She stepped closer, brushed her lips against his, then skipped down the steps before his breath kicked back into his lungs.
She climbed into her truck, gave him a small wave, and backed out onto the road. His eyes strained to follow even after she was a small speck in the dust cloud trailing.
“Did ya need something, Adam?”
He turned to find Shelby Marks leaning against the door, arms crossed and one of those all-knowing smiles flitting about her lips.
“No, ma’am. Just checking on something but realized I already knew the answer.”
“Hmm, answers are good.” She pushed away from the door. “As long as they’re the right ones. Now come on and grab an apple tart before they’re all gone. I believe Levi’s in there. You would think that brother of yours hadn’t eaten in a week.”
Adam followed Shelby into the lodge, his thoughts lingering on that kiss and what it had exposed not only to Emily but to himself. Maybe if he’d been paying attention to the too-astute-for-her-own-good woman in front of him, rather than following blindly, he would have noticed her leading them to two rockers in front of the fireplace. He was seated across from her before he realized there were no apple tarts in sight.
Damn. The last thing Adam needed was another intention talk from Shelby Marks. Especially when his emotions were still reeling from Emily’s good-bye. He took off his hat and hung it on his knee.
“Did you need to talk about something?”
She smiled. “Yes. You and Emily and Sky Lake.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I hear you’re planning some travel after your contract expires.”
His surprise was question enough, and Shelby laughed. “That brother of yours is a talker and an eater.”
Damn his brother and his loose mouth. He’d never known Levi to volunteer information, but then again, he didn’t know the real reason Adam was in Fly Creek.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You know you could stay on through the winter. Get some of those more troublesome horses you have a knack with under control.”
He looked down at his lap. “Thanks, Shelby, but here, this job, this town, isn’t permanent. Fly Creek and Sky Lake aren’t my home. They were never meant to be.” He prayed she wouldn’t ask why he was there in the first place then.
Shelby sat back in the rocker, her boot sending her into a gentle glide. “Could you appease an old woman and tell me what’s so wrong with the place?”
Adam looked around the lodge and thought about the time he’d spent there so far. Everything in Wyoming seemed tailor-made to inspire. No harsh edges or cold walls. Open space giving you the illusion that you had choices. But he didn’t.
“Nothing. Nothing I can pinpoint exactly, except that I fled a town like this. An existence where your life was already mapped out for you. Where everyone was up in your business. If I sneeze, all of Sky Lake will be asking me if I’m sick by the end of the day. Your life, the good and the bad, is on display for the town to see and comment on and even pity.” The words were harsh, and one look at Shelby told him she knew there was even more to his potent confession.
“I won’t lie to you and tell you that small towns don’t have their thorn bushes, but I will tell you that Fly Creek and its residents don’t pity. They act and they usually do it in the dead of night. We take care of our own. We might gossip about a dance on a Friday night or who wore Wranglers better, but the serious stuff? We handle it. And if you don’t believe me, you talk with Dan Rigby one day. You two might have more in common than you know.”
He sighed. Shelby Marks was a manipulator of the best kind. Maybe she was making sense, but even if so, and that was an if of epic proportions, what would he do?
“Even if everything you’re saying is true, what on earth could Fly Creek hold for me?”
“You mean besides a certain gallery owner?”
Adam cheeks burned, but he refused to acknowledge Emily and his recent hopes involving her.
Shelby tapped her thigh. “If not a ranch, what about land management or something more suit and tie in Cheyenne?”
Adam’s mouth dropped open and Shelby cackled, patting his arm. “Levi and food are a combination that yields a lot of interesting information.”
How on earth could Levi share his history? But one look at Shelby and he realized he was playing right into the hands of a very smart woman. “Not so sure it’s the combination. More like you’re a master interrogator. The outside screams sweet lady but it conceals a stubborn bloodhound determined to find its prey. You ever consider law enforcement?”
She waved her hand. “Nah, too much bureaucracy in the government. Besides, I only use my knowledge for good.” She stood and Adam followed. “I hope your travel will lead you to everything you want. Maybe it won’t be the risk I believe it to be.”
Adam stopped. “Risk?”
She turned. “It seems to me you’re taking a risk right now by planning to leave—huge one with your future.” She continued on to the front desk.
Adam walked by. He couldn’t process anything his conversation with Shelby was bringing to light.
“And Adam?”
He stopped and looked at her.
“If you decide to trade one risk for another, don’t forget you’re not the only one who’s taking them. You both need to work through your individual issues if you can ever have issues together.”
Adam tipped his hat and went into the dining room. Forget the damn apple tarts. Right now he needed to find Levi and drag his brother, and his damn loose mouth, back to his cabin.
Chapter Thirteen
“Definitely more red.”
Emily let Adam’s voice wash over her and relished the feelings left in its wake. Anticipation, passion, and sexual tension were all there, held at bay but chomping at the bit. Who knew that after three years of no physical contact, a few kisses would leave her like a puppy straining at its leash.
But it was more than the physical. Their kiss last night exposed something, possibly to both of them. She’d already accepted that emotions were involved, at least on her side, but the yearning she’d seen in his expression was a heady revelation. One she had no desire to run screaming from. She was embracing it and the possibilities it held in regards to her lost dreams and her past.
So tonight was about exploring those possibilities, whatever they ended up being. Her time with Adam might be limited, but she planned on embracing the few months left.
She placed one final stroke on the canvas and wiped her brush on the towel at her waist. “I’ll take your red suggestion in to consideration.” Emily turned and smiled, nothing false or brittle about it. Adam returned the gesture, although hesitancy underscored his. It seemed she wasn’t the only one traveling down the revelation road and unsure where it would lead.
“What are you working on?” Adam stepped beside her, his arm heating up her right side.
“It’s nothing. Just a personal piece.” Emily moved away from the canvas. She dipped her brushes into Mason jars sitting on the counter and swished them back and forth, the colors dissolving in swirls. Standing beside Adam when she’d been painting his hands gripping the hips of a faceless woman proved awkward. Especially since she knew whose face it was and she knew how those hands felt. Hopefully by the time the piece was done, anyone viewing it that had ever experienced intense passion would feel the same way.
She looked over her shoulder to see Adam still in the grips of her work. Would he recognize it? She didn’t expect him to. Nothing should give her away and yet something in the tense stand of his body, the way his fingers clenched the white plastic bags in his hand, led her to believe he knew.
“Anything exciting happen at Sky Lake today?”
That broke the spell. He turned and placed the bags on one of the supply counters, sliding a few jars out of the way. “There’s always something exciting happening on a ranch. Births, deaths and that’s just with the livestock.”
She smiled. “I hope in this case it was t
he former.”
Adam nodded but didn’t respond further. After a few moments of them staring at one another, he took off his hat and ducked his head. “I brought dinner. We didn’t get around to discussing details so I took a chance. I hope you like Chinese.”
“I do, as a matter of fact.”
“Good.” He relaxed a little. “I’m surprised there was some in Fly Creek. We certainly didn’t need chopsticks where I grew up. Not something cowboys probably get a hankering for.” He winked. “Seemed like a good meal for friends to share.”
Emily slid her arms around his neck and pulled his lips toward hers. A brief brush was all she gave him. “I like being friends with you.” Stepping away, she fought the laugh bubbling up at Adam’s dropped jaw.
“Why don’t you head up and get things together on the table, and I’ll be there as soon as I clean these brushes.”
Confusion spilled across his face. “Are you sure?”
“Yep. See ya in a few.” She turned back around, giving her attention to the jars and paints in front of her. It was a few moments before he walked toward the back of the gallery.
For three years, her personal space had served as a place to lay her head. To surround herself with her grief and memories of Drew and what might have been. But she hoped to change that starting with tonight. Tonight, maybe the space would have memories of more than good food.
…
Adam crested the last step and allowed himself to take stock of Emily’s private space. The painting he helped carry up was still against the wall, the angry colors still sucking him into a moment he knew was real. Dragging his gaze away and ignoring the churning of his gut, he walked into the little alcove that held her kitchen. He placed the two bags on the table and set about finding utensils and plates. Once everything was out, he wandered to the far wall he’d inspected the last time.
Drew’s painting was gone.
The feelings inside him alternated between hope that it was sign she really was moving forward and anger at her for forgetting someone she loved. He couldn’t have it both ways and neither could Emily apparently—and the fact was he couldn’t ask her about it. God, the tightrope he had to walk to get her to open grew narrower with every step, and suddenly it was as if he’d lost the balance pole, the breeze of his deception threatening to send him toppling sideways.
In place of Drew was a painting of a dog. It swirled in and out of focus as if the dog was in motion, and Adam let his breath out on a whoosh. He knew this dog. Hell, this dog was probably sniffing some baggage at that exact moment. He took off his hat and batted it against his thigh. God, he was in so deep now. His breathing grew labored and every muscle in his body seemed too heavy to carry. He should leave. He was the last person to be able to help Emily. He was too close. Knew too much.
Felt too much. Like he had something to lose now, too. His future. He couldn’t stay in Fly Creek, but the more time he spent with Emily the more he considered it. His feelings for her on top of confusing words from Levi and hopeful words from Shelby had his internal compass spinning round and round. His head was telling him escape was his only choice but his heart was telling him that Shelby was right. Leaving would be a big risk. For both him and Emily.
Had he done enough? Could he leave now, knowing she was good? He could break his contract and take off with Levi. After all, Emily had made strides. She’d agreed to work with Peyton and the Girl Scouts. She’d eaten breakfast at the Wagon Train. Hell, she’d kissed him on the porch in front of half of Sky Lake. It was obvious her walls had crumbled.
Coward. The word rattled around his brain and tasted bitter. A vision of Emily learning about Mel on the water rose up. Triggers still existed and always would, but he had knowledge that could help. Leaving would be the coward’s way out. The selfish way. She deserved better even if it cost him.
But God, he possessed so much capacity to hurt her it was ridiculous. When she found out the truth, would there be a way back? He didn’t know. And if he was being honest, he wasn’t sure he could handle the look of betrayal she would rightfully send in his direction.
“Everything ready?”
Adam swallowed hard and turned, smile in place. “Yep, all set.”
Emily stood at the top of the stairs, her hand resting on the half wall. She was so damn beautiful. With the skylight and the last rays of sunlight slanting on her brown hair and filtering through her loosely flowing shirt, she looked ethereal. Spritely. A goddess full of everything a mortal would kill for. And she was different.
Every step she took became a moment of strength for her. Something to build upon. Gone was the fragile woman he watched for weeks before meeting her. In her place was a woman intent and determined. She’d done that herself. Even after the setback with Peyton and Mel, she’d still faced forward and took another step. How could he even consider crushing that?
She smiled. “Then let’s eat, rain check man.”
They each dished a few things on the plates and set about eating. Adam scooped a wonton in his mouth, and Emily smiled.
“I hear your brother’s in town?”
The noodle stuck to his mouth like wet cement as he tried to swallow. Damn the gossipy grapevine. Chasing it with a quick drink, he nodded. “Levi arrived two days ago.”
“I bet it’s good to see him. Family’s so important.” She looked at the table. “I wish I would have remembered that sooner.”
Not all family. That familiar tightness slammed into his chest whenever any hint of his upbringing came around. “Levi’s all I have left. I’m glad he’s here.” He met Emily’s eyes, and the blast of blatant interest in them dismissed the feeling as fast as it came. She wanted to know about him, all of him, and he wanted to tell her. More than she already knew.
“How long’s he visiting?”
That depends on me. And you.
“Not sure. Shelby already has him working hard, so I imagine it’ll be a struggle to disentangle him from Sky Lake anytime soon.”
Emily laughed and that mixture of happiness and guilt washed over him, warming and freezing him at the same time.
“Shelby does seem like a drill sergeant disguised as a sweet grandmother.”
“Pretty accurate description.” He took another drink.
She scooped up a few more noodles, her hands working the chopsticks in expert fashion. She chewed, her gaze unfocused, and he continued eating, wary of what was coming next.
Finally she looked at him and tilted her head. “So how did you both find yourselves back where you started?”
It was the one question he couldn’t or didn’t want to answer tonight. But he owed her something. “Levi’s done with the Marines and looking for a new path.”
“Another change seeker, huh?” The look she sent him told him she hadn’t missed that he neglected to answer her questions.
All he could do was nod. What was his issue? This was what he’d been aiming for. A conversation tailor-made to get her to talk about her past, and his only thought was, it’s almost over. His time, their time, was finite, even more so when he told her everything. He needed to say more, but what? What direction did he want the conversation to go?
And as the words selfish coward blinked in his brain, he steered the conversation away from their pasts. Tonight was theirs. No promise, no grief, no secrets lingering around them. Tomorrow he would find a new way to introduce the topic, but tonight would be as if they had a chance. A chance to build upon the special connection that effortlessly linked them. It was an illusion, a lie, but he needed to be happy and have her happy, even if the happiness would evaporate on the sunrise.
Despite keeping the rest of the meal and conversation lighthearted and flirty, Adam couldn’t get the removal of Drew’s picture out of his mind. It was the elephant in the room. Maybe it was her genuine interest in his life or her opening up even more. Either way he had to know. It was killing him.
“Do you redecorate often?”
The question came from left field,
but the look of befuddlement on Emily’s face warmed him. He pointed to the wall of paintings behind her. “Redecorating?”
Something close to sorrow washed over her features, and Adam went dizzy with guilt. Why did it matter? It was her choice and him bringing it up was cruel.
She rallied a bit. “Sometimes. I like to rotate the works, both for the light exposure and air, and well, sometimes to supplement my moods.” She gathered up the plates, utensils, and empty cartons. Her gaze unfocused. Her movements jerky.
Adam placed a hand over hers, and she stilled. “You okay?”
It was a stupid question. Of course she wasn’t okay.
“Yep, just getting things together. Did you want some coffee or tea?”
“Tea’s good. It’s late for coffee unless you plan on keeping me up all night.” The abrupt exchange was necessary for Adam’s sanity and hers. Luckily, Emily let her smile deepen, her eyes still wary but focused now on him.
“I could give you your first lesson.”
“Not where I was going, but I’ll take you up on the offer anyway. It could be good practice for you and the horde of Scouts you’ll be teaching Friday.”
Ten minutes later he stood in front of an easel in the corner of her loft. It brought back the moment downstairs an hour ago when, despite having no concrete evidence, he was convinced the painting Emily was working on was of them. Attraction blasted through his veins, and he gripped the paintbrush in his right hand with all his might.
Long, slender fingers covered his. “Relax. Part of painting is allowing the movement to flow through every utensil. Both the hands and the brush.”
Adam forced his fingers to unclench, but the wave of attraction reached tsunami proportions. Her body heat swirled with his. Her scent wrapped around him, and every instinct told him to turn into her and let other utensils have free reign. She stepped back, and Adam took a steadying breath.
“The first lesson is to close your eyes and picture what you want to paint. I rarely set up my workspace with a specific goal. Once I’m ready I take a few moments to allow whatever feeling, image, or emotion filter through me. Then I begin to capture that stroke by stroke.”
Her Cowboy's Promise (Fly Creek) Page 11