by Jill Shalvis
“How big?”
“Bigger than what I’m making.”
“That should be easy enough.”
“I want Mondays off, that’s my nail-and-hair day.”
“Which I can see is very important to you,” Holly said, tongue in cheek.
“I want—” Dora broke off and looked at her in surprise. “You mean it? You want to hire me?”
“Absolutely.”
To Holly’s horror, Dora’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, pulling a tissue out of her cleavage and blowing her nose so loudly it woke up the dog. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” Then she rushed to the door.
“Wait—” Holly stood there awkwardly. Tears were a complete bafflement to her. Not her own, which she sometimes shed in the deep, dark of the night, then pretended the next day nothing had ever happened, but someone else’s tears. Dora’s.
“Thank you for believing in me,” Dora said softly. “Not many do. I’m not exactly…popular.”
“I thought everyone who was born and raised here was popular. It’s the outsiders who aren’t.”
“I’ve made myself an outsider all my life. I’m pushy, I’m aggressive and I like to gossip. I work at the grocery store because my aunt owns it and it would look bad if she didn’t let me. But I’ve wanted to get my own job for years now, I’ve just never had the skills.”
“You really did cook this lasagna, right?”
Dora blinked in surprise, then laughed through her tears. “Yes. I said I was obnoxious, not a liar. Is the job still mine?”
“Are you going to cry every day?”
“No.”
“Then it’s yours.”
Later when Holly was alone again, she stood surrounded by both dog and cat, marveling at the truth.
She wasn’t really alone at all, and she hadn’t been since she’d first arrived.
RILEY SPENT the entire next two days dealing with a ring of ranch thieves. The property in question was on the far north quadrant of the county, which meant he spent more time out of town than in it.
He had invaluable help from both the neighboring county sheriff and his own staff, but it was still Wednesday before he was back in his office on a normal schedule.
He pulled up to his building after a morning of chores on his own ranch and took a double take at the Café Nirvana.
The parking lot had cars in it.
Amazed, he crossed the street, envisioning a nice hearty breakfast, something he hadn’t had time for since Maria had cooked his last one on Sunday.
Just the thought had his mouth watering.
And his heart pounding.
Because truth was, it wasn’t just his stomach he was thinking about. No, it was that odd little quiver in the region above, where his heart lay.
Damn, but he was doing it again. Thinking about a woman he didn’t want to be thinking about. Why couldn’t it be simple? If he had to start thinking soft, mushy thoughts, why couldn’t it be for someone he could really fall for, someone who could actually fit into his life?
Not someone like his own mother, someone who would never stick around. He’d had plenty of women in his past, but he’d never felt the earth move or heard fireworks in his head while being with one. He’d never really thought about a particular woman in the permanent sense before, and he wasn’t superhappy about doing it now, but he wouldn’t shy from it.
He just didn’t want it to be Holly.
He opened the door to the café, anticipation thrumming through him in spite of himself.
And found utter chaos.
The stark white walls were halfway painted in a soft pastel color he couldn’t have named to save his life. On a ladder, covered in paint, was his deputy sheriff, Jud.
The counter was stripped of its usual disorganization and assortment of salt and pepper shakers, sugar holders and napkins containers. Straddled on top of it, scrubbing for all she was worth was…Dora? The grocery clerk?
Seated in the corner, listing ingredients into a small tape recorder was Maria. Maria?
That settled it, he’d stepped into an episode of the X-Files.
It got even more curious.
Both the dog and Harry slept on a rug at his feet. Together.
The red booths were all ripped out and upside down on the floor. Replacing the faded red vinyl with new, dark-blue material was Mike, who looked to be in the middle of a sales pitch to Holly about his latest paintings.
“They’ll make great wall hangings,” he was saying around the two nails sticking out his mouth.
Holly herself didn’t look like Holly. Her hair was up, but not in its usual sophisticated style. Instead it’d been shoved into a ponytail holder. Blond strands escaped everywhere, curling around her temples and cheeks. She wore a sleeveless cotton number in can’t-miss-me-green and…jeans. Jeans. He looked twice to be sure, but yep, that was form-fitting, soft-looking denim clinging to her every curve.
When she saw him, she went still. Then she smiled. It knocked his socks right off and for a moment he couldn’t remember why he was here.
Then she moved toward him, setting down her clipboard. When she stood before him, separated only by the mat holding the sleeping animals, she clasped her hands together and looked at him.
He wondered if her hands had the same itch to reach for him as his had to reach for her.
“Hey,” she said softly.
“Hey back.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“Yeah. So have you.” He nodded to the animals, both of whom looked as if maybe they’d been washed clean. “You have mascots now?”
Her smile faded. “They’re not staying.” She looked around her. “Don’t you…notice anything different?”
“You’re wearing jeans. Nice. Very nice.”
“I meant the redecorating.”
“I liked it the way it was. Those jeans though, they can stay.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, he could tell.
“I guess you’re not offering breakfast,” he added.
“I’m going to reopen on Monday. Newly decorated, with a new style. That family thing I was telling you about. Three meals a day.”
“You’re…up for that?”
Her smile was a little tight, tenser than before. “I’ve hired help. This is going to work. It’s going to be perfect.”
“What do the new owners think of that?”
“There hasn’t been an offer on the place yet.”
He’d like to think he saw a flicker of relief at that sentence, but he was probably just reading something into nothing. He was sure of it, because Holly was nothing if not utterly forthcoming. If she wanted, for some odd reason, to stay in Little Paradise, she would just say so.
Hell, she’d just buy the place and make the announcement.
But she wasn’t going to do any such thing and he needed to remember that.
“I was really hoping for breakfast,” he said, rubbing his empty belly.
Her gaze followed the movement. Then as if she were afraid he’d notice her staring at him, she turned away and said quickly, “I have oatmeal in the back. It’s not instant this time, honest, I got the recipe from Dora and it’s…”
“It’s…?”
“Good.” She smiled as she once again looked at him. “It’s really good.”
He was still digesting the fact that she and Dora—complete opposites—were working together, that Holly had cooked oatmeal, that she was offering him some, when she apparently took his silence for rejection.
As if she didn’t know what else to do, she hunkered down and stroked a hand along the dog’s back, then Harry’s before rising and turning from him.
He just caught her arm before she vanished on him. “Wait—”
“I have work.”
“Just wait a sec.” Turning her to face him, he looked into her still-tense face. Lord, what was it about her? Unable to help himself, he stroked a thumb over her jaw.
Her expression
wasn’t unreadable as it usually was, and he saw her confusion. Then, as if with great effort, she blinked and stepped back, sending a haughty I-don’t-care-what-you-think glance over her shoulder at the other people in the room.
He’d never been one to care about what others thought, either, and he didn’t particularly care now. If he wanted to touch her, he would because in truth, they’d been heading toward this since the day she’d stepped out of her Jeep and into Little Paradise. But in deference to her obvious discomfort, he sent everyone a pointed look and suddenly they all became busy again.
“I’d love some oatmeal,” he said. “In the kitchen?”
She nodded, and he followed her, enjoying the way her jeans showed off her body in ways her dressier clothes never had.
Mike high-fived him as he passed, looking happier than Riley had ever seen him. They’d gone to school together, until Riley had left for college. Mike had gone into his father’s remodeling business, even though everyone knew he wanted to be an artist with all his heart. But painting in a small ranching town with little to no tourism didn’t pay the bills, and he had four kids and a wife to support.
“I’m going to put up some of my artwork on the walls,” Mike said proudly. “Maybe even sell some.”
“Can’t wait to see it all. Maybe I’ll pick one up for the spot over my mantel.”
Mike beamed. “That would be nice.” He stopped to swipe at his brow. “I won’t fool myself, I won’t be retiring from the building business any time soon, but this is fun, getting to see my work up on walls that aren’t even mine. Assuming Holly doesn’t accidentally burn the place down next.”
Riley had to laugh at that, but he wondered if Holly had any idea how much she’d just given the man. If she cared.
Dora sent Riley a wink and blew a kiss as he passed, and he blew one right back at her. “New job?” he asked. He’d known her forever, too, and knew that beneath all that huge red hair, overdone makeup and major attitude, beat a rare, warm, giving heart.
“Yeah.” She laughed, and it wasn’t with her usual cynicism, but with genuine delight. “And it’s my own job this time, not one given to me because of family obligations or pity or because they’re afraid I’m going to embarrass them or anything like that.” She grinned. “My folks have never really forgiven me for having sex in the frozen section that first year out of high school.”
“Maybe because you seduced their best stock boy, and he let all the frozen lobsters thaw.”
“Yeah. That was fun. But I paid for that one big-time. Now I’m done ringing up grumpy ranchers. I’m going to cook. For real. Imagine that, being paid to do something you love the most.” She let out a wicked smile. “Well, the second-most anyway.”
He laughed, enjoying her happiness. Riley knew how much this new job had restored some badly needed self-esteem and confidence to a woman sorely lacking in both, and again he looked at Holly.
She avoided his gaze.
They continued toward the kitchen. As Riley passed Jud, the older man suddenly got busier.
“Slow crime day?” Riley asked lightly.
Jud actually blushed. “She’s trying really hard,” he said grudgingly, hitching up his slipping pants and looking at Holly. “Just wanted to be neighborly.”
“Uh-huh. Neighborly. Was there food involved, Jud?”
Holly smiled, giving him away.
“They offered me lunch, yes, and since—” Jud broke off until Holly disappeared into the kitchen, and he lowered his voice “—and since it’s Dora cooking it, not the Low-Fat Queen, and since there’s currently no cows on the run, what the hell, right?”
“Sounding a little defensive there.”
“Dammit, I’m hungry. Okay?”
“Okay.” Riley laughed. “Me, too.”
“Nah, you’re sweet on her.”
“Am not.”
“Are, too.”
“Jud—”
“Are, too.”
Riley walked away from that. In the kitchen, Holly was pulling out a bowl. Which involved her stretching up until her shirt raised high, giving him a nice view of her belly button.
His mouth went dry. “Need some help?”
“No, it’s one of the benefits of being tall. I can reach my own stuff.” She went up on tiptoe now, and leaned forward another little bit, which had her shirt falling away from her body. She sucked in a breath, as if that would give her another inch, and he saw more creamy skin, the outline of a few ribs, and he found himself wishing she’d stretch more, enough to give him a good shot of breast as well.
That’s when he realized it was official.
He was sweet on her, just as Jud had accused him.
7
FORCING HIS EYES CLOSED, Riley stood stock-still, until he heard Holly’s voice, which had a smile in it.
“The oatmeal isn’t that scary,” she said. “I promise. Dora helped.”
“I’m not afraid of your oatmeal.” He took the bowl, which was warm in his fingers.
“What are you afraid of?”
That she was standing too close to him, because he could see things in her eyes that made him dizzy. Or maybe those things were in his own eyes and he was just seeing them reflected back at him. “I’m afraid you’ve been taken over by aliens. You’re different.”
“Different?” She turned away and tripped over the dog, then bent to pat him on the head.
This was the same woman who only days ago had looked at that mutt as if he were a mite-ridden monster, and yet she was now smiling fondly, as if she’d grown to care for him.
“You ever going to name him?” he asked.
“No,” she said, hastily moving away from the dog as if she’d just realized what she’d done. “He’s not mine so there’s no reason to.”
“How do you know he’s a he?”
Crossing her arms, she went for a haughty look and failed. “He just is.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he’s cocky and walks with an attitude.”
“And?”
“And—” she rolled her eyes “—and because I looked, okay?”
He grinned. “Okay. City girl.”
“Don’t change the subject. How do I look different?”
“Different…softer.” Yeah, definitely softer. It was a good look for her. “I may be going out on a limb here, princess, but you’re looking…happy.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Why would it be silly to look happy?” He scooped a bite of oatmeal into his mouth and was surprised to find it nearly melted there, it was that good. “You’re right, this is fantastic.”
“Thank you.”
“See? Right there, you said ‘thank you’ and you said it with such a sweet, kind voice. Definitely different. Now, tell me why that’s silly.”
“Because I don’t want to be soft or sweet.” She let out an unladylike snort and crossed her arms, a definite defensive stance. “I’ve never been sweet and kind in my life.”
“You’re not looking into the right mirror.” He scooped up another three bites of oatmeal to hide the fact he wanted to take at least three bites out of her. “I can give you examples of your kindness, if you need them.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re letting Mike hang his artwork. In case you don’t know, you now walk on water.”
“His artwork is good. I’m doing myself a favor by putting up something people will want to look at.”
“How about Jud? He wasn’t exactly welcoming to you. Don’t tell me you turned the other cheek that easily.”
“I needed his help, he wanted good food. We compromised.”
“Uh-huh. And what about Dora?”
She shifted, giving herself away. “What about her?”
“I suppose you hired her away from a job that was slowly killing her because you actually like loud, slightly tacky, buxom redheads.”
“She’s not loud.” She hesitated. “And it’s not up to me to judge her personal taste in c
lothing.”
He laughed. “That was very…tactful.”
“I like Dora.”
“I like her, too, I just didn’t expect you to.”
“Why not? She’s my—” Friend, Holly realized with no little surprise. On the outside, they appeared to be very different, but that was an illusion, for she thought that just maybe she and Dora had far more in common than they’d realized.
For one, neither of them were exactly cherished by their families.
For another, they both seemed to have a problem letting people close enough to form a relationship.
“She’s your what, Holly? Your friend?” Riley’s eyes shone with something far too close to pride and affection for her tastes. “You’ve made a friend here in this annoying town, among people you don’t like?”
“I never said I didn’t like this place. And as for the people…I think that could change.”
He smiled, and it was a breath-taker. “So, you do like it here.”
She decided to use anger to combat that funny melting sensation in the region of her heart, which was absolutely not going to get involved here. “You know, Sheriff, you have this misconceived notion that I’m this big-city snob. You don’t seem to see the real me.”
“Don’t I?” Both his smile and expression warmed, and he moved closer to her, close enough so she could feel his breath on her cheek, could feel the heat of his body.
She liked it, far too much.
“I see you, Holly,” he whispered. “I see the false bravado and confidence. I see beneath it, too, to the woman who thinks she’s all alone in everything she does, who doesn’t know she already has people who care about her, people who want to help. Not because of what you offer to give them, but because they like you and want to help you.”
“I sincerely doubt that.”
“Why? Why don’t you want to believe that you can be liked just for you?”
“Do you like me just for me?” The minute the words were out of her mouth, she wished them back. It rated right up there with her most embarrassing moment, next to that time at her last job when she’d pulled out all the stops in catching the man she thought she wanted, only to find out he’d done the same to the woman he’d wanted—and that hadn’t been her.