Finding Hope (Nugget Romance 2)

by Stacy Finz

  “The man likes to look, I’ll give you that. But I’ve only seen him look at one woman adoringly. And that’s you,” Donna said.

  “You’re seriously delusional,” Emily said, and refilled Amanda’s glass.

  “I’m not saying that he has a thing for you.” Donna wouldn’t let it go. “But there is something in the way he looks at you. Like you hung the moon. I saw it that night at the Ponderosa when you two were having dinner. And then again at the shoot. I agree, it’s not what you would expect from a man who typically chases women who look like supermodels.”

  “Donna!” Maddy cried. “Emily is as pretty as any supermodel. Look at those cheekbones. Look at those blue eyes.”

  “For Christ’s sake, everyone knows that Emily is pretty. She’s just”—Donna eyed Emily’s baggy khakis and peasant blouse—“understated about it. And this multiple-wife hairstyle she’s wearing isn’t doing her any favors.”

  Maddy, Grace, Ethel, and Emily all shouted, “Donna,” at the same time. Emily rocked with laughter.

  “Donna’s right. I look like shit,” Emily said, and pensively added, “For the last four years I’ve been preoccupied.”

  Silence permeated the air.

  “We understand,” Maddy finally said, and took Emily’s hand. “We’re very sorry.”

  And that was it. They knew. But they were leaving the ball in Emily’s court.

  When she didn’t say anything, Donna muttered, “Maybe it’s time for a makeover.”

  “Yeah,” Emily said. “I’ve thought about it. Better clothes. A haircut.”

  “Farm Supply,” all five women said in unison.

  When she stared back at them, completely confused on how a feed store would help her with a new look, Amanda said, “Don’t worry. Trust us. We’ll hook you up.”

  “And Donna turned me on to the best hair stylist in Reno,” Maddy said. “I could take you.”

  “I’m thinking shoulder length, lots of layers, and some highlights,” Donna interjected.

  Emily exhaled, took a gulp of her wine, and looked at the Baker’s Dozen expectantly. “Go ahead and ask. I won’t be offended. I just can’t talk about that day—it’s too painful.”

  “There’s nothing to ask,” Maddy said. “We are all praying that Hope comes home. We are your friends. Whatever you need us to do. We are here for you.”

  “I need to talk about her sometimes,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears. “I need to remember her beautiful face.”

  Donna rummaged through her giant handbag, coming up with a pack of tissues. “Tell us what she looked like.”

  For the next hour, Emily talked about Hope, telling them about the time she’d fallen from a swing at Mitchell Park and chipped her tooth. “Don’t cry, Mommy,” she’d said. “I’ll get a new one.” How her favorite color had been yellow and the way she’d eaten spaghetti, weaving each strand through the prongs on her fork.

  Emily showed them the picture she carried in her wallet, the corner dog-eared from all the times she’d taken it out of the plastic sleeve. And she told them about Drew and how their marriage had crumbled under the heavy despair of losing a daughter and the preoccupation with getting her back. Their days had become an endless nightmare of following dead-end leads, begging for the public’s help on talk shows, and sending out fliers. Thousands and thousands of fliers. It had become Emily’s obsession, finding people on the seven continents to post them in their windows or storefronts, even just to hand out a few.

  As the days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months, anything outside of finding Hope had ceased to exist for Emily. Even Drew.

  Donna nodded her head in understanding. “You’ve been through hell, honey. Absolute hell. But you’ve come to the right place. We’re going to fix your heart. But first your hair.”

  Donna kept to her word, because three days later, Emily looked like a new woman.

  “Wow,” she kept saying as she stared at her reflection in the floor-length mirror at Donna’s favorite salon. “I didn’t think I could look this good. You sure I’ll be able to pull this off on my own?”

  Her hair had been highlighted and snipped into sassy layers with side-swept bangs. The cut made her look ten years younger, framing her high cheekbones and showcasing her blue eyes.

  “Just use the big brush like I showed you,” Dani, the stylist, said. Maddy sat on a giant leopard-skin ottoman, giving her a thumbs-up, while Donna got a pedicure.

  Emily had a dozen Nordstrom and Macy’s bags in the back of her van. She currently wore a lavender tank dress that Maddy and Donna had made her wear out of the store.

  Later, they were meeting the rest of the Dozen at the Nugget Feed Store to buy jeans and boots. In the last couple of hours, her credit card had seen more action than Della James got on a Friday night. But it felt good.

  Maddy came up behind her and ran her fingers through Emily’s blond locks. “It’s the perfect style for you. Before, all that hair weighed you down—you’re so petite. But this accentuates your lovely features.”

  “You think?” Emily continued to play with the style in the mirror. “I need new earrings.”

  “Farm Supply,” Donna said, waddling over to the chair with foam separators stuck between her toes. “I was just in there and Gracie got in a new shipment of jewelry.”

  “Why have I never been to this place?” Emily asked.

  “The first time Amanda and Pam dragged me there, it blew me away. I expected sacks of grain and sheep wormer. Grace’s daughter does the buying and I swear, it’s like a department store—clothes, housewares, accessories, you name it.”

  Emily had heard Pam mentioned a few times since moving to Nugget. She owned the yoga studio on the square, but she and her husband had rented a house in Tuscany for the summer. Apparently it had been their longtime dream. Emily knew that Maddy and Pam were tight and that Maddy looked forward to her friend returning home.

  Donna glanced at her watch. “We have time for a quick lunch before we head back.”

  By the time Emily got home it was dark. She carried her packages into the house, laid her new wardrobe on the bed, and took out the cowboy boots she’d bought at Grace’s feed store. Of all her purchases she liked the boots the best. They were brown, distressed to look vintage, and reminded her of a pair she had in college. She’d worn those boots until the soles were ragged. Perhaps even then she’d known she was a country girl at heart.

  In addition to the boots, Emily had bought five pairs of jeans, which seemed extravagant, but she hadn’t shopped in four years. She’d also gotten a little Western summer dress on sale and a few shirts. The store was everything the girls had promised.

  Methodically, she began to bag up the clothes in her closet. She’d take them to a church or thrift store. But she no longer wanted the sad garments taking up space. There wasn’t room for them in her new life.

  “What the . . . ?” Clay’s voice trailed off. “That can’t be Emily.” While staring across the square, he squinted his eyes at a blonde in a short flirty dress and a pair of brown cowboy boots. She’d gotten out of Emily’s van and was flouncing toward the Lumber Baron.

  “It’s her,” Rhys said. They’d grabbed a burger at the Bun Boy during Rhys’s lunch break. “She’s advising Maddy on a new fall breakfast menu for the inn.”

  Clay continued to watch her. “She looks different,” he muttered. What she looked like was a goddamn goddess with bouncy hair that barely reached her shoulders and was the color of sunshine. The dress flared just above her knees, showing off a pair of killer legs. And the boots . . . the boots were sexy as hell.

  Rhys gave a half shrug. “Other than the haircut, she looks the same to me. The boots are nice.”

  Obviously, Rhys only had eyes for Maddy, because half the guys on the square had taken notice, checking her out as she disappeared behind the inn’s entrance.

  “When did she get a haircut?” Clay hadn’t seen her since that night at the Ponderosa when he’d made an ass out
of himself.

  “Maddy and Donna took her to Reno on Wednesday. I guess she got a bunch of new clothes too.”

  “Why?” Clay asked.

  “How the hell should I know?” Rhys said. “Why don’t you go over there and ask her if you’re so interested?”

  Clay planned to walk into the Lumber Baron and get a better look. Maybe the sun had been playing with his vision. On his way in he bumped into Griffin. Word all over town was that the Sierra Heights deal had gone through.

  “Is it true?” Clay asked. Griffin apparently knew what Clay was talking about, because he nodded his head like he’d been asked the same question a hundred times. “Good!”

  Clay passed the reservation desk, the grand staircase, and made his way to the back of the inn, directly to the kitchen. Sure enough, the two women sat at the big island, heads together, looking over sheets of paper.

  “Hey, you.” Maddy saw him first and hopped off her stool to give him a hug. “What brings you to my humble abode?”

  “Just thought I’d say hi.” He chanced a quick glance at Emily, who gazed back at him. It hadn’t been an illusion. She was beyond beautiful. The new hairstyle showed off her delicate features and made her eyes shine. The dress hugged curves Clay hadn’t known she had. Even the black funeral dress hadn’t been as flattering. “Hey, Emily.”

  “Hi, Clay.” She went back to looking at menus.

  “Did you come to town to have lunch with my husband?” Maddy asked him.

  “Yep. I’m headed back to the ranch to take the boys fishing.”

  “Sam might want to go with you guys, if that’s okay.”

  Clay was on the verge of saying that Sam was welcome to join them, when one of the housekeepers came looking for Maddy.

  “I’ll be back,” she said, as the worker called her away.

  “What’s up with the new look?” he asked Emily.

  “Just needed a change.” She sat there, waiting expectantly, her face falling when he didn’t say anything.

  He knew he was beingajerk, but Clay suspected that she’d made the changes for Oily, and that maybe they were an item now. So let her get her compliments from him. “I gotta get going. Tell Maddy I’ll pick up Sam and bring him home later.”

  He turned on his heels and left. The whole way home he whipped himself up good. Why the hell had she gone and made herself stunning like that? He liked her better when she was plain old mousy Emily. When she was genuine and kind and just his. Not running around like a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader.

  Ah hell, he didn’t know why he felt so damn proprietary over her. The fact that she’d rid herself of the hideous gunnysacks she called clothes and fixed her hair would much improve the view on McCreedy Ranch. And for that he should be eternally grateful. Instead, he sulked the entire time he was fishing with the boys. At least they hadn’t seemed to notice, goofing around on the rocks, searching for chrome-bright king salmon. The season lasted until October, but the fall run started in July and August, when in Clay’s opinion the fish were the tastiest. The boys angled from the shore, casting upstream at forty-five degrees. Tip had taught him and Rhys when they were kids, and now they’d taught Sam, Justin, and Cody.

  But today his heart wasn’t in it. He kept thinking about Emily and why she’d gone and changed herself, when she’d been just fine the way she was.

  After returning from the river, Clay found himself so consumed with her that he couldn’t keep from wandering over to the barn. He found her on the deck, sitting in Colin’s rocking chair, drinking a glass of wine. The boots stood next to the door and her feet were tucked underneath her, showing a good amount of leg.

  He swiped off his hat, tossed it onto one of Jen’s old Adirondacks, and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “You seeing that photographer now?” He waved at her hair. “Is that what that’s all about?”

  “Hayne?” she asked with ire. “What is it with you about him?”

  “Obviously he made you feel the need to fix yourself up, when you looked just fine the way you were.”

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with him,” she said in that same acerbic voice, unfolding her legs and straightening in the chair. “And, no, I wasn’t fine the way I was! I wore my grief like a mantle. This is who I used to be and what I looked like before my life fell apart.”

  Clay sucked in a breath, propping himself against the wall. At a loss for words, he just stood there feeling like an insensitive jackass, pretending to hold up the house. Emily got up.

  “Where you going?” he said, afraid that she was about to slam the door on their friendship.

  “To get the wine, and you a glass.”

  But before she could move, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him. With his callused hands, he framed her soft face. “You are beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, lowering her eyes.

  “Here too.” Clay touched her heart. “And here.” He pressed his lips against hers, kissing her softly, tracing her mouth with his tongue, surprised that she didn’t tug away. This time, no walls. She was letting herself go for a change.

  In fact, she twined her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, snugging her small lithe body against his chest until he felt her nipples pebble through the thin fabric of her dress. He liked the way she had to go up on tiptoes to reach him.

  Clay slid his tongue inside her, holding the back of her head so he could take the kiss deeper. She tasted like wine and heaven. And she felt more right in his arms than any other woman.

  He continued to explore her mouth, running his hands down her sides, over her back, and down to her ass, pressing her into his arousal. She let out a slight whimper, shyly playing with the snaps on his shirt. Clay was less tentative, reaching under her dress and caressing her bottom.

  As he inched his way under her panties, she loosened her hold from around his neck and pulled free of his mouth, lifting her blue eyes to look at him in bewilderment. As if spellbound, they just stood there staring at each other. Then Clay lifted her in his arms and carried her through the house and into her bedroom.

  On the bed they struggled to remove each other’s clothes. Then everything moved in slow motion. For the first time in Clay’s life he didn’t feel a need for speed, laving Emily with his lips and tongue and soaking her in from head to toe. Her hair felt like corn silk on his skin as she kissed her way down his chest. He unhooked her bra, exposing small, firm breasts that felt perfect in his hands. No matter how much he looked at her, suckled and touched, Clay couldn’t get his fill. The feel of her small hands, the scent of her perfume, and her sexy little moans set him on fire until his whole body thrummed with excitement. Even her sturdy cotton panties made him hot and hard as a bull.

  He peeled them off and found her wet, pushing into his hand as he touched her there. “Good?”

  “Mmm,” she whimpered, pulling his head down to her breasts.

  He licked her puckered nipples, taking each one into his mouth while he explored her core with his fingers. She was small and tight. Emily dipped under the elastic waistband of his shorts and ran her hand up and down the length of him.

  Clay sucked in a breath. “Stop, baby, or else I’ll beat you to the finish line and embarrass myself.”

  “Clay, I uh . . . I’m not on anything.” She stopped stroking, but continued to hold him. It took a herculean effort not to explode in her hand.

  Nuzzling her neck, he moved her arm. “I’ve got us covered. But first like this.” He continued to play between her legs, slipping in a finger, then two.

  She moaned with pleasure, telling him how much she liked what he was doing. He brought her to climax with his mouth, sending her halfway off the bed as she shuddered with spasms, yelling his name.

  “Oh God,” she said, hiding her face in the pillow. “It’s been a while.”

  He kissed her belly. “Nah, I’m just really good.”

  “And modest.” She giggled.

  He found his wallet on t
he floor, removed a foil package, and sheathed himself. Positioning himself over her, he quickly changed his mind and rolled her onto his stomach. “Straddle me, baby. You’re small and I don’t want to—”

  “And you’re huge,” she said, sitting over him, resting her hands on his chest.

  “Go slow. Just take your time.” Which would probably kill him.

  Little by little, she guided him into her, arching her back, giving Clay an unwitting show. He didn’t know what turned him on more, the way she looked with her breasts thrust in the air or the sensation of squeezing into her narrow passage.

  “You okay?” he asked her, holding on to her hips to help her take more of him.

  She sloped her head back, gradually riding him up and down. “Oh yeah.”

  He let her control the pace. “Baby, that’s good. God, you’re so beautiful.” The way she swayed back and forth, bucking and uttering sexy little whimpers, was really doing it for him.

  He clasped each hip bone to support her as she moved faster and harder, begging for him to touch her.

  With his thumb he worked her until she collapsed on top of him, spent. He rolled her over and entered her again, expecting to take her fast and furiously. Instead, he went slow, attuned to her every response, savoring the connection with all his heart.

  “Oh Clay. Oh Clay. Oh God, this is even better.”

  “You gonna come again?” he asked, pride inflecting his voice.

  “Yes.” It came out more like a breath than a word. “What about you?”

  “Yeah,” he said, and felt like he was rushing a cliff, yelling out as he cleared the pinnacle. Underneath him, she too quivered, her legs going limp and falling away from around his waist. He could feel her breathing hard and her heartbeat racing.

  To remove his weight, he rolled to the side of the bed and took Emily into his arms, drenching her with kisses. “You wanna take a nap, baby?” As soon as he got rid of the condom, he wanted to cuddle and watch her sleep. Funny, because usually after sex, he couldn’t hightail it fast enough out of a woman’s bedroom.