The late-twenties woman sported perfectly coiffed black hair cut into a chic angled bob. She caressed the cover with French-manicured nails.
Her midforties companion swished a shoulder-length perm around in agitation. Her copy open, she pointed to a section of text.
“See. I tried this with Hank last night, and he got angry. I mean, really. We’ve been married twenty-five years, and we need to spice things up. I’m not dead yet, ya know.”
Ella altered her course and slid into the booth just behind them. If curiosity killed the cat, then Ella was about to die a horrible death, because she just had to hear what local readers were saying about the books.
“He got angry? What did he say?” asked the younger woman in a loud whisper.
“He said our sex life has been fine for a quarter century, and he wasn’t about to lock me to the bed with a pair of fuzzy red handcuffs. Then he went and slept on the couch.” The older woman harrumphed loudly.
Ella’s cheeks burned hot. Grabbing a menu, she pretended to browse the selections.
Honestly, she couldn’t blame this Hank guy. Ella and Bradley had never done any such thing. Their sex life had been loving and affectionate; it had seemed spicy enough without handcuffs or blindfolds. So when she sat down next to Bradley’s bed and started writing a romance story to fill the empty spaces of time during his long stretches of medicated sleep, she had shocked herself with what flowed onto the page.
A very hot, sexy story, using the pen name Violet Vixen, burgeoned into a full-length novel about a librarian and her fantasies. Fantasies that Ella imagined living out with Bradley. Living being the operative word. That’s why she kept writing, outlining a second and third book. Her imagination ran wild with what she wished she would have done, still could have done, with Bradley if not for his rapidly declining mind and body.
“Andy loved the handcuffs.” The younger woman’s voice dropped low, and Ella leaned back to hear. “And he wants to try more.”
Turning her head slightly for a better angle, Ella snatched peripheral glimpses of her unknowing subjects while analyzing the menu.
The familiar crunching of peanut shells sounded, and the server approached.
“Hi, I’m Miranda. What can I get you?”
“Oh, I’m waiting for someone,” Ella whispered.
The waitress smiled, a dimple appearing at each corner of her mouth. “Okay. Can I bring you something to drink while you wait?”
“Um, how about a Coke.”
“Will do.” Putting the order pad and pen back in her apron, she stepped to the next table.
“You two ladies need anything else? A male blow-up doll? A whip?”
“Oh, bite us,” the older erotica reader admonished. “You’ve read it, too, Miranda.”
The server gave them a slinky laugh. “Yep, and I can’t wait for the third book to come out next month.” Her voice turned a little frustrated. “I can’t believe the first book left us hanging with their breakup. After all the great sex, what woman in her right mind would walk away from that?”
The younger woman’s hands flew to her ears. “Don’t tell me! I haven’t gotten to that part yet.” She began to hum, her hands still clamped over both ears.
Miranda huffed and scurried away.
“I can’t believe she just gave away the ending,” one of them complained. “They better get back together for more hot sex in the next book, or the readers might riot.”
Ella giggled. Her hand shot to her mouth, but it was too late. The two ladies in the next booth went quiet. Crap.
Ella turned to see two pairs of eyes peering at her over the booth. “Hi,” she said, unsuccessful at squelching the guilt in her voice. “Sorry. I couldn’t help but overhear.”
“Have you read them?” The fortyish woman held up the book.
“Um, yes. I’m familiar with it.” Ella tried evasive tactics so she wouldn’t have to lie.
“I’m Donna.” She pointed a finger at her companion. “This is Brianna.” Brianna waved. “You new in town?”
“My name’s Ella Dennings. Nice to meet you both.”
Ella didn’t miss the quick look that passed between the two women.
“I’m here for the summer, actually,” Ella said.
“We’re driving into Santa Fe when the next book is released. It’ll take a while for any of the stores up here to carry it,” Brianna said. “You could come with us, if you want.”
Ella shook her head. “I switched to an e-reader when my husband got sick. I didn’t have much time to browse the bookstores.”
The front door opened, and Butch’s voice rang out a greeting. “Hello, ladies.”
He trudged through the peanut debris, followed by two other men. Ella stood, and Butch gave her a fatherly hug. “I see you’ve met Donna, Red River’s postmaster, and Brianna, the owner of Shear Elegance two doors down from here.” He greeted both of them.
Butch hooked a thumb at the two men behind him. “I picked these two stragglers up. Anybody know them?” he said playfully.
Donna pointed to one of the men. He was about her age, lean and tanned from working outdoors, and he wore a straw cowboy hat, well-starched Wrangler jeans, and brown Roper boots. “That one there is mine. Hank’s his name. I’m the better half.”
He took off his hat and nodded at Ella. “Ma’am.” Hank and Donna’s accents gave away the fact that they were transplants from the Lone Star State.
“I’m Ross.” A tall, burly guy stepped from behind Butch and offered his hand. “I don’t have a better half yet,” he drawled.
“Nice to meet you, Ross. I know how you feel.”
“Why don’t we get a bigger table, and y’all can join us,” Donna offered.
Ella’s hand fluttered to her hair, which she smoothed back with a palm. Starting over, meeting new people—people that probably knew Bradley because of the time he’d spent in Red River with the Wells family—pulled her way out of her comfort zone. Catapulted, actually.
Ella let out a deep sigh. Would she ever be able to let go of Bradley and function on her own again?
She doubted it, but she was here in Red River to at least try.
Coop entered Joe’s using the side door. He pushed through the swinging door and joined Dylan McCoy behind the bar.
“Hey, man.” Coop hitched up his chin.
“Hey,” Dylan said. His dark brown hair hung in waves to his shoulders, and a small diamond earring glinted from his left earlobe. “You’re here early.” Dylan dried another glass and placed it on a shelf with a hundred other identical glasses.
Bartending at the busiest establishment in Red River had been a great distraction for Coop. With his legal bills gradually draining his savings and whittling away the sizeable profits from the sale of his condo, the extra cash to cover his spending money didn’t hurt, either.
“You’re dad’s here.” Dylan waved his dish towel toward the table across the room. “Who’s the redhead with him?”
Wariness deep in his gut, Coop’s eyes trekked across the room. Butch waved him over, then leaned over and said something to Ella, whose back was to Coop. She glanced over her shoulder and frowned.
Without looking away from Ella’s flowing locks of fire, Coop said, “She’s my cabinmate from hell.”
“Dude, must be tough. She’s hot.”
Coop stabbed him with a glare.
“Just sayin’.” Dylan shrugged and dried another glass.
Coop turned his attention back to the chattering table of familiar customers. Now would be as good a time as any for Ella to find out he worked here. Unless, of course, his dad or Cal had already informed her, being so chummy with her and all. He walked toward them, a sense of dread lodging somewhere inside his rib cage in the form of a lump. Or heartburn.
“Hey, good-lookin’,” Donna teased as he approached
.
“Hey.” Coop looked around the table, nodding a generic greeting.
He stood at the end of the table where Donna and Brianna sat, each with a book. He glanced at the opposite end, where Ella devoured a large plate of chili cheese fries.
“Pull up a chair,” Hank offered.
“Thanks, but my shift is about to start, and I’m working a double tonight.”
Ella’s head shot up. So, she hadn’t heard that he worked here.
“That’s right. Tonight’s a big night at Joe’s, with the dance and all,” said Ross. “Ella, you coming?”
“Um,” she looked uncertain, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. Amazing how she could eat like a man and make it look dainty.
“Come on, now,” encouraged Donna. “Everybody will be here. It’s the annual firefighters’ dance to raise money for the fire department.”
Butch agreed, cutting into his chicken-fried steak. “It’ll be another good chance to meet more of the locals.”
“Sure, alright.” She agreed with a reluctant nod. “It’s been a long time since I went dancing.”
“Honey, if you can two-step, then this is where you should be tonight. A pretty girl like you won’t sit down the whole night,” Donna said.
Coop’s jaw twitched.
Ella downed another fry and wiped her fingers clean. “You don’t grow up in East Texas without learning to two-step.”
He’d watched her and Bradley dance once. Growing up in a strict religious home, Bradley had been uncomfortable, his movements stiff and unsure. But Ella, she moved across the dance floor with graceful, fluid motion. He had been envious that night because Bradley had such a great dance partner and Coop . . . didn’t.
“Good. It’s settled, then,” Brianna said. “Wear cowboys boots, if you have some.”
“What are you ladies reading?” Coop asked.
Hank groaned and pushed back his chair. “You had to ask, didn’t you?” He shot Coop an accusing scowl.
Brianna turned a light shade of pink and looked down. Donna perked up, leaning forward like she had a juicy secret.
“It’s a worldwide sensation,” Donna said. “This young, pretty, extremely anal-retentive librarian in Albuquerque meets a hunky chiropractor, and she completely transforms into this wild sex machine.”
Huh. A strange sensation prickled Coop’s gut.
“That’s it,” Hank said. “I’m leaving if y’all are gonna talk about those trashy sex books.”
“Sex books?” Coop couldn’t hide the shock in his voice. “You ladies read that stuff?”
Ella hadn’t spoken to him since he walked up, but now her green eyes bored into him like two bullets. “Why is it that men have read girlie magazines for decades and it’s deemed manly, perfectly acceptable in most societal circles until recent years, but if a woman reads a romance novel, it’s criticized?” Her emerald eyes held his.
Was that a question? He wasn’t sure, and before he could figure it out, his eyes sank to her pursed lips. They looked ripe, full . . .
They started moving again, but Coop couldn’t quite make out the words spilling from them.
“Coop?” Donna said, snapping him out of the spell.
He looked around the table. “Huh?”
No one spoke but Ella. “I said how is reading those books so different from . . .” She glanced at Butch, then pushed her plate back. “You know what? Never mind.”
“See what you started, Hank?” Donna accused her husband.
“Me? I just said I wasn’t gonna sit here if y’all start up with those books again. It’s not proper dinner conversation. Coop’s the one that brought it up in the first place.”
“Well, get used to it, mister, because the ladies and I are meeting here twice a week for lunch to discuss them. Sort of like a book club. And these books,” she picked up her copy and waved it in the air, “are just the first two in a long series.”
“Then I guess I won’t be joining you for lunch anymore,” Hank said, slamming his hat down on his head. He stood up.
“I guess you won’t.” Donna pushed her chair back. She stood, fists planted on her hips. “And I guess you can sleep on the sofa again since you like it so much.” Donna stormed out with Hank on her heels.
Ella threw her napkin over her chili-smeared plate. “I’m leaving, too.” She stood, grabbing her purse. “Thanks for lunch, Butch. Next time it’s on me.” She turned to the others still seated and said her good-byes. She ignored Coop.
“We’ll see you tonight, Ella,” said Brianna, trying to sound cheerful, but the elephant in the room was hard to ignore.
As Ella strode to the door, her posture rigid, Ross stood up and gave Coop a slap on the back. “Good goin’, buddy. You really have a way with women,” Ross said. “Remind me not ask you for advice on how to make a good impression on a gal.”
Joe’s front door swung closed after Ella stepped through it. Coop shook his head. “Why would you want to do that? Women are nothing but trouble.”
Ross put his hat on and flipped the brim. “Maybe, but a woman as pretty as Ella is the best kind of trouble a man could ask for.” He threw a tip down on the table. “I’m kinda glad you can’t see it. Gives a guy like me a better chance.”
Ross walked to the door and tossed a nod at everyone. “See y’all tonight.”
Not if I see you first. Coop wouldn’t allow himself to say it out loud. Even he could see how childish his favorite high school barb was. He should be glad someone was interested in Ella. If she started dating, it might get her out of his hair. She dominated the cabin, as it stood now. Constantly cleaning, making the place smell good. Walking into the bathroom was like entering the Twilight Zone. Even her toothbrush was pink and her soap smelled all fruity. And what was she doing on that laptop half the night? When he lay in bed, he could hear her banging away on the keyboard until all hours.
He stayed out of the cabin as much as possible to avoid Ella. Dating would get her out of his way and at least give him some privacy. He should cheer Ross on. The big guy would be doing him a favor.
So, why did he want to smack Ross for even suggesting it?
Chapter Seven
Just before Bradley proposed, he and Ella drove up to Red River for a four-day weekend. The first day they spent a few hours on the slopes, then returned to the cabin and built a fire. Bradley uncorked a bottle of white wine and made pasta with clam sauce while fresh snow fell, blanketing the mountainous landscape.
It was a winter wonderland, and by far the most romantic day of Ella’s life. She wanted him, needed him. Badly. The glass of wine having gone to her head, she patted the empty seat next to her, and Bradley joined her on the sofa.
Her schoolteacher inhibitions tossed to the wind, she kissed him deeply and passionately and pulled at his sweater.
“Come on.” He tried to rise, tugging her with him, but she tugged back.
“Make love to me here. In front of the fire.”
He laughed. “The shades are open.”
“So?” She pulled him back down. “Your cabin’s surrounded by trees.”
He settled on top of her. Wrapping her long legs around his waist, she ran her palms under his sweater and caressed his back.
He nuzzled her neck. “I need to get you tipsy more often.”
She giggled. “It doesn’t take much to get me tipsy. Then you can have your way with me.”
“I noticed.” He nipped at her earlobe, and a shiver lanced down her spine.
When it was over, Ella lay on the sofa wrapped in an afghan. Content. Life was perfect.
Bradley’s phone went off, and he stepped out of the bathroom in search of it. “Hello.” He listened. “This is Dr. Dennings. What can I do for you?”
Ella sat up and reached for her wine as Bradley listened to the caller. He was so good at it. Always listenin
g, always caring about others. It wasn’t any wonder that his patients loved him.
“Alright. Since Derek referred you and it’s an emergency, I’ll see you in a few hours. Until then, put ice on it.”
Ella’s heart sank. Their romantic weekend was over before it really got started. She got up to pack, wrapping the blanket under her arms to cover her breasts.
Bradley snapped the phone shut. “Hey,” he whispered. “Where you going?”
“We’re going back to Albuquerque, aren’t we?”
He enfolded her in his arms, pulling her flush against him. “I am. You’re not.” He pecked her nose with a kiss. “I’ll be back early in the morning, and we can pick up where we left off.”
“You’re sure?” Ella asked, because she wasn’t in the least bit certain.
“You won’t even know I’ve been gone. Promise.” He covered her mouth with a deep kiss.
An hour later, Ella still lay on the sofa, enjoying the fire. She didn’t often relax so completely, but here in this place, how could she not? Especially after such tender lovemaking.
She stared into the fire, the flames holding her captive, and dozed. When she woke a few hours later, the fire had died out and a wicked chill hung in the air. She bundled the blanket tighter around her nakedness and went to the basement to check the furnace.
Well, frick. After finding the pilot lit and fully functioning, Ella stood staring at it with one hand on her hip and the other clutching the blanket to her chest. What now? Bradley wouldn’t be back until the morning, and she didn’t have a car to go find a warm motel. She’d just have to pull on some thermal underwear and tough it out.
She took the first two steps, but the basement door opened above her and a figure in winter gear stood at the top of the stairs. He took one step down, saw her at the bottom, and lost his footing. A string of cursing echoed off the dank walls as Cooper Wells tumbled downward and landed at Ella’s feet.
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