Austin realized his sister was staring at him. “What?” he snapped.
The sharp tone didn’t faze Angie. “I think I just figured out why there are no teenagers in here tonight.”
“Because it’s December 23 and they’re shopping or doing family stuff?” His voice dripped sarcasm and he hoped it would be enough to distract her.
“No, you’re scaring everyone away with that scowl. What’s got your boxers in a bunch, big brother?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, please. This is me. I haven’t been too busy to see you’ve been in a funk for the last few days.”
“Maybe you should be a writer. You’ve got quite a flair for making stuff up and I understand that that’s helpful in creating fiction.” He slid lower on the couch, refusing to look at her because she might see how right she was.
“Not only that,” she continued, “you’ve been brooding since we got here.” Thoughtfully she tapped her lip. “I managed to pull you out of it for a bit. Then I brought up Christmas. And the tree. And Rose…”
He heard the “aha” in her voice. “What?”
“This is about Rose, isn’t it? What happened?”
He’d made love to her and she brushed him off. At least she did it to his face and didn’t split with no explanation. But he couldn’t tell his sister any of that.
“There is no me and Rose.”
“But you wish there was.” Angie wasn’t asking.
“Maybe you should go into law. This cross examination is pretty impressive.” He glanced at her. “Or psychology.”
“You’re trying to distract me because I’m right.”
He sighed. “Is there a possibility that you’ll let this go anytime soon?”
“No.”
“Okay, then.” He looked out the window and focused on the building across the street with Christmas lights ablaze. “I’m deeply in like with Rose and she isn’t interested.”
“Why the heck not?” Angie demanded. “You’re smart and funny. That is when you’re not in a funk and being a jerk. I’ll deny I ever said this, but you’re pretty good-looking. She could do worse. What’s her problem?”
“There’s an age difference. And she wants a guy and a future. She thinks I can’t be serious, that I won’t commit because of…”
“Rachel.” There was bitter anger in Angie’s voice. Then her eyes went wide. “Oh, my God.”
“What’s wrong?”
“This is all my fault.”
He sat up straight. “How do you figure? You’re not responsible for when either of us was born.”
“No.” Guilt was etched on her face. “But I told her how old you are. When we were at DJ’s on Thanksgiving. She was asking questions about you. And God knows why, but I’m proud of you. I was bragging about how smart you are and your degree and what you’re doing now and you’re only the age you are…”
“So that was you.”
“Yeah, but there’s more.” The guilty expression intensified. “When we were at Presents for Patriots, I saw Rose when she walked in. She spotted you talking to Kim and mentioned that the two of you looked friendly.”
“And?”
“I just bragged some more and said…” She caught the corner of her top lip between her teeth. “That you somehow manage to stay friends with all your exes.”
“All?” No wonder Rose had frozen him out that night.
Angie nodded. “I didn’t realize there was anything between the two of you. That was so stupid. She was interested right from the beginning and if I’d just kept my mouth shut, everything would have been fine.”
Maybe. Maybe not. Probably it was best to have the truth up front. “Don’t beat yourself up, Ange. It is what it is.”
“I have to talk to her.” She shut off the TV and stood.
“And say what? There’s still an age difference.”
“Which doesn’t mean anything if you love someone. But I have to tell her that you don’t use women like tissues.”
“What?”
“You know—use them and throw them away.”
He shook his head. “Don’t talk to her. It won’t do any good.”
Angie twisted her hands together. “I know I’ve already done enough damage, but I have to try and fix it.”
“You can’t.”
“Then you talk to her,” his sister urged.
“I already have and it didn’t make any difference.” He rested his elbows on his knees.
“Look, Austin, the reason I’m not out having fun with my friends tonight is because I’ve been worried about you. Now I know what’s been bugging you and it’s all my fault. If she’s the one you want, then go after her and don’t give up. Don’t let her give up. Andersons are made of sterner stuff.”
He stood slowly, her words resonating inside him. Nodding, he said, “Maybe you should look into counseling. Or being a motivational coach.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re right. I’m going to convince her we’re good together.”
“That’s the spirit.” Angie grinned. “What’s your plan?”
“I haven’t worked that part out yet.” He looked at his watch. “She’s still at work.”
“So call her. I’ll cover ROOTS if you can get her to meet you somewhere.”
“You’re the best.” He pulled out his cell phone. “But about that big mouth of yours— From now on, remember that silence is golden.”
“Translation—shut my trap.”
His only answer was a grin before he hugged her.
Rose looked at the calendar on her desk that said December 23 and wondered when she’d started counting the days by how many had gone by since she’d seen Austin.
The passage of time only did one thing that she could see. Every day just made her miss him more. The sun came up in the morning and set at night, but with every twenty-four hours that went by, her soul felt a little more empty until she wondered if it might wither and disappear completely.
She was cleaning off her desk before the Christmas holiday. Fortunately nothing important required her attention because pretty much all of it was focused on what Ben Walters had said.
When one soul recognizes its other half, a birth certificate is just a piece of paper. She was good for him.
Don’t think too long.
That came under the heading “easier said than done.”
“Rose?” Jeannette was standing in the doorway to her office. “Are you busy?”
“Just killing time before going home.” And thinking too much. “Why?”
“I’m taking another shot at going through those old files. Calista and I are cleaning them out.”
“Makes sense.” Rose came around from behind the desk. “You’re the mayor’s assistant. The files are kind of a road map of what goes on in this office.”
“It’s certainly an education,” the blonde agreed. “But I could use your help.”
“Just tell me what to do.”
“Nothing too involved. If we can get this done, it would be great to start the new year with lots of room in those file drawers. Out with the old, in with the new. We’ve just got a stack of stuff to shred.”
“So you want me to perform the highly skilled job of feeding paper into a machine that turns it into confetti. I’m up to the task. I won’t let you down.”
“It’s not national security.” Jeannette grinned. “You joke, but it takes a lot of eye-hand coordination to keep your fingers out of those jagged jaws. And concentration.”
“That’s my middle name.” Although, lately, her concentration had been mostly used up on a certain handsome engineer. The same one she’d stubbornly shut down. “I’m happy to help.”
“Great. I can certainly use a hand.”
“You just told me to be careful of my fingers and now you want the whole hand?” Rose continued to tease as they walked down the hall to the other woman’s office.
“Figure of speech. And here you go,” Jeannette said when
they walked in the door.
Calista looked up from where she sat behind the desk, poring over a file. “Ah, reinforcements.”
“At your service.” Rose saluted smartly.
She looked at the mountain of papers on a corner of the desk and the shredder on the floor beside it. “That’s an impressive pile and it will soon be gone.”
“Good.” With determination in her eyes, Jeannette walked over to the file drawer they’d abandoned because it was jammed during their last housekeeping session. “I’m going to get that one open if it kills me.”
“Be careful,” Rose cautioned. “I don’t want to have to explain to Zane how you were attacked by a psychotic filing cabinet bent on your destruction.”
Jeannette’s look was wry. “I can see why you’re so good at your job and writing public relations releases for the mayor. You’ve got a way with words to go along with that vivid imagination.”
Calista grinned. “She does keep things lively around here.”
Rose started feeding papers into the shredder one after the other, but even the steady noise couldn’t keep the women from talking. Although Jeannette being on her hands and knees pulling and tugging files out of a drawer did tend to make the conversation somewhat two-sided.
“So,” Calista asked, putting old town hall utility bills on the shred stack, “anything new with you and Austin?”
“Oh, well… You know.” Rose shrugged.
The question had caught her off guard. Sex with Austin was definitely new, but it was so personal. She didn’t know whether to answer.
“Hmm. Interesting.” Calista was studying her. “Jeannette can’t see your face, what with practically crawling into that drawer, but Rose is blushing.”
“No, I’m not.” The shredder buzz stopped when she pressed a hand to her hot cheek.
“Defensive, too,” Calista said. “That means one thing.”
“Rose slept with Austin.” Jeannette’s voice was muffled as she worked in the corner with file folders piling up around her.
“Even if you’re right, which I’m not confirming you are,” she added, “it doesn’t change anything.”
“You’re wrong.” Perky, pretty Calista who looked so impossibly young, now looked perfectly serious. “I’ve gotten to know you, Rose. Intimacy is a big step for you. If you took it, you’re pretty serious about Austin. Whether you’re ready to admit it or not.”
Rose seemed to be getting messages from every direction that wisdom was not a direct result of years lived. Otherwise she would be wiser than she clearly was.
“She’s right.” Jeannette had yanked a file out of the drawer and was now sitting cross-legged on the floor.
“Not fair. Two against one,” Rose protested.
“That doesn’t make me any more wrong.” Calista’s expression was sweet and sure. “But this is all hypothetical anyway because you said if you’d slept with him.”
“Right.”
Rose started shoving papers in the shredder as fast as they’d go and the high-pitched grinding sound almost drowned out her thoughts. She almost couldn’t hear herself telling Austin that in her opinion, intimacy had to mean something. It didn’t happen unless two people were committed. And she’d committed to sleeping with him. Actions spoke louder than words.
Pieces fell into place and she was finished thinking. She just hoped it hadn’t been too long.
“Jeannette,” she said, “I need to take a quick break to…”
“What the heck is this?” The mayor’s assistant was frowning over a file in her lap.
Rose walked over and looked down at the tattered manila folder. “That’s seen better days.”
“It was stuck between the drawers and that’s why they wouldn’t open.”
“Is something wrong?” Rose asked, staring at the other woman’s puzzled face.
“Good question. Among other things in here, there are bank drafts signed by former mayor Arthur Swinton to Jasper Fowler.”
“My boss?” Calista sounded surprised.
“Who?”
“He owns The Tattered Saddle Antique Store where I work part-time.”
“Why would the mayor have given him money?” Rose asked.
“Maybe that’s a question our current mayor can answer,” Jeannette suggested.
“He’s still in his office, right?” Rose held out her hand for the file. “I’ll go ask him. To shred or not to shred.”
With the paperwork, Rose walked out into the hall and to the door marked Bo Clifton, Mayor. She knocked and heard him tell her to come in.
“Do you have a minute?” she asked, peeking around the door.
“A couple,” he confirmed. “But Holly has some last-minute Christmas shopping and I promised to be home early to watch the baby.”
Bo Clifton was a blond, blue-eyed muscular man who seldom wore anything more sophisticated than a Western snap-front shirt, blue jeans and boots. He dressed like the rancher he was, but when it came to Thunder Canyon, he was all business.
“I’ll be quick.” She showed him the bank drafts. “Any idea why a mayor would give money to a local shop owner?”
“Where Swinton is concerned, it would be easy to jump to conclusions, but that’s not ever a smart thing to do.” He frowned. “In my tenure as mayor I’ve had no business with The Tattered Saddle. Still, I can’t say that Swinton didn’t have legitimate reasons. Maybe something to do with Frontier Days.”
“I see.”
The phone on his desk rang and he looked at the caller ID. “It’s Holly. We’ll talk about this later.”
“Okay. Thanks,” she said, backing out the door.
She went back to Jeannette’s office and announced, “He doesn’t have a clue what this is about, but he mentioned that Frontier Days could be involved.”
Calista leaned back in her chair. “It’s possible. Jasper stocks a lot of Western antiques—guns, knives, saddles, ropes. Maybe Arthur Swinton paid him to borrow some of it for visitor displays and decorations to make it all more authentic.”
“I could see that.” Jeannette was still on the floor with files surrounding her. “He may have hired Fowler as a consultant, too.”
It all happened before she moved to town, but Rose had heard about some very shady things occurring when Swinton was mayor. Then he’d been arrested for embezzlement, but the money was never recovered. This could be part of the story.
She slapped the file against her palm. “We’ll probably never know what this is about since the former mayor died of a heart attack in jail.”
“We can’t ask him,” Calista agreed. “But Mr. Fowler might know. He’s weird, but more quirky weird. I could ask him why he accepted money from His Honor the Crook. In a good way.”
Rose shook her head. “There’s no diplomatic way to ask your quirky weird boss why he took money from a town official who went to jail. You could get fired. And I’m assuming you need the job or you wouldn’t put up with Mr. Quirky Weird.”
“Yeah.” Calista nodded. “Definitely not doing it for fun.”
“I’ll go ask him,” Rose said, looking at the other two women who didn’t seem enthusiastic about the idea. “I guess I’m on a mission now. And you thought it was just about shredding. We need to get this job done. Out with the old, in with the new as soon as possible. Start the year with a clean slate.”
“If you’re sure,” Jeannette said. “That would be great to tie up all the loose ends.”
“It’s just about quitting time.”
“Thank goodness,” Jeannette said. “Zane and I are going out to dinner tonight. By ourselves.”
“A date,” Calista said, sighing. “Every night with Jake feels like a date, but there’s something about having a child that really makes you appreciate the alone time.”
“Balance,” Rose agreed. “So you guys have people waiting for you and I don’t. I’ll stop by The Tattered Saddle on the way home and see what I can find out.”
Rose said goodbye before they cou
ld put words to the protest in their expressions, then went back to her office to get her coat and purse. And speaking of loose ends, she picked up her cell and looked at the contact list. Austin’s name came up first and she was ready to hit the talk button when the phone rang.
“Hello?” She walked out of her office and headed for the stairs.
“It’s Austin.”
The sound of his deep voice filled her with such longing. “Hi.”
“I need to talk to you.” No flowery words. No beating around the bush. No small talk. “Just so you know, I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Words to make a girl’s heart go pitter-pat. She found the whole manly thing extraordinarily sexy and endearing at the same time. There was no way on earth she could turn him down.
“Isn’t it handy, then, that I didn’t plan to say no?”
“Yeah.” The tension was gone from his tone when he said, “I’d like to take you to dinner. Why don’t I pick you up—”
“Actually, I’m on my way to do an errand for the mayor’s office. It shouldn’t take more than a half hour. Why don’t I meet you?”
“DJ’s?” he asked.
“I’ll be there.”
“Me, too.”
“Can’t wait.” Two words that weren’t nearly enough to tell him what was in her heart. But in a very short time she would say everything in person and tell him straight out how she felt about him. “I’ll see you soon.”
After saying goodbye, Rose slid her phone in her slacks pocket. She was smiling from ear to ear because suddenly her world was as bright and shiny as the holiday season. At least it would be after she stopped at The Tattered Saddle.
Chapter Thirteen
Rose walked into The Tattered Saddle and felt a real sense of visual overload with a touch of claustrophobia thrown in for good measure. Every surface in the place was covered—floor, walls, ceiling and shelving. The tops of an ancient armoire and dresser were packed with old lamps, glassware and books. She knew there was a wooden floor underneath everything, but for the life of her she had no idea how she knew that because it was practically impossible to see with stuff everywhere.
And all the stuff was covered with at least one layer of dust, probably more. There were no charming Christmas decorations. Not even a tree, although there was no space for it. With a Western holiday theme, this could have been wonderful.
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