’ve got the wrong person.”

  She didn’t feel that way.

  “Do you care about other people’s opinions about you?” she asked point-blank. When he didn’t answer her immediately, she assured him, “This isn’t a trick question. I’m not trying to trap you. Matter of fact, I’m trying to free you.”

  “No, I don’t care what other people think of me,” he responded.

  And as for setting him free, it was going to take more than just a few innocent, glib words to do that, Cody couldn’t help thinking. His soul had been entangled and trapped, basically hidden from the light of day, for the last eight years. Ever since Renee had died, leaving him alone on this isolated piece of rock, leaving him to deal with the emptiness as best as he could.

  The man who didn’t care what other people thought of him, that was the man she wanted on her team.

  “I want the ‘inner you’ to respond to the merchandise I point out,” she explained to Cody.

  “And if I don’t ‘respond’ to what you point out?” he wanted to know.

  She shrugged. “Then I don’t buy it. It’s not like I don’t have anything to sell,” she reminded him with a laugh.

  These last few days she’d worked hard to make the furnishings she’d found presentable. She’d painstakingly rearranged everything to show them off to their best advantage.

  It still wasn’t clear to Cody. Exactly what was his function at the shop? “Maybe I’m being thick here, but I don’t get what you want with me if you’re planning on trying to sell all this other stuff.”

  “Those are antiques that might appeal to the average person who fancies himself or herself to be a collector. But I’m also looking for a few unique things that would appeal to the discerning buyer.”

  And those people usually had more disposable cash to spend than the average person, Catherine added silently. She wasn’t about to say it out loud because she knew that Cody didn’t quite fall into that category.

  Cody looked at her uncertainly now. “And you think that I’d know what they’d want...”

  His voice trailed off as he tried to make sense of what she’d just said. He really did want to follow her. Moreover, he didn’t want to think of her as being like those empty-headed women who were only defined by what their husbands did. He knew in his gut that she wasn’t like that.

  “I think you’d know what you want,” Catherine told him with emphasis.

  “And that makes me your unique, discerning buyer?” he questioned.

  The very corners of her mouth seemed to reach up to her eyes as she smiled. “Yes.”

  The idea of his being “unique” had Cody shaking his head in disbelief. That was the last word he would have ever applied to himself.

  “Like I said, Catherine Clifton, you are a strange, strange lady.”

  “No, I’m a good businesswoman. I just want to make sure I have a good variety available for the customers. Fowler just had dusty pieces he didn’t bother taking care of. The store was his ‘cover,’ but it’s going to be my business.”

  “And you really think that you can make a go of it?” Cody wanted to know, watching her face as she answered.

  Rather than give him a confident “Yes,” Catherine addressed his question honestly. “I don’t know, but I sure as hell am going to try.”

  He liked that.

  Cody found himself admiring her. Catherine Clifton had drive. And that word his father liked to use when describing his mother. His father would say that she had “spunk.” At the time, the word hadn’t meant anything to him one way or another, but Cody understood now exactly what his father had meant and understood, too, the appeal behind it.

  Taking a deep breath, Cody decided that he was ready for another round of online browsing. He nodded toward the laptop.

  “Why don’t you show me some more of the things you’re considering buying,” he suggested.

  Rather than leave the laptop on the counter where it was, Catherine decided to move it over to a quaint table for two she’d acquired on her own. When she’d bought it, she’d thought that the table looked as if it would have been more at home in an old-fashioned ice cream parlor. She’d found it all but buried beneath a stack of papers and tarp at an estate sale she’d attended.

  After cleaning and restoring the set, she’d brought the table and its matching two chairs into the showroom. She intended to use it as one of the themes within the shop.

  “Let’s get back to it, then,” Catherine said with enthusiasm. She gestured for him to sit in the chair opposite hers.

  “You’re the boss,” he allowed.

  As if anyone could ever be Cody Overton’s boss, Catherine thought, amused. She knew better.

  * * *

  The late afternoon sun had slanted its rays across the shop’s polished wooden floor, then withdrawn again, tiptoeing away as nightfall began to slip in.

  Catherine leaned back in her chair, slowly straightening her spine. It ached a little in protest. They’d been at this for several hours now without a break, she realized.

  All in all, it had been a pretty productive afternoon. Out of the scores of things she’d wound up showing him, Cody had actually selected a few. She considered the session a huge success.

  “I guess that’s enough for one day,” she told him, stretching and rotating her shoulders. Trying to undo the kinks.

  She seemed completely unaware of the fact that she was thrusting her chest out, closer to him, as she stretched. Cody tried not to notice, but it was impossible not to.

  He couldn’t make himself look anywhere else.

  The room felt decidedly warmer to him than it had just a few minutes ago.

  Taking his cue from her that it was time to leave, Cody rose to his feet and picked up his hat from the counter where he’d left it.

  “I guess that I’ll be heading out then.” But even as he said it—even though he’d been there for the better part of the day—he found himself reluctant to just walk away and leave her.

  Just then, the little carved bird within the old-fashioned cuckoo clock on the wall began to announce the hour as only a cuckoo clock could.

  How did it get to be so late? Catherine couldn’t help wondering. It felt as if she’d just sat down and, somehow, five hours had managed to pass by.

  She felt a pinch in her stomach.

  They hadn’t eaten anything in hours, she thought. It was a short leap from her realization to an idea. “Tell you what, why don’t I buy you dinner?” she suggested impulsively.

  Being impulsive was new to her and she rather liked it. She’d always been the steady, reliable one. The rock her parents and everyone else relied on. She liked the new her.

  She noticed the slight frown that creased Cody’s mouth. “What?”

  He didn’t want to say anything—but it wasn’t something that he felt comfortable with, so maybe saying something was for the best.

  “The way I was raised,” he began slowly, “a man usually asks a woman out for the first date, not the other way around.”

  Catherine’s eyes widened. Was that what he thought this was? A date?

  Well, is it? she asked herself. She decided it was safest to think of this as a nondate date.

  Besides, labels were restricting and she wanted to keep what they had between them comfortable and easy. She definitely didn’t want to do something that he felt was treading on his toes.

  “This isn’t a date,” she told him. “It’s just my way of saying ‘thank y
ou’ for your effort. Call it professional courtesy,” she suggested.

  That made it sound too stiff, too mundane. You’re a man who doesn’t know what he wants, Cody’s mind taunted. “So it’s not a date.” Cody eyed her as he got his facts straight.

  If that’s what made him happy, so be it, she told herself. “Not a date,” she assured him.

  “My mistake,” Cody murmured, clearly embarrassed. “Sorry.”

  Now she was the one who was slightly confused. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

  “I feel stupid,” he admitted in a singular moment of honesty.

  “No reason for that, either,” she assured him quickly and with feeling. The dimples, like C.C.’s, in the corner of her mouth winked in and out. The man was adorable. “To be honest, I’m flattered. I didn’t think you thought of me that way—as a potential date,” she tacked on by way of an explanation.

  The awkward moment only grew more so. Just what did she think of him?

  “I’m thirty-five, I’m not dead,” Cody pointed out, then thought that maybe he would have been better off if he’d just let the matter drop without being defensive about things. After all, he really didn’t want her to think he was trying to get something going between them.

  Although, he had to admit, whatever there was between them seemed to be taking on a life of its own without any encouragement from him.

  Or, apparently, from her.

  Even so, the smile on her lips seemed to burrow right into his gut, grazing his chest as well.

  “Nice to know,” she commented.

  He had no idea what to make of her response or, for that matter, of the way this whole afternoon had made him feel.

  There was no denying that she was having some kind of effect on him. That alone surprised him. He would have bet any amount of money that he was dead inside. That, as with a scorched earth policy, nothing inside of him could possibly ever flourish.

  But when he was around Catherine, he felt definite stirrings. He felt a quickening of his gut that he just couldn’t—or maybe wouldn’t—pin down.

  It was easier, he told himself, just to drop the whole thing.

  Easier said than done.

  As with the scent of new blossoms in the spring, he found that thoughts of Catherine insisted on lingering in his mind, popping up to tease him when he was least prepared.

  The last time he had felt even remotely this way was when he and Ren—

  He blocked the rest of the thought. This was neither the time nor the place. He’d deal with it later, he told himself.

  “So,” Catherine said, making the single word sound like an announcement, “where would you like to go to eat, Cody?”

  He didn’t eat out much, certainly not as much as the average man—unless sitting by an open campfire could be called eating out. Consequently, he didn’t know the names of many restaurants in town.

  “The Hitching Post still closed?” he asked her. The last he’d heard, it had shut down for repairs, but he couldn’t remember exactly when that was. If something didn’t affect his basic way of life and the ranch, he usually didn’t pay attention to it.

  She nodded. “I’m afraid so. How about DJ’s Rib Shack?” she suggested. “The food there is really good. I think you might like it. And DJ might be willing to give us a break on the price of dinner.” She was only partially teasing.

  As far as he knew, there was only one reason for that. “You know DJ?” he asked as he followed Catherine out of the shop.

  It was such a fact of life for her that she’d forgotten other people might not know.

  “Sure.”

  Catherine paused to engage the lock on the front door. She left it unlocked during the day, but somehow, since there was merchandise in the shop, she felt that leaving the door unlocked was like issuing a challenge to the universe. She wasn’t quite brave enough to risk that sort of thing. Not when everything she owned was tied up in the shop.

  “The Cliftons and the Traubs are old family friends,” she told Cody, then looked at him as she slipped the keys into her pocket. “Why?” The way he’s asked made her think that there was a connection between the two men. “You know DJ, too?”

  “Just in passing,” he answered. And it had been years since he’d last seen the younger man. “I went to high school with Dax, his older brother.”

  The moment he said that, he suddenly remembered that Dax had gotten engaged to Allaire around the exact same time that he had gotten engaged to Renee.

  But talking about it would only wind up opening up the wounds again and maybe it was time to finally try to let them start to heal.

  There was something he wasn’t saying, Catherine thought as she walked with Cody toward his truck. She could feel it.

  Catherine was tempted to prod him a little. But she knew she really shouldn’t. Whatever he was holding back, if he wanted her to know, he’d tell her. She had to be satisfied with that.

  It wasn’t easy.

  Rolling the matter over in her mind, Catherine stopped just short of the truck and turned toward Cody. “Would you rather not go to the Rib Shack?” she asked. “We could go somewhere else or maybe pick up something at the General Store and I could whip up dinner for us in the shop.” She’d done it a couple of times for herself when she’d stayed late. “There’s a hot plate in the storage room and I could—”

  He knew where she was going with this and she didn’t need to make the offer, although the fact that she did in deference to what she thought were his feelings impressed him.

  Still, he shook his head, dismissing her offer. “You worked enough today,” he told her. “DJ’s Rib Shack’ll do just fine.”

  “They make better ribs than I do,” she admitted.

  “I doubt it.”

  He was probably just being polite, Catherine thought. Even so, the words warmed her heart.

  Chapter Seven

  DJ’s Rib Shack was a popular restaurant, part of a chain of barbecue restaurants founded by DJ Traub. This particular one was located on the ground floor of the Thunder Canyon Resort and, because of its location, it saw more than its share of foot traffic. Business was always brisk at the Rib Shack but somehow, in Catherine’s experience, there always seemed to be enough seating available so that she could get a table anytime she dropped by.

  The atmosphere was boisterous and loud and patrons found that they had to sit close to one another when speaking. Otherwise, parts of their conversations were swallowed up by the noise. As for ambiance, it had the feel of simpler times about it. The walls were covered with old sepia-toned photographs of ranches and cowboys from eras gone by.

  As Cody followed Catherine through the maze of tables, while an animated hostess led the way to their table, he could only think to himself that this was definitely not a place to bring a date for the first time. Brightly lit and friendly, there was absolutely nothing romantic about the setting. This was a place where friends came to talk about a game that was played down to the wire and good old boys came to chew the fat and talk about their glory days.

  Embarrassment over his earlier misunderstanding took another bite out of him, but Cody kept his thoughts stoically under wraps.

  The table the hostess brought them to was practically in the center of the main room.

  “You have a clear view of everything,” the woman enthused. Cody merely nodded.

  Waiting for Catherine to take her seat first, Cody slid in opposite her. The hostess presented them each with a menu before she withdrew.

  Catherine didn’t bother opening hers as she looked around and took in the atmosphere. She seemed to brighten visibly right in front of him, as if the accompanying noise recharged her somehow.

  “It’s busy tonight,” Cody commented.

  That was nothing new. “It’s like this every night, or so I hear,” she told him. When Cody made no reply, Catherine looked at him, curious. “This isn’t your first time here, is it?”

  Cody shrugged carelessly. Removing his S
tetson, he placed the hat on the side of the table where a third diner might have sat. “I don’t eat out,” he told her.

  She expected him to tag on the word much. When he didn’t, not wanting him to feel awkward, she said, “I hardly do, either. But I really like to.” She grinned. “Best part of eating out is that there’re no dishes or pots and pans to wash afterwards.”

  “You could cut down on the number by making everything in one pan and then just eating out of it,” he said matter-of-factly.

  Was that how he took his meals? That sounded so lonely. Catherine suddenly realized that her mouth had dropped open. She quickly closed it. Recovering, she told him, “I’d say that you need to eat out more than I do.”

  What he needed, he couldn’t help thinking, was a way to talk his sister into leaving that good-for-nothing, controlling husband of hers so she could go back to being the happy young woman he remembered.

  “Don’t know if need’s the right word, but I’ll admit that the change of pace is kinda nice,” he said, looking directly at Catherine.

  What was nicer, he thought, was having someone to talk to while he ate. He hadn’t realized that he’d missed that as much as he did until just now.

  A waitress came to take their orders. That they were having barbecue ribs was a foregone conclusion. It was just a matter of how much and what they wanted to drink that had to be settled on.

  “Catherine, it is you. I haven’t seen you around for a bit.”

  The pleased greeting came from someone just behind him. Cody shifted in his chair in time to see DJ Traub lean over the table and warmly take Catherine’s hands in his.

  “How’s everyone at home?” DJ asked. “All well, I hope. What are you all doing with yourselves?”

  Catherine slanted a quick glance at Cody to see if this interruption bothered him. But he didn’t seem to mind the intrusion, which pleased her.

  “Everyone’s well,” she told DJ, slowly reclaiming her hands. “Calista’s getting married and I’m about to reopen the old Tattered Saddle under a new name with new old merchandise. Why don’t you and your wife come by to the grand opening next Friday?” she invited him.