Adam sighed. “Ladies, your concern’s admirable, but Emily and I are just friends.”
“Pshaw. We may be old, but we’re not blind, and we just want you to know we’re watching.” She tugged him closer. “All of us.”
They released him, and Adam made a beeline for the table. He sat with his back to the daunting septuagenarians and scrubbed his hands on the side of his face. What the hell was he supposed to do with this? He knew darn well who “all of us” encompassed. The town was watching. He knew how this story played out. Lived it for eighteen years. The whispers, the stunted discussions when he entered a room. Knowing looks. Well-intentioned conversations like he’d just participated in.
Emily seemed to be their silent darling. They would watch him like a hawk. If he hurt her, which could be a distinct possibility since the knowledge he carried was hurt-inducing of the highest caliber, they might literally tie him to the back of a horse and parade him through all of Fly Creek.
He tugged at his collar. They could send Emily fleeing for cover. Overwhelm her to the point that he would never meet his September deadline and then what? Winter in Fly Creek?
Hell, no.
A young cowboy named Toby came over and took his order, returning with a pot of coffee. Adam stared at the wood paneling in front of him, a brown-haired beauty floating in and out of focus. Maybe he could fulfill his promise without telling Emily all the details. Did it matter when Drew died? Either way, Drew was no longer with them. Details would only bring the hurt back to the surface. She seemed to enjoy being around him. Was there harm in concealing information that didn’t alter the end result?
He took a large sip of coffee and let it burn its way to his belly. Had Drew had any idea what he’d sent Adam to do?
He slumped against the booth. There was no way around it. He had to tell her. It wasn’t fair to keep something like that untold. Especially since so much of Emily’s life—or lack thereof—seemed rooted in that day. And why shouldn’t it be. It was traumatic even if it had been faked.
Chapter Nine
Emily stood in front of the diner but couldn’t bring herself to pull open the door. What had seemed a simple step three minutes ago had grown in anticipation. Wasn’t it another declaration? Only slightly more public because everyone in Fly Creek ate breakfast at the Wagon Train on Sundays.
She closed her eyes and centered herself. This was silly. Everyone inside could obviously see her. The morning was blindingly brilliant. No clouds, crystal blue skies, and a huge orange ball inviting everyone to sing the praises of summer.
“Excuse me.”
Emily turned around and stepped aside as two people, tourists if she had to guess, opened the door and walked in. They made it look so easy. Just yank and step. She could do easy. Yank. And step.
The cool interior bathed her as the bacon and coffee assaulted her nose in the best way possible. Good. She was here, inside, and every head was cocked in her direction. Plastering on a smile that was only 75 percent fake, she scanned for a familiar head of blond curls. Finding Adam tucked in a corner, she waved to a few customers, smiling at their shock and wove her way toward him.
The talking resumed. Silverware clattered against plates, coffee cups against saucers, and Emily congratulated herself on making it this far. She’d taken too many steps outside of her three-year existence to crawl back into it. She’d known the shell wasn’t her size anymore but now she could admit she no longer wanted to put it back on. Somehow her private admission released an anchor. Her grief wasn’t guiding her steps.
“Is this seat taken?”
Blue eyes snapped to hers in surprise quickly followed by heat as he took in her body in one long sweep. She welcomed it, no longer skittish over the obvious physical connection they shared. Definitely living a little.
Adam motioned to the other side. “I would be honored to share your company.”
She settled across from him. He was in typical ranchers’ wear, dark jeans with a button-down shirt. Simple, no designs, and seemed tailor made. Each muscle contoured lovingly by the fabric. And in the brief moment when his knowing gaze met hers, she promised she would find out just what his simple clothes concealed. She wanted the memories despite knowing that was all she’d have come September.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
Emily looked up at the young waiter and smiled. “Orange juice and some tea would be great.”
He looked stunned. Like he expected her to roar at him or snap his head off. Man, she may have been in hiding, but she’d never been mean. “Do you have orange juice and tea?”
Adam chuckled but her question snapped the young boy out of his trance. “Absolutely, ma’am. Be right back.”
He flew around the counter, answering several questions, with looks directed at her.
“You’re creating quite the stir.”
Emily clasped her hands in front of her and shrugged. “Must be a slow gossip day.”
“It’s annoying is what it is.”
Interesting. Cowboy Adam didn’t like to be the center of attention. “I don’t mind it. I figure half is probably true and half isn’t. All of it is harmless.”
He sat up straight. “Nothing about gossip is harmless.”
Whoa, this clearly touched something deeper than not liking attention. “I’m sorry. You’re probably right. I just meant nothing about gossip involving me is harmful. I imagine it’s mostly true.” She smiled and hoped he read the sincerity. She hadn’t come here to bring up gossip. She’d come here to live a little.
Adam took a sip, eyeing her over the rim of the white ceramic cup. The cotton candy blue shifted to the sparkling glint she’d come to crave.
The waiter returned, presenting her drinks with a flourish. “Have you decided, or should I give you a few more minutes?”
He wore such an eager to please look that Emily knew if she asked for a few minutes, he would be back every thirty seconds just so he didn’t keep her waiting too long.
“I’ll have the French toast with fresh fruit.”
“Great choice. You won’t be disappointed.”
Once again he scurried away, scribbling on his pad and ripping off the paper before sticking it on the spinning wheel. Emily prepared her tea and forced herself to relax against the back of the booth.
“I think you made his morning.”
Emily smiled. It was ridiculous that his voice brought such warmth to her. And even more ridiculous was that she’d missed him. How could someone miss somebody they hardly knew?
Adam shifted, his knee brushing hers and heating her skin several more degrees.
“So is this your regular haunt as well?”
Emily was rusty at small talk, or, well, any kind of talk other than perfunctory phrases during business transactions—just look how she’d already screwed up with the mention of gossip. But she wanted to know more about Adam. More about his upbringing. What brought him to Fly Creek? What was he seeking? Where would he go come September?
She wouldn’t go so far as wanting to know how he liked his eggs cooked, but habits were a good thing. Especially if she needed to crawl back into her shell and avoid him.
“Not regular. I’m usually working, but I had an early start rounding up horses this morning. Shelby cut me some slack, since Sunday is my day off and she needs me to teach a class later today.”
Emily nodded and reached for her orange juice, wondering if the town would pick up on them having breakfast before deciding she really didn’t care. She’d told Adam the truth. Gossip didn’t bother her. In some small way it was the only thing that kept her connected to the town and life over the past three years.
The waiter returned with their food, and they both dug in with suspicious concentration. Emily was grateful for the distraction, because she wasn’t sure what was a safe topic anymore. Were they friends? Did he want more? She thought she did despite knowing nothing about him. Nothing concrete at least.
She finished the fruit and cut the
toast, which had grown cold during her contemplation, but she swallowed it anyway. Adam, she’d noticed, devoured his breakfast in several bites. Emily sipped her tea, letting question after question spin through her brain.
“Dollar for your thoughts?”
She set her cup down. “I thought it was a penny.”
Adam grinned. “I’m pretty sure your thoughts are worth much more than a penny.”
Emily blushed. He was flirting with her and, lord, it felt good.
“Are you always this smooth? Leave a trail of broken hearts in your hometown?”
Adam sat back, the smile dissolving. God, she’d screwed up again. How hard can it be to have a simple conversation with a man you’re attracted to?
“I’m sorry. Apparently I picked another topic guaranteed to give you frown lines.”
Something flickered about his lips. “No. I’m sorry. No string of broken hearts. At least not that I’m aware of. I left my home a long time ago and haven’t been back since.”
It was Emily’s turn to frown. “No apology needed, especially since I pretty much did the same thing.” Why had he left? Was there tragedy in his life as well? Was tragedy what their effortless connection relied upon? Was that what he recognized in her that first day in her store?
Adam reached across the table and took her hands, the searing contact bringing her eyes to meet his. He rubbed small circles with his thumbs. An intimate gesture that seemed so right and natural.
Deploying the dimples, he asked, “Does this count as my rain check?”
As circle after circle lit a steady burn, confidence in exploring their connection grew. It exhilarated and terrified her, but there was no way in the world Emily would let this be the last time she saw him. She didn’t know how and certainly didn’t know for how long, but time with Adam Conley suddenly became the biggest part about entering the world of the living.
Maybe it was knowing her time with him was limited and therefore her heart would be safe that allowed her to confidently state, “No. Not your rain check. There’s still a dinner invitation lingering around.”
He squeezed her hand. “Good. I would hate to have to track you down and invent another reason to see you.” He grabbed his hat and scooted across the bench, unfolding his frame and placing the Stetson on his head. He extended his hand and helped her out of her seat.
They paid for their breakfast and stepped out onto the sidewalk, Emily turning her face to the sun. The warm rays washed over her.
“The sun feels different out west.” She glanced over. “Like it’s providing you with more than somewhere else.”
He glanced up and back, shrugging. “Things always seem more in sky country, but it’s the perspective not the reality.”
There was another hidden meaning in his words, but she wasn’t going to push anymore today. Adam Conley had secrets, ghosts. She respected that. She’d always respected that. Even Drew had given her those feelings over the course of their relationship. Not that she thought he was lying to her about important stuff, just that he never quite shared all.
Emily smiled and looked across the street. The Sunday market was opening in the park. Stalls of baked goods, fresh produce, and crafts lined the perimeter while a small band tuned up in the center.
“Have some time to stroll?”
He smiled and grabbed her hand. They crossed the street and walked into the park. Adam was hailed at practically every stall, smiles wreathing the residents and more than one twinkle in some of the women’s eyes.
She tugged his sleeve. “For someone who’s only passing through, you sure have made an impression.”
Another shrug but she didn’t miss the slight blush across his cheeks. “Newcomer. Probably nothing more.”
Emily let it drop. He might not be seeking something in Fly Creek but Fly Creek certainly seemed to be seeking him.
They stopped at a booth with huge slices of watermelon. Adam bought two, handing one to her.
He tipped his in a toast and bit off the end. Closing his eyes he said, “I will grant you that the watermelon here is better than any I’ve ever had.”
She wouldn’t disagree, taking a bite and relishing in the sweet juices coating her throat.
When she glanced back, he was frowning. “You’re starting to get pink.” He removed his hat and placed it on her. “There.”
He stepped back and tilted his head. “You look good in my hat.”
She adjusted the front down a little and flashed him what she hoped was a coy smile. “Thank you, cowboy.”
He stared. Once again there was that feeling of his baby blues filtering through all the mess that she was and seeing her. At that moment, living seemed a drop in the bucket if she had someone who looked at her like that every day.
Adam reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “It was my pleasure.”
They passed by a couple more stalls and then crossed back toward the diner.
“I guess I’ll see you soon.”
She faced him with a smile fueled by anticipation. “Definitely.”
“Emily and Adam, how nice to see you two.”
Adam groaned, and she looked over her shoulder to see Peyton and a young girl with black ringlets piled on her head. With each step, the curls bounced, mimicking the exuberance in her movement.
“Hey, Peyton. Nice to see you again.”
Peyton smiled and placed a hand on the young girl’s shoulder. “This is Melanie, my daughter.”
Melanie stuck out her hand and Emily shook it.
“I’m glad we ran into you. It would seem Friday works out great for me and the girls.”
Emily took an extra second to catch up and nodded. “Girl Scouts, Friday night. How many?” Crap, she still needed a picture.
“Five plus me. We’re a small troop. Were you able to come up with a picture?”
Emily’s cheeks warmed. “No. Not yet, but I can sketch some ideas and run them by you. And smaller’s good. It will make it easier for me to circulate and keep the girls on course.”
Melanie tugged on her mother’s arm, clearly bored with the adult interaction. Emily imagined Peyton had her hands full with the spitfire.
“Do you like to paint, Melanie?”
The young girl froze and glanced at her. She didn’t rush her answer, perhaps looking to appease Emily or her mother, but instead gave it a moment’s thought. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever really painted. I mean, you’re talented. I saw the painting hanging in the main lodge. It’s different, isn’t it? A different kind of painting?”
Emily couldn’t disguise her shock, and a quick glance at Peyton showed an identical expression. This girl was so wise beyond her years, Emily wondered who might be raising who.
“You’re exactly right. It is a different kind and you know what? I think you’re going to do an excellent job with your piece.”
Melanie shrugged. “We’ll see.”
They said their good-byes and Emily turned to catch a look of confusion written all over Adam’s face.
“What?”
He shook his head and grabbed her hand. “You’re a very surprising woman today. Wondering just what got into you.”
I’m trying to live again.
Emily smiled.
“I’ve changed my mind,” he said abruptly.
Her smile faltered. Had she done something wrong? Was she so rusty she was downright off-putting?
“A-about what?”
“Seeing you soon.”
“Oh.” Emily tugged at her hand, but Adam held firm. If this was his way of letting her down easy, he was failing spectacularly.
“I want to see you now. Or as now as can be. Is the shop open today?”
Excitement burst through veins and not used to the giddy rush, she swayed. Concern swept across Adam’s face and a hand came to cradle her cheek.
She brought her free hand up to cover his. “I would love to see you now, but I do work. And so do you if I recall.”
He leaned
his forehead against hers. “I’m done at three.”
“I close at four.”
“4:01 it is.”
They both laughed, and Adam swooped in with a tantalizing kiss. She clung to him. “I’ll need time to freshen up.”
“How about you come to me? I can take you on a trail ride.”
Emily stiffened. Go out to Sky Lake?
“Do you ride?”
She shook her head, unable to speak through the cottonmouth that had taken up residence.
“Even better. You’re going to teach me to paint, and I can teach you to ride.” Adam rubbed his hands up and down her spine. The contact soothed and reassured her, releasing some of her anxiety. “I promise it will make you feel alive.”
“Sounds perfect for a day like today.” She brushed a sweet kiss on his cheek and stepped past him. “See you this afternoon.”
“You most certainly will, Emily White.”
As she walked the few steps to her truck she gave herself a pep talk. She could do this. Sky Lake was just a place. A ranch. A ranch she hadn’t been to and neither had Drew. It was a symbol, nothing more. Now maybe it could be a symbol of her new path. Sliding into her truck, the beginning of a smile tugged at her mouth. Adam Conley on a horse seemed a pretty fine way to spend some hours living this afternoon.
…
Adam pulled up to his cabin, something heavy settling into his stomach. Mostly guilt as a result of the excitement being with Emily brought. He could no longer ignore that he was so far into the gray area he couldn’t see white. And yet he was doing exactly what he promised. Making sure she was happy. Living again. And for some reason spending time with him was working.
This morning everything was not quite normal. Emily had turned a corner. Flipped his script and plan of friendship on a dime. She sought him out. Kissed him. Planned to teach a group of Girl Scouts. Gone was the woman in a trance, grief pouring off of her as she managed brittle smiles and perfunctory phrases. In its place was a woman, hesitant but happy.
Her Cowboy's Promise (Fly Creek) Page 7