by Jillian Hart
“Because you’re starting to like me, aren’t you?” He chuckled and the low, deep rumbling was the most pleasant sound she’d ever heard.
“No.” Denial was safest. It was the only path she could take. “Do you know what you need?”
“I’m curious. Tell me.”
“You need to find a woman who will buy the wheel-barrow load you shovel out.” She could tease, too. “I could introduce you around. I’m sure we can find someone at the wedding who will be able to tolerate you enough to dance.”
“Probably we could, but do you really want another woman to suffer the way you are?”
“You’re right. I would hate to spread the suffering around, but I can only take so much.” Was it her imagination or was she a tad closer? Had he drawn her nearer to his chest without her noticing? She felt dizzy and a little breathless. Had he always smelled so good—like snow and wood smoke?
Don’t think about it. Maybe it would be best if she didn’t notice how strong his arms were and how nice it was to be lightly enfolded in them. Not many men could make her feel safe.
Don’t think about that either, Autumn. Being in Ford’s arms was more perilous than she thought. It took all her effort to keep him from sweeping her around the other dancers and closer to prying eyes. Everybody noticed everything in a small town. They would see her waltzing with the new sheriff.
“How is it going tracking down our rustlers?” That question ought to put the rest of this conversation on the right track. Except for the fact that her feet were shuffling and his hand was firm at the small of her back she could almost pretend they weren’t dancing.
“The crime guys came up with nothing. I’m still running down leads.” His cheek brushed hers.
How had she gotten so close to him? The tip of her nose brushed his shirt, and she only had to turn her head to one side and inch forward to lay her head on his chest.
Good thing she was too smart to make that mistake.
“What kind of leads?” she asked.
“So far all trails run cold.” He turned grim. “I checked with all the area hospitals and emergency clinics but no one came in with gunshot wounds or hypothermia. No missing persons or anyone spotted downriver.”
“At least you were thorough. That’s more than we could say about the last sheriff.”
“I’m not done. I’ve been checking aerial maps and tracking down similar crimes in the state.” Impressive. Manly. Capable. Not even the dim light and her own doubts could diminish him. His wide shoulder really did look like a comfortable place to lay her head.
Not that she wanted to or anything. It was simply an observation.
“I’ll never forget riding with you in the blizzard.” His steps stilled. The room faded. His darkened gaze held her mesmerized. “I hadn’t ridden since my granddad died.”
Were they dancing or standing still? She couldn’t tell. She felt as if she were twirling in slow, wondrous circles, but her heels were planted solidly on the tile floor. Nothing but her heart moved.
“You gave me back something I’d lost, Autumn.” His hand, the one with her fingers resting lightly on his palm, brushed away stray tendrils from her eyes. The caress of his knuckles felt tender.
Don’t start caring for him. She meant to give him a shove and put distance between them, but her hands didn’t obey her. She remained caught in his arms.
“You can push me away all you want. It won’t change what you’ve done for me.”
“Ford? The song is over.”
“Not for me.” His knuckles swiped across her cheek a second time and stayed there in a gesture of tenderness. Vaguely, he registered the quartet silencing and the couples breaking up around him. He would not take the first step away from her. He refused to be the one to let go. “Do you know what you are?”
“I’m fascinated to find out.”
“You’re Cinderella. You are all dressed up for the ball.”
“Do I look as if I believe in fairy tales?” She looked the part, wholly transformed in her silk gown and dainty hairdo. Her hand pushed at his shoulder, but he held his ground.
“You don’t have to believe in fairy tales,” he leaned close to whisper against her ear. “You are one.”
He felt the vulnerable quake ripple through her like a gust of wind through chimes, and an answering one breezed through his spirit. That tiny tremble betrayed her. She was more vulnerable than she let on. Impossible to hold back the rising tide of his affection.
Just one chance, Lord. That’s all I ask. He reached out in prayer as the first strain of Vivaldi began. Just give me one chance to win her, and I’ll do my best with it.
He tightened his hold on her and drew her against his chest. She fit into his arms as if God had made her just for him.
Cady had been to a lot of weddings in her life. Between her friends, her family, her colleagues and even her clients she had attended nearly every kind of wedding possible. None of them could compare to this simple country wedding held in a small-town church. Everyone came bearing gifts and the willingness to have a good time. Folks stood around in clusters, nibbling on cake and talking about everything under the sun.
“How much more do you have to do on the lodge?” Martha sipped from a glass of pink lemonade.
“Most of the finish work is done. The decorator starts on Monday.” She’d found an interior designer in Jackson, more than two hours away. “My first booking is for Valentine’s Day.”
“How exciting.” Betty Baker dug her fork into her second slice of wedding cake. “It’s such a lovely property. I can’t wait to see what you’ve done with it.”
“You should have an open house,” Sandi Walters suggested as she chased cake crumbs on her dessert plate with her fork tines. “Folks around here are curious to see what you’ve done, and it might be a way for them to welcome you to the community.”
“You never know how many referrals you will get from it,” Martha pointed out, always the practical businesswoman.
“True.” Cady chuckled. She hadn’t thought of it, but a party sounded nice. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“I could help you if you need any suggestions,” Sierra Baker, the young waitress from the diner, suggested. “Not for pay or anything. My mom is the president of the Ladies Aid, and she has putting on an event down to a science.”
“I may take you up on that.” She was about to ask how little Owen was faring when Sandi gasped.
“Oh, be still my heart.” The woman didn’t seem able to breathe. Perhaps she was having a cardiac event or an asthma attack. But no one else in their little group seemed alarmed. Sandi’s hand flew to her throat. “It’s Frank Granger.”
“Where?” Arlene Miller leaped to attention, scanning the crowd in search of him. “That man is a dream.”
“You said it,” Sandi agreed. “Look! He’s coming around in front of the violin player.”
“Oh!” Arlene sighed. “He looks good in a tux.”
“He certainly does,” Sandi agreed. “I can’t count how many times I’ve batted my eyes at him and no reaction. Nothing.”
“You go right ahead and give up hope, Sandi,” Arlene quipped. “I’m going to be sweet on Frank until the end of time or until he gives in and marries me.”
“Keep dreaming,” Sandi teased good-naturedly.
It was clearly a long-standing debate between the two. Cady’s face heated because she fell silent along with the other single, middle-aged women who watched Frank’s progress across the room. He definitely did look fine in a tux. With those broad shoulders, muscled arms and trim waist, how could he not? Every inch of her heartstrings tugged with the sweetest and purest of wishes as he stopped to talk with the reverend’s wife. Even Doris wasn’t immune to his masculine charm, and she beamed up at him with clear sisterly affection.
Everyone loved Frank Granger. Cady feared she loved him, too.
“Mommy!” A little boy around six pressed against Cady’s knee. His breath rasped. “Can I go outsi
de and play? I wanna make a snowman, too.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Unmistakable love and apology twisted Sierra’s face. She was such a pretty young woman, so very much like Cady’s own younger sister in many ways. The long, straight blond hair, the big gray eyes and even the way she tilted her head to the left side in sympathy. “You have to stay indoors.”
“But all the other kids are.” Heartbreak filled those big eyes. “Please, please, please?”
“Not this time, sweetheart.” Sierra drew her arm around him. What a good mom. Anyone could see the love and worry plain on her face. “Not until you’re better.”
“But I’m better. Really. See.” But he broke into a honking cough that was quite alarming. Just a few hacks, but all of the women in the circle exchanged worried looks.
Poor little boy. Cady wished she knew how to help.
“Mom! Look.” Owen clutched his mother. “It’s Tucker! Tucker the rodeo champion.”
Sure enough, a strapping man who looked like a young carbon copy of his father approached the crowd. “I’m supposed to let everyone know it’s almost time to send the bride and groom off. Grab your coats, because it’s cold out there.”
She couldn’t help liking Frank’s son instantly. He had the same easygoing nature and masculine assurance. Frank had raised a fine family. That said something about the man.
“Don’t you look handsome, Tucker.” Sandi turned motherly. “Are you home to stay this time?”
“Me? No way. Just here to endure the nuptials. Family obligation, don’t you know?” He winked. “I’ve got the national finals this week. I’m leaving on a flight tonight.”
“Where to?” Arlene asked. “Is that in Reno?”
“Las Vegas.” He shrugged. “Dad was going to come see me compete, but he cancelled because of the trouble.”
“The cattle rustlers.” Martha tsked, shaking her head. “It’s not right how they wipe out an entire ranch. Take everything. Why, how does a rancher recover from that?”
“Dad’s a pretty good shot. I don’t think he’s going to let it happen.” Tucker turned his attention to her. “You must be Cady. Autumn has gone on and on about you. You bought one of her mares.”
“Yes, and she’s giving me riding lessons.”
“She mentioned that, too. Well, I’d best spread the word around. See you outside.”
“Say hi to your father for me,” Sandi said.
“You girls are wasting your time.” Martha drained her punch cup. “Frank Granger is never going to remarry, after what went on with his wife. She ruined him for other women.”
Cady perked up. What had gone on with Frank and his wife?
“A city girl from Boston.” Arlene leaned close to explain. “Lainie was nice enough, but she didn’t have what it took to be a rancher’s wife. Left him with the kids and ran off with someone from Jackson. A terrible thing.”
“Then came back apologizing when she was sick,” Sandi said. “What did she have? Something was wrong with her insides.”
“They didn’t know at first. Problems with her liver. Turned out to be cancer.” Betty shook her head, true sadness layering her voice. “Frank took her back and cared for her until the end. Had to break him to do it, but he’s that kind of man, and he had those kids to think about.”
Oh. Her knees went weak. What courage that must have taken. She caught sight of him talking with the minister. Frank was a rare combination of strength, goodness and compassion. The kind of man she’d always dreamed of finding.
“He’s never dated once since Lainie died,” Martha informed her. “Sad. I don’t think he ever will.”
So that was the reason his walls were up. Cady prayed that her adoration for him wasn’t showing.
“Brrr, it’s cold out there,” Martha commented when a group of folks rushed out into the yard. “Here’s your coat, Cady.”
Her coat? She barely managed to thank Martha. She was hardly aware of slipping her arms into her down parka or searching for her gloves in the pockets. Frank chose that moment to saunter in, grab his jacket from a hanger and give them a polite nod.
“Ladies,” he said in his rich, rumbling baritone and walked away with every last piece of her heart.
Chapter Eleven
Autumn hated to admit it, but there was nothing nicer than being nestled against Ford’s shoulder. It was like an awesome dream you didn’t want to end. She wanted to hold on to this moment forever, savor her ongoing dance with Ford—the texture of his jacket against her cheek, the light pressure of his chin against her forehead and the steady thump of his heart beneath her ear.
He was right. She was like Cinderella. Eventually the quartet would quit playing, Ford would step away and she would go back to being herself—the woman no man had asked to dance in a decade. “Autumn?”
She felt a tap on her shoulder. Tucker. She squeezed her eyes shut, but that didn’t keep the dance from ending. Ford stopped swaying, his arms released her and she lifted her cheek from his shirt. When she opened her eyes her little brother towered over her, grinning ear to ear.
It figured he would be the one to interrupt her. Tucker didn’t hide his amusement as he eyed the sheriff.
“Cheyenne sent me to fetch you.” He hardly looked at her as he extended his right hand to Ford. “I’m Tucker. I’ve heard a lot about you, Sheriff.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear.” Ford held out his hand and they shook, looking like instant buddies. “Tucker Granger. I saw you on TV. You won the rodeo I was watching.”
“In Tulsa? I got lucky.” Tucker appeared pleased. “Hey, big sister, you did all right. I like this guy.”
“Don’t congratulate me yet. We were only dancing.” If she was blushing, she hoped the shadows hid it. No way did she want Tucker to read anything into it. For one long moment she’d caught hold of a fairy tale, but it was time to let go. “My sisters are waiting.”
“Then go.” Ford seemed assured, as if dancing together had changed things between them.
How could she let it? Nothing had changed. That was her story and she was sticking to it. Denial was her friend while she whirled around and tapped across the empty dance area. The string quartet packed up and hardly anyone was left in the hall. The emptiness echoed around her as she wove around the edge of the cake table.
Was it her imagination or was Ford tracking her? She glanced over her shoulder, but his attention remained fixed on Tucker. The rumble of Ford’s baritone followed her down the corridor, growing fainter. It couldn’t be a good sign that she liked his voice more every time she heard it.
“Autumn! There you are.” Cheyenne pulled her into the coatroom. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Sorry.” It just went to prove that dancing with Ford had been a mistake. She never should have said yes. She never should have clung to him for the sweetest, slowest waltzes in history. Storybook wishes were fiction, and when they did come true they did not happen to a girl like her. She had to forget the wonder of being held in his arms and focus on her real life and her family. “I lost track of time.”
“It happens.” Cheyenne thrust a coat at her. “Here. Put this on. Rori is ready to go. Addy has the wedding bouquet, and I have the you-know-whats. Come on.”
She jabbed her arms into her sleeves and tottered after her sister on high heels. That’s when she noticed her sister had changed into a sweater, jeans and boots. “Is Tucker taking you and Addy with him to the airport tonight?”
“I have to get back. I have a new rotation starting on Monday.” Cheyenne skidded to a stop in the church’s vestibule. “So tell me what it was like dancing with Mr. Handsome.”
“Dreamy.” The word was out before she could stop it. “I mean, ho-hum. A tad on the boring side.”
“It sure looked that way,” Addy chimed in, adorable in her UW sweatshirt and jeans with the bridal bouquet in hand. “He’s like way old, at least for me, but he’s just right for you.”
“Glad I have your stamp of appr
oval.” Autumn rolled her eyes. “It was a dance, not a proposal.”
“Autumn!” Rori swept into sight with her grandmother on her arm and her sister trailing. She was understated elegance itself in a cable knit sweater, dark pants and boots. She shone with bliss. “I can’t believe it. I’m really married to Justin. It’s a dream come true.”
“Real love is.” That was every girl’s dream. Even hers. She walked into Rori’s embrace and held her for a moment. She recognized the family’s diamonds around Rori’s neck and smiled. They looked perfect. Sometimes the fairy tale came true. She blinked hard because her eyes were watering. “Before you drive off into the sunset, we have something for you.”
“We love you, Rori,” Cheyenne burst out.
“Totally,” Addy agreed.
“Today is a great day for our family because you have joined it.” Autumn paused and swallowed the pesky emotions knotting up in her throat.
“And we want to commemorate it with jewelry.” Cheyenne shuffled close and held up the four single-link gold bracelets they had picked out together.
“Really cute jewelry.” Addy completed the circle. “Charm bracelets. One for each of us.”
“Oh, I love charm bracelets.” Rori’s hand flew to her throat. Her eyes filled. “This is brilliant.”
“Whatever occasions come along, we can mark them with a new charm,” Cheyenne added. “One for each of our bracelets.”
Autumn chose one of the identical gold chains and held it out for Rori. A pair of tiny etched gold wedding bells hung from the first link. “We picked out the first one to symbolize your wedding and the day you became our sister.”
“Oh, you guys.” Rori teared up.
Autumn could hardly see to secure the clasp, but she managed it. Before they could hug, the door flew open, letting in a gust of cold and snow.
“We are freezing out here.” Dad flashed his signature good-natured grin. “Get the lead out and get moving, girls.”