by Jillian Hart
Then Came You
By Jillian Hart
Copyright 2013 by Jill Strickler
http://jillianhart.net
Cover Design by Kim Killion, Hot Damn Designs
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E-book Formatted by Jessica Lewis, Authors’ Life Saver
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Editing by Jena O’Connor, Practical Proofing
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to your online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter One
Bluebell, Montana Territory
Spring 1876
Oh, no, there he is . Maebry O'Riley skidded to a stop on the boardwalk and peered through the front display window of Gunderson's Mercantile. Through the sun-glazed glass she could plainly see her nemesis, Lawrence Latimer, standing at the front counter, hat in hand, waxing on about something to poor Gemma Gunderson. Maebry's stomach cringed with sympathy as she squinted, bringing the spinster's face into clear focus. Yep, that was the exact look of agony Lawrence Latimer brought out in a woman.
Maebry grimaced. If she set foot inside the store right now, then she would be his next victim. Totally tempting to run in the other direction. She clutched her shopping list in one hand, debating the merits of going back to her employer empty-handed, without the special tea Maureen desired—no, demanded. But, that wouldn't be good. Not at all. So that meant running was not an option.
That meant her only option was to face the man. Maebry glanced down at the list she was inadvertently crushing in her palm. Oops. Just went to show how much she didn't want to deal with Lawrence. Frowning, she straightened the paper, palms a little damp, wondering if perhaps hiding was a better solution. Maybe she could duck behind the wagon and wait until Lawrence had finished tormenting Gemma, left the store and gone on his merry way. Then it would be safe to go shopping for Maureen's tea.
"I see that." A friendly baritone rumbled behind her, boots clomping to a stop on the boardwalk. "I know what you're thinking."
"Oops, I guess you caught me." She grimaced. She knew that voice, and knew it well. She spun around, squinting in the sunshine at the tall, brawny man with the sun to his back. Golden light outlined the jaunty tilt of his Stetson, the rock-jaw and iron shoulders. She'd know that silhouette anywhere. She squinted up at him. "Gil Blackburn. What are you doing in town?"
"Getting extra feed across the way." The new assistant foreman at the Rocking M Ranch jerked his head toward the store on the other side of the street. "Beckett says he feels a storm on the way. This time of year, and judging by the black clouds to the northwest, it's likely to be a mean one."
"Spring blizzards. Yay. My favorite." She rolled her eyes, wishing she could stop grinning so much. The man just had that effect on her. "Say, I have an idea."
"Uh oh. Women and their ideas scare me." The brawny cowboy's chiseled face softened into a grin.
Straight, white teeth, amazing smile, little glints of mischief in those navy blue eyes. If she let herself, she could be easily dazzled by the likes of Gil Blackburn. Good thing she had no intention of letting herself. She set her chin, determined to ignore his magnificence. She'd managed to do it for the past few months since Gil had hired on at the Rocking M Ranch. That was the way it had to continue to be.
"Oh, then this idea will definitely scare you," she informed him airily, offering him her arm. "I find myself in need of a beau."
"A beau?" He adjusted his hat, a hint of a grin curving his chiseled mouth. "I didn't know. I'm not sure I approve of such a forward woman. I like ladies who know how to let the man make the first move."
"You know perfectly well what I meant. I can read it in your eyes." Those big, gorgeous blue eyes that seemed to say everything about the man. His honor. His character. His kindness. Her heart gave a little leap, hoping her crush on him didn't show. After all, they worked together and, more importantly, she was not a free woman. "Keep in mind that if you don't help me out, I'll make sure every meal you get this week will be cold and burned."
"Well, little lady, you leave me no choice." He shrugged his impressive shoulders, flashed his dazzling grin. The sunshine bronzed him, warmed his dark brown hair to a chocolate color, outlined him with gold. "You know how I hate cold and burned food."
"I do." She glanced sideways at him, enamored. Why did the man always enamor her? "You're too easy, Gil."
"You mean gullible?"
"That, too."
"If only you didn't cook my every meal, I'd be heading across the street right now ordering oats instead of rescuing you from Lawrence." He reached for the door, gallant as always. "Do you want me to act enamored, or will escorting you through the store be enough?"
"Shh." She elbowed him lightly in the ribs, aware of the solid feel of him. Very solid, very manly. Whew, she felt just a tad dizzy and no surprise that was, as Gil likely rendered any woman he came across light-headed. The saving grace was that he didn't know he was devastatingly handsome. No, Gil was as humble and as down-to-earth as a man could get. Which only made him more attractive, of course.
And made the teensy-weensy, little, miniscule crush she had on him a tad bigger.
The bell above the door jangled merrily, announcing their presence. Both Lawrence and Gemma turned toward the door, Lawrence smiling benevolently beneath his handlebar mustache, Gemma pleading with a help me look.
Maebry held up her list, hoping she looked in dire need of assistance. What else could she do, since she'd been in Gemma's shoes more times than she could count, enduring Lawrence's ardent attempts at courting? Girls had to stick together when it came to over-eager bachelors.
"Hi Gemma, I'm afraid I need some help. I have quite a few questions." She strolled into the shop, aware of the strapping man at her side. How could she not be aware of him? "Sorry to interrupt, I see you're with another customer, but you know Maureen."
"That I do." Beaming gratitude, Gemma launched out from behind the counter, her sensible brown dress snapping around her ankles, her practical black shoes drumming a light beat on the wood floor. "Sorry, Lawrence, I have customers. Lovely chatting with you."
"And with you, my fair lady." Lawrence tipped his bowler hat, his rapturous gaze following Gemma's progress away from the counter.
Then his gaze landed on Maebry and turned euphoric.
"Oh, Miss O'Riley." He bowed deeply, as if ready to start a new campaign to win her heart. "What a pleasure. Will I be seeing you at the Montgomery's May Day party tomorrow?"
&n
bsp; "Likely, as Maureen has volunteered me as kitchen help for the day." She sidestepped a few inches closer to Gil, hoping Lawrence would get the hint. "So I'll be working."
"Such a pity." Lawrence schooled his too narrow face into an overly sincere show of commiseration. "Maureen should grant you at least part of the day for frivolity. I could save you a dance?"
"Oh, I'm not sure Gil would like that." Really, what did it take for Lawrence to give up? She patted Gil's muscled arm, trying not to notice how strong and manly he was. That was like not noticing the way gravity held your feet to the floor. Her heart gave a little wistful sigh of dreaminess, which she did her best to ignore. "Would you, Gil?"
"No, I'm afraid I wouldn't." Gil planted his feet, all six plus feet of towering muscle and might. "You're not trying to move in on my girl, are you, Latimer?"
"Uh." Lawrence swallowed, his narrow gaze arrowing to the tough, strapping cowboy. "I didn't realize you two were together. I simply assumed you were escorting her to town for ranch business."
"We work together, it's true." A muscle ticked along Gil's strong, square jaw. "But Maebry is my lady now."
"Oh, then congratulations are in order." Lawrence paled, looking disappointed. "You've got a fine one there, the prettiest in the county. Guess I'll be getting on with the rest of my errands. Have a good afternoon, Gemma. I'll see you soon."
"Lovely," Gemma called out a touch sarcastically from somewhere in the aisles of shelving.
Wow, he really was leaving. Just like that. It was really too good to be true. Maebry held her breath as Lawrence left with a jingle of the bell above the door and paraded down the boardwalk out of sight. He was gone. And she hadn't spent thirty minutes or more politely trying to get out of a conversation with him.
"I'm exhausted." Gemma called out from somewhere close, lost behind the tall shelves of goods. "Thank goodness you came along when you did. Maebry, that was excellent, bringing Gil. I've been trying to get rid of Lawrence for the last forty-five minutes."
"Maybe you need a pretend beau, too." Maebry reluctantly let go of Gil's arm. It had been nice while it lasted. Shyly, she gazed up at him through her lashes, hoping to keep her feelings veiled. Her little crush on him wasn't as small as she tried to make herself believe.
"Oh, you two were pretending?" Gemma's voice sounded closer, maybe an aisle away. "I was about to say congratulations, but I get it now. That was a very clever way to foil Lawrence's advances."
"I had no choice. He came by the ranch yesterday evening to ask me out for a drive." Maebry rolled her eyes, trying to keep her tone light. She did feel sorry for Lawrence, but that wasn't the reason it felt as if the sunlight had gone out. "I had to say no to him in front of half the kitchen staff and the cowboys who'd wandered over to watch. It was awful. It was so terrible, wasn't it Gil?"
"No. You let him down as gently as you could. If I'd known you'd wanted a pretend beau, I could have stepped up and sent him on his way right there and then." Gil's baritone gentled. "It would have saved you from being uncomfortable."
"Thank you. I don't know why he's so persistent. He knows why I can't accept. Not that I would want to." She raised one shoulder up, then down, hoping the gesture would say what she could not. She felt Gil's gaze like a touch to her cheek, as if he were waiting for her to look up at him. For some reason she didn't want to, for that would make him suddenly too close, too intimate. She took a step away, fisted her hands, remembered the shopping list she was clutching. "You saved the day."
"I was only thinking of my stomach." A light quip, but the low dip of his tone said something more. Something that made her stomach clench up so tight it might never return to normal. "Not that you would have carried through with your threats."
"No, I really would have given you the burned pieces," she informed him, teasing. "I might have burned things on purpose just for you."
"Right, like I believe that." He winked at her, adjusted his hat, glanced out the window as if to make sure Lawrence had fled the scene for good. "You don't have a mean bone in your body, Maebry O'Riley. You were just bluffing."
"How do you know? Do I have to prove it to you?" She arched a brow at him. Sure, he was right, but a girl had to stand her ground, didn't she?
"We'll see come supper time." He gave a soft bark of laughter, his gaze finding hers. Warmth resonated in those dark blue depths and something mysterious, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He dipped his chin, breaking eye contact and tipped his hat. "I'll be across the street if you lovely ladies need protecting."
"Lovely?" Maebry planted her hands on her hips. "Don't tell me that next you'll be turning into a Lawrence type."
"Well, it's a possibility." He winked, one big, capable hand curling around the door knob and engulfing it. "Maybe it could be the new me. I'd need a bowler hat, though."
"Take my advice. Do not trade in your Stetson."
"Okay, I'll keep that in mind." One corner of Gil's mouth tilted up into a half-grin, lopsided and dashing in a subtle, more masculine way that Lawrence on his best day could never hope to achieve. The bell above the door tinkled, announcing Gil's departure. He strode out the door, taking his very male presence with him.
"Whew, the store feels empty somehow when he leaves." Gemma swished into sight and held up the tin for inspection. "This is the tea you're after, right?"
"You know it. Maureen ran out again." Maebry grabbed a basket from the stack by the window and headed to inspect the packages of crackers. "She's having a rough time of it."
"I'm sorry to hear that." Gemma pushed a strand of black hair behind her ear and set the tea on the counter. "Rumor has it that she's having a hard time breathing."
"Yes, she's getting these weird episodes. Doc says she's near the end." Sad. Anyone's imminent passing was a sorrow, even Maureen's. Maebry's chest felt funny, tight with concern for the old lady even after all that had happened between them. She was family, after all, albeit distant. Very distant. "We're doing all we can to keep her comfortable."
"Hence the tea." Gemma's gait tapped lightly closer, her face genuinely concerned. "She's gone through the last tin so quickly. It must be one of the few comforts left to her."
"True." Maebry's gaze zipped across the store to the bank of front windows and the lone cowboy moseying across the dusty street. Back straight, long legs lean and strong, easy going stride. She didn't know why her throat closed up, making it hard to breathe. She could still feel the heat of his presence, the unyielding hardness of muscle and bone beneath her hand, the heat of his skin. Loneliness ached in her chest, which was foolish, really. She was twenty years old, she'd been on her own since she was fifteen, traveling from her home in Ireland by herself. She was alone and she accepted it. End of story.
But, still, her gaze lingered on the straight line of Gil's back. He was terribly fine. She couldn't help wishing, just a little, dreaming of him. Dreams couldn't hurt, right? She knew nothing could come of them, but the man just hooked her heart. There wasn't one thing she could do to stop it. But she had her duties and her obligations, and those came first.
And would for so many years, that it may as well be forever.
"He is a sight, isn't he?" Gemma plucked a tin of Maureen's favorite crackers from a nearby shelf, trying to hide a little sigh. "He's far too young for me, what is he, twenty-five, twenty-six? But still. My eyes can appreciate a fine man when he walks into my store."
"What, they weren't appreciating Lawrence?" Okay, perhaps it was wrong of her to tease. She chose a second tin of crackers from the shelf and plopped it into the wicker basket she'd hooked over her arm. "Sorry, I couldn’t help it."
"We are sisters-in-arms, my dear." Gemma gave a helpless shrug and took the crackers out of Maebry's basket. "We have to stick together when it comes to that man. He is a trial."
"He's just lonely." The words seemed to scrape out of her throat, because she knew how that felt. She battled that feeling every single day when her work was done and she was alone in
her little room off the kitchen, facing an endlessly lonely evening. "I feel bad for him."
"Not bad enough to let him beau you, I hope." Gemma set the crackers on the counter next to the tea. "Oh, he's harmless enough, but I don't think he'd make a good husband."
"Maybe none of them do," Maebry found herself saying, echoing the words her mother used, the same sentiment Maureen had expressed whenever she got the chance. Maebry winced, hoping that didn't mean she was on the verge of believing real love didn't exist, that true love was impossible. Or maybe it was a defense, instead of saying the truth. That she would likely never marry. Never have a husband to love, children to treasure.
Unwillingly, her eyes wandered toward the window again, catching the last glimpse of Gil as he yanked open the feed store's front door and ambled inside, out of sight. The sensation of the reassuring warmth of his arm pressed to hers lingered.
Maybe I'm just that hopeless, she thought with a head shake, consulted her crumpled list and marched down the nearest aisle.
* * *
Gil Blackburn ignored the drone of the chatter in the store as he hiked up to the front counter. He still felt a little dazed, but then Maebry O'Riley usually had that effect on him. Still, he thought, squaring his shoulders, it had felt good to help her, even if it had nearly broken his heart.
"Gil, good to see you." Carl Thomas, proprietor of this fine establishment, dusted hayseed off the scarred wooden counter. "What can I do you for?"
"We're running short on oats at the Rocking M." He splayed his hands on the edge of the counter, glancing over his shoulder at the mercantile across the street. The waning sun glinted too brightly on the windows to catch a glimpse of her. He cleared his throat. "Last year's twister wasn't good for our crops."
"Mine neither!" called Zeke Owens, cowboys sat in the far corner of the store, hunkered down on a feed barrel over a game of checkers.